Ethan spins on his heel and plops onto the sofa beside me. It’s reassuring to feel the rub of his elbow against mine as we face off against Willoughby.
“Before we divert to the information you have requested, I would like a complete update on this case.”
Ethan glances at me. I nod to him. He’s the logical spokesman, having done the most research. He begins. “Jack and I have been looking for a link between the kidnappings, something to tie them all together, and we believe we may have found one. All suspects have been young males, roughly sixteen to twenty, with similar backgrounds. Those from the Middle caste each have passed through Children’s Domestic Services. The Lowers now in custody actually have no official past, which is another matter entirely, but we have circumstantial evidence of similar upbringings. No suspects have emerged from the upper castes.
“We’re talking about kids who have bounced around a lot,” he continues. “To all appearances, they were well-adjusted and well-liked. For some unknown reason, however, they all turned against their friends, all women. And these young men, unrelated and unknown to each other as far as we can tell, forced these young women to the same secret location.”
“But you don’t know what’s prompted them to identical behaviors,” Willoughby assumes.
“We do not. But we must note that these were all behaviors incongruent to their personalities. And they all occurred suddenly, within a two-week time period in which the radiation waves that appeared in their vicinity suddenly intensified.”
“Are you suggesting a link between the radiation and the behavior?”
“It seems likely, sir. This week, Jack mentioned cellular manipulation as a possibility. I’ve spoken to Guardsman Markle about it. It is a theory I would like to explore further with her.”
“She has mentioned some new research to that effect.”
“I’d like to catch up with her first thing in the morning. I believe the idea bears merit.” Ethan clasps his hands in his lap. “What we are left with at the moment, however, is a disturbing epidemic of young criminals hiding in plain sight all across the country. Our finest young men—all large and well-formed—abducting our most promising young women—all athletic and intelligent.” Ethan hesitates. “My gut reaction—and this is pure speculation—is that someone could be sabotaging our Military hopefuls by turning one half against the other.”
It’s the first I’ve heard Ethan voice this idea, though I admit it has a certain logic. This week I’ve gained a lot of respect for Ethan’s ability to pull together pieces of the whole and form conclusions ready for testing.
Willoughby’s eyelids grow weighted with the heaviness of the thought. “That is an interesting theory.”
“With serious implications, if it proves true. Our top priorities, however, must be to identify any other men likely to transform, as well as locate and rescue the young women still missing. When they are safe, we can narrow down the why.”
Willoughby’s eyes remain distant as he nods his head. Then they flick to me. “And what is your response to all this, Jack?”
“Me?” I straighten uncomfortably. I haven’t anticipated the question. “Um, I believe Ethan has summarized it very well.”
“Indeed. But you’ve each brought different strengths to this case. I’d like to hear from your perspective.”
The clock ticks loudly in my silence. When I finally begin, my words come slowly. “I think Capernica will regret the way it has forgotten this generation of Lowers.”
Willoughby lifts his eyebrows. “I see. And do you believe your observation has bearing on this case?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. The Warrens and other old city districts like it provide ample opportunity for criminals to hide from the authorities. They are a reservoir of energy and determination that the government would do well to reckon with.”
“Do you think the Lowers are involved?”
“No, sir. Not as a cohesive entity. Their actions tonight prove they are not.”
“What we are left with, then, is a series of related disappearances. If it wasn’t for the criminal evidence you uncovered tonight, it would almost seem like the Provocation all over again, would it not?” Willoughby asks.
Ethan and I exchange a look. I feel disquiet growing in my gut. “What are you implying, sir?” I ask.
“You do see the similarities, don’t you?” He stares at us keenly.
“We can’t begin to compare the numbers,” Ethan says cautiously.
“Ah,” Willoughby says. “But the Provocation started out slowly. Just a few missing at first. A gradual build that resulted in so many. If we only had evidence of a culprit behind the Provocation, these incidents would be very similar indeed.”
His gaze is too keen, his words too pointed. “You know something you’re not telling us,” I guess.
Willoughby smiles. “And now we have come to the point where Ethan’s earlier demands and this case merge. Yes, my dear Miss Holloway, I do know something you don’t.” He leans forward and folds his hands. “Have you ever found it odd that the Provocation has never been explained? After nearly fifty years, it seems we should have some evidence, something tangible to hold onto.”
I have often wondered that very thing. “I think we’ve been brainwashed into simply accepting it. No explanations are ever given.”
Ethan’s eyes narrow. “What do you know, Willoughby?”
“I think I better start at the beginning.” He pauses to consider the wood grain on his desktop. “I believe you know Axis came into existence soon after the Provocation, and the original purpose of our existence was to investigate the cause and prevent a recurrence. But Governor Macron has always reserved the power to decide what we reveal to the public and what we do not. You’ve seen this yourselves.”
Ethan and I both nod.
“In our earliest days, Axis uncovered a vast amount of evidence as to who was really behind the Provocation and how it happened. Terribly incriminating evidence, but not toward President Dempsey and the Continental Government. It pointed to something far, far different.
