by Natasha Deen
“Stand over there,” said Jace, pointing to his left. “I want to take a picture of you.”
Smart guy. I moved to the spot he indicated.
“Smile, baby,” he said in a tone only a certain kind of boy used for his girl.
I swallowed and did what he asked.
He took the photo, and I came over to take a look. “Good idea,” I said. “Having me stand in front of them. Did you get a good shot?”
He nodded. “Time to get out of here.”
We walked away, and with every step I got madder. Mad at the goons forcing kids to beat and kill each other. Mad at the morons who watched it all and called it sport. Mad at the parents who were such terrible people that their kids thought life on the street was better than staying home.
By the time we got to the car, a hot, pure rage burned through me. One way or another, even if I had to break the law, I was going to avenge all the lost kids trapped in this hellhole.
***
Jace sent the photo to Bentley. By the time we got back to the palace, he had already hacked into Vancouver’s street-camera system.
“It will take a while,” said Bentley as we came into his room—filled with enough gadgets to make Batman jealous—and sat down beside him. Three TVs were positioned along the wall. One was tuned to the business channel, another to the news, and the third showed some singer dressed in plastic wrap. Bentley had the volume up on all three sets. The bass of the song competed with the news of the Nasdaq, while a reporter talked about a rash of 9-1-1 prank calls.
I tuned them out as Bentley started to fill us in on his progress. “In 2009, Vancouver got $400,000 to install more than a thousand closed-circuit television cameras all around the city. Since then they’ve expanded to—”
“We don’t need an exact count,” said Jace. “Or the history lesson.” He looked over at me. “Which, knowing my brother, would inevitably turn into a rant on the infringement of our civil liberties.”
Bentley rolled his eyes. “Make fun of me all you want, but you know I’m telling the truth. Big Brother is everywhere, watching our every move. However, in this case, all that surveillance works to our advantage.
“Hopefully, the facial-recognition software will help us zero in on our target. But if that doesn’t work, we can use cameras from other businesses. Banks, for instance. Their cameras point out toward the streets, so we can see passersby and other things, like cars and maybe even license plates. Once we get our guy, we can start tracking his movements. From there, it’s just a matter of time before I figure out his identity.”
I know when a guy wants to hear thanks. I gave Bentley’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” I turned to Jace. “And you too. Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime.” He followed me to the door, where he grabbed my arm and added, “We’ll get her back.”
Yeah. I just hoped it wouldn’t be in a body bag.
***
The next morning I texted Bentley to see if he’d had any luck. I knew he hadn’t—he would have passed on stuff as soon as he got it—but I didn’t want the mystery man to fall in priority. I heard a beep and saw his reply.
CHILL
Easy for him to say. Hard for me to do. Truth was, after I got a bit of Raven’s help to play Spider-Girl and do some wall climbing, I was going to ice out the group on this project. It was too much to ask them to wade into this battle. The field where the fights were being held was an open location, and there were too many things that could go wrong. And there weren’t enough of us to set it right if it did. What I needed was a SWAT team, an army, and I knew exactly where to find it.
***
“No sunglasses?”
“Would you believe it’s out of respect?” I set my bag on the counter.
“No,” said Clem. “I believe you want a favor.”
“Ouch.”
“Truth hurts, kid.” He fixed me with an unblinking stare. “I trade favors for work. Help the kitchen make breakfast, and maybe we’ll talk.”
“Maybe?”
“I’m mysterious that way.”
I went to put on a hairnet and apron, then got busy frying eggs. Three hours later I wiped the last dish dry and went back to Clem. He was in the office, going over paperwork.
“You still want my help?”
I nodded.
He set down his clipboard. “Then walk away. Whatever you’re planning, it’s ill-thought-out and dangerous.”
“I thought you said you’d help.”
“I said maybe, and I am helping. I’m giving you advice. Take it. Whatever you’re getting into is dangerous.”
“You don’t know that.” I looked away as his stare cut through me. “Okay, so it’s dangerous, but with your help it might not be so bad.”
“This has to do with Amanda?”
“And Ian.”
Clem sighed. “Kid, how many times do we have to go through this? Forget about her. You’ll only bring trouble on yourself.”
“I need your help on this.” Because I knew I could trust Clem, I added, “I found Amanda.”
He went still.
“The day we went to the coroner, I realized the kids, they were dying because of—”
“Fights.” He heaved a sigh. “Specifically, the underground fight ring. Yeah, I saw that too.”
“I did some digging, and I found out where the gangs held the last event.” I didn’t bother to tell him I had a description of the head guy. Knowing Clem, he would dismiss it as too vague. Then he would tell me I was wasting my time.
Clem’s eyes flicked my way. “Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid. Like put yourself in danger and go there—”
“I just had to check. To see if Amanda might be there.”
He groaned. “Your loyalty to that girl is going to be your undoing.” Clem went back to his work. “You need to stay away. Whatever’s going on, it’s dangerous. You-ending-up-in-a-pine-box dangerous.”
