by A. M. Pierre
“That is not making any sense to me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Vlad.” A movement in one of the many tiny video feeds caught his eye, and he turned his mike back on. “Summer Breeze, I found the package. There’s a fairly huge dude in there with her right now. Probably doing his best to freak her out.”
Connor’s voice was tight. “Probably succeeding.”
Daisuke frowned. “You okay? You sound worried.” He grinned. “Or is concerned more accurate?”
“Whatever, Hawkeye. I feel bad for anyone who has to go through that. As you may recall, it wasn’t exactly fun.”
“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.” And if I were actually worried about this mission, I’d be teasing you even more. “Don’t worry, Romeo, we’ll have her out of there in two shakes. Give me a minute to confirm all the guards’ current locations, and I’ll be able to give you a clear run up to her room.”
“Fine, but hurry up. I don’t want to leave her in there a second longer than we have to.”
For a second, Daisuke dropped his teasing tone. “We’ll get her out. You know we will.”
* * *
“I’m sorry, Ms. Davis, what was that?” Kaia’s interrogator cupped his enormous hand behind his ear as if he were hard of hearing. Kaia fought not to pull away. Did they really think they needed someone extra-large so she would be extra-intimidated? He could’ve been 5’2” and carrying a basket of kittens, and she still would’ve been shaking like a leaf. The giant’s eyes narrowed. “I said, what was that again?”
Kaia bit her lip. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. “I . . . I said, ‘I don’t know.’”
“‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’” He leaned back in his chair. It creaked and moaned. “Seems to be the only phrase you’re capable of. Is that because you’re a consummate liar or because you’re an idiot?”
Kaia couldn’t help the quick flare of anger she felt. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Oh, so you’re a liar, then.”
“No, I . . .” She realized she was staring him in the eyes, and she quickly looked away. “No.” The word came out so low even she barely heard it.
He flipped through the documents lying on the table between them. “Your customs forms say you’re a student, here in Paris for a short-term foreign exchange visit. Then perhaps you can explain why neither the directors of the program nor your ‘host family’ have ever heard of you?”
Kaia blinked. “. . . What?”
“We contacted your American high school as well. They said you had indeed applied for the program, but your grades and conduct were so poor you had been dismissed without a second thought.”
No. That . . . That’s not right. I worked hard, so hard. I earned this. Why would they—? She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Just look at him and say it. You can do this. You have to. “They made a mis . . .” Kaia’s voice faded away under her interrogator’s looming face.
“A mistake? Is that what you’re trying to say? ‘They made a mistake’? I’m afraid not, but you sure did. You didn’t even attempt to forge or steal a new UNID card before your pitiful attempt to breach our security. Not that it would’ve helped, but I’m still shocked you didn’t even try.” He smiled broadly, showing the points of his eye teeth. “See, this is why, personally, I keep leaning away from ‘liar’ and more towards ‘idiot.’”
Kaia ignored the growing pressure in her chest. Getting angry wouldn’t do her any good right now. Of course, getting angry never did her any good, but right now it seemed even more useless than usual. “I wasn’t worried about any bad records on my UNID card because I don’t have any. It’s a mistake, and once you call the police or FBI or whoever you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
At least, that’s what she tried to say. The words choked her, like always, jamming up in her throat like white bread peanut butter sandwiches. All that came out was: “It’s . . . a mistake.”
He burst into a gut-shaking laugh. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, girlie.” He moved in so close she could see the crusts in the corners of his eyes. “UNID doesn’t make mistakes. The instant you became the prime suspect in that school bombing plot in Pennsylvania, every law enforcement agency in the world knew about it.”
B-Bomb?! “What—?”
