by A. G. Riddle
“We don’t know. Maybe. But we think he’s controlling her somehow. Leverage of some kind.”
His mind said a single name: Peyton.
He stared at the sky. “I need time—”
“Des. We don’t have time.”
“Then I need proof. You’re talking about things that happened thirty years ago.”
A sad expression crossed Avery’s face. “Follow me.”
Back inside, she stopped in front of a photo of a girl with flowing brown hair and a self-conscious smile. It was a face Desmond hadn’t seen in thirteen years. Below it was a picture taken in the woods, of a hole dug with a shovel, the dirt piled in low mounds on each side, a body wrapped in plastic, the skin pale blue, like rubber. He recognized the hair.
He looked back at the smiling face. Jennifer. The sweet receptionist who had sat at the raised dais outside the Citium library. The girl who had brought him books and invited him to dinner.
“We recruited her at Stanford, after she was already working at the Citium.” Avery’s voice grew quiet. “She was doing digital dead drops. Somebody found out.”
“How? Who?”
“We don’t know. They were very careful.”
Rage boiled inside him. His voice was barely louder than a growl. “Okay. I’m in. Now tell me what you know.”
“Citium Security. It’s Yuri’s sharp end of the stick. The bulk of the contractors have no idea what kind of person they’re working for. They’re simply protecting high-value targets, executives at Citium companies who are traveling abroad, securing facilities in dangerous regions. Some corporate counter-espionage. The higher-ups are true believers—like Yuri, they’ll do anything to see the Looking Glass completed. Same for a few special ops divisions.” She glanced at the photo. “Like the one that did this.”
Desmond’s mind immediately replayed his interaction with Conner, the military countenance his brother had taken on. Yuri’s put me in charge of Citium Security. What had he made Conner do? What was Conner capable of? After what he’d been through, probably anything.
“What do you need from me?”
Avery stepped closer. “Where is Yuri?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in months.”
“Des.”
“It’s true.”
“Your brother?”
“He’s here. In San Francisco Bay.”
Avery turned, motioned for the agents at the table.
“No.” He took her by the arm. “You want my help, we do it my way.”
She glared at him. “Right. You’re going to tell us how to stop an international terror organization?”
“I’m going to tell you the terms of my involvement. And you’re going to sell them to your boss.” He glared right back. “You’re good at that, aren’t you? Getting your boss to do what you want?”
Her face was a mask of confusion and surprise, and then hurt, like a spear had been stabbed through her heart. He regretted his words instantly.
“Avery—”
Her voice was angry and low. “Outside.”
The cool air coming off the bay was a stark contrast to the heat rising from her, her flushed red cheeks and blazing eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said.
“Avery, I know—”
“You pursued me just as much.”
“Look.” He grasped for words. “It’s been… a weird day. I don’t know who to trust. I need some time.”
“Des—”
“I know, we don’t have time.” He tried to organize his thoughts. “Whatever you’re planning—your head-on assault, Keystone Cops–style knock-down-the-doors-and-throw-everybody-in-the-paddy-wagon—it won’t work. These people are too smart for that. Yuri is a master manipulator. And strategist. He looks at the board from his perspective, then he turns it around in his mind—and studies it from yours. I know because that’s how he plays chess.”
“This is not a chess game.”
“Sure it is. And we’re going to win.”
“How? What do you know, Des?”
“I know he used me. And my brother. Because he could. Because we were both broken and desperately wanted to feel whole again. We would do anything for a cure to what ailed us. And most of all, because we were capable of building the pieces he needed. He planned it perfectly. The two of us can be used to control each other. I’m not okay with that.”
“Then destroy the pieces, Des. You have Rendition.”
“Won’t work. They’ll rebuild.” Lin’s words echoed in his mind, and almost without thinking, he repeated them. “The Looking Glass is inevitable.”
She stepped closer. “What is it?”
“That’s a longer discussion, Avery. And we don’t have time.”
“Then what’s your plan?”
In his mind, he began laying out the pieces, arranging them, turning scenarios over. His priorities were in conflict. Save Conner. Stop Yuri. Take control of the Looking Glass—and keep it out of enemy hands. Figure out what he and Avery were. And him and Peyton, if too much time had passed for them. And if not… that complicated things.
But there was one certainty: Rendition was his greatest bargaining chip, perhaps his only tool to change what was coming. They would get it from him, one way or another. Unless he couldn’t give it.
“I need to make a call.”
He opened a web browser, found the number for a scientist at Rapture Therapeutics, and dialed. The man was in Berlin—a lucky break. He could work with him while he got the reporter at Der Spiegel up to speed.
Desmond made the call. It was noon in Berlin, and it sounded like the scientist was having lunch. After the pleasantries, Desmond cut to the chase.
“Dr. Jung, I have a Rapture implant. It’s an older model.” He opened his account on the Rapture website and read out the version. “Do you know it?”
“Quite well.”
“I’d like to use it along with your memory therapy. Here’s what I’d like to do…”
By the time he finished explaining, Jung had left the restaurant and was talking excitedly, thrilled at the idea of applying his work in a new way.
