“What intel did we gain?” Nelson asked.
Nathan sighed. “Not much. The government keeps most of its executives in the dark for this exact reason. They don’t want them capable of spilling their guts to the wrong parties.”
The imagery in his statement gave me an uneasy feeling, as I imagined the literal prospect of “spilling one’s guts” during an interrogation.
“What happened to the executives?” I asked nervously.
“Don’t worry, Robin. Piper is treating them with the utmost respect.”
Piper?
“I thought Piper was in charge of education,” Jace said.
“And surveillance,” Nelson added.
I had been thinking the exact same thing. We hadn’t known he was involved in surveillance until yesterday, and now he was also involved in interrogations? The mystery around his identity—and his position in Little John—was growing deeper by the second.
Nathan picked up on our trepidations.
“Piper is multifaceted. His specific role is more about general oversight than any one division. He oversees multiple departments. But he is particularly well-suited to interrogations.”
I could see that. Piper’s unusual good looks seemed to disarm the people around him. He was poised and well spoken. He reminded me of a salesperson. But was there also a cold and calculating side to Piper that made him “well-suited to interrogations”? Or an intimidating aspect to him that made people talk? I wanted to press Nathan on this, but the conversation continued before I had the chance.
I was beginning to wonder just why Nathan had called us in here to begin with. He didn’t seem to have any updates of substance. Or if he did, he wasn’t sharing them with us. We didn’t have new information through Artemis, and the interrogations weren’t going as well as we had hoped.
“What do we do if we can’t go hunting blindly in the files, but also can’t get any clues from the human side of the Ministry?” Zion asked next, summing up our conundrum.
Nathan began nodding slowly, encouraging us to continue that line of thought.
“We try a new angle,” I offered.
“Exactly. And we already have the next angle ready. We just need to figure out how to tackle it,” Nathan replied.
He was already making plans for a new way to approach this problem. But where did that leave us? Was he going to let us in on this secret, or just tease us?
“What exactly does that mean? And what do you need from us?” Jace asked.
Nathan paused. Then he stood from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk to stand closer to us.
“I need more than I deserve,” he said thoughtfully.
We all leaned forward in our seats to hear what he had to say next. More than he deserved? What more could we give to him that we hadn’t already? We had already left all of our lives behind and risked arrest, imprisonment, and even execution for Little John. He needed more than that? From what he was saying, it sounded like he was about to send us on our most dangerous mission yet.
I looked around at our team and felt a pang of fear. Who would we lose this time? Who would we be honoring at the next parade? The thought made me feel sick. I just wanted Nathan to spit it out, so we could start to figure out whether we could do it or not.
“Patience,” Nathan finally said. “Patience and understanding.”
The team visibly relaxed. But I was left feeling unfulfilled. Those were two things I was having a hard time supplying at the moment, now that I finally knew where Hope was and was anxious to find her. I’d talked myself into allowing Little John business to come before retrieving Hope, but now it seemed like even the Little John business was going to be delayed.
I definitely wasn’t okay with that.
“So, we just need to wait until we hear from you again?” Kory asked.
“On the bright side, that means no more rushing through the buffet line,” Ant wisecracked. Jackie shot him a look.
“I know you are looking to me for answers,” Nathan said, ignoring the joke. “And I just need you to trust that I’m doing the best I can for Edgewood, and Little John, and all of you individually. You aren’t just pawns to me. Savannah and Ajax… they were good people and good teammates. I don’t want to risk any more lives unnecessarily, even if we’re anxious to wrap up loose ends.”
Loose ends. I thought I was beginning to understand why Nathan was asking for patience. He might send us to dangerous places, but he didn’t like doing it unless—and until—he knew what we were getting into. He simply had more research to do before he decided on the next step in his plan.
“Well, that’s all for today. I hope to be in touch with you guys very soon. In the meantime, enjoy what Edgewood has to offer and enjoy each other’s company. Family is precious, but friends are the family that we can choose. Never take that for granted.”
Nathan seemed particularly pensive and reflective today. Had Ajax’s and Savannah’s deaths affected him that deeply? Or was there something else on his mind that he wasn’t comfortable sharing with us? Either way, the meeting felt like somewhat of a bust. We had received updates, but no new information. All we had was Nathan’s assurances that he had a “new angle.”
But there was nothing more to be said for the time being. Nathan had given us the audience we had requested, and now the meeting was adjourned. The team began to stand and file toward the door, when his voice broke through our murmurings.
“Robin, can I speak to you for a moment?” he asked.
The question took me aback. We had just been in a formal meeting. What did he have to say to me that he couldn’t say in front of the rest of the team?
I shot a confused glance at Jace, but he nodded reassuringly at me and then walked off with the rest of the group. Nelson cast a glance back at us before leaving as well, and my heart hurt for her. There was only one thing I could imagine Nathan wanting to speak to me about alone: the archives. Hope. And if Nathan was about to discuss the archives with me, Nelson deserved to be there for the conversation.