“I won’t end up in a pine box,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“’Cause I know you.” I grinned. “You’ll spring for oak.”
He snorted.
“The group is keeping the kids hostage.” I moved close to him.
“And you know this because…?”
That made me roll my eyes. “Because if kids were suddenly showing up on the streets or in hospitals with injuries, the coroners would’ve known what killed Ian.”
He shook his head. “Supposition.”
“Deduction,” I corrected him.
“She made her choice—”
“Gimme a break, Clem. You think she’s choosing to stay there?”
“No,” he said. “I think she made a series of regrettable choices, and now someone has chosen for her.”
I ignored him. “The fights are in an outdoor location. It makes it harder for the cops to track them—”
“But not you.”
“These are kids,” I said.
“And you’re not?”
“You’re just going to let them die or be beaten into burger? When you know you can do something? When you can step in and save them?” I asked.
“I’ve been protecting and serving since before you were born, kid. The first rule of war: don’t get attached. Sometimes you have to let some fall in order to save others.”
“Is that how you lost your leg?” I stepped closer and got in his face. “Running away from those who needed your help the most?”
“I knew a private like you,” he said. “Idealistic. Determined. Resourceful.”
“And?”
Clem leaned back in his chair. “They gave him a nice burial.”
“Those kids never had a choice,” I said, “and you know it. They grew up hard and lived harder. They fell through the cracks—”
“So how come you’re not there?” he challenged. “How did you escape the cracks? You know how to jump high and long?”
I didn’t answer.
“Tell
me you didn’t suffer as much as they did.” He swiveled off the chair and stood. “You and those kids are the same. You just made a different choice.”
“Maybe,” I said, “or maybe I’m just stronger. Maybe the wind shifted that day, and instead of pushing me down a crack, it blew me to the side. Who cares? They need our help.”
“So you have motivation to help them. What about your weaponry?”
“Minimal.” It hurt to admit that.
He let silence do the talking.
“I know it’s dangerous—”
“It’s not dangerous,” he said. “It’s a suicide mission.”
“Not if you help. You’re military—you have ways.”
Clem stepped back. “I’ve given you all the help you’re going to get. Get out of the way of whatever this is, kid, and don’t look back.”
TEN
Bentley found me in a park in Richmond, watching the sky.
“I shut off the phone,” I said. “How did you track me?”
“Lowjack on the Porsche.”
“And here I thought you lent it to me out of friendship.”
“Gotta keep track of you. You’re the only art forger I know.” He sat down and handed me a Starbucks cup, steam rising from the lid. “It’s your favorite kind,” he said. “Not from a garbage and hot.”
I laughed and took the drink.
“When you didn’t come back, I figured it was bad news,” he said.
“My contact won’t help.”
“But we will.” He took my hand.
“I can’t risk your lives.”
Bentley made a sound in the back of his throat and shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“I see the resemblance between you and Jace now.” He ran his fingers in a horizontal line along his forehead. “There’s a similarity in the slope…very arrogant.”
“Hey!”
“Truth hurts,” he said.
“Only when it’s true,” I argued. “Which it isn’t. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else—”
“Neither does my brother.”
“I’m trying to protect all of you.”
“So is he,” said Bentley, “and it’s frickin’ annoying. What do you think? You’re the only one who has the skills to fix this?”
“No, but—”
He tossed out the next question. “Oh, I get it. You’re the only one with skin in the game?”
“No, but—”
“You’re the only one who knows what she’s doing,” he finished.
I didn’t answer.
“Nothing to say?” Bentley asked.
“You keep interrupting,” I said. “Thought I’d wait it out.”
He grinned and took a swig of his drink.
I took a breath and considered his points. “Okay. If you tell anyone what I’m about to say—”
“You’ll make me sleep with the fishes?”
“I’ll take away your candy,” I said.
“That hurts more.”
“You guys…” The words caught in my throat. “You’re the closest thing I have to family, okay? I can’t risk you or Jace or Raven. If I fail, it’s one thing. But if I’m responsible for you getting hurt, arrested or killed…”
Bentley took my hand. “You’re not responsible for anything. Look how great we are when we work together.”
I chewed on his words.
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“I just thought of your contact, how he’d feel knowing you were willing to risk his life but not ours.”
I punched his arm. “Don’t be a smartass. He’s had years of experience and military training. The three of you are new to this and—”
“We’re just a bunch of kids?”
“No, you’re a bunch of rookies,” I said. “What’s Raven going to do? Swing in on a vine and sweep up Amanda?”
Bentley’s lips puckered. “Wouldn’t that be something to see?”
That got us both laughing.
“You ever wonder why politicians visit schools?” asked Bentley.
“To prove they can walk without dragging their knuckles on the ground?”
