by T. K. Toppin
“How will we find them?” I asked. “And—wait. How come we can see the butcher on the monitors?”
“Don’t know. But he wasn’t wearing his sweater when my men tagged him. He’d taken it off. I can run another scan and see if I pick up any pockets, so to speak.” Simon tapped instructions into his personal unit. “That’s a start. Won’t say it will work. If the main security scans have already come up clear, then it’s a waste of time. But at least we know what we’re looking for now. Strange. Talk of this kind of technology was in the works a few years ago. It was scrapped—by you.” He looked at John.
“Why did I scrap it?” John furrowed his brow. He seemed disturbed. “I can’t recall ever being aware of it.”
“Despite your devious nature, my friend, your exact words were: ‘If we have it, then the enemy can get it.’ You didn’t want such technology out there to begin with. It incorporated the same chemical process a chameleon uses.”
“Sounds familiar…it was soon after Father died.” John gazed up reflectively, still frowning. “I remember now. It was a very confusing time. Whose idea was it, again?”
Simon froze. He looked up slowly at John. My heart beat in rapid thumps with a strange sense of premonition. “Professor Kassou.”
Chapter 46
“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Simon glared down at his personal unit. The image of one of his subordinates played across, who was pointedly not meeting Simon’s eyes.
“He’s…vanished,” the man replied.
John and I watched as Simon raised his personal unit above his head as if about to fling it the ground. Instead, he growled and punched out the image of the man. He cast John a murderous look. “I’m going topside.”
“I’m coming, too.” John stated with finality.
“Like hell you are. How would it look to have two of you up there?”
John snarled and gripped his friend’s arm. “I do still remember how to blend in.” He was already adjusting his body-shield, digging into the folds in his clothes. He’d changed to an all-black military outfit and a long jacket with many pockets and compartments. Pulling out weapons, he ran checks on them. “I think it’s time we got the ministers and the vice-president, as well as the general public, to the sub-levels for extraction. Quickly and quietly.”
“And are we going to project images of them, too? Bad idea. I suggest a low-level alert—ministerial level only. Might as well let them know that we’re on to them, get them a little panicked—the bad guys, that is.”
“The public comes first, Simon. Then ministers. Let’s just get it done. I’m not going to have my entire cabinet dead, or the general population. Families first.” John adjusted a weapon under his shirt. I knew he purposely avoided my sharp glare. “I’ll bet you anything that Kassou is our inside man, and no telling how many others he’s been in contact with. I want those students as well. Find them!”
“And what happens when you get dead?” I piped in from behind him. He spared me a glance, a small line appeared between his brows as his eyes traveled over my face. I must’ve looked slightly ill judging by the way I felt. “You expect me to stay here and sit on my ass wondering if you get killed or not? If you go, I’m going, too. I’m not staying here by myself shitting bricks while you have all the fun. Shit, John, this is madness. You don’t need to go up there!”
“You will stay,” John answered through gritted teeth. “Please.”
Simon muttered to John that he’d wait by the lifts. He gave me a nod and a reassuring smile. He seemed worried, but said nothing.
“Please, don’t go, John.”
“This Citadel is my responsibility. I have to.” He held both my arms, bringing me closer to him. “I have to be up there, not down here hiding. Do you understand that?”
“I do. But still, can you just stop being such a stoic, goddamned hero, I mean, you—”
He shook me gently. “Shh.” And brought me into his arms and held me for a moment. I squirmed at first, then stilled, my heart hammering in my chest. He held me tighter and let out a pained sigh. “I wish I was a different person, a normal man, so I could wait with you until the world settled, until this evil is washed away.”
“But you’re not. You’re John Lancaster,” I mumbled into the crook of his neck. A heaviness of despair settled on my shoulders and it made breathing difficult. “And you’re the one that has to do it, to get your hands dirty and save the world you’ve promised to take care of. Yay.”
He pressed his lips to my ear and breathed in, nuzzling.
