“We don’t reveal our sources,” snaps Agent Carter. “Answer the question.”
“No, I think not,” interjects Nancy. “There’s no need for Blanca to cooperate if you’re going to be rude. She’s not under arrest. And her question is a good one. We’ve been trying for months to discover Lydia’s last name. I need it for probate court. We’re working under the assumption that Blanca is Lydia’s legal heir.”
Agent Marlow’s lips twitch. “I’m sorry, but we can’t expose our sources. This is an ongoing investigation into the alleged criminal activity of the Vestal order. We thought, given the posts Blanca’s made on The Lighthouse, that she would be as committed as we were to achieving justice for everyone who was wronged.”
“I told you, Marlow,” Agent Carter says in her hash, raspy voice, “she’d be as tight lipped as the rest of them. Never trust a lunatic in white.”
“I’m not a lunatic!”
“That was uncalled for.” Nancy’s voice is shrill.
“Prove it.” Agent Carter holds out her hand and flashes me a picture. “Do you recognize this person?” She points to a tall Asian man about Seth’s age—twenty three. He’s naked from the waist up and kicks a punching bag. Sweat drips off chiseled muscles.
Do I recognize him? Of course I do. That’s my friend Keung. He’s looks older than I remember, and more handsome than ever.
“No,” I say. “I don’t know who that is.”
Agent Carter stares at me sharply. Then she flashes more pictures across her palm. “This person? Or this one?”
I shake my head, but keep the rest of my body perfectly still. I see no benefit in telling them anything.
“What about him?” Agent Marlow shows me another picture.
“Sorry. No idea.”
“Damn it, Nemo!” Agent Carter slams her hand on the table. “I know you’re lying.”
Despite my training, I startle. I jerk back in my chair so hard that the plastic rattles on the linoleum. Then I take a deep breath and focus on my breathing.
Nancy’s eyes turn steely. “That was uncalled for. You have no reason whatsoever to question her integrity. Let me remind you that Blanca spent her childhood cooped up in seclusion and has a recent history of being abducted, attacked, and almost murdered.”
“All the more reason for her to come forth with information rather than obstructing justice,” says Agent Carter.
“No,” Nancy replies. “All the more reason for Blanca to be cautious. If she doesn’t tell you something for fear of her safety, that’s not obstructing justice. What will you do, put her in witness protection? She’s been in hiding her whole life.”
“Whoa.” Agent Marlow lifts up his hands to stop the verbal assault. “Nobody is accusing Blanca of obstructing justice. Let’s take a moment to calm down and get back on track.”
“Ask me something else.” My words are soft and quick. “Ask me a different question.”
Nancy raises her tattooed eyebrows at me. Then she turns back to Agents Carter and Marlow. “You heard the girl. Try asking Blanca something in a different way.”
“In a different way?” Agent Marlow repeats. “Okay, Blanca. How about this. What can you tell us about the Guardians?”
This, I can do. I know exactly what to say because the textbook answer is engrained in my brain. “Founded in 2028,” I begin, “the Guardian order was created in Beijing as a rival to the Vestals. Tabula Rasa was sixteen years old at that point and celebrating its first Harvest of graduates.”
“Where your mother was purchased by Barbelo Nemo, your father,” Agent Carter interjects.
“I don’t consider either of those people to be my parents.” I sit up a little straighter and don’t say another word.
For a full minute, there is only silence, all four of us staring at each other in a quiet contest of wills.
“Please, Blanca,” Agent Marlow finally says, his deep voice rumbling. “Please continue. Agent Carter won’t interrupt again.” He glares at her.
Nancy nods at me, so I move on to the next memorized line. “Tabula Rasa was gaining international fame as the last bastion of privacy. As the world became aware that lack of a virtual footprint was a commodity, a Chinese businesswoman named Wu Park rushed to copy our success. In the years that followed, the Vestal system Barbelo Nemo established at Tabula Rasa became so popular that it was copied in other countries as well. The Keiner school in Berlin for example, and the Nadie school in Mexico. As parents began to realize there was financial value in their children’s privacy, more and more families begged for placement.”
“You said ‘ours,’” says Agent Carter.
“What?”
“You said ‘our success.’” She places her hands on the table and the ladybug tattoos make me squirm.
