Damaged Goods

by Jennifer Bardsley

  I look back at Keung. “Thank you,” I say simply.

  Keung raises his eyebrows and turns to his companions who are using Headmaster Russell as the target for roundhouse kicks. “Cho,” Keung says with a voice laced in authority, “take Seth back to the car. This is a private matter.”

  Seth wraps his arms around me like a vice. “What do you mean private? What’s going on? Who are you? I can’t see shit because of the pepper spray.” Seth holds up one of the mitts. “And the key! Where’s the key to these things?”

  “I don’t have time for questions, Rex.” Keung turns away.

  “It’ll be okay,” I whisper to Seth. “Promise you’ll do what they say.”

  “Do what who says?” asks Seth, too loudly.

  I don’t have the chance to explain.

  The skinny Guardian with the scar wrests Seth away. “This way, Veritas Rex. You’re coming with me.”

  My arms fall down like two limp noodles, my hands empty without anything to hold. I spin around to look at Keung. When I see his face and read the determination, I suddenly realize what will happen.

  Because it has to happen.

  Because this moment has been coming for years.

  “What will you do to him?” I ask.

  Keung takes a step closer to Headmaster Russell, who cowers in a heap on the sidewalk, and stares down at his matted hair. “What I’ve meant to do to him for a long time.” Keung turns to the man holding the explosive. “How long until the bomb goes off?”

  The Guardian shrugs. “The timer says five minutes. Maybe more, maybe less.”

  “That’ll be perfect.” Keung twists to look at me. “Maybe you should wait in the car with your boyfriend.”

  “No!” I surprise myself with the force of my voice. “Why not take off his cuff and leave him for the police?” I detest Headmaster Russell, but murdering him seems wrong.

  Keung shakes his head. “I’m sorry, tiānshĭ, but you know I can’t.”

  “But there are lots of ways to—”

  “No,” interrupts Keung. “There is only one path. And it’s what he would do too in my position.”

  Two of the Guardians lift Headmaster Russell up. His nose is smashed, and his eye sockets seep blood.

  The same blood that is splattered over my white shirt.

  “Headmaster Russell,” I whisper.

  “Tiānshĭ, you need to wait in the car.”

  At first, I hesitate, but then I nod. Because I know that Keung speaks the truth. I don’t have the stomach for what will happen next.

  Keung’s men escort me to a nondescript black sedan.

  “What’s going on?” Seth demands as I pile into the back seat.

  “It’ll be okay,” I whisper. I reach over to fasten his seat belt. Through the back window I see the skinny man with the scar jam the limo into gear. Keung watches as the rest of them roll the vehicle away, down the road into the forgotten farmland. The car takes on momentum of its own and cruises into the horizon.

  A few minutes later, I hear an explosion.

  “What happened?” Seth thrashes in the seat, snapping his head toward the sound.

  I reach for his lead-lined hands. “Nothing,” I say.

  Everything.

  Chapter Eleven

  My fingers knit together with Seth’s, and our pulses beat as one. Faster and harder the blood pumps. Adrenaline clears my thinking. Keung saved my life.

  “What happened?” Seth asks again. “What was that noise?”

  “It was nothing.” I don’t blink. “How’d you get kidnapped?”

  “I was checking my hits,” Seth mumbles. “I didn’t see him coming.”

  I picture Seth, so engrossed in his finger-chips he didn’t notice his attacker until it was too late. The people in front of you are what matters. Not your palm. That’s what Headmaster Russell would say—and he used Seth’s tech-addiction to his advantage.

  “It’ll be okay, Seth. We’re safe now.”

  I see movement out the left window, and suddenly the car door swings open.

  “Get in the front seat.” There is a determined bent to Keung’s jaw. “I’m not your chauffeur.”

  I turn to look at Seth. His eyes are still watery, but the redness is fading. I wipe his tears away with my sleeve.

