Code Name Echo

by Autumn Clarke

  I’m not sure whether him refers to Jamie or Reese.

  The plan, as far as Jamison Hart knows, is for us to fly on a private jet to Paris, where we’ll be chauffeured to Damien Fabre’s wedding. After the reception, we’ll stay in a five-star hotel for a few days before returning home.

  In reality, the private jet won’t be so private. After almost being shot to death on a rogue mission, I’m not about to go into this blind. I’ll be wearing a bug so Alpha can hear everything that happens, and he’ll be covering me at the wedding from a vantage point on a nearby rooftop. I’ll excuse myself before midnight for the meeting with Romeo, then sneak back into the reception afterward and find a way to get the manifest from Jamie by the end of the trip.

  But everything suddenly feels more real, the stakes higher than I ever expected. It’s going to take all I have to make it through the next few days. I’m the only one who can search for the manifest, but part of me just wants to be back in the safe house where August read to me from a comic book. If I fail this mission, someone could easily die.

  And it very well might be me.

  So far, I’ve mainly been concerned about Juliet. When I woke on the morning after Kilo’s death, she was already gone. According to Agent Novenine, my roommate is on a mission abroad, but the timing is way too convenient. I’m worried that she’s in solitary confinement, or maybe on the verge of retirement.

  But I’d like to believe she’s finally left the Executive, just like she always wanted.

  Outside the dorms, Alpha is waiting for me in his chauffeur’s uniform, his cap tilted at an angle on his head, almost jauntily. He gazes at me for a moment, then swallows hard and straightens his back as I walk up to him.

  “Ready?” he asks me.

  “Ready,” I say, but my heart is beating like crazy.

  If August senses anything, he doesn’t let on. The silence between us doesn’t feel uncomfortable, though my mind wants to believe there’s a certain tension that might indicate something else. This feels like the calm before the storm, the kind of afternoon with clear skies in which we used to stop to get ice cream as teenagers before starting a mission. We felt like such rebels, back then. But this time there won’t be any ice cream, and those cloudless days are long gone.

  In the parking garage, August holds open a door of the limousine for me before getting behind the steering wheel. It suddenly feels strange to be separated from him like this. I’ve never liked being on a mission where I have to treat Alpha as anything other than my partner, and now it feels actively wrong for him not to be sitting next to me. But even when I catch his gaze in the rearview mirror, he remains expressionless, as if simply making sure I’m still here.

  If only I could be back on the motorcycle, my arm wrapped around his waist, his jacket draped around me, I’d do it all over again. Even with a bullet in my side.

  When we reach the airport, Alpha puts the limousine into park without saying anything. He’ll follow me to Paris on a separate flight, and he’ll be able to hear what I’m saying through the bug attached to my corset, but we won’t be interacting again unless it’s via the compact mirror in my overnight bag. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear as he comes around to open my door. What if he says something again? Even worse, what if he doesn’t say anything at all?

  As I step out of the limousine, I can’t help myself. A single word slips out.

  “August—”

  He glances at me, obviously startled to hear his real name. But he seems to understand what I’m feeling, the worry behind my eyes mirroring his. After only a slight hesitation, he rests his hand against my side where the bullet went into me, the heat from his fingers spreading throughout my entire body in an instant.

  He doesn’t need to say anything. His acknowledgment and reminder of what happened between us means we are in this together and this, finally, is the support before a mission I’ve always wanted. Everything that happened between us in the safe house really did happen. August knows me, and he will always be there to anchor me, even when I feel as if I’m drowning in another fake identity.

  A voice calls out to me. “Lily!”

  I spin around to see Jamison Hart leaning against a pillar. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, watching me arrive in the limousine. He’s wearing a dark gray tuxedo and a blood-red tie, and his golden hair has been carefully styled. How much did he see between me and August just now?

  I force myself to smile as Jamie strides over and hands a ten-dollar bill to Alpha without even looking at him. He tosses my overnight bag to his own valet, then takes my arm and leads me into the airport.

  “So how’ve you been?” he asks enthusiastically, as if it’s been years since we’ve seen each other.

  “Pretty good,” I say. “You?”

  “Oh, you know,” he says. “Still under mild scrutiny by the police, but the air of danger seems to give me a certain flair.”

  I laugh politely, but I’m barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Our lighthearted conversation continues as we pass through the airport and board a private jet chartered by his family. It’s by far the fanciest one I’ve ever been on, with white leather recliners, a widescreen television showing the latest superhero movie, a minibar fully stocked with at least twenty different types of alcohol, and a couple of martinis already mixed and set out on a table.

  “For the lady,” says Jamie, handing me one of the martinis with a flourish.

  “Why, thank you,” I say, still smiling. At least I don’t have to worry about being poisoned.

  We clink our glasses together and take a sip, each of us maintaining eye contact with the other. I can still feel the chemistry there between us, but it’s no longer the overwhelming force driving me forward. This is nothing compared to what I felt in the shower with August, after all. And I have more pressing concerns at the moment, like where the manifest is and why Reese wants to talk to me.

