“Oh, get out of my way.” Mineko shouldered the girl aside. The carpeted floor thudded beneath her feet as she made her rapid way to the stairwell. One hand grazing the bannister, she flew down the stairs.
Reaching the bottom, she slammed through the swinging doors and into the lobby. It was swarming with panicked students. As Mineko stopped and stared, the elevator popped open to disgorge another helping.
“Ms. Tamura!” A lanky student dotted with acne waved at her. “They say there’s lunatics with guns!”
“Why are you telling me?” Mineko took a nervous step back as students hurried toward her, a jumble of familiar and strange faces. They crowded close, talking at once, buoyed by the energetic kind of fear that was indistinguishable from excitement. “Stop pushing me!”
“Call your father,” said an older boy with a pinched, bug-eyed face. “Tell him we’re in trouble, that the district people are invading.”
A girl grabbed Mineko’s arm. “Somebody told me they shot an agent on the lawn!”
This was anarchy. Where was a lecturer, somebody official to set this frenzied mob in their place? Mineko stood on her toes, peering above the crowd of agitated faces. There, skulking in the corner, was the dreaded lecturer in Social Ethics.
“Sir,” she said, waving at him. “Tell everyone to stop crowding me and get to safety. Take control.”
“I don’t…” The lecturer pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “I, um, I think if we just…”
Someone screamed outside, and the lecturer shrieked as he plowed through the crowd and into the dining room. Students scattered, some running up the stairwell, some beating on the elevator doors, others even venturing out the front doors only to run back inside gibbering.
“They’re going to kill us,” said a tiny student brandishing a marble bust of a Codifier—an unlikely weapon if Mineko had ever seen one. “Somebody has to tell the military.”
A pallid boy thrust up his hand. “My father is a captain.”
“Who cares about that?” An accusing finger was pointed at Mineko. “Her mother is General Tamura! Mineko, help us!”
“Let me through.” Using her elbows to break apart the crowd, Mineko waded into the mass, only to be impeded by yet more beseeching students. “You’re in my way, get out of—” Her foot erupted in pain as a big student stepped on her toes. “Damn you all, go back to your rooms!”
It seemed hopeless. These students had never experienced real panic in their lives, and now they were doing what they knew best: reaching for someone in authority, or in this case, someone in close proximity to it.
“He’s coming for us!” A female student stood in the entrance, wildly gesticulating. “He’s already shot three students, he blew their heads right off! I saw it happen. He’s on his way. Save yourselves!”
The students exploded in selfish survival instinct, swarming to wherever they might be safe—fleeing up the stairs, running onto the lawn, escaping into the kitchen. One enterprising student hurled herself through a window. Seconds later, they had dispersed, though pandemonium still echoed through the building.
The only student left was the one who’d shouted the warning. Having caused so much havoc, she now seemed unaccountably calm, even shy. Mineko didn’t recognize her, though she looked memorable enough: a strong nose and cheekbones, glossy black hair, unblemished olive skin, gentle blue-gray eyes.
“Hello, Mineko,” the girl said. “Kade and Callie need our help.”
“What? Who are you?”
“I’m Riva Latour. We don’t have much time.”
Wasn’t that the name Callie had mentioned on the phone? The woman who had been laughing with Lexi in the background? “You’re the person who works for Nikolas.”
“Yes. I’m with Open Hand. But I’m here as a friend.”
“Over here. Tell me what’s happening.” Mineko ushered Riva toward a storage closet. Opening it, she discovered the cowering lecturer in Modern History. “Get out.”
The lecturer whimpered before fleeing. “And your classes are bullshit,” Mineko shouted after her. “I hope you trip and break your neck.”
Riva gave a startled laugh. “Callie said you were unceasingly polite.”
“People change.” Mineko pulled Riva into the closet. No doubt Lexi would have made some snide remark about her choice of conference space. “What did you last see?”
