by A. M. Pierre
When the couch was in place, Kaia punched Connor in the arm.
“Ow! What was that for?”
Mikaël’s voice crackled in Kaia’s ear before she could answer. “Everyone make it? Sound off.”
Vladimir sounded out of breath. “I am in position. Thanks to your light, Mikaël, I was undetected. Proceeding to beginning of exterior placement of Dice’s devices now. Interior to follow.”
“Noted. Team two?”
“We’re in,” Connor said. He rubbed his arm. “A little banged up, but we’re in.”
“Noted. Over and out.”
Connor swiveled on his heels to face Kaia and cocked his head.
“What?” she asked.
“You know what. What did you punch me for?”
“Back there. On the stairs.”
“Sorry, should have told you before. Mikaël is magnesium. It’s great for flash bombs.”
Kaia rolled her eyes. “Not that, moron. What did you tackle me for? Those stairs weren’t soft, you know.”
“I wasn’t sure you were going to close your eyes. You said ‘what’ not ‘okay.’ ‘What’ indicates you need an explanation before you’ll do it. ‘Okay’ means ‘okay.’” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t worry. Next time I’ll let you get blinded.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be blinded, because, like you may have noticed, I speak English!”
“Is that what you Americans call it?” He held his hands up in self-defense. “Kidding! Could we maybe stop with the punching and the anger and get on with storming the castle here? We don’t have much time. Besides, I don’t think my arm could take another hit like that.”
“Fine.” Kaia grinned. “Big baby.”
* * *
Connor’s left arm was on fire, and not because of Kaia’s punch. He didn’t want to say anything, but it had gone completely numb when he used Dice’s helmet. His head was pounding, too. Like that’s a big surprise. Using the helmet too long always had that effect—it messed with whatever sense your abilities were connected to. In Connor’s case, touch. At least his arm was tingling now. Hopefully, that meant it’d recover soon.
He could worry about his arm later. Right now, they had a bunch of important information to find . . . and one very evil woman to sort out.
* * *
Gabriela’s mind had gone completely blank the instant she saw the blood pouring from Alizée’s wound. Thankfully, her fingers were functioning completely on their own. Phrases started popping in her head at random: Entry wound in shoulder. Exit wound directly behind. Possible straight line wound. Artery intact. Victim has regained consciousness. Possible head injury in initial fall. On-site treatment? Pressure to stop bleeding, treat shock. Get victim to hospital as soon as possible. “Ezio! Can you hear me? I think she’s going to be okay, but we need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible.” Well done. Continue treatment.
“I . . . hear . . . you. Little . . . tied . . . up . . . now.”
Gabriela risked a glance out the window. Her jaw dropped.
* * *
Kaia took point ahead of him while Connor kept an eye open for anything behind. So far, so good. At least as far as dodging guards went. Finding records or computers? Not so much.
Kaia peeked around a nearby corner. Her head whipped back. “Duck!”
“Wha—?”
She tackled him, knocking him to the floor as a gunshot shattered a nearby potted plant. She flicked her hand, and the heavy-looking glass bust next to the plant’s remains went flying down the hallway. There was a muffled “Oof!” then silence. Kaia stood and brushed herself off.
Connor grimaced as he dragged himself to his feet. “What was that for?”
“You said ‘what,’ not ‘okay,’ so I wasn’t sure you would do it. What, you don’t like being violently tackled without warning?”
“Ha, ha, very funny. The difference is I honestly was . . .” he trailed off. There, in the corner—it was a simple sign on a simple door, but it made his stomach flip.
Records Room.
* * *
Another bullet ricocheted off the spinning iron staff in Ezio’s right hand as he sent the staff in his left to take out the gun and the guard who’d fired it. The clang of iron on steel, the howl of pain as the gun flew away, and the dull thud that followed confirmed it: another one down. They don’t seem to learn, do they?