“What’s particularly interesting,” he added, “are all the other terror plots we now can link you to. So many of them. You know, we have special places for people like you. Nice, quiet places where the law-abiding citizens of this world won’t ever be bothered by you again.” He grinned. “I bet you’re thinking, ‘But I’m young—they wouldn’t do that!’ That might have been true if you had ‘borrowed’ a car or spray-painted some walls. Not this. Trust me, people won’t care what age you are so long as you’re off—their—streets!” He slammed his hand down on the table in rhythm with his finishing barrage.
Kaia tried to speak, but nothing came out but a small puff of air. The giant eased back down into his chair in triumph, crossing his legs and resting an elbow casually on the table. “Of course, we don’t have to let the public know anything about this. Which means we can choose to be merciful.” His hand clenched into a fist. “But only if you stop this pointless charade and start talking.”
Talk? Kaia wasn’t even sure she could breathe anymore. The foul stench of his breath. The tightness in her chest. The claustrophobically small room that somehow kept getting smaller. She wanted to tell him how wrong he was, how terribly, horribly wrong. She wanted, for once in her life, to speak out without hesitation. Without fear.
The words barely clawed their way out. “I don’t . . . know . . . anything.”
Her interrogator groaned as he stood up. “All right, I tried.” He looked down at her with grim satisfaction. “We’ll see how cooperative you are once the real questioning starts.”
Kaia stared down at her hands. It wasn’t until she heard the turn of the bolt in the door that she realized he had left. She had to think of something—some defense, some evidence, some incontestable proof she was innocent . . . and she had nothing. All she could do was sit and stare and rub her pendant.
The blaring alarm outside her room—and the strobing red lights—broke the spell. I know this isn’t for anything I did. Kaia grimaced to herself. Doesn’t mean they won’t try to pin it on me, though.
With a sharp crack and a whoosh of air, the door to her room burst open, flew the full 180 degrees, slammed against the wall, and closed again. There was a brief pause, then it opened a second time—a bit more calmly and only halfway. A taller-than-average teenage boy with dark blonde hair and brown eyes stood in the doorway. He gave her a big smile, showing off the dimple in his right cheek, and waved. For some reason, she found herself slowly waving back. “Hello!” he said, with the same level of enthusiasm he’d used to open the door. She knew his accent was British but couldn’t pin it down beyond that.
Somehow Kaia felt like she’d seen him before, but she didn’t recognize his face. His clothes were nondescript, too, just jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. A dark green hoodie. Confusion overrode her normal shyness. “Wait, are you—?”
The boy held up his hand. “I know you’ve got a million questions, and I promise I’ll answer them all in time. But first, I have a question for you—do you want to get out of here or what?”
Of course, I do, but still— “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“The name’s Connor Rhys.” The smile got even wider. “And I’m your knight in shining armor.”
Between the transmitter in Connor’s ear and the airport’s video feeds, Daisuke had a front row seat to Connor’s performance—and he wasn’t impressed. Daisuke rolled his eyes. “Man, that was cheesy.”
“Shut it.”
“Uh, shut what?” The poor girl sounded scared and thoroughly confused.
“Sorry, no, it’s my—never mind.
We need to get you out of here, so, you know, we should, um, go.” Poor Connor sounded lame and thoroughly dorky.
Lame, dorky and slow. “Summer Breeze, you’ve got multiple hostiles incoming. I suggest you grab her hand and pull her out of there while you still have a chance.”
“Roger that, Hawkeye. Grabbing and pulling, now.”
Only if the “pullee” lets you.
“Wait—what are you . . .? Please, let me go.” The girl’s voice dropped so low Daisuke could hardly hear her. “I’m already in too much trouble.”
And in another minute, we’ll be in it with her. “Tell her about the extradition orders,” Daisuke suggested.
“Look,” Connor said, “I don’t have time to explain, but your extradition papers have already been filed, and, if you don’t come with us right now, you’ll be back on a plane to the U.S. and locked up in some maximum-security prison before 24 hours are up.” It was all true, though Connor was omitting that they were the ones who had filed the papers. “Now, please, come with me.”