“Because they know kids are the most powerful thing out there,” he said. “Think about it. A kid can’t vote, but the politician goes into the school anyway, ’cause she knows something. If she does it right, the kid goes home and tells his folks about this great lady he met. And boom, the parents are influenced to like her, to vote for her.” Bentley stood. “Never doubt if kids can change the world,” he said. “They’re the only ones who do.”
I took the night to think about what he’d said. The next morning I contacted Jace, Raven and Bentley and let them know I’d need their help again. Bentley’s software had done its job. It had not only found the mystery man, but also, after Bentley paired the name with a location algorithm, his place—an apartment building in the Bidwell block.
Finding his actual pad would be harder, but for that I had Raven. “We’re going climbing,” I told her when she picked up her cell.
“Where?”
“Yaletown,” I said. “Beach Crescent. Bentley’s software found the building of the guy who’s keeping Amanda, but finding out which apartment is his is going to be harder.”
“Why?”
“For one, the building has a doorman and a front desk. No way we’ll get past the doors,” I told her. “For two, Bentley’s done enough.”
“And what’s the plan?” she asked.
“Rooftop stakeout.”
“What?”
Back to the one-word questions. “You scale one building,” I said. “I scale another. We watch the windows, see which one he shows up in.”
Silence.
“Raven, are you there?”
“I am. Are you? Or have you fully lost what little sense you were given?”
Before I could get a word in, she continued. “I’m not letting you climb alone. And playing Peeping Tom with the hope this guy shows up in a window frame is a waste of the night.”
“Not with this guy. He’s all about showmanship. Trust me, he wanders around with his curtains open. And knowing him, he’s on the top floor. I just don’t know which side.”
“But you don’t know him,” she said.
Crap, she was annoying when she got literal. “You know what I mean. Knowing his type. You see a guy like that ever wanting an apartment underneath someone else? No way. He’s got to have the top floor. Which means he’s a show-off. Trust me, his apartment windows are bare.”
“No.” She said it like the word had cost her money. “That doesn’t matter. You’re not good enough to climb alone.”
I was, but I wasn’t going to get into a pissing contest over this. Raven had lost a friend because of climbing. It hadn’t been her fault—she hadn’t been there, but that didn’t matter. She was terrified I was going to plunge to my death, and I wasn’t going to grind her on it.
“Maybe not,” I said. “So climb my section with me, and then come get me when we’re done.”
There was silence. “Come on, girlita. The building’s all glass and metal, with just the right amount of cement. Tell me you don’t want to scale that bad boy.”
“Newb. I could use some airtime anyway.”
We met up at the Starbucks on Davie Street, then walked the rest of the way, doing our best to stay out of range of the closed-circuit cameras.
But just like with Jace, I noticed Raven looked tired. And like she was walking with a two-hundred-pound weight on her back. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Problems with Emmett?”
“Of course I have problems with him,” she said. “He’s a guy. Their job in life is to make it difficult for us girls.”
“So…business as usual?”
Her mouth pulled into a worried frown. “Not really. Remember that girl who jumped off the bridge?”
I did. Raven had seen her on the bridge earlier that same night. The girl had run off but
Raven couldn’t shake the guilt of knowing that she’d returned to finish the job. “Yeah. Still having nightmares about it?”
“Yeah, except I’m awake,” she said. “I think there’s more to the story. Something bad’s going on, like kids-are-in-danger-and-the-adults-are-responsible bad. My gut tells me drugs are involved.”
She would know. Her parents had been giant meth heads. “How can I help?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet, but when I do—”
“I’m on board,” I promised her.
We walked on in silence and a few minutes later got to the base of the building.
“Ready?” Raven tried to sound casual, but I could hear the fear in her voice.
“Yeah, I’ll do everything you say.”
She nodded.
Away from the public view, we changed shoes and brought out the dust. I covered my hands with the white powder, then stepped back and let Raven do her thing. While she tied her hair back and dusted her hands, I gently prodded the still-tender spot on my ribs just under the heart. The tattoo was an infinity symbol, a reminder of the endless possibilities that lay ahead of me. And the people I cared about.
Raven stuck her fingers in the cracks between the bricks and hoisted herself up. Then she shoved her toes against the brick and began to climb. There are no safety wires, no toe clips for this. There are only wits and concentration. I followed, keeping a respectful distance. Soon the streets were far below us, though I could still hear the whir of tires on asphalt and the occasional honk of a horn. It took a long time, but we got to the top of the building and hauled ourselves onto the roof.
“This girl, Amanda—she’s special to you,” said Raven as we sat down.
I pulled out a pair of binoculars and started scanning the windows. “Yeah.”
“Don’t get all vocal on me about it. The details and backstory are overwhelming.”
I resisted snapping back with a witty reply. “She took me under her wing when I first hit the streets. Without her, I wouldn’t be here.”
“So now you’re returning the favor.”
“Something like that.” Amanda had taken a couple of beatings meant for me, and a couple more because she wouldn’t give me up. No way was I going to leave her to her captor.
“Fair enough.” Raven stood. Stretched. “I’ll head to the building on the other—”