“No, I didn’t.”
Or did I? I can’t remember for sure.
“Ms. Nemo.” Agent Carter is expressionless. “Do you still consider yourself to be a Vestal?”
“I’m no longer a Vestal and my name isn’t Nemo. It’s McNeal. I told you.”
“We want to believe you,” says Agent Marlow. “But we can’t.”
“It’s hard to trust a liar.” Agent Carter sneers.
“A liar?” Nancy exclaims. “Blanca, do not under any circumstance say another word. You are done helping these people without a court order.”
“That can be easy to arrange,” Agent Marlow says simply.
Agent Carter flicks her fingers and pulls up one more picture. It’s grainy and hard to decipher, like the photograph was shot in the mist.
But my white pants are easy to spot. I’m standing on tiptoes leaning up to kiss Seth. We snuggle in front of the doorway of his apartment building.
“So what? Lots of people photograph me every day.”
Agent Carter smiles like a panther about to eat fresh meat. “Look in the corner.”
So I do. And what I see stuns me.
Keung is in the picture too. Watching us.
“Blanca,” Nancy says. “I highly advise you to not answer any more questions.”
I nod my head in agreement and rub my blank wrist.
If there’s one thing that Keung inspires, it’s silence.
Goose bumps race down my back as my skin touches the evening air. The night is moonless, the stars hidden by the city’s ugly glow. My leather jacket hugs me, but offers no protection from the chill. When I see Cal and Seth waiting for me outside, I sprint towards them.
Seth reaches me first, and swings me around in his arms. Cal says a quick goodbye to Nancy, and then leads us to the limo. Our driver, Alan, waits at the front of the parking lot and holds the back door open.
“What happened to my bike?” I ask.
“Don’t worry,” says Cal. “It’s home in one piece.”
I sink back into the middle seat of the limo and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t open them again until we’re driving to the manor at top speed. Cal and Seth each take one of my hands.
“It’s okay now.” Cal gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then he releases it.
“What did they want?” Seth pulls me in close so that my head rests against his shoulder.
“They asked me about the Guardians.”
“The Chinese Vestals?” Seth asks.
“They’re not Vestals.” I jerk my head away and shift positions. “Guardians are entirely different.”
“How are they different? Lock up your kids in a cyber-safe school for eighteen years and then auction them off to the highest bidder.” Seth scratches the back of his neck. “It sounds exactly the same to me.”
The irritation that crawls up my throat surprises me. I bite back bile. “It’s not the same. Vestals harvest ten people a year—all carefully screened for image, IQ, and likeability. The Guardians churn out hundreds. They have so many graduates of questionable quality that they can’t land big contracts. A few lucky ones get placed as spokespeople for multi-million dolla
r firms, but the rest are assigned to miniscule government positions. It’s like a twisted version of the ancient Confucian exam.”
“The Con-fu-fu what?” asks Seth.
I turn to look at him. “You don’t know who Confucius is?”
“Should I?”
“He was an ancient Chinese philosopher,” says Cal. “Starting in the Han dynasty, men who were interested in becoming government bureaucrats either had to know somebody who could offer a recommendation, or pass the imperial examinations, which were based on Confucian classics.”
I nod my head in agreement. “It’s similar to what the Guardians do now. Graduate the program and get a job. Except with the Guardians, the government can dispose of them at will. Since their family has forsaken them they have no recourse except to do what their bosses say. It’s nothing like the Vestals.”
“That’s exactly like the Vestals,” Seth says.
“Vestals don’t work for the government!” Sometimes it feels like Seth doesn’t listen to me.
“So the FBI is interested in the Guardians?” asks Cal.
“Yes,” I say. “Now you know everything.”
Well, almost everything. I don’t tell them about Keung.
Or the likely reason he’s following me.
OTHER MONTH9BOOKS TITLES YOU MIGHT LIKE
LIFER
TEMPER
FACSIMILE
VESSEL
Find more books like this at http://www.Month9Books.com
Connect with Month9Books online:
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/Month9Books
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Month9Books
You Tube: www.youtube.com/user/Month9Books
Blog: www.month9booksblog.com
Table of Contents
Praise for Genesis Girl
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Preview: Damaged Goods
Other Month9Books Titles You Might Like
Genesis Girl Page 22