“Governor Macron had already quietly assumed control of the media even before Dempsey’s downfall. She decided a revelation of the complete truth would be beyond the public’s ability to absorb, so she chose to bring to light only the evidence that could be twisted to indict President Dempsey. While it is true the president was vastly unprepared to deal with the situation, in essence, he took the fall for something that was not of his doing. And Andromeda Macron used his ineptitude to make her initial grasp at power. She’s been using the Provocation to cement it ever since. In fact, she’s the one who named it, to justify what she’d done.”
I gape at him, struggling to draw in a breath. I’ve been sucker punched. Blindsided. Knocked off my feet. He’s suggesting the unthinkable about the leader of our country, a woman who has never given so much as a hint to that kind of behavior. How am I supposed to absorb this? It will take me a week at least. The implications are astronomical.
I force out a single question, weak with shock and disbelief. “H-how can you even say this, Willoughby?”
“Because it is the truth, Miss Holloway. And too few people know it. You have no idea how keeping a secret like this wears on a man. It undermines his integrity.” He leans forward, his gaze as intent as I’ve ever seen it. “Now I am telling you because I believe these cases overlap. I think they stem from a common root. If so, we can use each one to solve the other. With your talents and my knowledge, perhaps we can stop a growing calamity and unravel a very old mystery.”
Ethan is listening with his arms crossed and his eyes skewed. He’s concentrating so hard, I wonder if he can see into Willoughby’s skull. “You’re making some very strong statements against the governor, Willoughby. Some might even call them treasonous.”
“Andromeda would, certainly. My life would be forfeit if she knew what I am telling you. But I don’t expect you to take my word for it.” Willoughby hands him a slip of paper. �
�Use this clearance code to access my private archive. You can pull up all the information directly to your holoband. Most of the physical evidence has also been preserved and hidden, despite Governor Macron’s edict that it be destroyed. You are welcome to study any of it. Do not call me a traitor until you have made a preliminary examination of the evidence. I believe you’ll find it especially insightful in regards to our current investigation.”
Ethan takes the slip hesitantly.
“It’s time to bring the full truth to light. Destroy that paper when you commit it to memory.”
I burn with breathless curiosity as this exchange takes place. Now Willoughby turns to me. “I have further matters I would like to discuss privately with you, Jack, that pertain to your presence here at Axis. Captain Alston, you are dismissed.”
Ethan straightens and gives Willoughby a stiff salute. Before he leaves, however, he asks me, “Will you join me for a run in the morning, Jack?”
I’m no longer in basic training and not required to do so. But I’ve actually enjoyed our runs through the city this past week. I smile and nod.
“Four thirty, then. Don’t be late,” he says gruffly. Then he winks where Willoughby can’t see and slips out the door.
When he’s gone, Willoughby looks me directly in the eye. “You have been wondering why I’ve brought you here.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes, sir. I’ve been very curious.”
“It was your court case that brought you to my attention. It caused a bit of a stir in some circles. Not many ten-year-olds face charges such as the ones levied against you.”
I fidget uncomfortably. It’s a part of my past I’d rather forget about, but it keeps slipping to the forefront lately.
“Throughout the trial, you displayed an unerring sense of justice, ingenuity, forethought, and initiative—all traits we value highly here at Axis. And in the years since, I’ve only seen you grow in determination. With your background, I believed you were uniquely qualified for a position here. This week, you have proven my hunch correct.”
I look at him doubtfully. That answer was too obvious and far from satisfactory. He’s still describing every kid in the CDS. I’m really not as unique as he thinks I am, which makes me question his true motives. Because there has to be more to it. What is he not telling me? And why won’t he come clean?
He draws a file box from beneath his desk. “I have pulled specific items from my archive that I believe you may have special insight into. They could very well contain a connection to the current disappearances. I have also taken the liberty of moving you from the women’s dorm to more secure quarters usually reserved for guest officers, as I should not like these files to fall into the wrong hands. I’ll show you the way.”
He rises and moves to a door at the side of his office. With the box beneath his arm, he opens the door. “After you, my dear.”
I follow, still feeling flabbergasted and a little suspicious. We’re in a short hallway with several doors leading off either side. He stops at the third one. “Your holoband has been programmed with an activation frequency.”
I raise my band to the door and it unlocks automatically.
“The door at the end of the hall will see you back into the public areas of the facility.” Willoughby hands me the box. “I trust you’ll find the quarters comfortable and commodious for private study. Please make these files your highest priority and report back with anything that strikes you as unusual or useful.” He smiles and gives me a slight nod. “And here I will bid you good night.”
SIXTEEN
I stop just inside the door. The apartment isn’t as plush as the one I’ve left behind in Epson City, but it’s far more inviting than the dormitory. I walk into a tiled kitchenette with a small table and chairs and through to a carpeted living area arranged with overstuffed furniture. Two doors on opposite sides of the living room reveal bedrooms, each containing a private bath. The few belongings I left in the dorm room locker have been placed in the larger bedroom.