Ezio was getting tired. Breathing hard. Taking on twenty-odd men at once will do that to you, and not-yet-healed broken ribs and a bum leg certainly didn’t help. So far, no one had laid a finger on him, and the unconscious bodies were definitely piling up, but there were still too many guards left to think he was in the clear. At least he could sense where all the weapons were. That was one good thing about their guns and batons—so much steel in them.
Gabriela’s voice was in his ear. “I had no idea you had those kind of moves, Ezio! The way you took out the guy behind you without even looking? So cool!”
Ezio smiled slightly in spite of himself. “Thank you . . . have to . . . concentrate . . .” Can’t think about Gabriela. Can’t think about Ali . . . Yeah, right. Like I’m thinking of anything else.
One of the bars still spun madly in his hands, deflecting the bullets the less observant guards were still firing. The other bar flew through the air. Ezio didn’t have Alizée’s fighting skills, but with this he didn’t need them. The wrought iron pole spun and danced like a feather before slamming down like a ton of bricks onto each of the few remaining weapons. The idiots’ cries as Ezio sent their guns flying confirmed what Ezio already knew: they wouldn’t be shooting anyone else tonight. Or for the next six to eight weeks.
Thirty-seven guards in total had rushed outside. Together, he and Alizée had taken 15 out in the first wave. He was counting down the rest. Only eight more to go. Seven . . . Six . . .
* * *
Kaia flipped through file folders as fast as she could. The computers they’d found had been wiped, but at least only some of the physical files had been shredded. There had to be something in here they could use.
Connor was looking for old mission names and code words in the loose papers left on the desks, while Kaia had been searching the file cabinets alphabetically for their surnames, but so far there had been nothing. The last few files flipped by . . . She closed the final drawer and sank into a nearby chair. “Anything on your end?” she asked.
Connor sighed. “No. Maybe they stored them at Mark’s Place and we never knew.”
Wait a minute. She pulled open one of the drawers again. “I got it!” She held the thick file over her head like a trophy. “It’s not by our names—we’re all under ‘Mark’s Place’!” She dropped the file onto one of the many work tables and pulled out the individual folders. For a moment, she hesitated. Now or never. She ripped off the Band-Aid and opened the first folder at hand: Lopes, Gabriela. She started skimming the pages for any useful information. The text was full of medical terms and words she didn’t understand, but a few things stood out that froze her in her tracks.
New applicant for “Prenatal Care for All” program. Passed First Phase selection process. Round one injections begun. Mother survived. Second Phase approved. Candidate viable—removal from original parent authorized. New identity and placement complete. Death certificate filed. “This can’t mean . . .”
“What are you muttering about? Did you find something?”
She pulled out each file in turn and frantically flipped through the pages. It’s the same. And that one. And that one. Passed First Phase selection process. Passed First Phase. Passed. Passed. Passed.
Death certificate filed.
The last file slipped from her fingers and burst into a sliding mess on the floor. “Kaia? Are you okay?” She managed to shake her head “no.” Connor stepped gingerly over the papers and put his hands on her shoul
ders. “What is it? What did you find?”
She stared into the distance. The words tumbled out, unbidden. “They made us. I don’t know how, but they did. Even our names! Not your name, you made it—but mine! All of it’s in there. They were poor, the mothers—our mothers. They promised help, but they lied. They lied, Connor! Maybe they said it was vitamins, I don’t know. And then, when we were born, they . . .” Her mouth had stopped working.
“It’s okay, Kaia, it’s okay, slow down, tell me what you read. ‘When we were born . . .’? What did they do next?” After a second, he nodded. “Don’t worry, take your time. I’ll just look at my file.” He started digging through the files on the table, but Kaia pointed at the spilled file on the floor. “Yeah, that figures.” He knelt beside the mess and started to stack the papers in order again, then froze. His shaking hand reached out to pull a piece of paper with a small picture stapled to the top. It was a woman. Late 20’s, with a mass of dark brown wavy hair brushing her shoulders, and eyes which Kaia recognized in an instant. Connor’s voice was a guttural rasp. “My mother, apparently.”