“Kade and Callie have an agent held hostage. I saw them taking her in the direction of a building with a golden dome on it. I don’t know what they’re planning.”
An agent held hostage? It seemed like a desperate, irrational act. But no, Kade wasn’t stupid—he’d have some kind of strategy. Mineko just had to think what it might be.
“Lachlan can’t afford to lose any more agents after yesterday,” she said. “Therefore, taking a hostage applies pressure where he’s most vulnerable. He’s in trouble already, and he has to maintain face… He can’t call for backup until he’s resolved the situation himself. In other words, Kade is buying time for us.”
“But buying time for us to do what? What can we do?”
A good question. But Kade had put his trust in Mineko, counting on her to take advantage of an opportunity made at great risk to himself. If he and Callie were to survive, Mineko needed to work something out.
In a society like yours, truth is subordinate to power. You have powerful parents and that makes you powerful too. Never forget it.
His parting words to her. There was her answer.
Mineko smiled. “I know exactly what to do.”
* * *
The Administration building was a dumpy structure that looked a little like a slate-gray pear. Trees with coarse, black bark stood around its perimeter, and thick leaves filled the gutter beside the stone path leading to the building’s double doors.
Mineko strode under the dark branches while Riva kept pace. “How did you get here?” said Mineko. “Did Callie drive you?”
“Yes, she did.” Riva peered at a chipped fountain. Perhaps all this was as strange to her as the outside world had been to Mineko.
“May I ask why you chose to come? It’s very dangerous for you.”
“Because you needed my help.”
A stray leaf lay on the path. Mineko crunched it without hesitation. “Didn’t you only meet Kade and Callie recently?”
“Yes, but Callie is my friend now. And I owe it to Lexi to bring Kade back.”
“Lexi? I thought she hated Kade.”
Riva smiled sadly. “Only so as not to love him, Min.”
The doors slid open at their approach. The entrance hall was stuffy and thickly carpeted, and its walls had been painted a visceral dark red. The same strange silence that had fallen over campus was here too, hanging like a moment between breaths.
“We need to go to the top floor,” said Mineko. “Let’s take the stairs.”
Riva gave a wry smirk—like Lexi, she seemed able to suggest a great deal with nothing but a twitch of her lips. “I’ll be fit by the end of this.”
The stairs ran three flights up a drab shaft decorated with Codist portraiture. Though it was tempting to run, Mineko restrained herself to taking the steps at a steady pace.
“Have you ever been in an enclave before?” she said.
“No.” Riva frowned at the ornate bannister beside her. “I never expected it would happen, either.”
“What do you do?”
“Mostly I help care for Foundation’s destitute. When I’m not following wayward cyborgs into hiding, that is.”
Yet another landing, yet another sinister Codist depicted in oils. Mineko sneered at the painting as she passed beneath it. “What’s your opinion of Lexi? Do you like her?”
Riva laughed, a husky, self-conscious sound. “To be honest, I’m a little in love with her. But I’m sure I’m not the first.”
The door to the top floor was ajar. Mineko bumped it open the rest of the way. Another bland hall ran past several closed doors and ended at an arched
window overlooking the campus lawn.
Somebody was speaking from within the Head Office, their voice agitated. “That’s completely unreasonable.” It sounded like the Dean of Politics—that nasal shrill was hard to mistake for anyone else.
“Your opinion is noted,” said a deep, calm voice.
“At least tell me why our outbound calls are blocked.”
“Imagine all these students contacting their parents at once. Think of the panic that would ensue.”
“Then you should let me on the speaker to reassure everyone.”
“The speaker is off-limits, sir.”
“How dare you order me around in this way. Don’t you realize who I am?”
The other speaker chuckled. “I think you’re the one who’s lost sight of who is who, professor. Don’t take that tone with me again.”
Mineko nudged Riva. “I need to get inside that office, but I can’t let this agent see me. He’d inform Lachlan.”