  “Blanca!” Seth grabs my arm.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Keung holds the door for me to climb out. He guides me all the way around to the front with his hand on my elbow. He closes my car door with a sharp whack and I settle into the upholstery. A few seconds later Keung sits next to me. We click our seat belts at the same time, and our hands touch. When he looks at me, Keung’s eyes turn gentle, exactly like I remember them.

  “The last time I rode in the front seat Ms. Lydia was abducting me to Nevada,” I say.

  “Don’t worry, tiānshĭ. We’re not going to Nevada.” Keung smiles. “So is this guy your boyfriend?” Keung asks me in Mandarin.

  I struggle to respond in a language I never truly mastered. “Yes, he is.”

  “What?” Seth calls from the backseat. “You speak Chinese?”

  “No,” Keung answers in English with a mocking tone. “She mangles it.” He looks sideways at me and grins.

  “It’s because I had such an awful tutor.” Despite my nerves—or maybe because of them—I giggle.

  “I recall teaching you a trick or two,” Keung says in Mandarin.

  A flush creeps up my cheeks.

  “Where are you taking us?” Seth demands.

  My mind whirls. “What will happen? I saw—” but I don’t finish my sentence.

  “You saw nothing,” answers Keung in Mandarin. “You were in the car, remember? And Rex back there was wiping his eyes the whole time.”

  The reality of what transpired hits me. “I’m not a witness to anything,” I whisper. “You protected me.” The foreign tongue comes out stilted, but the years of learning flow back.

  “Always,” Keung replies.

  “So where are we going?” I ask in English so Seth can hear too.

  “Somewhere you’ll be safe. It’s time for you to have another chat with Agents Plunkett and Marlow.”

  “The FBI!” I exclaim. “But—”

  “Tell them the truth,” Keung says. “Exactly what you saw.”

  “But I didn’t see anything.”

  “Exactly,” Keung answers.

  “Hey guys,” Seth says. “I think my eyes are clearing up.” He leans forward from the back seat to look at Keung. “Holy shit it’s you!”

  “You know him?” I ask Seth.

  “Of course I do. He’s Timothy Wu, the Chinese representative to the Silicon Valley Tech Council.”

  “See, Blanca?” Keung wipes a smile from his face. “You can tell your friends at the FBI anything you want about me.”

  “He has diplomatic immunity,” says Seth.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” answers Keung, “that I can do whatever the hell I want.”

  “Almost,” growls Seth from the back seat.

  The FBI building looms large in front of me. The trees sway in the wind, and the birds’ musical notes sound surreal. But I am unaffected by the quiet afternoon and the calming presence of nature; my eyes are glued to Keung’s car as it drives away from me. Anxiety tangles my heart. The fear doesn’t come from worrying about what I have to do or figuring out what to say but from wondering if I’ll ever see Keung again. I faced the thought of never seeing him once before and it crushed me.

  “Blanca,” Seth’s urgent voice snaps me back into attention, “can you get these off?” He holds up his cloistered hands, the lead mitts still locked.

  “I don’t have the key.”

  Seth winces as he tries unsuccessfully to remove them. “We’ve got to call my dad. Does your chip-watch work?”

  “Yes. It should.” I click on my watch. “We should call Nancy too. I’m
not going in there without a lawyer.”

  “Definitely. I’ve got my own lawyer for Veritas Rex too. Plus we need to find out what happened to Alan and make sure he’s safe.”

  I furiously call for help as time flees away. Surely Agents Plunkett and Marlow know we’re here. They’re probably spying from one of the darkened windows above. When I’m done, I hand my watch over to Seth so he can call the lawyer he mentioned. Then I crumple in his arms and feel his heavy hands surround me.

  “Oh, Blanca. What a freaking mess. I’m so sorry,” murmurs Seth.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper back. “And it’s over now.”

  “No. It’s not.” Seth shakes his head. “And how do you know Timothy Wu? I didn’t think you followed tech news.”

  “Who?” I ask. Then I remember that Seth means Keung.

  “And since when did you speak Chinese?”

  “Mandarin,” I correct. “And I don’t speak it very well.”

  I share how Keung and I met and make the story brief.

  “He’s a Guardian?” Seth asks.

