by Holly Kerr
“For nine years.”
“We got close. I have a life here now. Seamus helped me get word to my brother, and I’ve seen him quite a few times. Before this mess, I could have gone home, but I never wanted to. Bryton is the only thing there for me, and I like your country. I wanted to see you, but after you lost your memories, Seamus said there was no point. So I stayed in Montreal.”
“But now you’re here.”
“My brother is in trouble. He’s the only one who can save Suriname. He’s going to be president and he’ll be great.”
“Spoken like a little sister. Do you know where he is?”
Raylene nods, looking older than her twenty-four years. “He got away from Evangelist and made it out of the country. I’m sure he was headed here, but he got caught coming into America from Mexico.”
I catch my breath. The news stories about the detainment centers along the Mexican border are horrific and they aren’t even the worst of it. Ham has access to even more information that angers him every time the subject comes up.
“I don’t know exactly where they’re holding him. All I know is that he’s been arrested.”
“But he’s Bryton Raak.”
“He may not be able to prove it. Besides, even if he could, the American government is siding with Hector Evangelist, and Evangelist wants him dead. He’s safer incognito.”
I stare at her tear-filled eyes, my hot chocolate forgotten. “What do you want me to do?”
Chapter Fifteen
“You’re booty-blinded. You know what that is? It’s like snow-blinded, but it ain’t no snow. It’s a cute little piece of ass.”
I Spy
We are wheels up in three hours.
“I have no idea how Ham put this together.” Tenley’s hands ball into fists as she sits across from me on the plane.
“I’m not sure how you got here,” I say. As far as I know, Tenley has been at the café all day but now she’s all secret agent in a form-fitting jumpsuit that matches mine.
Tenley smiles tightly. “I have good people.”
“And Lucy?”
“Is with Simon. He picked her up after school. As long as I make the good-night text at nine, she’ll never know I’m gone.”
I check my watch. It’s not quite five p.m., the late winter sun shining weakly through the plane windows. “Lots of time.”
“What’s the plan here?” Pippa asks from beside me. “And what’s the deal with these suits?” She plucks at the fabric. “It’s like I’m part of the Avengers.”
“Ida’s latest project,” I explain. “She’s been working on it for a while, but stepped it up after Paramaribo.” I rub my hand along the stretchy, slippery fabric covering my arm. “Bullet-proof, but it will leave a mark.”
“What do you mean, a mark?” Tenley demands. I pull the suit off my good shoulder enough for them to see the purple-black bruise. “Ida shot you?” she cries. “Haven’t you been shot at enough?”
“It was actually Caleb.” I grimace. “I think he enjoyed it a little too much. I’ve got another one on my leg. It slows you down, but won’t stop you.”
“Comfy.” Pippa muses aloud. “So we’re basically unstoppable.”
“Unless they aim for your head,” Tenley says wryly.
“Well, then, you should be ducking,” Pippa retorts. “So what’s the plan?”
“I’ll let Perry explain. He should have more info by now.” As I wave my brother over, I wonder for the tenth time if this is the right move. We’re going in blind; we have the location where Bryton is being held, but no other information about the detention centre, only that it’s on the Mexican/Texas border. Perry is travelling with us to find out more on the way down.
Perry continues to read from his tablet as he stands beside us. “There’s an abandoned municipal airstrip a few kilometers from the detention centre that Declan can land on. You’ll have to make your way there, infiltrate and locate the mark, and then get out.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” Tenley demands.
“For now. If you let me get back to it, I’ll try to find out more.” Without a word, Perry turns and heads to the back of the plane where the high-tech, ultra-confusing computer is set up, with invisible screens and keyboards that appear at a touch. Perry starts flipping through files that seem to float before him, as irritable as always.
Pippa glances at Tenley. “I think we got the better brothers,” she whispers.
I shrug. “Caleb’s a good guy.”
“When he’s not shooting you?”
“It was either him or Buckley, and I trust my brother’s aim just a little more.”
As the plane leaves Canadian airspace, we settle in for the four-hour flight. Lance heads to the cockpit for more flight training from Declan, Pippa pulls out a book, and Tenley leans in to watch the movie on my laptop.
“What about Christmas?” she asks suddenly. “It’s only two days away. What are you bringing?”
“I thought you inviting us for Christmas dinner meant you do all the cooking,” Pippa asks, her eyes narrowed with confusion.
“Normally, guests offer to bring a dish,” Tenley says. “That’s how we do it here.”
Pippa nods without looking up from her book. “I’ve never been to a Christmas dinner. I mean, Eugene would have something if there was time, but it was never a turkey and stuffing sort of meal.”
The way Pippa talks about Eugene Mochrie makes it sound like he was a father-figure to her, rather than the second-in-command in the Mielson organization as well as the head of the Irish Intelligence Party.
“What kind of meal was it?” The years before NIIA are still intact in my memory bank, so I can still recall the taste of my Gran’s gravy. Christmas dinner was the one meal that my parents were always there for.
Before they passed away, that is.
Pippa leans the book against her chest and smiles wistfully. “We had pizza the last year, but once, Eugene had the housekeeper make roast beef and Yorkshires. They were bloody amazing. We did a curry takeaway most years. I miss my curry. You Canucks make a brilliant poutine, but you make a right mess of curry.”