Kaia’s voice had come back, and tears had come with it. “Our mothers were poor. The Company had men who said they were doctors, who said they were helping, like with vitamins and stuff, but they injected our moms with something else instead—it doesn’t say what. And then they stole us. They stole us and told our moms we died.” She choked a little. “And then they set us up. Your ‘parents’ who left you. My foster parents who kept returning me. The Company made it all happen.”
“But Dice—Dice’s parents were good to him.”
“They weren’t supposed to be. Funny, huh? They broke the rules and actually started to love him.” She laughed, but her eyes were ice cold. “And The Company killed them for it. Dice was right about it being a conspiracy all along.” She ran her fingers lightly across the files. “We’re all broken—and The Company broke us.”
* * *
Five guards . . . four . . . So close, so very close. Swing, block, swing, thrust. I can do this. Doesn’t matter how heavy the poles are getting. Doesn’t matter how much my head hurts. Ali’s hurt. She needs help. And I need to keep the rest of them safe.
Three . . . two . . . Ezio blinked. He didn’t sense any more weapons moving in his direction. Did I miscount? Was that it?
A blinding white pain exploded in his leg. I’ve been shot—in the same spot?! It can’t be . . .
It wasn’t. His gunshot wound was almost healed, but ‘almost’ doesn’t mean much when someone swings a wooden baseball bat at it. Ezio’s leg shuddered, and he dropped to his knees.
The last guard in the courtyard stood over him. “I thought you were favoring that leg.” He swung the bat once or twice in front of him. Practicing. “Took me a minute to go get this old thing. Can’t do much about wood, can you?” The man raised the bat to swing it again, but stopped with a grin and backhanded Ezio hard across the face instead.
The blow sent Ezio sprawling to the ground. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He was dizzy, so very dizzy. He heard Alizée’s voice in his head, but he couldn’t understand her. He had to get up. He had to protect her.
The guard raised the bat again. He rocked back a little, probably trying to get some more power behind it. Ezio’s legs weren’t obeying him. Nothing was. He couldn’t even drag himself out of the way. All he could do was watch.
The guard’s hands swung down . . . but there wasn’t any bat in them. The two of them looked at each other, both just as perplexed, before the guard’s eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped in a pile at Ezio’s feet. Ezio stared at him for a moment before his eyes trailed up.
Vladimir held the guard’s bat in his hands. “I am sorry it was taking me so long to get here. I heard him through your coms, but I have never been one for the fast running.” He held out a big hand, and Ezio gratefully used it to pull himself to his feet.
“Don’t sweat it,” Ezio said. “You were right on time.”
* * *
Mikaël’s voice crackled in Connor’s ear. “All clear outside. Vladimir’s ready to start rigging the inside charges. Is it clear? How many did you guys get?”
Connor did a quick mental count. One by the plant, two after the records room, one in the stairwell, one coming out of the bathroom . . . “Five in here.”
“Then there’s only one left.”
Connor looked back in the stairwell they had been using to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. Nope. The stairs ended just like he’d remembered. “There’s no one here, mate. We’re on the top floor.”
Kaia shook her head. “No, we’re not. This building has five stories. This is four.”
Connor thought back. “Yeah, you’re right.” He walked over and pushed the call button for the lift. Sure enough, when it dinged open, the button for the top floor was unmarked and translucent, unlike the numbered buttons below it. It had to be secured or locked somehow. “Hey, Mikey, do you think you can hijack this lift for us? I have a feeling the person we’re looking for is one floor up.” They both waited quietly even though Connor was so anxious he could scream. We’re close. So close. Come on, Mikey.
“I got it. You’re in.”
“Okay, we’re heading up. You guys can start setting the charges. This shouldn’t take too long.” The lift doors closed. Connor turned to Kaia. “You want to know something?” Connor said as they slowly rose. “My file didn’t say my mother’s name, but it did say where she was from. She wasn’t Welsh, or even British.”
