Secrets of PEACE

by T. A. Hernandez

Zira drew a breath and clenched her fists under the table. “Again, Seth—none of this is any of your business.”

  “I know you don’t want to talk to me. I know you think you’re doing the right thing by not answering my questions, but we’re on the same side here.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned towards her. “I’ve got a bad feeling about some of the things going on in this Project, and I could really use your help.”

  If only he knew. She picked up her tray and stood to leave.

  Seth grabbed her arm. “Please. Just tell me what happened over there.”

  “You want to know what happened over there?” Zira wrenched her arm away from him and slammed her tray back on the table. The cafeteria went quiet as everyone turned to watch the confrontation, but she didn’t care. She hitched the right side of her pants up to show him her leg. “This. This happened over there. And if it’s okay with you, I don’t want to talk about it. Leave me alone.”

  She left him standing there with his mouth agape. Aubreigh started yelling at him as Zira walked away. She hurried back to her apartment, and as soon as she shut the door behind her, sank to the floor with her arms around her knees. Why was she so upset? Why did everything continue to get worse when it should have been getting better? Coming back to the compound was supposed to be a good thing. It was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be back at home? But it didn’t feel like home anymore. She felt like a prisoner waiting to be sentenced, but she didn’t know what crime she had committed.

  Jared came home after two weeks. By this time, most of the initial anger she’d felt during their last conversation had gone out of her. When she found him standing outside her door after a training session, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

  “I’m sorry for the way we left things,” he said. “I should have just given you some space.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I was mad about something else.”

  He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She considered this, unsure of how he would react to her doubts and everything Ryku had told her. But she trusted him, and maybe he could help her make sense of it. She nodded and opened the door to her apartment.

  They sat down on Zira’s couch and she told him about her last conversation with the chairman. She’d expected him to be just as disturbed by the truth as she was, or at least surprised, but his face remained expressionless. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” he said after she’d finished.

  What did she want him to say? She wanted him to rage at how wrong Ryku’s justification was, to march to the chairman’s door and demand answers. She wanted him to wring his hands and pace the floor trying to understand the implications of this. She wanted him to explain it in a way that would clear her own head, and at the same time, she didn’t. In short, she wanted him to feel all the turmoil she felt, not because she needed his support or his empathy, but because she needed to know she was right to feel that way. She needed to know she wasn’t just losing her mind.

  “I just don’t know what to think anymore,” she said. “What are we doing here, really? What’s the point of all this? We say we’re only killing people who pose a real threat, but is that actually true?” She shook her head. “I feel like I crossed a line somewhere with those people in that cabin. I didn’t kill them, but I would have, and I don’t think they would have deserved it. I just don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

  “You didn’t tell Ryku that, did you?”

  “Of course not.” She knew as well as he did that telling the chairman such things would only make her situation worse.

  “I know this is confusing, Zira, but you have to try to understand it. Give it some time; things will sort themselves out. You just have to look at the big picture.”

  Zira nodded, wanting to believe that he was right, that it could really be so simple. If she was going to have any sort of future here, she needed to believe it—sooner rather than later. She had less than three weeks left in her probation and needed to pass Ryku’s evaluation, which would doubtless be based in part on whether or not he thought she could accept what he’d told her.

  She finished out those last days strong, having made significant improvements in her physical abilities. She easily kept up with the rest of the group during PT and could best any one of the recruits when they sparred. Fuller ignored her entirely during her final week, and as she walked out of the facility on her last day, he shook her hand. “You did good,” he said. “I’m going to miss having you around to show these other idiots how it’s done.”

  She grinned at him as she walked out into the cool night air and almost ran right into Chairman Ryku, who had walked out of the shadows so quietly he could have been a ghost. He held a large tan envelope in his hands and handed it to Zira. She stared at it, her mouth hanging open. “Is this—?”

  “An assignment, yes,” Ryku finished. “Dr. James and your trainers spoke very highly of your performance. They have full confidence that you’ll continue to be an asset to our unit. Welcome back.”

  He walked away as quickly and quietly as he had appeared, and Zira headed for her apartment with the file clutched against her chest. She couldn’t decide whether or not she was happy about the assignment. In spite of her misgivings about Ryku, she still valued his opinion of her and was pleased that he thought she’d done well since returning to the compound. Maybe an assignment was what she needed to sort out her uncertainties. If she completed this mission, maybe things would go back to the way they’d been before—the way they should be.

  Zira opened the door to her apartment, set the file on the table, and got a glass of water. She had to stop dwelling on things she couldn’t change and find her place in the Project again. If Ryku thought she was ready for an assignment, then why shouldn’t she be? She opened the file and began planning how she was going to take out her target.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The coastal city of Davinsport was much colder than the mild early-spring climate Zira had gotten used to at the PEACE Project compound, but not nearly as cold as it had been in Grayridge. Cool sea breezes that might have been pleasant in the summer pierced through her jacket like icicles as she waited at the bus stop. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

  Her target was Albert Randolph, a wealthy man who owned several massage parlors that served as fronts for a vast human trafficking operation. He’d been arrested a dozen times but never convicted of anything, and unit E-1 had passed their evidence on to Chairman Ryku. It was enough to convince Zira that Randolph was guilty, and she was grateful Ryku had chosen such an obviously corrupt target for her first assignment since coming back. She had no misgivings about putting a bullet through Randolph’s skull.