Nathan shut the door, and we returned to our seats at his desk.
“Robin, I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”
Oh.
“O-Of course,” I stuttered. It wasn’t a big deal. I would’ve done it for anyone.
“Have you ever killed anyone before?” Nathan asked.
The question was an uncomfortable one.
“One other time,” I answered. “To save Jackie.”
Nathan nodded, looking in the direction of his large window. The sun was shining through brilliantly, and his face was flooded with light, illuminating all of the lines and reminding me of his age. He certainly wasn’t fragile, but he must be starting to slow down. He shouldn’t be going out on missions anymore. What would we have done if he had died back in Smally? Who would’ve led us then?
“I know you’re facing a dilemma, Robin. I knew from the way you hesitated before you killed the guard in Smally. I knew when you asked about the safety of the executives. You’re right not to see the world in black and white. It’s not good guys versus bad guys. Most of us are somewhere in between. Most of us are just fighting for what we believe in.”
Where was he going with this?
“When Corona and I first learned where her daughter was, we thought about taking an airship and destroying her entire neighborhood to bring her back. We thought about entering her home with guns blazing and snatching her away. We thought about killing every person that ever stood in our way. But her daughter… she loved those people. She loved the people who raised her. She loved her school and her friends and her home. And those people who stole her—maybe they cared about her, too. Maybe they thought they were doing the right thing for her by saving her from the evil clutches of two dangerous terrorists.”
My heart broke at his words. I would never have considered the possibility that Nathan and Corona knew where her child was and were choosing not to reclaim her.
“Your daughter is still young. You
still have a chance. But you have to think about what matters to you. Chanley is the capital. The security will be extreme. Is it worth it to get your daughter back quickly,” he asked, his eyes now boring into mine, “if you have to kill the people she loves?”
Finally, he had said it. I had sensed where the conversation was going. I knew that an awful catch would be waiting for me at the end. And I also knew somewhere deep down that he would be right.
Hope was two years old. She was probably already saying “mama” and “dada.” Maybe she was very attached to her nanny. Maybe she had siblings she loved. It was hard enough to imagine taking her away from her home and the people she had known her whole life, but without a well-executed plan, I was at risk of doing even more damage. What if her adoptive father kept a gun in the house? What if escaping with Hope meant going through her adoptive parents? Would Hope be able to bond with me as her biological mother if she knew that I had killed the people who had raised her for two years?
I sat in silence and tried to hold back the tears.
Nathan stood and walked around the desk until he was directly in front of me. Then he knelt and grabbed my hands.
“I just need you to trust me,” he repeated.
I did trust him. He had brought us all together in Edgewood. He was fighting the same fight that we were. And he knew firsthand what it was like to put the greater good over his own desires, which happened to be exactly my own: bringing home a daughter.
He squeezed my hands and then released them and rose to his feet.
“But I need something else from you while we’re at it.”
I looked up at him, slightly confused by the sentiment. “Anything,” I said in response. “What do you need?”
Nathan walked to his door and opened it, then stood there until I rose and met him at the door. We were obviously going somewhere.
“I think you’re the person to tackle that new angle we need to try,” he said as he walked out of his office, beckoning me to follow him.
8
Nathan didn’t speak to me as we walked through Edgewood. I wanted to ask questions, to understand where we were going and what role I would be playing, but Nathan was walking quickly and seemed deep in thought. Surely we would have time for my questions when we got to where we were going.
Besides, I was lost in my own cluttered thoughts. I couldn’t believe that Nathan and Corona knew where Corona’s daughter was. It had only been a few days since I had found out Hope’s location, and the wait was already killing me. How long had Corona known where her child ended up? How had they survived that type of torture? Would I survive it if I was never able to reunite with my daughter?
I walked briskly to keep up with Nathan. People were milling about on the cobbled streets of Edgewood. I could see children running and laughing in the playground behind the school. It was another picturesque day in Edgewood, but as I followed Nathan on our mysterious journey, I was feeling less sure of our presumed peace and safety. Where were we going? And why?
We approached a building that sat on the opposite side of the dormitories. It was a slightly darker color than the rest of the buildings on the street, and thick green vines covered one of its sides. Whereas most of the buildings nearby were buzzing with people coming and going, this building was quiet and still.
I noticed that several obvious security cameras were aiming down at the street from the building’s eaves and gulped.
Nathan sidestepped the front door of the building and turned down a narrow alley to its side, and I followed closely, the security cameras swiveling to point at us as we passed underneath. Just what kind of building was this? In the alley, a short stairwell led down to what appeared to be an external basement door. Nathan began to descend the steep concrete steps, and I stayed close behind him while I continued to peer up at the security cameras. They were still pointed directly at us. At the bottom of the stairs, Nathan placed his hand on a security pad and I heard a beep. The basement door opened with a hiss, as if it had been sealed, and Nathan stepped into the basement.