I carry my armload back out to the sofa. I am tired and eager for a hot shower, but curiosity gets the best of me. I sink onto the cushion and spread the box’s contents on the coffee table. Along with files containing typed and handwritten pages, it contains a dozen banned books—a Bible, myths from a variety of cultures, and the same edition of Jack and the Beanstalk that Miss Whaley owned. In fact, with so many forbidden books spread out before me, the moment feels very much like the hours I spent in Miss Whaley’s office.
I pick up Jack and the Beanstalk and open the front cover. The name Evelyn Parnell is written in a fine, curling hand. It makes me wonder briefly who that long-ago child might have been. I read through the old story of the boy who exchanged his family’s milk cow for a handful of magic beans and then climbed the vine that grew up to the heavens overnight. After discovering a castle belonging to a cruel giant in the sky, the boy robbed the giant of his three greatest treasures, escaped down the beanstalk, and then chopped it down, sending the pursuing giant to its death.
I smile to myself and close the cover of the familiar book. It has brought me back to my childhood, but I can’t imagine what bearing the folk tale can possibly have on our current case. Rising, I drop the book onto the coffee table with the others, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed. Today has felt years long.
I’m still yawning when I meet Ethan the next morning. “Can’t we push this back an hour and half? I’m not in training anymore.”
“We’re always in training.”
I drop into a deep knee bend and flex my quads. “In that case, I do my best training at six.”
He smirks. “At six, Captain Chase has agreed to continue your weapons instruction. Unless you’ve changed your mind. Willoughby’s kept her on to help out with the kidnapping case. He’s got Padrillo involved too.”
I remember my decision in the wilderness to become more proficient in hand-to-hand combat. I’d prefer Ethan to teach me, as he did that week in the mountains, but Captain Chase is a respectable instructor. “Yeah, I still want to.”
“Good girl.” He pulls both arms behind his head, using one to stretch the other. Even in the dim glow of our holobands, it’s hard not to notice the fabric stretching over his triceps and bulging across the front of his shirt.
“How about after yesterday we just go an easy eight this morning, conversation speed,” I suggest.
He agrees, and we set off down the trail side by side.
“So, what did Willoughby say to you after he dismissed me last night?” he asks.
“He finally told me what I’m doing here. He said even as a child I displayed certain character traits he admired.”
“And how does a young Outlier attract the attention of the head of Axis?”
I’ve never told Ethan about the murder trial. “Chance, I suppose. He said he noticed me through the CDS. Then he assigned me a bunch of materials to look over, just like he did to you. He thought my background might give me a fresh perspective on them.”
“Find anything interesting?”
“Not yet. I was pretty tired last night.”
“Understandable.” He peeks over at me. “You did well on your first assignment. I’m proud of you, Jack.”
His praise lightens my feet. “Thanks. So, what did Willoughby give to you?”
He’s quiet for half a minute. I glance over and see the troubled crease in his forehead. “I’m not sure what to make of it yet. There’s a lot of data—forensics reports, autopsies, witness accounts. It’s—I don’t know. I want to go through it more carefully before I comment. But one thing is certain. The Provocation is well-documented.”
We break out of the woods, stride around a bend in the path, and the valley spreads out below us. “Have you checked on the prisoners this morning?” I ask.
“No. They’re being held in separate areas, and I’ve given orders for physical and psychological profiles on them. I want their brains scanned, their DNA mapped, their c
hemistry analyzed, their memories probed. We’ve got no history for either of them, so I want their physical presence to tell us everything it can.”
“Is it legal? To probe their memories?”
“I’m not sure I care. In just two weeks, we’re up to nearly three hundred missing girls. Now we’ve caught two suspects red-handed—both criminally unregistered, no less. That’s enough reason in my book.”
“Is there a way to find out if they know about other locations where girls might be held? Or why they’re being held?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” He takes about twenty more strides before adding, “I thought you’d like to know, Emerson is holed up at the edge of the city, several miles north of where we left him. I imagine he isn’t feeling as fresh as we are this morning with that bullet in his arm, but he was well enough to travel. The tracker shot has a fairly small range, so I put a man on it before we lost him. Emerson led him well away from the fire.”
“It’s still burning?”
“Nothing was going to stop that inferno until it burned itself out. And the wind was strong enough to spread it. Last I checked, it had traveled over a mile. Will you contact Jewel today and find out everything you can? I’d like to keep that connection open in case there are further developments.”
I realize how good Ethan is at his job. While I slept, he’s been monitoring half a dozen angles. “Sure. No problem.”
“I also sent someone in to recover that syringe before some kid got hold of it. We already have the reports back. It was just diazepam—Valium.”
I’m glad Markay didn’t suffer anything worse.
“We retrieved your gun from your locker, as well. I’ll make sure you get it back.”
Our conversation turns to lighter topics. After another half hour, I can see the globe and sword symbol on the wall of headquarters through the lightening trees. “Good run,” Ethan says when we part ways in the dorm room hallway. “I’ll see you at lunch. Oh, and if you’re not too busy, come on out to the Fire Ring at six this evening.” He grins. “I’m dueling Colonel Padrillo.”
Recompense (Recompense, book 1) Page 19