Daisuke saw her nod, just barely, and he let out a small sigh of relief. “Good job, Romeo, now follow my voice, and we’ll have you and Juliet home before supper.”
* * *
“Oh, shut up.”
Kaia frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry, not you. I’ve got a, uh,” her British rescuer paused as if looking for the word, “a Bluetooth headset on, and my friend is very, VERY annoying.” He flinched. “Sorry, but it’s true.” He nodded toward a nearby hallway. “Follow me.”
Yeah, sure. For all I know, you’re taking me somewhere even worse. And even if you’re not, if the scary government guys catch us, then . . . A cold lump settled in Kaia’s stomach. What the heck am I doing? Some random British kid breaks into my room and I just go with him? He’s not even my type, all lanky and tall—wait, why on Earth am I thinking about whether or not my random rescuer is cute? That’s it—I’ve officially lost my mind. They’re going to catch me and lock me up and throw away the key and I—
Brit-boy (what did he say his name was?) skidded to a stop in front of her. Kaia snuck a peek around him to see . . . nothing. Just more sterile white hallway.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“ETA?” he whispered back. He nodded. “Right.”
“Right, what?”
“Sorry.” He tapped his ear. “Bluetooth again.” He turned to face her, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked her right in the eyes. “I know this is asking a lot, but I need you to trust me. In about 15 seconds, several large and scary blokes with machine guns are going to try to take us down. I’m not going to let them. Understand?”
The individual words, yes, but the concept? “Ma . . . Machine guns?” Why didn’t I stay in that room?!
“Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it.”
That’s what I’m afraid of!
“Just trust me, okay?”
Trust you?! I don’t even—
“In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .”
She heard the footsteps first. The crashing, pounding footsteps. Four massive men appeared, two at each end of the hallway, effectively trapping them. All four carried matching massive guns. “Haut les mains!” «Put your hands up!»
Kaia’s hands shot up in a heartbeat. Brit-boy’s, on the other hand . . . He grinned, no, smirked. He actually smirked. “Stand back, love, wouldn’t want you to get hurt now, would we?” He winked at her.
Cocky little punk. “Please, just—”
“Haut les mains!”
“—do what the man with the gun said.”
Brit-boy looked at the guard who had spoken. “So, you want me to put up my hands?” He slowly raised his arms to each side until they hovered at shoulder level, while at the same time casually swiveling on his heels so one arm faced toward each set of guards. His hands bent back so his palms aimed directly at the approaching men. His smirk spread into an ear-to-ear grin. “Careful what you wish for, mate.”
A howling wind filled the corridor. It sucked the air from Kaia’s lungs and blasted her hair into her face. Through the strands whipping in front of her eyes, she saw the guards ahead of her fly through the air and slam with sickening thuds into the wall behind them. They slid down limply to the floor, the machine guns falling from their hands as their heads lolled. A quick glance behind her revealed the guards back there had suffered the same fate.
. . . What just . . . How . . . Kaia’s mind offered up a dozen explanations—up to and including teeny-tiny concealed wind machines—but none of them made sense. However he did it, he just threw four grown men around like it was nothing. He knocked them all out . . . at least I assume they’re knocked out . . . Kaia felt sick. She walked toward the nearest guard.
“Not too bad, if I do say so myself. Bet you’ve never seen—what are you doing?”
Kaia knelt by the fallen man and pressed her fingers to his neck. The sickness faded slightly as she felt his pulse beneath her fingertips. What have I got myself into?
* * *
Connor frowned as Kaia checked on one of the guards. Really? “What, did you think I’d kill a man for just doing his job?” She turned to look at him, and her eyes bored into his. What’s that look mean? Is she scared, angry, what? “Look, I’m sorry, I know this is new to you—in every way—but that was self-defense.” She didn’t blink. Connor pointed at the man lying at her feet. “They had machine guns!”
Kaia kept staring.
