by T. M. Catron
“You reacted fast,” Roy said as we stood to check up and down the street.
“That’s what I’m trained to do. Tell me, Roy, do you always duck at the sound of gunfire, instead of protecting your client?”
Roy glared angrily at me. The sirens grew louder. Since neither one of us wanted to talk to the police, he picked up the new phone from the pavement and walked off. I left in the opposite direction. Wouldn’t be long now.
Overall, I congratulated myself on a job well done.
8
Lesson
When I arrived at the beach that afternoon, Toral and Charan sat with another, older woman who I assumed was their sister. They both wore saris. Toral’s was a serene blue, like the water. Her sister Hiraani had none of Toral’s beauty, but she was pleasant enough as I shook her hand and chatted with them. After a few moments, all of us sat in the sand facing the beach.
Toral gave no indication of our after-breakfast kiss. I, however, kept stealing glances at her and wondering what was wrong with me.
“I am worried for Toral,” Hiraani said after a few minutes of idle chatting. She shifted on the sand and smoothed it down underneath her like it was a lumpy blanket. “She has never really learned to swim. Will the tide be too much for her?”
“Hiraani—” Toral began, her tone carrying a warning.
“Hush, sister. You don’t know what you are asking of this man. What if you get caught in the current?”
I suspected Hiraani’s reluctance went beyond her fear of Toral drowning.
“It’s very mild here, and the surf is gentle,” I said. “I won’t let anything happen to your sister.”
Toral shot me a look, and our eyes connected. Something in my chest gave a little flutter.
“How can you be certain?” Hiraani’s sharp voice drew my attention back to her. She pierced me with a glare like I had never experienced before from any human. Like she could see right through me and into my stone-cold heart. I almost stood and apologized for disturbing their vacation. If I did, I could maybe even evade punishment for the time wasted.
I debated my choices. Since Roy had to plug his phone into a charger before anything else happened, I didn’t have much to do now. He wouldn’t do that until tonight. I could have got a few hours’ sleep instead of sitting on that foolish beach, but a swim with Toral was too appealing.
“Oh, enough!” Toral said, interrupting my inner turmoil. She stood and grabbed my hand.
Surprised, I stood with her. Her hand was soft and warm, textured with an overlaying grit of sand.
“We will be fine,” she told Hiraani. “He is just going to show me how to float. Correct, Morse?”
Toral pulled me down to the water. When we reached the wet sand, Toral released me to remove her sari, exposing a blue underskirt and a blouse that didn’t quite cover her midriff. She let the sari slip from her elegant, delicate fingers. The wind caught it and floated the fabric like a flying carpet. As it settled behind us, I tried not to gape at Toral.
“Are you going to wear your shoes?” she asked with an amused smirk on her face.
“What? Oh. No.”
I sheepishly removed my shoes and socks and then rolled up my khakis so they wouldn’t flap around my legs. Then I straightened and smiled. “Ready?”
“What do I need to do?”
We walked out into the surf, me explaining the simple mechanics of floating. “The key is to relax and let the water do the work.”
I’d never taught a woman how to swim. Actually, I’d never taught anyone how to swim. I didn’t even remember learning myself. Like breathing, it was just something I had always known how to do.
We moved out into the waist-deep water. The sun beat down, shining all the way to the rocky bottom. The surf rocked us back and forth but didn’t pull us back out. I looked back at Hiraani and Charan watching us on the beach. Toral ignored them. Her thin petticoat floated and swirled around her in the water. A wave approached, and the sea receded. The blue satin clung to her hips and legs. I tried not to stare while holding both her hands to steady her against the wave.
“Let’s move out a bit farther,” I said.
She didn’t protest as I led her beyond the breakers. The water rose to her chest, sometimes gently picking her up off her feet and floating her away from me. I kept a firm grip on her.
“Your hands are rough,” she said.
“Sorry. Feeling okay?”
“Yes. What’s next?”
“Lay back, let your back arch. Your feet will follow.”
I moved close and put my hand on the small of her back, supporting her while she tried to follow my instructions. The first time, she panicked and flailed her arms. She splashed me while trying to right herself, and water went up my nose.
“Don’t panic!” I said. She emerged from the water laughing, sputtering with the water that had gotten up her own nose. Her laugh was infectious. My goofy grin reappeared. When she recovered, we tried again. And again.
On the fourth attempt, she stopped struggling and allowed me to support her in the water. Her braid floated near my arm, brushed against my shirt.
Toral looked at my chest, then back to my eyes before closing hers and willing herself to relax. I glanced down at my chest, but she couldn’t see anything under the two dark t-shirts I wore. My eyes fell on her exposed midriff before I gradually moved away from her.
“Not yet,” Toral said without opening her eyes. “I’m not ready for you to let go.” She grabbed my forearm. I sank down in the water and kicked us farther out where I could tread water more easily. She didn’t notice. I moved closer to her head. Salt droplets sparkled on her eyelashes.
What are you doing, Morse? The small fluttering in my chest expanded like a tiny bird had become trapped inside and was beating its wings against my heart. If I hadn’t been so content and relaxed, it would have nauseated me.