“I make good curry,” Tenley says under her breath.
“Christmas is not curry,” I say. “I mean, I guess it is for a lot of people. For me, I need turkey and some ham, mashed potatoes dripping with gravy, and these little buns my Gran used to make. And pie. Lots of pie.”
“I’ve got two pumpkin pies, a pecan, and an apple. Seamus likes my apple pie.”
“I reckon he likes all your pies,” Pippa says in a sly voice.
“So what will you bring?” Tenley asks me, flushing and turning her shoulder to Pippa, who laughs.
“I’m not much of a cook,” I admit. “I mean, not at all. Ham made my toast the other morning because he’s tired of me burning it.”
“You stopped a terrorist bomb,” Tenley points out. “Three times. How can you not make toast?”
“I can make it. But it tastes better when Ham makes it for me.”
Tenley shakes her head while Pippa laughs loud enough for Perry to shoot us a dirty look. “You can bring the wine,” Tenley decides.
“I should be bringing the wine since I’ll be the one drinking the most of it.” Pippa laughs again.
“You can bring appetizers,” Tenley says. “Shrimp, or stuffed mushrooms.”
“What should they be stuffed with?” Pippa asks in bewilderment. “Or is that because I’ll be stuffing them in my face?”
Tenley turns to the window. “You two are horrible.”
“We’ll both bring wine and we’ll both bring some appetizer,” I promise. “I can figure out what to stuff shrimp with.”
“Mushrooms,” Tenley hisses and I laugh.
I’ve never sat and talked before a mission like this before. Like I’m hanging out with friends.
I like it. I like them. And for them, I’ll learn to cook mushrooms and shrimp for Christmas dinner and do my best not to burn anything.
>
“What did you get Ham for Christmas?” Pippa asks.
“I haven’t got him anything,” I admit. “I never shop early. I’ll go out Christmas Eve and find everything.”
“You haven’t got me my present yet?” she demands. “Because I got you this bloody cool—”
Tenley holds up her hand to stop Pippa. “What happens if you can’t get to the stores?” she asks. “If you’re on a mission.”
“Then they get something from where I am.”
“You better bloody well grab this bloke tonight because I am not getting a prezzie from some backwater Texas town,” Pippa grumbles.
I smile to myself, thinking of the one present I bought earlier this year, a red plaid hat with ear flaps for Pippa, who always complains about the cold. I’m not sure I’d find anything like that in Texas.
Chapter Sixteen
“Against the power of Mordor, there can be no victory.”
Lord of the Rings
The rest of the flight passes quickly. Perry gathers us at the back of the plane once Declan makes a bumpy landing on the airstrip.
“We’ve pinpointed the area Bryton was taken to, but not the building. From the satellite map, you can see three buildings.” Perry points to the map floating over the desk, his finger protruding through the image. “There are staff accommodations and an office here. I don’t need to tell you to stay away from them.”
“No, you really don’t,” I say sarcastically.
“I also don’t need to tell you stealth and speed are a must. The Texas government will not approve of this mission, and I don’t want to imagine what the federal government would say. We’re in unsanctioned territory here, so don’t get caught.”
Perry holds my gaze before my next snide comment can slip out. “I know what he meant to you, but you must keep your head,” he continues. “Any problems, you abort. Do you understand?”
Does everyone know about me and Bryton? Sometimes the NIIA is like a small town, the way gossip flies about. I glance at Tenley, the holder of memories. “Is it going to be bad?”
“For you or me?”
“Maybe I should take charge of grabbing Mr. Sexy-pants,” Pippa suggests.
“If you’re to continue to call him that, Lance is going to get his first lead before you do,” Perry tells her.
“I’m good,” I insist. “I can do this. I don’t even remember this guy.”
The way Tenley and Pippa glance at me suggests they know I’m lying.
Perry opens the door and we file down the stairs. “You have fifty minutes,” he calls once we’re on the ground.
“Why not an hour?” Pippa asks.
“Fifty. Five zero,” he repeats, as the stairs pull back into the jet.
“I don’t like your brother,” she mutters, following me across the field.
The sun is low, painting the sky dusky shades of purple and blue. “I wish it was darker,” I say. “We need to stay out of sight.”
“We need to find a ride to the detention centre,” Tenley points out. “I haven’t been running every day like you have.”
“I don’t run every day. Check the hangar,” I instruct Pippa. “Check if there’s anything there to use. If not, I saw a few buildings on the satellite map. It’s not far.”
The hangar is empty and we set off at a quick jog. We come across a farm over the next hill, with a derelict barn beside the equally desolate house. “Abandoned farm might mean abandoned tractors. I’ve always fancied a tractor ride,” Pippa says, her breath coming in pants. “Anything is better than running up another bloody hill.”
I make a note to increase the cardio aspect of her training.
Luckily for Pippa, we find a tractor in the barn, along with a beat-up pick-up truck.
“Check the tires,” I instruct Lance as Tenley pulls open the driver’s door with a rusty creak. “And make sure there’s nothing living under the hood.”