The Dean stalked out of the office. He was a large, middle-aged man with an impressive jaw and a wide mouth that tapered into the most disapproving frown on campus. Right now, he looked more irate than ever. “What are you two doing up here? Get to your rooms.”
“Shh.” Mineko touched a finger to her lips. “Don’t talk too loudly, please.”
“Tamura, it’s not safe to be roaming campus. At least, according to these friends of your father. And they won’t let us call for help. It’s ridiculous.”
Riva surveyed the hall before pointing to a nearby office kitchen. “Do you have the key to this room?”
“Me?” The Dean scratched one of his jowls. “Yes, I do.”
“May I have it?”
“Absolutely not. Go back to your dorm.”
Time to assert some authority. “Give her the key,” said Mineko. “Now.”
The Dean produced a startled croak. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I damn well can. I’m at this institution purely by choice. I could just as easily enter the service, be granted official rank overnight and return tomorrow qualified to demote you to cleaning cupboards. So don’t you dare ignore me. You’ll do as I say, or else I’ll remember your name when I inherit my father’s place on the Committee.”
And with that, the man who strutted about campus like an overlord became a meek, obliging servant. “Yes, Ms. Tamura. Ma’am.” The Dean fumbled in the breast pocket of his uniform, took out a key ring and handed it to Riva. “It’s this one, the copper one.”
“Thank you.” Riva entered the kitchen, peeked into the cupboards, stood on her toes to investigate the smoke alarm and tested the window.
“What is she doing?” said the Dean. Fair question.
Without a word of explanation, Riva stuffed the microwave with an odd assortment of items: a ball of aluminum foil, several forks, a sheet of baking paper. Apparently satisfied, she shut the microwave and began prodding its control pad.
“Mineko, get out of sight,” she said.
Despite her curiosity, Mineko ducked into a small study. She closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar, and waited.
First, a ping—the microwave turning on. Then a steady whirling sound—the microwave in motion. A sparking noise. The heavy thud of something banging against plastic. More sparking. A hint of smoke in the air. A whooshing sound, as of paper catching alight. A high pierced shriek repeated over and over—the fire alarm.
“Help! Somebody help!” said Riva. “It’s a bomb!”
Mineko peeked through the doorway as the agent dashed into the hall. He was a young, surly henchman: a little Lachlan-in-training. He drew his pistol and ventured into the smoke-filled kitchen.
Riva shut the door behind him and locked it. Furious knocking erupted from the other side.
“That’s him taken care of,” Riva said. “I do hope he opens the window.”
The Dean looked ashen and distressed, as if he’d accidentally started swallowing a live frog and realized he had no choice but to finish it. “I find it hard to believe this is acceptable behavior.”
“Shut up,” said Mineko. “Come with me.”
She’d only been inside the Head Office twice before, both times for minor administrative matters. Still, she knew where to find what she was looking for: a chunky terminal with an attached handset, the system used to broadcast messages campus-wide.
She made an imperious gesture to the Dean. “Turn this on for me.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” With a chubby finger, the Dean poked in a security code. The fire alarm fell silent—thank God. “What shall I tell them?”
“Say that I’m here with you. Let them know I’m about to speak.”
“If you say so.” The Dean depressed another button. “Staff and students, this is the Dean of Politics. Attention please. I have with me Mineko Tamura, who has a message to convey about the situation on campus.” He scowled into the distance, perhaps struck by how implausible his situation had become, before releasing the button. “It’s all yours, Ms. Tamura.”
“Thank you.” Mineko closed her eyes, inhaled, and took the microphone.
CHAPTER 29
On the path outside the Medicine building, Callie faltered. “I’m going to be sick…” She doubled over and stared at the ground while heaving air into her lungs. Turani watched the spectacle, expressionless.
“Are you okay?” said Kade. “Is it adrenaline?”
“No. I just can’t…” Callie wiped sweat from her forehead. “I can’t hold a gun on her like this.”