“Josie,” he whispered, “I’ll be fine. They don’t know this place like I do. I was born here, remember.”
I nodded, struggling with my emotions, swallowing my protests down with force. “Okay. Okay. What should I do, then?” I asked bravely. “At least let me do something here that will help. I feel useless, and I’m fucking petrified. I have to do something.”
Letting me go, he walked across to his desk, took out another personal unit, fiddled with it briefly, then handed it to me. “Here. Take this.” He spoke gently, no doubt seeing how scared I was. “You might need it. And this way, I can keep in contact with you. Why don’t you go down to Aline, be with her. She’s probably re-organized everything down there to suit herself by now.” John pressed his lips to mine and held my face gently, then pushed me away. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”
And he was out the door without sparing me a second glance, squaring his shoulders as if to confront his duty head on.
“Don’t forget me down here,” I muttered and clutched myself. I wanted to throw up. All these extremes in emotions were getting the better of me. Fighting a wave of nausea, I ran into the bedroom, rummaged about my meager belongings and retrieved my krima, the pulse gun, and my body-shield.
Once I affixed them onto my person, I poked at a panel by the small closet, which opened out into a tray filled with a selection of knives and guns. Running a hand over them, I chose a small, multi-purpose knife, like the trusty Swiss Army knives of old, and pocketed it. Then I took out a three-burst, semi-automatic handgun that shot out contact barbs with explosive heads. The Snare Gun 3, preferred handheld weapon of choice for novices and professionals alike, as John had explained. Aim wasn’t essential. It held fifty-three rounds of tiny bullets. I picked up the reload cartridge next to it, pocketing that as well. I also considered taking some explosives, fingering them gingerly, then, changing my mind, shut the panel and left the room. In any case, I didn’t have enough pockets to store them in.
I found Aline fretting and ready for an argument. She’d cornered a young security guard who was trying hard to maintain some form of authority, but still cowered before her. Something about a lack of clean towels had got her riled up. When she saw me, her face brightened in a wide smile, the young security guard forgotten.
“Josie,” she called out and walked up to greet me, kissing me on both cheeks. “I was wondering when I’d see you. All is well?” She eyeballed me with the quick, all-encompassing Lancaster inspection. “You sure you’re packing enough?”
“You can’t see them, can you?” I was certain all my weapons were discreetly hidden and covered up by my clothing. I wore loose black trousers, military-issue, with many pockets, a comfortable olive-colored jersey, and insulated boots that John had insisted I wear in case we had to go outside in the snow.
“Well, unless you’ve suddenly grown a pecker, everything else looks fine.”
“Damn, it’s the fu—sorry. The blasted pulse gun. Simon says it needs to be close to the body to absorb the heat and this was where I had to wear it.” I adjusted my crotch, exactly like how a man adjusted his junk.
“Trust Simon to say that. He’s just teasing you. Wear it higher, like here…” Aline pulled up her blouse to reveal her own pulse gun, which was snugly holstered around her lower waist. “You might want one of these, too.” She hiked up a pant leg to show me a small holster around her ankle with a row of six slender cylindrical canisters.
“Small homing missiles. Twist the top to activate and throw. Blast area is small, but effective enough. It’s more for distraction so you can run. And these.” She hiked up the other leg to show another holster with three throwing blades that looked suspiciously like surgical knives, and something that looked like a pressure-syringe.
I stared at Aline, impressed. “You too?”
“Of course. Look, I may be a doctor, but I have no aversion to killing someone who’s hell-bent on killing my family or me. And I know how to kill people, being a doctor and all. I’m very humane. Come on,” Aline grinned cheerfully. “I’m just setting up the clinic down here, just in case. And if this moron,” she gave the guard a scathing look, “could get us some more clean towels and sheets, then all will be well. Place hasn’t been used in years. Everything’s a bit moldy.”
The guard gave one last distasteful look before shuffling off.
“I take it John’s topside?” Aline continued. “Foolish donkey.”
“How did you know?” Adjusting my pulse gun holster, I tagged along, trying to match Aline’s brisk stride as we walked down a long corridor.