  And, more importantly, when I’ll see my partner again.

  “Earth to Lily,” says Jamie, pausing after a while. “What’s with you today?”

  I haven’t exactly been trying to seem interested, and I’ve only been doing a minimal amount of flirting and bantering. It’s as if my brain is on autopilot so I can daydream about August instead. This is why he was assigned to be my partner when we were children. When left to my own impulses, I go into a freefall, spun about by a hurricane made of my own emotions. I can’t focus on anything else. Who knows where I’ll end up?

  “Sorry,” I say, flushing slightly. “I’m just a little distracted.”

  Jamie grins. “By what happened inside the treehouse?”

  I lower my eyelashes demurely, as if embarrassed but also thrilled by the memory of his kiss. “Maybe.”

  But in the ensuing silence, I suddenly realize something’s wrong. I can sense it there, lurking beneath the surface of whatever conversation we’ve been having. He’s been aware of it the entire time, but I’m only just now accommodating for it. Not only have I been acting like a pale imitation of Lily Bass, but I’ve also been failing to notice that he wants something from me which isn’t physical at all.

  It’s too late to avoid whatever trap he’s been steering me toward.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Jamie leans forward intently, a shift in his tone indicating that he has no intention of letting me escape this one. “I think you’re distracted by what happened outside the treehouse.”

  Oh, no. He’s going to mention the dead butler, and the fire in the forest, and the fact that I disappeared again after yet another person died on his estate. This is him testing me, pushing against my boundaries, trying to figure out what I know.

  But what does he know?

  “What are you talking about?” I ask casually, as if I’m not freaking out internally right now.

  “Oh, don’t play coy,” he says, reaching out and gripping my wrist. His blue eyes are practically twinkling. “I know you’re trying to kill me. What I want to know is how
and why. Is your name even Lily Bass?”

  eighteen

  I don’t know which course of action to take. Do I plead ignorance? Do I confess to being a secret government operative? Do I admit that the butler tried to kill me? At the very least, Jamie already knows I’m involved in what happened outside the treehouse. And he’ll see the bandaged wound in my side anyway, assuming we still end up in a hotel room later tonight. I was planning on blaming a car accident, but it’s becoming increasingly likely that Jamison Hart was the one who ordered the butler to shoot me after all.

  God, I wish Alpha was here to help me.

  I can’t tell Jamie what really happened. These are the only cards I still hold in my hand, and if I reveal everything to him, I’ll have nothing left to save me. Maybe I should have reacted like a normal person and reported the butler to the police. Maybe I should have declined to fly on a private jet with someone who may or may not have tried to kill me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Why would I be trying to kill you?”

  Jamie scrutinizes my face. “According to my father, that’s why everyone around me keeps dying. Someone at the Executive has been trying to assassinate me. He thought it was you, so apparently he ordered Smith to kill you. But that didn’t work out, did it?”

  “Who’s Smith?” I ask, trying not to react to his mention of the Executive.

  “The butler,” he says impatiently. “His body was burned in the forest, along with the treehouse. Did you know I thought it was you at first, lying there blackened and charred on the ground? But then I realized it was Smith. He was the one who died in that fire.”

  “I left after you did,” I say defensively. “I didn’t see anyone else.”

  “But there wasn’t enough time,” says Jamie, sounding unsure about who to believe. “You were the only guest on my estate. The fire started less than fifteen minutes after I walked away from you.” He clenches his hand into a fist, frustrated. “I need to know if the Executive is really trying to kill me. It could affect my takeover of Ophidian.”

  Shit. I can’t keep wearing a bug. If Jamie already suspects that I’m an Executive operative, I’m in way more danger than I thought. He could decide to search me at any second, which means this might be my last chance to make sure Alpha hears everything. I have to plant the bug somewhere else as soon as possible.

  “You’re taking over?” I say, picking up my martini glass and walking over to the minibar. “I thought you weren’t interested in your father’s business.”

  He shrugs. “I want to take it in a different direction. I already have half the board of directors on my side. Or at least I did, before the Executive killed several of them.”

  I reach for a bottle of vodka and refresh my drink, keeping my movements as smooth and casual as possible. When my back is turned to Jamie, I retrieve the bug from my corset and stick it on the underside of the minibar, where it won’t be seen by anyone taller than a child.

  “It just doesn’t seem like your thing,” I say, returning to my seat and taking a large sip of my martini. “You seemed pretty annoyed when your father called you about that shipment—”

  “Because those would become irrelevant with what I want to do,” Jamie interrupts, his eyes gleaming. “Imagine a world in which people could become more powerful than technology. Doctors would have the eyesight and precision to perform any surgery. Firemen would be powerful enough to lift any car with a single hand. Mathematicians could mentally perform any calculation in a matter of seconds. Bomb disposal squads could survive any explosion without a scratch. Instead of serving as a footnote in our world’s history, aberrants would become the new normal.”

  “That’s not possible,” I say slowly. “Maybe in a hundred years or so, but not now.”

  “Then let me be the first to tell you,” he says. “Ophidian has a research team that’s close to finding a way to do it. Any man or woman could become an aberrant after receiving a form of gene therapy. It’s imminently possible, Lily. The future is now.”