I entered behind him, shielding my eyes from a sudden blinding light. The inside certainly wasn’t what I had expected. It was bright white in the basement, lit mercilessly by strong overhead bulbs, and a row of white computers almost blended in with the white floors and white walls. I blinked hard to adjust to the sight.
A few people were walking back and forth inside, stopping occasionally to look at screens and write down data, and I became aware of a low, rhythmic beeping sound filling the room. It almost sounded like sonar. All along the wall I could see video feeds from within and around Edgewood: the woods outside the projection, the main street, the school, the dining hall…
It was the surveillance room.
Piper strode up to Nathan from an office in the corner.
“Second floor,” he said to Nathan, ignoring me entirely and speaking quietly enough that I assumed he was trying to keep me out of whatever he had to say.
But Nathan took a step back so that we were standing side by side, his body language subtle but clear: She is a part of this conversation, too.
Piper looked me over. Was he sizing me up? His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he put on his trademark smile.
“Robin, if I recall correctly,” he said in a charming tone.
Nathan patted me on the back paternally. “She’s here to help,” he said with a wink.
I looked over at Nathan. What was I here to help with? Surveillance? I knew nothing about any of the tech in this room. And I certainly didn’t have any new information to share with them. What were they getting at?
Before I could ask, Piper and Nathan had turned to walk away, and I was left trailing in their wake.
Piper led us through the white room into a more muted hallway. It had looked like a compact building from the outside, but the inside took advantage of every square inch of space. Monitors lined the walls outside the main surveillance room as well. Busy-looking team members milled around here, too, studying the monitors and writing down reports. An elevator sat waiting for us at the end of the hallway with its doors open, and we squeezed inside and were on our way to the second floor.
I felt like I didn’t belong there with the two of them. Why was I in the surveillance building with two of our most senior leaders? I got the impression that Piper was wondering the same thing. He leaned over to Nathan at one point as if he was going to whisper something to him. But Nathan stepped forward to speak to me instead.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
I was puzzled. I wanted to ask what was happening, but I had a feeling that I would know very shortly. So instead I simply nodded.
Then the doors opened on another unremarkable hallway. Or at least I thought it was. Stepping out of the elevator, I was surprised to see large mirrors running down both sides. This walkway was nothing but mirrors, with a single door at the end. It felt like some kind of corporate funhouse.
We walked through the corridor and to the door at the end, where Piper laid his palm on a security pad. The door slid open for us, and we slipped through, all of us silent.
A woman turned to face me with a warm smile.
“Good to see you, Robin,” came Corona’s sing-song voice.
She was seated in front of a dozen or so video feeds. Several of the feeds were blank or pointed at a single chair in an empty room. But six or eight feeds showed people sitting at empty desks in rooms by themselves.
I managed a polite greeting for Corona, but then began studying the screens. The people were all dressed similarly, in plain clothing. They were in various states of repose, some with their heads down on their desks and others just sitting back in their chairs. They looked very bored and exhausted, and were a mix of men and women, all seemingly middle aged. And they looked familiar.
“The executives,” I said. I didn’t need confirmation, but Piper provided it anyway.
“Yes, seven executives and six semi-successful interrogations. They’ll
be taking their leave from Edgewood soon.”
I turned quickly to look directly at Piper.
“To where?” I asked.
Corona stood from her chair in front of the monitors and stepped closer to me. “Don’t worry, Robin,” she said. “They’re going home today. Or at least, their journeys home will begin today. We’re not in the business of taking innocent lives when it can be avoided.”
“But won’t the government come for them? Will the Ministry know that we had them? Will… Will these people be interrogated by the Ministry because they were held here?” I asked, my voice breaking a bit at the thought. How could they risk Edgewood that way? How could they risk these people? These people had probably seen Piper face-to-face, if he was in charge of the interrogations. Sending them home—where the Ministry would find them—seemed like a massive liability to security, particularly at a time when Piper already sounded concerned about security at Edgewood.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve used these interrogation rooms, Robin,” Piper said to me, a hint of condescension in his voice, as if I had asked a stupid question. “They get a special injection right after their interrogations and then”—he held out a fist and flicked all of his fingers outward at once—“poof! The memory of the interrogation doesn’t take hold. They’re drugged any time they are outside of these rooms. The only information they’ll be able to provide the government with is a description of the inside of the interrogation room.”
“The drugs are gentle on their system,” Nathan added, knowing I would be uncomfortable with the thought. “We provide them with food and a bed and all of their basic needs. It may not be fun being here, but their main source of discomfort is probably just boredom.”
“And we try to get them back to their homes and families as quickly as possible,” Corona said. “We try to make interrogations concise for that reason.”
“How do you explain their absences?” I asked. How could Little John make sure these executives were safe when they got back home? Wouldn’t the Ministry come looking for them? Would they be subject to even more interrogation from their bosses?
The Child Thief 5: Ghost Towns Page 8