“What was she then?”
Connor sighed. “She was French.” He gave her a big grin. “Don’t tell the Alley Cat, okay? She’d never let me live it down.”
The doors opened. Connor held out his hand without even looking, and his nervous buzz faded, just a little, when Kaia took hold of it. Together, they stepped out into the darkened room.
* * *
Kaia’s heart pounded like it wanted to jump out of her chest. The sporadic lighting showed one massive room with occasional pillars holding up the roof. Only a few pieces of furniture broke up the space—a chair or two, a couch in front of a TV, a single ancient, wooden desk. And seated behind that desk . . . “You!” Kaia was shocked to realize she was the one who had spoken. She was also shocked to find herself marching at high speed across the vast space.
Ms. Smith looked genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry, how did you get in here? I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Are you kidding me?” Kaia rounded the desk.
“Kaia, wait!” Connor was running up behind her.
“You may not be able to hit a girl, Connor, but I can.” In her peripheral vision, she saw Connor’s outstretched hand, trying to stop her. Too late. “That felt really good,” Kaia said. She shook her hand out. “Hurt a lot more than I expected, though.”
Connor had a funny look on his face. “There’s just one problem.” He knelt by the woman, who was holding her cheek and looked completely indignant. “I don’t think that’s the real Ms. Smith.” He pointed at her now-smeared pale pink lipstick.
A vid screen behind the desk lit up, and a very familiar blood red smile appeared. “Congratulations! You decked my secretary! Well done.”
Kaia looked back and forth between the woman at the desk and the woman on the screen. “But how?”
Connor rolled the fake Smith out of the way and searched the desk. It didn’t take him long. He twisted a knob, and the hum from the screen changed.
“Clever boy,” the screen image said.
Her voice—it sounds deeper, more . . . no way.
Connor turned another knob, and the entire image seemed to warp and melt. It finally stabilized, and staring back at Kaia was a face she knew. A face she’d seen staring at her from a portrait in the rec room every day. A face topped with the most flaming red hair she’d ever seen.
Mark de M
iron smiled. “What can I say? It’s all been smoke and mirrors.”
Connor didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know what to think. The thought that made its way to the top was fairly idiotic. Dice was right. She is a man.
The second thought that worked its way through was more pertinent. “But that’s impossible. Ms. Smith was already leading us before Mark, I mean, you ‘died.’”
Mark smiled. “Another person was playing Ms. Smith then, yes. She was, shall we say, fired, and The Company needed a last-minute replacement. Hence my ‘death’ and promotion from in-the-trenches manipulator to behind-the-scenes puppet master. Enough about me, though. Did you two enjoy walking down memory lane? Family trees are such fun.”
The paralyzing numbness started to fade. “You were watching us in there?”
“Of course. I had to see your faces when you found out the truth. All that time and effort we spent on you. You all were supposed to look to us as your saviors. Us, the only adults who ever cared for you. Instead you clung to each other like drowning rats. Was it The Company itself, or was it me?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Was I not ‘fuzzy enough’?”
Connor’s eyes widened. “Vladimir said that at dinner. You were watching us there, too?”
“Here. There. Everywhere. We listened to all of your conversations, as boring as they were. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to listen to hours and hours of teenagers complaining about how awful their lives are as they lounge around in a palace?”
Kaia’s voice shook. “Ruining our childhoods, bringing us here, watching us—it’s all an experiment. We were lab rats.”
Mark thought about that. “Not exactly. Rats are usually better behaved.”
“How can you say that? You’re one of us!”
Mark smirked, and Connor knew. But he . . . Actually, come to think of it, I never saw . . . “You aren’t, are you? You don’t have any abilities at all.”
Mark looked disgusted. “Of course not. Made me ill just being around you freaks. At least we were able to get some use out of you before you rebelled.”