  “I told you Guardians filled government positions. Why are you so surprised?”

  “No. I mean. I don’t know.” He pauses a moment before he continues. “So if it was some sort of Vestal/Guardian exchange program did Vestals go to Beijing too?”

  The only way Headmaster Russell would have allowed students to escape his control was if there was something for Tabula Rasa to gain.

  Or if Barbelo insisted.

  “I’m not sure exactly. If they did, they never came back. Vestals have always dealt with the trafficking of secrets. So I really don’t know. At the time I believed what they told me. The Guardians were there to perfect their English and to help us learn Mandarin.”

  “How long did you study?” Seth asks. “I didn’t know you could speak another language.”

  “Five languages,” I correct.

  “Five?” Seth’s eyes are wide with surprise.

  “English, German, Spanish, Arabic, and Mandarin,” I say. “I told you about this last year.”

  “No, you didn’t!”

  I shake my head. “Yes, I did! I told you that at Tabula Rasa we didn’t learn any science or technology. We focused on the seven Liberal Arts.”

  “Yeah, like literature and poetry and stuff.”

  “No. Like grammar, logic, rhetoric, music, literature, history, and languages.” It’s hard to be patient.

  “Okay, wow. So, Timothy was your tutor?”

  “Yes,” I answer. And I leave it at that.

  Chapter Twelve

  For a lawyer, Seth’s attorney wears a lot of eyeliner. The dark, smoky lines make her emerald eyes appear catlike, which is fitting, because there’s a feline essence about her whole person. The way her long body sits territorially in her chair or how her auburn hair is striped like a tiger. She carries herself in a way that says “hot” and “mess” both at the same time.

  Even Agent Marlow falls under her spell. She gets him to remove Seth’s mitts in two minutes flat.

  But I can cast a spell too. Sexy lawyer might not be my thing, but girl next door is. And right now, covered in Headmaster Russell’s blood, I’ve got damsel in distress going on too. I came here of my own volition to cooperate. Those are all the tools I need to make this work. I perch on the edge of my seat and lean into the table.

  “Agents Plunkett and Marlow. Thank you so much for seeing us on such short notice. Seth and I raced here as fast as we could to tell you what happened.”

  I look at Nancy who sits prim in her boxy suit. She gives me an encouraging nod.

  “I need to say, as a former Vestal, that I so respect what you are trying to do for our community. You seek truth and try to offer accountability for all the wrongs against us.” Controlling people is easier than you’d think.

  I smile pathetically.

  On purpose.

  “That’s why when Seth and I encountered Headmaster Russell today, we immediately came to you to report what happened.”

  “What?” exclaims Agent Plunkett. “You saw Russell?”

  My eyes are wet. I blot them bravely with my sleeve. Cry on cue. Stop crying. Tears are a tool.

  “It’s okay, Blanca. I’ll go first.” Seth wipes off my cheeks with gentle fingers. But his lawyer jumps in before he can speak.

  “My client is here of his own accord,” she says. Her husky voice sounds like a purr. “He is fully cooperating with your investigation.”

  I don’t blink. Hopefully Seth remembers what to say.

  Seth describes standing outside the limo checking his website and then being overtaken by Headmaster Russell.

  I cringe when I hear the details of how Seth was tazed and gagged. No wonder Alan was forced to play along. One wrong move and Seth could have been killed.

  But then Seth starts telling about Keung’s rescue, which he was supposed to let me handle.

  You can’t ever trust a Virus. That’s what Headmaster Russell always said. I interrupt Seth before he gets us in trouble. “Mr. Wu escorted us to his car,” I say. “Then he drove us here.”

  Agents Plunkett and Marlow look at each other. Agent Plunkett jerks her thumb and Agent Marlow steps out of the room for a moment before rushing back.

  “And where is he now?” asks Agent Plunkett.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honesty.

  “More importantly,” says Agent Marlow in a low voice. “Where’s Russell?”

  This is the tricky part. I picture the last time I saw Headmaster Russell, when he looked like a human punching bag. “I didn’t see what happened to him. I was in the car.”