Desmond ended the call and dialed a local number. The programmer was still up, clacking away at a keyboard in the background. Everyone at Labyrinth Reality worked odd hours, and for once, Desmond was glad.
“Paul, I need you to create a private Labyrinth for me. With some custom features.”
“What kind of custom features?”
When Desmond told him, he said, “Seriously? Is that even possible?”
“We won’t know until we try it. You interested?”
“Yeah, man.”
Desmond talked about the details with him for a few minutes, then hung up and walked back to Avery.
“What was that about?”
“A backup plan. In case things go south.”
“And what’s your primary plan?”
“We expose the Citium. Alert every government and every person who will listen. There will be nowhere on earth for them to hide. We’ll take control of the Citium—and the Looking Glass.”
“Des—”
“There’s a reporter in Berlin. He’s already seen some of the pieces.”
“I don’t like this. What are you going to do with Rendition?”
“Hide it.”
She motioned to the hangar. “They’re never going to go for this. They’re preparing to raid every Citium company on the planet.”
“You think Yuri hasn’t planned for that? It’ll just get people hurt. We need to take them down from the inside.”
“How?”
“I don’t know Yuri’s plan, but I know where Conner is—as I said, on a ship in the harbor. Whatever is going to happen, I think he’ll direct it from there.”
“So we take the ship—”
“No. Yuri will simply adjust. I’m going to get you on that ship.”
“How?”
“By telling Conner the truth—half of it. That I w
ant to help him and that I want to protect someone I care about. I want her on the ship, out of harm’s way, when his plan unfolds. The only safe place is next to him.”
She looked away, into the night. He waited for a reaction to his words, the closest he had ever come to professing his feelings for her.
She was all business. “What’s on the ship?”
“A floating lab. Hospital. Test subjects.”
“Testing what?”
“Rendition, originally. Now, I’m not sure.”
“Okay. What do I do on the ship?”
“Wait for me. Help me when I get there.”
Avery shook her head. “I’m not good at waiting.”
“Then do what you can—try to get yourself in a position to help. Avery, this is the only way. Those are my terms.”
They stood silently for a moment, the wind blowing their hair, the moon shining down, like two people standing in the calm before a storm.
“All right.”
“Good.”
“There’s something else, Des.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“We found it. The Beagle.”
“Impossible.”
“It’s true. At Phaethon, I accessed Lin Shaw’s hidden files. She had the ship’s travel logs. We used them to organize a search grid. We employed a new sea floor mapping technology to look for wreckage.”
“What’s down there? What’s on board the Beagle?”
“We don’t know. Lin’s notes are cryptic, but she’s obsessed with finding the Beagle. She talks about there being some alternative to the Looking Glass. Or a device that would neutralize it. A revelation that would change our understanding of the human species.”
“An alternative to the Looking Glass?”
“So it would seem.”
Desmond considered that.
Avery looked toward the bay. “Lin is an X factor here. We don’t know why she survived the purge. Or what her goal is.”
“She had me recruited to the Citium.”
Avery’s mouth fell open.
“For her daughter’s sake.”
Avery stared in disbelief.
“But I think we can trust her. And Conner—if we can break Yuri’s mental hold on him.”
“Des, we’re playing a very dangerous game here. If you’re wrong about any of these people…”
“If I am, we’ll figure it out. If this is a game, then it’s one we’re playing together.” He walked closer to her, their faces inches apart. “And we play very well together.”
She smiled. “So we’re partners now?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, the thing about partners is, they look out for each other. Cover each other.” She studied his face. “Tell each other everything.”
She waited. When he didn’t respond, she said, “Is there anything else I need to know?”
He debated telling her about his backup plan. But if it came to that, he needed her to be just as surprised as everyone else. That could save her life on the Kentaro Maru. It would also infuriate her. An angry, living Avery was better than a dead happy one.
“No,” he said. “We’re good, partner.”
Chapter 52
Inside the hangar, Desmond sat at the long table, listening. Avery was shouting and pointing at her boss and peers as she defended him, like a lawyer who was sure her client was innocent—and that the judge was in the prosecution’s pocket.
Finally she looked them all in the eyes and said, “All right, bottom line: this guy is inside the Citium. He’s got unlimited access. He’s willing to try to stop them—if we turn him loose. And he’s willing to put me in the middle of the action—undercover. You have nothing to lose. Even if he fails—even if we fail—you can still kick in doors and zip-tie the suspects. All we have—after thirty years—is a bunch of names and addresses and theories. Without Hughes, we’ve really got nothing.”
“Incorrect, Agent,” Ward said. “We have the ship in the harbor.” He glanced down at the table. “The Kentaro Maru. We take it down, and we pull the thread and it all unravels.”