I tapped her shoulder. “Toral.”
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Hold on to me, okay?” I put her hand on my shoulder and then let go.
She smiled. “I am doing it! You are a good teacher, Monsieur Morse.”
“And you are a good pupil. Ready to go back now?”
“Are they watching?”
I glanced up to shore for the first time since the lesson began. Charan and Hiraani were standing on the beach, shielding their eyes from the sun as they tried to watch us. But we were too far out now for them to see anything clearly. Just our heads bobbing around in the water.
“They can’t really see us.”
“Kiss me again.”
9
Janslow
That night, trash bins filled the darkened, narrow alley between run-down board homes. Weeds grew as tall as I, their ugly fronds pushing out through large gaps in the wooden fences. My feet crunched over gravel until I reached a fence with a red board. The gate had been left unlatched for me. I slid through it onto a crumbling two-meter by two-meter concrete patio.
The back door used to have a full-length glass pane, but that had broken long ago. Now, a sturdy sheet of plywood took its place. I stood there a moment. Janslow would already know I was here, but just in case, I didn’t want to surprise him into attacking me.
It’s me, I said, transmitting silently via my adarre.
I heard a grunt as Janslow stood to his feet. He pushed the plywood out enough for me to squeeze through it into a darkened kitchen that smelled like mold, salt, and stale tobacco. Neither of us needed light to see our way around—one of the benefits of being part alien.
The kitchen was a mess. All the wall cabinets had been removed except one. Its door stood ajar, dangling on one good hinge. A broken wooden table was propped up against one wall. A wooden chair and a plastic chair with missing leg were the only other items in the room.
Janslow was huge, with broad shoulders and towering height. He took up most of the space in the tiny kitchen, yet he could move through a city without being seen like no other hybrid I’d
met. His blond hair was tied back in a short braid.
“Long day?” I asked as he settled back into his seat.
“More like long two weeks, which is how long it’s been since I slept. Sneaking around here, getting intel for you, setting up your meeting, watching your back. You about ready to wrap this up? When I go back north, I can get some sleep.”
“Should be tonight.”
“What were you doing down at the beach today? New contact?”
I should have known Janslow would watch me. I would have done the same. Suddenly terrified that he would guess my internal confusion surrounding Toral, I lied.
“Yes.”
“Hmph.” Janslow didn’t ask further questions. He knew better. But why had he asked me anything about it at all?
Each hybrid operated as their own cell. We rarely, if ever, knew what the other million were doing at any given time. Each hybrid had his or her own assignment directly from Condar. And we didn’t share our missions with others. Occasionally, as with Janslow and me, we took advantage of each other’s networks for efficiency’s sake. If we needed to cooperate, we told another hybrid what we needed to be done, but never the reason or the outcome. Only Condar knew exactly what everyone was doing and why.
I grabbed the plastic chair and sat in it, balancing on its three good legs. “If Armelle’s bodyguard gives any indication, Emerson-Wright’s current security detail is a joke.”
Janslow laughed. “I went up on the roof to fire off those rounds. I laughed so hard, I almost got caught by the police. Twitchy thing, isn’t he?”
“And they’re supposed to be the best.”
“Well, they mostly are. EW might just keep her bodyguard around because he’s good at being discreet, not because he’s great protection. The number of men I’ve seen her meet in the last week alone… Was she disappointed in you, Morse? Is that why she got on a flight to Paris this evening?”
I smirked. “Wonder why EW keeps her around, though.”
Janslow fixed me with a look of disbelief.
“Seriously—she’s not that pretty, she’s not careful about her flings, and yet she still exercises great control over her husband.”
“She’s rich. Not as rich as he is, but EW likes to be surrounded by money. And I don’t think she has more control over him than he allows. For all his paranoia, Gregory Emerson-Wright is a brilliant man.”
“So why not trade in Armelle for a younger model?”
“She’s discreet about his business. And I think she knows more than she lets on. He’s not going to let that get too far away.” Janslow frowned. “You worried about her?”
“No, just trying to figure out EW.”
We sat a minute in silence. My phone buzzed with a text. It was from Armelle.
No.
“Looks like I’m going to have to use Plan B,” I said. Plan A had been Armelle. “Emerson-Wright doesn’t want to hire me the easy way.”
“Going to force his hand?”
“It’s a risk.”
“Pretty big risk.”
“Yes.” I checked my phone again to make sure I hadn’t missed the notification. I hadn’t.
All Roy had to do was plug his phone into any port connected to Emerson-Wright, even on the plane if that’s where he was. Had Roy figured out the switch? I didn’t think he was that smart. A rattling car drove by out front, its motor sputtering like it was going to fall out at any moment.
“Why’d you give Toral a swimming lesson?” Janslow asked. The wooden chair creaked dangerously as he leaned back to pick at a piece of flaking wallpaper.
He knew her name, knew what we were doing. I should have expected it. But it caught me by surprise all the same. My head had been too wrapped up in enjoying myself with Toral to worry about anyone seeing us.
“Just want my vacation to look convincing to anyone who’s watching. What better way than to spend it with a pretty girl?”
“Who else is watching you except me?”
“Emerson-Wright, by now.”