  “What do you think happened to him?” asks Agent Marlow.

  “There’s no need for my client to speculate.” Nancy jumps in. “She’s told you what she knows.”

  “And you?” Agent Plunkett’s voice is deep and grave when she addresses Seth. “Veritas Rex, is it? You didn’t think to capture any of this online?”

  “I still had the mitts on. They weren’t removed until we were dumped here at the bureau.”

  I wince at the word “dumped.” Seth should have said dropped off. Or accompanied.

  “So neither of you knows what happened to Russell?” asks Agent Marlow.

  “No, we don’t,” I reiterate. “That’s why we came to you for help.”

  “My eyes were messed up,” Seth says. “I couldn’t see shit.”

  “Seth,” says his lawyer, “it’s time to take you to a doctor. We’re done here.” She stands up like liquid silk.

  “But—” protests Agent Marlow.

  Nancy rises too. “No, I agree with my colleague. Our clients have given you their statements. I’m sure you’ll be very busy investigating further.”

  Agent Marlow jumps up. “But—”

  “Can you tell us where Russell took you?” asks Agent Plunkett.

  Can I? I think hard, trying to remember what Keung said about that piece of information. I’m not sure if he mentioned it at all. But it’s only a matter of time before somebody discovers the wreck of the limo.

  “Gilroy,” I say. “I saw a sign that mentioned Gilroy.”

  “Did you see any street names?” asks Agent Marlow.

  I shake my head.

  “That’s it?” Agent Plunkett asks. “One word? Gilroy is all you can give us?”

  Agent Marlow presses on. “Distinctive houses? Landmarks? Anything?”

  I picture the gray houses. “Sorry,” I say. “I don’t remember.”

  Agent Plunkett steps closer and peers into my face. “If you’re not going to be more helpful than that, you can forget about acquiring your mother’s file.”

  That was the worst thing she could have said to me because it only serves to harden my resolve.

  I’ll find out about Ms. Lydia no matter what. Agent Plunkett won’t stop me. She’d be better off focusing on tracking that limo.

  Cal p
aces the pavement. As soon as we step outside, he flies over and grabs us in a big hug. The night air feels chilly, but in Seth and Cal’s arms, I feel protected from the cold.

  “Blanca, Seth. Thank God you’re both okay.”

  “Uh, Dad? I think you’re crushing us,” Seth says.

  “Oh! Sorry.” Cal releases us for a half a second and then hugs us again. “Oh my dear girl. If only it was easier to keep you safe.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” says Nancy. “Your daughter’s legal fees will pay for my next vacation home.”

  “Hopefully a small one,” Cal says. “Blanca’s all done with dangerous situations.” He looks at me with warm brown eyes. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  I nod like I mean it.

  “Tiffany?” Cal eyes the tall beauty standing next to Seth. “Well this is a surprise. You’re about the last person I expected to see here tonight.”

  Tiffany? As in the name scribbled across Seth’s abdomen in permanent ink?

  I feel like something died in my throat and is choking me. What a fun way to meet the first woman my boyfriend slept with.

  “Mr. McNeal.” Tiffany extends her long, slim hand. “I’m the in-house legal counsel for Veritas Rex now.” The sleeve of her blazer rises up and exposes a small tattoo on the inside of her wrist.

  It’s so tiny I have to squint. But there it is, in green and black—a lion-headed cobra.

  “Tiffany graduated law school at Boalt Hall,” Seth mumbles, looking at me. “Top of her class.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me at all,” says Cal. “You always were clever. But I didn’t know that you and my son still had …” Cal’s forehead wrinkles as he struggles to find the words. “A professional relationship.”

  I glare at Seth, and he cowers.

  Cal darts his gaze between us both. “Well, Seth and Blanca, let’s get back home to the manor, shall we?”

  “Wait,” Tiffany says. “Seth, if I’m going to properly represent you, I need to know what the hell happened.”

  I dig my nails into my hand so hard that I almost pierce the skin.