Within a few minutes, and a bit of Tenley’s hotwire expertise, the truck roars to life. “I’m getting pretty good at this,” she says with a smile.
“Yes, but I’m still the better driver.” Pippa pushes her over. After Lance opens the barn door, he hops into the back with me.
“Straight south,” I call to Pippa through the open side window. “Perry says it’s about two clicks.”
“On it.”
I clutch the side of the flatbed as Pippa barrels over the rough fields, going over the mission in my head. I may like Pippa and Tenley, and even Lance, but I’m used to working alone. I’m responsible for them now. What if something happens to them? What if they’re hurt, or worse? What if I’m faced with the possibility of having to leave them behind?
I’ll never leave anyone behind.
The night darkens as we get closer to our destination but Pippa leaves the headlights off. Not that anyone could miss us coming; the muffler is in worse shape than the body of the truck.
“Coming up on our right,” Tenley shouts. Pippa stops with a shower of dust at the bottom of a small hill. According to the map, the detention centre is over the ridge, a few hundred feet away.
“Everyone good?” I ask as I hop out of the truck. Without waiting for an answer, I start off up the hill in a brisk trot.
Because our mission is to retrieve, and because I’m honestly better with my fists and feet than with a gun, my rifle stays stowed on my back. But beside me, Lance has a tight grip on his as he lopes along beside me.
“I said I didn’t fancy a jog,” Pippa complains from the rear.
“It’s not like we could just drive up and ask for permission to take one of their prisoners off their hands,” Tenley hisses.
“Technically, they’re not prisoners,” Lance says.
When we reach the top, I stop and take in the area. The centre is in a low-lying bowl at the bottom of the hill, surrounded by a metal fence with a roll of barbed wire at the top. Two guard towers, thankfully unmanned at the moment. My pulse begins to race at the sight of the cinderblock walls.
It looks like a prison, similar to where my mother had been held in North Korea. But now’s not the time to say anything about that memory.
It’s too quiet. I hear crickets and cicadas singing in the heat. And it’s hot. My jumpsuit sticks to me in all the wrong places. I make a mental note to tell Ida to add a lining of some sort because I’m not going to be able to peel this thing off without help.
“What’s the plan?” Pippa asks, crouching beside me. “Where is everyone?”
“Hopefully in bed for the night,” Tenley says grimly.
“Do they even have beds?” Pippa gazes down the hill with a frown. “I’ve seen the reports on these places. All the kids—”
“We’re here for Bryton. That’s our mission,” I interrupt before emotions can wreak havoc on Pippa’s focus. “We don’t know what’s in there. So we get in and out. Admin offices are here.” I gesture to the little building directly down the hill from us. “So we start there.” I point to the farthest cinder block building. “Quick and quiet.”
“We’re with you,” Lance says, and I take that as my signal to head down the hill in a fast trot. The others follow, our appearance quieting the insects for a long moment.
I veer off towards the farthest building to avoid being seen by anyone inside the administrative building and creep around to the door.
“Why aren’t there any guards outside?” Tenley whispers as Pippa makes quick work of the lock on the door.
“It’s not a prison,” Lance says in a low voice, like he’s trying to convince himself.
I think he needs to try harder, because to me, when people are locked up against their will, that’s a prison.
“Besides, who wants to get in here,” I add as Pippa opens the door a crack, enough for the smell to waft through.
Warm, fetid air hits us like a slap, along with the smell of rotten food and urine, as well the overwhelming stench from too many bodies in close quarters.
Pippa retches, but hangs
in there to be first through the door. Quickly and quietly, she hurries down a corridor, staying clear of the puddles on the floor. I take the rear, my trusty steel bar out and open and ready to give a beating.
At the end of the hall, Pippa stops and I wait for the signal.
She doesn’t give the signal to move.
Inside, she stands frozen with Lance behind Pippa, tall enough to see over her shoulder. Beside her, Tenley glances back at me, her hand covering her mouth.
“What?” I hiss, not tall enough to see anything with them huddled like that.
Tenley turns with horror in her eyes. “Charlotte, they’re kids.”
Chapter Seventeen
“The less you respond to negative people, the more peaceful your life will become.”
Unknown
The room has two separate cages full of kids.
The light is dim but it’s easy to see the eyes staring at us. Some are frightened; some are intrigued, but most gaze at us with hopeless despair.
It’s heartbreaking; the only positive is that there are no guards in sight at the moment. But that makes it worse. Who is looking after these children? Who comes when they cry?
“We have to get them out of here,” Tenley says, the urgency making her voice crack.
“That’s not the mission.”
“Screw the mission,” Pippa hisses. “I’m not leaving them to rot in here.”
“We don’t have time.”
I can’t believe I’m arguing with them, that the sight of the dirty, sad children isn’t breaking my heart as much as Tenley and Pippa’s.
“It’s almost Christmas,” Lance says hoarsely. “We can’t leave them here for Christmas.”
Lance is on board, too.
I only have a moment to make my decision. The agent in me screams to move out, but I still pause. This will be a mess if it gets out; not just with Ham and the NIIA, but an international scene with the nice, placid Canadians rocking the boat.