Shit, of course—Callie had only yesterday been traumatized by that shooting in the mall. Now here was Kade, forcing her to move another young woman at gunpoint. “Christ, Callie, I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should be tougher than this.”
“You scout ahead. I’ll take your place.” Kade gripped Turani’s shoulder and pressed his gun into the small of her back. “Keep moving, agent.”
Turani treated Callie to a scornful look. “I’m surprised a Codist-killing rat like you has already lost her nerve.”
The last thing Kade needed was for Turani to have any hope that her captors might lose their resolve. He jabbed her with the revolver, pushing her forward. “My friend doesn’t want to see you harmed, but me, I’m not so sure. You Codists live privileged, comfortable lives. Perhaps having them cut short is a proper reckoning for your wealth. A brief lifespan would be some small measure of justice.”
Callie looked horrified, but Turani relented and let herself be steered into the building.
Several nervous students in the lobby scattered at the sight of the intruders, leaving the pristine marble space empty. “They act like we’re here to kill them all,” said Callie.
“That’s what they’re taught. We’re rabid wolves circling the enclaves.”
Callie roamed the lobby, gaping at the vaulted ceiling and walking through patches of soft sunlight cast through circular windows. “I’ve never seen a building like this that wasn’t in ruins.” She gawked at a portrait of a stern woman clutching a book. “Who’s the grumpy lady?”
“A Codifier.” Kade nudged Turani in the direction of the elevator. “One of the first Codists.”
“How long ago was she alive?”
“Over a century.” Kade thumped the elevator call button. An arrow above the doors turned green.
Callie whistled as she admired the chandeliers that glittered above, their artificial candles tipped with incandescent bulbs. “Where’d they get the money to build all this?”
“The Codists seized their wealth during the plunder of Europe. They brought it here after the collapse. In the brief peace, they built the first enclaves, and then somehow they rode out the apocalypse.”
A blue shape moved on a balcony above. Just a student, staring at them over the railings. Kade waved the kid away, and the poor thing retreated.
“I suppose you pride yourself in knowing about us,” said Turani. “However flawed your knowledge might be.”
“Studying Codist history is instructive. It shows us what happens when people sit on riches rather than share them. It explains your stagnant, repressive system, in which the elite are free to flout a moral code that holds absolute for those at the bottom. A system where—”
Just as Kade was warming to his speech, the elevator opened. Its interior was mirrored, and it confronted him with the image of himself holding a subdued woman at gunpoint. Hard to feel righteous looking at that.
He sighed. “Get in, Callie, and keep an eye on Turani’s hands. She might try to hit the emergency button.”
The ride up was tense, silent, and aromatic—pine-scented, if Kade was any judge. Finally the elevator reached the top level, marked O, and the doors jolted open.
The Observation Dome, as it was called, offered a view of campus from behind a glass wall that spanned half the hemisphere of the room. The circular space was sterile, with clean, white tiles and chunky plastic furniture. The only other entry point was an emergency fire exit with a plain blue door.
“Sweet view.” Callie stared through the curved glass. The Dome was lower than the enclave wall, which obscured much of the cityscape, but the campus was still visible in full. “You’d think from here that the world was perfect.”
“And here comes the man responsible for the illusion.”
An imposing figure in black strolled down the wide avenue toward the building. Several students approached him—the kids were everywhere, hiding behind trees, lurking beneath gazebos, peering out of windows—only to be ignored.
“Callie,” said Kade. “I need you to break the elevator.”
“What, with my bare hands? I’m buff, sure, but not that buff.”
“You know what I mean. Sabotage. And you, agent, go stand in the corner and keep quiet.”
“Jesus, lay off her. Power trip much?” Shaking her head, Callie ducked into the elevator. After some consideration, she took a screwdriver from her pocket—did that girl ever run out of screwdrivers?—and tapped it against the control panel. “I can probably yank this off and mess up the insides, but I have no tools, so once it’s broken, it’s broken. You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
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