Janslow nodded, accepting my answer. But again, why had he asked?
Because he suspects something.
My phone buzzed. Roy had plugged in the Samsung. The program was working. Even if he unplugged it now, the entire worm had already uploaded itself to Emerson-Wright Financials’ network. I now had complete backdoor access.
Having just successfully hacked into the most secure network in Europe, I couldn’t help but feel smug as I rose from the chair.
“Good luck,” Janslow said as I left. We both knew I needed more than that. Screw this up, and I wouldn’t be back on Earth for a while. And I would not need to punish myself.
10
Presidential Suite
When I arrived in the hotel lobby at 12:15 am, it was still bustling with guests. Old features mixed with new—stained wooden floors, stone features, and modern furnishings. I turned to the bank of elevators. Music and cheerful voices drifted through a door somewhere and down into the hall—muted sounds of a party in one of the ballrooms. The smell of shrimp and champagne floated with them. I was dressed in a crisp suit and tie, looking like a hotel guest returning from a nice dinner.
The relaxed, pleasant atmosphere contrasted sharply with my current goal. Forcing a meeting with EW neither scared nor amused me. I didn’t tie fear or pleasantry with missions, only with the consequences of not completing them. As a hybrid, emotions only entangled my duty to my masters. I could not feel. I simply had to exist.
Any feelings I had about Toral I shoved aside and buried deep. Tonight, I had to be focused. The important piece of business now was to demonstrate that EW’s security was severely compromised when he traveled. And if it lacked here, what had his team missed at home in his tower fortress? On the elevator, I punched the button for the top floor. EW should have bought a house in Marseille, which he could have made more secure with all his own people. Maybe he had one. Maybe Armelle liked staying at the hotel. Either way, the choice made my job easier.
The Presidential suite was located in the middle of the building. Down the hall from the elevator, a metal detector had been set up, barring the path to the suite. Another one blocked the other end of the hallway. EW’s guards stood in the middle. Besides being inconvenient for guests, the checkpoint marred the sleek aesthetic of the hallway. More disturbingly, it begged for attention. They should have put up a sign that read, “SOMEONE IMPORTANT IS STAYING HERE.” It would have been cheaper.
This was going to be easier than I thought.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and pretended to be absorbed with my screen as I walked toward them. With one command, I shut down the elevators to the hallway, buying time. They delivered their passengers and then stayed where they were. No one would be stuck, so no call for help.
“Bonsoir,” I said as I approached Bodyguard Number One. The metal detector wouldn’t be a problem. My current gun was plastic, loaded with plastic cartridges, and holstered at my hip beneath my jacket. The bodyguards—big, thuggish types—were dressed in black suits and matching ties.
“Which room?” Number One asked.
I stopped next to him and pulled a dummy keycard from my pocket to examine it. At the same time, I also pulled out a tiny syringe. It looked like a miniature epinephrine pen but was loaded with a hybrid tranquilizer that worked faster than the human nervous system. The bodyguard wouldn’t even feel it before he was knocked out.
“I forget,” I said with a fake British accent, slightly slurred to imitate drunkenness. “The front desk wrote it on my card.”
Seeing I wasn’t going to be any trouble, Bodyguard Number Two turned to face the other end of the hall.
Number One waited impatiently as I examined the card. My hand with the syringe flew to his neck, piercing his skin so quickly he never saw me move. He sank to the floor, and I caught his fall.
“Hey!” I called to Bodyguard Number Two. “He just passed out!”
Number Two rushed over to help and received the same
treatment. I took a moment to make sure both were resting against the wall. The metal detectors obscured their bodies, so only their legs stuck out into the hall. They looked like they were taking a break.
Time was ticking. Someone, either guest or camera—was going to see the bodyguards sitting down outside the door. And if they hadn’t already discovered the frozen elevators, they soon would.
I had maybe six minutes.
At the Presidential Suite door, I punched in a new sixteen-digit passcode which, thanks to my backdoor application, would get me into anything on EW’s network. The lock clicked, and I cracked the door, listening. No one was on the other side.
I slipped into a small, unlit foyer. To the right, a purple couch held a leather bag, a newspaper, and a woman’s purse. Who did that belong to? Had Armelle changed her mind about leaving tonight? But the purse was different from the small thing she had carried on her arm earlier today. It smelled different too.
The basic layout of the suite was available online. Another reason EW should have stayed in a private residence. Earlier in the week, I’d pulled up all the pictures and studied them.
To the left of the door, a hallway led to a small bathroom and kitchen. Ahead of me was the living room, its lights dimmed to a soft glow. No one sat on the white leather couches. I eased to the entrance of the foyer, looking left. Heavy drapes were drawn across all the windows and doors leading out to the balcony. A bodyguard was certainly out there. If they were smart, someone else was inside too.
Everything was quiet. Was EW asleep already? I smiled. Even better—scare him out of bed. I stood against the foyer wall to peer into a dark dining room. White light flickered in the room, and a man’s face lit up momentarily. Bodyguard Number Three sat at the end of the table, watching TV in silence, probably with the closed captions on. His eyes were glued to the screen on the opposite wall.