Dice’s voice crackled in his ear. “You’d better get a move on. Reinforcements will be there before you know it.”
Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Kaia, but we have to go.” He grabbed her hand, and she let him pull her to her feet even though her expression hadn’t changed. “This way,” he said, leading the way again through the winding corridors.
* * *
Kaia let herself be pulled along—truth was, she barely even noticed, seeing as the whole “inexplicable wind” thing kind of had her mind occupied. She didn’t even notice where her wannabe rescuer was taking them until he stopped again. She looked around to see they’d come to a dead-end containing an appropriately impenetrable door.
Brit-boy took a step closer to the door, but nothing happened. He scowled. “Hawkeye, talk to me. What’s the problem?” A pause. “Yeah, sure. It’s not like we’re exposed and vulnerable and about to be discovered at any minute or anything.” He crossed his arms and turned to Kaia with a shrug. “Looks like we have a couple seconds. You wanna go first?”
“Ex-Excuse me?”
“Tell me something about yourself, Kaia.”
Kaia bit her lip and rubbed her pendant. “. . . not my name.”
“Sorry?”
She managed to look him in the eye. “That’s not my name.”
Brit-boy frowned. “You go by your middle name or something?”
She shook her head. “Not ‘Kay-uh.’ ‘Kye-uh.’” Like this even matters. I’m escaping lockdown with a violent stranger with crazy powerful wind machines up his sleeves—who cares what he calls me? And yet . . .
“‘Kye-uh,’ then.” A beep sounded from the door, and he patted her on the shoulder. “What say we get out of here, Kaia?”
The door swooshed open, and they walked into . . . another white room with another massive locked door. Perfect.
* * *
Connor tried to hide his annoyance. Can’t even get her name right, and now I’ve trapped her again. Perfect. The room they were in was about twenty feet square and empty except for two keypads—one each on the walls to their left and right. “How much longer on these two, Hawkeye?”
“Two minutes, max.”
When every minute means more guards, which means more chances Kaia could get hurt? “Sorry, not good enough.”
“It’ll have to be. I’ve cracked the codes, but I have
to—”
“Just give me the codes, Hawkeye.”
There was a moment of silence. “But it’s too—”
“I can do it.” And maybe recover a bit from that name fiasco.
Dice sighed. “Fine. It’s 8136 on your right, 9822 on your left.”
“Got it.” Connor cracked his knuckles and turned to Kaia. “Just a sec, love, and we’ll be on our way.”
She looked at the two keypads. “I can help . . .if you need me to.”
Connor held his arms straight out from his sides, pointing towards the two keypads. “Thanks, but I got this.” He closed his eyes.
The rush of power rose up, the tingling surge that always started in his toes and flowed up through his core, pulsing forward with every heartbeat like an electric wave and concentrating in his hands. Then the wind began, the air churning and crackling as it gathered to his palms and formed compact invisible spheres of swirling energy. He focused, pushed with all he had, and felt the spheres elongate toward the keypads, moving with a precision he didn’t usually attempt. The muscles in his arms twitched with the strain, threatened to collapse. No. I can do this.
I have to.
* * *
The same unexplainable thing happened again. A rushing wind, a slight catch in her breath, and then, impossibly, both of the keypads started beeping at the same time. Perfectly in sync. Twenty feet away from each other. And no one touching them.
Their “exit door” slid open. Kaia’s rescuer turned to her with a proud smile, though a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and he’d turned a shade paler. “See? No problem.”
That wasn’t a wind machine. “Are you,” she searched for the word, “telekinetic?”
“Not exactly, but you’re getting warm. Explanations later, I promise.” He walked towards the now-open door. “Hawkeye, we’re through. Clear us a path.”
* * *
Daisuke rolled his eyes as Connor punched in the codes. That idiot. That level of precision, in two directions simultaneously? If he keeps using his abilities like that he’s going to be dead on his feet—or dead in his tracks if they run into any more guards.