Desmond spoke for the first time. “No, it won’t. You pull the thread and you’ll get a ball of yarn in your hand and a criminal in the wind. These people are prepared for you. And for people like you around the world. The Citium has firewalls. They compartmentalize everything. It’s true, you can take the Kentaro Maru, but there are other ships, in other harbors, in cities around the world. You take the freighter, and the responsibilities will simply shift—and the timeline will accelerate. You will set off whatever they’re planning. This whole thing will go off like a powder keg.”
Ultimately, they relented.
Desmond had one final request. When he told them, Ward shook his head.
“Ridiculous. We’re not a construction company.”
“So hire one. This is non-negotiable.”
“Why?”
“It’s part of my backup plan.”
“And the personnel?”
“Consider it an extended stakeout.”
Ward didn’t like it, but he agreed.
Desmond got up and walked to the bathroom in the hangar’s small office. Ward and Avery followed. Desmond pointed at the far wall. “It needs to be here. Inconspicuous.”
“All right.”
“How long?” Desmond asked.
Ward threw up his hands. “Again, I’m not a construction—”
“I need it done in two weeks, max. Can you get it done?”
Avery stared at Ward, silently taking Desmond’s side.
“We’ll get it done,” he muttered.
Avery and Ward filed out of the bathroom, leaving Desmond alone. He looked into the mirror over the small vanity.
“This is the end of the road.”
It took him a moment to realize that he was talking to himself—that this was a message, sent from the past, from him to the future version of himself who would relive the memories.
“I can’t show you anymore,” he said. “I can’t tell you where Rendition is. If I did, they might find it.”
He paused.
“You have to figure out what to do. How to stop Yuri.” He looked down. “If you should stop Yuri. How to save Conner. What Lin’s goal is.” He stared into the mirror again. “I don’t know the right answers. It’s part of why I did what I did. I needed to buy myself some time. I needed distance—to try to see all the pieces objectively. You’ve seen them now. I know it’s a hell of a burden to lay at your feet. I don’t envy you. But you’re the best person, the only person who can change what’s happening.”
Conner awoke to voices talking excitedly. He sat up and let his sleeping bag fall down. The electric lanterns glowed in the dark hangar, the corkboard like a bizarre art show.
“I’ve checked twice…” Dr. Park was saying.
“Doctor,” he called.
The slender man scurried over to him. “He’s out of the memory.”
“Location?”
Park’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We don’t have one. The app—”
“It’s offline?”
“No. It’s working. But it says, ‘You’ve reached the center of the Labyrinth.’ It won’t give another location.”
Conner thought about that. In Greek mythology, the Labyrinth was built by Daedalus to house the Minotaur—a half-man, half-beast. Daedalus had created the labyrinth so intricately, so cleverly, that even he himself could barely escape it. The tale was a cautionary one—about geniuses creating devices with unintended consequences.
That Desmond had wrapped this silly mythology around his app didn’t surprise Conner. Desmond had always been fascinated by ancient mythology. He’d even named his fund, Icarus Capital, for Daedalus’s son, Icarus. Desmond loved old stories of all types, classic literature, dog-eared novels he found at used bookstores. Conner never saw the point. Looking in the past offered no help with the problems of the day. The present was what mattered, seeing the world and all its c
omplexities as new, thinking fresh, solving the problems at hand without the blinders of history. There were no shortcuts, no ready-made templates and solutions to complex problems.
“Is that all, Doctor?”
Park looked down. “No. There’s a button. It says, ‘Open the Labyrinth.’”
Conner smiled. “Open it then.”
Park clicked the button.
Nothing happened.
He realized his error a second later. “He’s still under sedation.”
“Turn the machine off,” Conner said.
Desmond opened his eyes. The light was blinding. He closed them again, mentally taking stock. His body was sore and weak. He felt groggy, like he’d been shot with an elephant dart.
He turned his head and cracked his eyes again, avoiding the buzzing lights overhead. He lay on a narrow table in an open space. A warehouse. No—as it came into focus he realized what it really was: a hangar. He knew this place.
He was splayed out on the same table where Avery had defended him, where the FBI agents had crowded around, working feverishly. They were gone now, the building deserted. But the corkboards and the pages were still there, displaying Yuri’s web of deceit.
A face came into Desmond’s field of vision. Scarred, mottled flesh. Someone he knew so well. Or so he’d thought.
Conner took Desmond’s hand and pulled him up. He steadied him, his hands on both of Desmond’s shoulders, and smiled, stretching the scars. “Welcome back, brother.”
Chapter 53
Peyton awoke to the sensation of the plane losing altitude. The others were all awake except for Nigel, who was snoring intermittently.
She felt much better, more rested, though the sleeping bag had provided too little padding for her back’s liking. She walked to the cockpit, where her mother and Adams were leaning through the doorway, and Avery was speaking into the radio.
“Confirmed, DFW ATC, proceeding to runway two.”
Peyton knew the three-letter airport code: DFW was Dallas–Fort Worth. Apparently while Peyton had been sleeping Avery had cleared their entrance to US airspace and connected with her handler at the Rubicon group. But why had they come here? Lin had no connections in the Dallas area that Peyton knew of.