  I have to struggle to keep my expression neutral. Who would actually want to become an aberrant? I was forced to bear it because of my genes, but to imagine that it might be willingly chosen by someone else, who might then apply to work for the Executive...

  The mere thought of it is devastating.

  No. I have to be reasonable about this. My aberration is a burden to me, but only because I have poisoned lips. If you could choose to become an aberrant, you’d pick something that would make your life better, not worse, and you wouldn’t suddenly want to become a secret government operative. A normal person would be intrigued by this, even excited.

  Not on the verge of puking.

  “Wow,” I say, forcing myself to sound enthusiastic. “That would be a major discovery. You’d change the world, Jamie.”

  His eyes flash with interest, and I know I’ve said the right thing. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand. Just look at all the change that’s been happening lately. New inventions and discoveries every day. More and more aberrants speaking out publicly. This is the perfect opportunity to bring Ophidian into the future and create a new world.”

  “Have you tried it on yourself?” I ask.

  Jamie looks startled for a moment. “There haven’t been any results yet. My father wants to halt the project and bury the research, despite all the evidence that the gene therapy can work. He thinks I’m just trying to live out my childhood fantasy of being a superhero. But this is the future, you know?” He waves a hand angrily at his cell phone. “Not that.”

  “I can’t believe your dad doesn’t get it,” I say. “This sounds incredible.”

  “I know,” he says. “My father won’t sever ties with any of the Executives, even though they’re all trying to kill me. None of them want the world to change. My stepmother in particular was working against me—she believed aberrants were unnatural. I could take the research to someone else or go public with the findings, but I’d be ousted from Ophidian for violating my duties to the company.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this, then,” I say, attempting to shift back to a playful mood. If he keeps mentioning the Executive, I’m going to start losing the ability to keep calm. “What if I decide to tell the world?”

  He laughs. “As I recall, you’re an unregistered aberrant. What if I decide to tell the world?”

  I pout flirtatiously, as if his implied threat hasn’t just made the blood freeze inside my veins. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” he says. “I never would have told you about this if I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t tell anyone else. And I am extremely interested in you, even if you are trying to kill me.” He reaches out and entwines a lock of my hair around his index finger. “I wanted to share more of myself with you, so why not?”

  I will my eyes not to flicker over to where the bug is hidden on the minibar. He’s being so open with me that it almost makes me feel sorry for him. Now I can see why so many people have been dying on this mission. The world really would change if Jamison Hart was allowed to turn everyone into aberrants. But I still don’t know why Mongoose is so determined to stop the shipments to Ophidian, and I have no idea where the manifest could be.

  Even though I was supposed to stick to the plan, I have to adjust to the situation at hand. There’s no point in lying anymore. Jamie is already suspicious that I’m trying to kill him, and he knows about the existence of the Executive. But he’s actually confiding in me about wanting to take over Ophidian, and he’s still interested in me, even though I’m an aberrant and a potential killer.

  This is my opportunity to get as close to him as possible, to find the manifest and uncover the truth once and for all.

  “I want to share more of myself with you as well,” I begin. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  He grins. “I knew it. Your real name is Eliza, isn’t it?”

  I nod, then remember the bug and confirm it verbally. “Yes. I work for the Executive—”


  Before I can finish my sentence, the front of the plane explodes.

  nineteen

  The entire front half of the plane is gone, revealing nothing but blue sky and wispy clouds and the sparkling ocean far below. I’m so screwed. Jamie and I will never make it to the wedding. He’ll never become an aberrant. I’ll never see August again. Yes, if I just keep on sitting here, holding onto my chair for dear life, I’ll definitely never see my partner again.

  But my training is failing to kick in. Great freaking job, Eliza. Another mistake to bring home to the Executive, one that’ll earn you several years of solitary confinement this time. That’s assuming you even make it out of this alive, by the way. You’re wearing a flimsy dress with no weapons, no tools, nothing at all that enables you to save yourself. You’re several miles up in the sky, and there’s all that water beneath you. Are you going to survive a fall? Are you going to survive the moment where you hit the ocean like it’s made of concrete?

  No.

  Not unless you make yourself focus.

  It’s been all of five seconds since the explosion happened. The bomb must have been in the cockpit, near the pilot’s seat, and detonated either remotely or on a timer. But the rest of the plane is falling to pieces all around us, and I’m not sure if I remember how to breathe. I’m not sure if I even can breathe.

  Something like this happened in Code Name Alpha. “I don’t want to die!” Epsilon shouted. Alpha smiled at her, then strapped a parachute onto his back and locked his arms around her waist. The Alpha of the comic book always smiles. “Then we’ll jump!” he yelled. “Together.”

  But there’s no parachute here, at least none that I can see.

  I’m pretty sure we’re going to die.

  Jamie is yelling something at me as we hang onto our chairs, the jet still plummeting toward the water. “The cushions!” He’s lifting up the seat on his chair, pulling out something from underneath. I want to weep with relief.

  There are parachutes after all.