We turned left once, then pushed through a sliding door to enter a foyer of sorts; a few people milled about, mostly other doctors and nurses, along with some people I vaguely recognized from my day-to-day meanderings. A young family I remembered seeing in the gardens spoke with some guards, while two young men holding hands, one carrying a baby, stood off to one side waiting their turn. I immediately wondered about Sunil and his mother, and a guilty tug pulled my heart. I hoped they’d be okay and joining everyone down here soon. It shamed me that I didn’t even know Sunil’s mother’s name.
The area we were in was a section reserved for families. It housed the main clinic, as well as many family units and community facilities, and not only was it the deepest sub-level, but the most secure. Along the walls in each of the three community areas were escape pods that went directly through the mountain, to where several collection points were located so civilians could herd together for proper extraction.
“He wouldn’t have sent you here otherwise.” Aline explained matter-of-factly as we continued on past the foyer and down another length of corridor. “Like the time he found that flea-bitten, mangy kitten—wouldn’t give it up for nothing. He carried it around with him all the time, until he had to go to the Academy. And even then, he asked about it all the time. Once he’s taken to something, he latches onto it like glue—a genetic trait we Lancasters have that borders on obsession. Some…worse than others. Anyway, don’t talk about when he came back from the Academy. Simon will give you an earful about that wretched cat.”
“He had a kitten?” I grinned, trying to picture a young John playing with it.
“Hissy.” Aline rolled her eyes. “That was her name. Foul-tempered beast, it was. Always hissing or spitting and scratching. I have scars still to prove it. No one else could touch her but him. And he left it with me, of all people. I hate cats—obsessively so.” Aline winked with humor.
I laughed. We were now in a small apartment that smelled of cooking food. I heard children talking in another room. Rand and the kids; I recognized Amelia’s high giggle.
“Well, I hope you like me more than you like cats,” I gave Aline my best sheepish grin.
Aline regarded me with a raised brow and a twisted smile. “Well, you were a bit flea-bitten around the edges when I first saw you. And I know you have a temper…and those things that come out your mouth. But I suppose you’ll do. He’s got you all to himself like that stupid cat, so you can’t be all that bad. He’s a good judge of character, and so far, he hasn’t been proved wrong.” I heard a hint of a warning in there, somewhere.
“That’s what he said about you.” I grinned back.
“Did he, now?” Aline chuckled almost to herself. She wore a fond look that showed her immense love for her brother. And then it was gone in a flash. “Rand! We’ve company! Send those noisy brats to their rooms and let’s eat.”
John was right. Aline, if anything, was the perfect distraction I needed right now. She knew exactly what to do to make me relax and ease the tension I’d been carrying the last twenty-four hours. And John knew Rand would satisfy my greedy desire for food.
Chapter 47
On Aline’s strict orders, I was given a plate of food to take to Adam. She feared the food from his in-room dispenser wouldn’t meet his nutritional needs or standards. Rand therefore prepared a special meal for him, including a high-protein drink and some disgustingly sweet and sticky dessert I stared at with longing.
I didn’t need any security clearance, apparently. For some miraculous reason, all security points were made clear the moment I approached, whether electronic or human stop-checks. I was either given a green light with an accompanying beep, and doors would swing open as if by magic, or a brief assent from a security guard, who would step aside and let me pass. They didn’t even bother to ask for my name or business, or even poke into the contents of what I carried.
John. He’d done this. I was his little pet cat now, and whatever he said went. Though I felt a little smug, I was more embarrassed at being treated this way, and being known as the “World President’s woman.”
With a mental groan and face no doubt flaming red from embarrassment, I pushed past the last of the security checks and found myself in a nicely furnished room. Carpeted floors greeted me, and cozy, homey touches in muted colors and warm lighting. I spied a fully-stocked kitchen off from the main living area and a separate door, which no doubt led to a bedroom and bathroom. Like a plush hotel suite, it even had an indoor garden. I wondered if being the World President’s brother had its advantages when it came to house arrest.