  The bus arrived right on time, and Zira was grateful for its warm interior. She took a seat in the back, shoving her large, pink messenger bag under her feet. The bag looked almost as innocent and charming as Zira did with her youthful face and naïve smile. Inside it, though, was the disassembled rifle she would use to take out Randolph. The rifle had been Jared’s suggestion. “You’ve always been a good shot,” he’d said. “This way, you won’t even have to go near the target.” Ryku hadn’t specified that the kill needed to be especially clean or look like an accident, so she’d decided to take Jared’s advice.

  She got off the bus in the center of town. Tall buildings lined the streets, and it didn’t take Zira long to find the one Randolph lived in. She brought up the apartment building’s three-dimensional blueprint on her CL and compared it to the structure in front of her. Once she figured out which balcony was Randolph’s, she began searching for a good place from which to take her shot. There weren’t many other buildings tall enough to provide a good vantage point, but she finally found one a few blocks down the street. After that, it was a simple matter of gaining access to the rooftop, which she accomplished by telling the janitor she just wanted to watch the sunset and take some p
ictures.

  Once there, Zira crouched against the wall of a utilities shed in the corner and began piecing the rifle together. It took her less than a minute, and once the shot was taken, she’d disassemble it even faster. She’d be on a bus back to the airport long before the police showed up.

  She checked to make sure the scope was mounted properly, then made a few quick calculations and adjustments to account for the wind. She got down on her stomach and pushed the rifle against her shoulder, sliding a single bullet into the chamber. The scope gave her a clear view through the windows of Randolph’s apartment.

  An hour passed before she saw any signs of movement. Her nerves were frayed, and her body had stiffened in the cold. As soon as Randolph’s face appeared in her sights, though, Zira forgot about everything else. She shifted the rifle more snugly against her shoulder. She had the shot from the bedroom window right now, but the bullet’s impact against the glass could shift its course. Not much, perhaps, but enough that Zira didn’t want to take the risk if she didn’t have to. She would wait for him to go out to the balcony. If that meant she had to wait for hours or even come back the next day, so be it. She had all the time in the world, and she didn’t want to mess this one up.

  Dusk began to settle over the city, lengthening the shadows and painting everything in a dramatic contrast of light and dark. Zira barely noticed it; her entire world was contained in the ring of her scope. In her cross-hairs, Randolph poured himself a glass of wine from an expensive-looking bottle. Zira wondered how many human lives he’d sold to pay for it. He stretched and loosened the tie around his neck, then walked through the living room and out to the balcony.

  This was it—the perfect shot, the moment where Zira would earn her place back in the Project and prove herself a devoted E-2 operative. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying the cross-hairs on the back of Randolph’s head. She inhaled again, held the breath, put pressure on the trigger.

  Another figure entered her sights, so small that his head bobbed just along the bottom of the circle that was Zira’s world. She watched as Randolph lifted the boy in green pajamas and spun him around. Father and son both laughed. The pure innocence of the scene was enough to pull Zira’s finger away from the trigger.

  She tried to put it back, but her hand wouldn’t obey. She remembered Tripp, Alma, Nate, Liza, the kids. Could this be the same thing? Was Randolph really the man Ryku claimed him to be? Or was he the man Zira saw in front of her now, a devoted father with a son who obviously adored him? He was probably both.

  It didn’t matter. She had her orders, and she had no choice but to follow them.

  There’s always a choice. Dr. James’ words cut through her mind like a knife.

  Immediately after came Mei’s voice. It won’t be long before your soul is tainted by the same blood that’s on your hands.

  Open your eyes.

  Zira put her finger back on the trigger. She reminded herself of everything that had been in Randolph’s file—all the faces of missing people he was suspected to be responsible for. They deserved justice, or at the very least, vengeance. She could give them that, and all it would take was to pull the trigger and send a bullet straight into Randolph’s skull.

  But it was Ryku who had put that file together, just as he had put the radicals’ file together a few months before, with information that had been manipulated to make them all look like a threat. How could she justify murdering Randolph in front of his own son when she didn’t even know if she could trust the man who’d ordered his execution?

  The boy took his father’s hand, and the two walked back inside together. One by one, the curtains of the windows were drawn, leaving Zira blind. Her moment had come and gone. There was nothing more she could do.

  Cursing, she sat up and leaned back against the wall. She took apart the rifle and shoved the pieces into the pink bag. For a moment, she entertained the idea of coming back to try again tomorrow, perhaps earlier in the day when the kid would be at school. If it hadn’t been for the kid, Randolph would already be dead.

  Deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. She was an assassin, but she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, and she wasn’t a blind follower anymore, either. If she couldn’t shoot Randolph today, she wouldn’t be able to do it tomorrow or the next day or a week from now.

  Ryku had been wrong. She wasn’t ready for this. But he would never understand that, and Zira knew she would have to come up with some excuse for her actions when she got back to the compound in order to buy herself some time. If she had no real future in her unit anymore, she was going to have to figure out something else, and she had no idea where to even begin.

  She was playing a risky game with a dangerous man, and it was only a matter of time before her luck and her excuses ran out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  By the time Zira got back to the compound the next day, she felt more conflicted than ever. She stood by the decision she’d made on the rooftop, but a small part of her screamed at herself for not completing her assignment. She’d turned her back on the best chance she had to get her old life back, and in doing so, she’d put herself in a precarious situation. There was no way to know how Ryku would react when he found out what she’d done, but he wouldn’t be happy. Not that Zira planned on telling him the truth—that she’d lost her nerve. She’d already concocted a number of excuses to write in her mission report, all of which revolved around the idea that an opportune moment had never presented itself. She hoped the chairman would take her history of botching recent assignments into account and assume she was being extra cautious. It was the best she could do for now. Later, she might be able to request a transfer outside the compound to work as an informant. A bitter irony, since that had been the last thing she’d wanted just a few short months ago. Now, though, the only thing Zira knew for certain was that she never wanted to kill someone on Ryku’s orders again.

  She wrote up her report as quickly as she could and took it to his office before she could change her mind. Jared was on his way out when she got there. “Back already? How did it go?”

  “Fine,” Zira said. “Everything went fine.”

  She had already decided not to tell him what had happened, partly because of what Dr. James had said about chairmen’s dogs, and partly because she just didn’t want to face his inevitable disappointment in her. Lying to him made her uncomfortable, but not quite as uncomfortable as trying to explain herself when she knew he wouldn’t understand. Jared’s first loyalty was, and always would be, to his unit. He’d devoted his life to serving the Project and had complete confidence in its every principle. That was what made him the perfect operative. Not his size or his strength or his calculated decisions, but his unwavering dedication to his work, his readiness to follow every command without question.

  Once, she’d admired that about him. Even now, she envied him. Everything would be so much easier if she could just believe in Ryku’s skewed morals, if she could accept his justification that sometimes eliminating threats meant hurting otherwise innocent people just because they stepped out of line. She might have been able to accept it before, but something inside her had changed while she was in Grayridge. Maybe it was the fact that she’d almost died and realized how fragile life was. Maybe it was Mei, with her deep-seated beliefs about the value and sanctity of life. Maybe it was Tripp’s prompting to open her eyes and see the same truths that had caused him to leave the Project. Maybe she was just a coward. It didn’t really matter what it was, because in the end, it all meant the same thing.

  She couldn’t do this anymore.

  Zira took a step past Jared to enter Ryku’s office, but Jared shook his head. “He’s not here. All the chairmen went to talk to the people in the North Pacific Region and straighten things out.”

  Zira wondered if talking was really all they were doing. “I’ll just keep it until he gets back then.”

  “You sure? He asked me to do some of the paperwork that comes in while he’s away.
I can take a look at it.”

  “No, that’s ok. I wrote it up pretty fast; it’s probably a little sloppy. I’ll fix it before he gets back.”

  She did no such thing, however, and instead put the report under her mattress like a child hiding a secret diary. The week that followed was a painfully long one for Zira. A weight the size of a boulder settled deep inside her as she waited for Ryku’s return. She went from dreading what the chairman might think of her failure to just wanting to get the whole thing over with.

  Apprehension kept her up at night. When she couldn’t sleep, she watched the news. The same clips kept playing over and over again. The five chairmen stood together in front of a crowd, making some speech about unity, individual contribution, and keeping the peace. The smiling onlookers cheered them enthusiastically. Zira noted that everyone in the crowd looked healthier and better-dressed than anyone she had seen in Grayridge.

  On the morning the chairmen were expected back at the compound, Zira slipped her report under Ryku’s door. Jared had finished going through all of the other mission reports the night before, so she doubted he would come back and look over hers before Ryku returned. As she turned to leave, she nearly ran into Cecilia and Lucas standing just behind her.

  She tried to step past them, but Lucas matched her movements to block her path. She clenched a fist; this was the last thing she needed right now.

  “Hold on there, runt,” said Cecilia. “I’ve been meaning to check in on you since you got back. How’s that brand new leg treating you?”

  “Like you care,” Zira muttered.

  Cecilia smiled. “No, I don’t. It’s so cute that Ryku gave you an assignment even though you’re crippled. I doubt it was anything very important, but still, it’s nice of him to try and make you feel like you’re doing your part.” She laughed. “I’ve missed you, runt. I’d forgotten how much fun this was.”

  Zira rolled her eyes. “Are we done now?”