Adam sat crossed-leg in the middle of the living room floor, facing the small square garden that looked very Zen-ish. Meditating. He creaked an eye open with a look of mild irritation. On seeing me, he opened the other eye and broke out in a wide smile.
“Josie.” He beamed up at me.
“Guess I’ve surprised you now.” I tried to sound humorous. It’s hard to explain, but I felt somewhat relaxed around him. Either he was growing on me, or maybe I was starting to believe him. What was more possible, after learning of his many phobias, was that I’d decided he wasn’t that monstrous after all. I mean, I could simply touch him with my pinky and he’d freak out. “Aline sent you some food. Your special diet and all.”
“Oh, fantastic. I was just wondering what I should eat. I’m a strict vegan. Better for my health.” He stood with a little difficulty, holding the base of his spine gingerly as he did so. Tiredness creased his face and lent a strained pitch to his breathing.
“Really? But you ate the fish the other night.”
“That wasn’t fish.”
“Oh. Um, are you…?” I looked about for some inspiration. Being treated okay? No, that sounded a bit obvious. Got everything you need? Even worse.
“I’m well,” he finished for me. “Please, have a seat. I’ll just go and keep this warm.” He took the container from me and headed into the kitchen. “I’ve nothing but water to offer you,” he called out. “I don’t drink alcohol either. Liver issues from too many meds.” Adam flapped a hand to wave off the comment. “No tea or coffee. Caffeine is a big no-no. And what’s the point in drinking decaf, correct?” He winked at me with a smile.
“Nothing, thanks. I’ve just eaten.” I decided to leave him to his meal. “Don’t let me keep you from your dinner.”
“Nonsense. You’re the first visitor I’ve had for the day.” Adam returned and chuckled softly. He sounded different, not so formal. “Seems this really is house arrest. John does take things to heart sometimes.” He sighed and sat opposite me in a single armchair. I noted he preferred sitting alone, especially if it gave him a panoramic view of the entire room.
“How are things then? Or am I not to know?” He steepled his fingers and, with the tips, tapped his chin lightly. The same staccato beat. I suppressed a shiver.
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br /> “I don’t know.” Should I tell him anything? “They’ve got some leads to follow.”
Adam grimaced. “Oh, he’s not gone topside, has he? Idiot.”
Holy crap, these people knew John so well! My lack of response gave him the answer he wanted. Or was it my face giving things away?
“Fool. Always trying to save the world by himself. It better have been for a good reason.”
We sat in silence for a moment, each seemingly lost for words.
Oh, I know. “So…this book,” I asked abruptly, feeling inspired. “You don’t remember who wrote it, do you?”
“I don’t. But I’ve been thinking about it lately.” Adam nodded. He seemed to be sorting something through his brain, like an internal tug-of-war with his emotions as he made a series of blinks. “Whoever it was, he was probably a young, misunderstood type. Anti-social, you know what I mean. It was just the way it had been written. He had this regressed violent tendency as well. I say he because it was very male-oriented. The way he drew as well, the graphic nature of it. Very bloody. He used lots of reds, black, and dark colors. Angry lines, strokes, like he had a heavy hand. I wonder also if he didn’t fancy himself a bit like his main character. You know, oppressed, wronged, and vengeful in a martyred way. Wanting power—misguided by it—and the notoriety of vanquishing the enemy.”
“Wronged, oppressed… Did you feel a kinship to it? Sounds a lot like you,” I said casually.
“Very astute.” He laughed. “Yes. Somewhat.” Adam gave me a calculating look. “You’ve thought on that a bit, I see. True. You could say I’ve been denied what rightfully should’ve been mine. That’s how it’s being played, is it not? The media must be having a field day. But is that what you really think?”
I jerked up a shoulder, choosing not to answer. “Why are you so insistent we believe you? Surely the more you try to convince someone, the more they’re going to think the opposite. I should know. I’ve had my share of people not believing me.”