[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray

by Jacqueline Carey

  Loup stole a quick glance at her. “I know.”

  Pilar looked away. “No one knows where we are. You could still go into hiding. We’d just need to come up with a new identity for you, figure out a way to get you out of the country. Magnus helped us once; maybe he’d do it again if we agreed to come back to work for him after Miguel and I testify.”

  Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. “Pilar… I think it’s too late. You and Miguel, Geordie, the boys, the senator… there are too many people involved, and you could all get in a lot of trouble if you try to hide me.” She shook her head. “We’ve gone too far to turn back now.”

  Pilar sighed. “I figured. I kinda knew it all along. But I had to say it.”

  “If you don’t want me to—”

  “Of course I don’t! But I know you, Loup.” Pilar looked back at her with quiet sorrow in her gaze. “And I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice, okay? If I ask you not to do this, I’d be asking you not to be you. It’s like Rand’s song, you know? I’d just be putting you in a different kind of cage.”

  Loup swallowed, her throat tight. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll tell Geordie to coordinate with Senator Ballantine’s office.” Pilar picked up her Dataphone. “Might as well go big.”

  “I don’t get it,” Miguel grumbled. “Loup, you don’t have to do this! Pilar and I can testify.”

  “About Outpost, yeah. But you can’t testify on behalf of GMOs.”

  “What makes you think they’re gonna let you?”

  Loup shrugged. “I have to try.”

  “Goddamn hero complex.” He scowled at Pilar. “I can’t believe you’re letting her do this.”

  “Oh, says the guy who helped her train for the fucking boxing match that got her taken into custody in the first place,” she retorted.

  “That was different!”

  “Why? Because you got a ticket north out of it?”

  “Don’t get on your high horse with me, sweetheart!” Miguel growled. “And don’t try to tell me you always had her best interests in mind. I was there when you broke Loup’s heart, remember? I was the one who stuck around to pick up the pieces.”

  “Actually, you got me falling-down drunk and hit on me, Mig,” Loup said mildly. “Then you bailed on me after I said no.”

  “Yeah, but I came back.”

  “Yeah, you did. Eventually.” She rubbed the faint scar on her eyebrow. “Miguel, Pilar’s right. And I might have beat Johnson that day in the ring, but I didn’t really win the fight, you know?”

  He gave her a dour look. “You got out. You beat the system. You were free, Loup!”

  “Not really.” She shook her head. “Not knowing everyone I cared about was still there, and I could never go home. Not knowing there are people like me who can never have lives of their own because they’re considered government fucking property.” Loup sighed. “Look, I’m here. It’s right, okay? It’s the right thing to do.”

  “I still think you’re a goddamn idiot.”

  Miguel continued to grumble all the way across the country. He grumbled across New Mexico and northern Texas, across Oklahoma and Arkansas and into Tennessee. When he wasn’t grumbling about Loup’s intentions, he grumbled about the distance and the boredom, the discomfort of the rental car, the cheap hotels, the greasy diners.

  “He’s driving me crazy!” Pilar complained when they were alone. “How can you stand it?”

  “I just let it wash over me,” Loup said absently, reading the news feeds. “I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s only because he’s worried. Hey, these hearings are starting to get a lot of press.”

  “I’m worried, too, you know.”

  “I know.” She looked up in surprise. “Pilar, hey! Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not!” Pilar dashed impatiently at her tears and sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m just… I’m trying to be strong, okay? And I think I’m doing a pretty damn good job this time. But just so you know, I’m absolutely terrified inside.”

  Loup put her arms around her. “I know.”

  Pilar sniffled. “Stupid goddamn hero complex. I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Miguel fucking Garza.”

  “Are you?”

  “No,” she said after a long moment. “No, I get it, I do. And I think deep down, Mig does, too. He cares a lot about you. I think knowing you’d escaped gave him strength to do the right thing himself. And now he’s pissed that you’re gonna get caught after all. And pissed at himself that it’s sort of his fault.”

  “That sounds about right,” Loup said.

  Pilar kissed her cheek. “Okay, baby. I’ll try to keep it together. And I’ll try not to let Mig drive me nuts. Let’s go find someplace to eat that won’t offend his allegedly refined palate.”

  “Okay. I love you, you know. More than anything. If you want me to—”

  “I know.” Pilar kissed her again. “Now shut up.”

  Four days before the hearings were scheduled to begin and three days before Kate’s concert, they pulled into the safe house in northern Virginia, a pleasant country estate an hour or so from Washington D.C. An attractive woman in a nicely tailored business suit met them in the driveway.

  “Mr. Garza,” she said in a neutral tone as Miguel climbed out of the rental car.

  He grinned at her. “Ms. Westfield.”

  “And you must be Loup Garron and Pilar Ecchevarria.” Her expression softened. “My Lord! You poor things must be exhausted. What an ordeal!”

  “We’re okay,” Loup said.

  “Stiff, mostly.” Pilar, who’d driven the last stretch, rolled her neck.

  “Oh, don’t let those sweet, innocent faces fool you, Janine,” Miguel said laconically. “They’re tougher than they look. Loup can drop a man twice her size with a single punch and that sex kitten beside her is entirely too comfortable with a gun. But I’ve gotta say, they got me out of Vegas while your boss’s Reform Caucus was twiddling its thumbs and dithering about blackmail.”

  The woman eyed him. “I’d forgotten how very charming you could be, Mr. Garza.” She turned back to Loup and Pilar. “I’m Janine Westfield, one of Senator Ballantine’s aides. Come inside and I’ll bring you up to date.”

  Inside, she summed up the situation. Military arrest warrants had been issued for all three of them.

  “Jesus!” Pilar turned pale.

  “Don’t panic,” Janine Westfield assured her. “In light of the pending congressional hearings, Senator Ballantine procured an emergency hearing with the District Court judge. He played the testimony he recorded in Mexico and the uncut interview with Miguel for the judge. Two of the three warrants have been declared invalid.”

  “Not mine,” Loup said quietly.

  “No.” The aide gave her a sympathetic look. “Not yours. Mr. Garza and Ms. Ecchevarria were charged with conspiring to endanger national security. Based on their recorded testimony, the judge determined quite the opposite. But you’re charged in addition with assaulting an enlisted soldier, destruction of military property, flight, and theft of classified materials.”

  Loup blinked. “What? I never stole anything like that.”

  “Your DNA.” Janine Westfield folded her hands atop the table. “To the best of our knowledge, the genetic experimentation program based on the captured Sino-Haitian operatives was suspended years ago. However, the details of the program remain classified. They’re claiming that by fleeing the country, you absconded with classified material.”

  “That’s absurd,” Miguel said flatly.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

  He raised his voice. “I’ve known Loup all her damn life! She’s just a kid, not a top-secret military science experiment. A freaky-ass kid, but a kid. A pretty good one. Her mother was a waitress, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Are you finished?” Janine asked.

  Miguel glowered. “Doubt it.”

  The senator’s aide sighed. “In point of fact, I’m quite in agreement with you, Mr. Garza. Howev
er, the law as written does not acknowledge Ms. Garron as a human being entitled to any of the rights and privileges thereof.”

  “Stupid law,” Pilar muttered, a tremor in her voice.

  “It’s okay.” Loup gave her a quick hug. “We knew something like this was gonna happen.”

  Janine Westfield cleared her throat. “If you wish to attempt to flee—”

  “I’m not fleeing.”

  “All right.” She studied Loup. “Understand that we cannot protect you. Senator Ballantine has been issued a subpoena to divulge your whereabouts. And that he can’t refuse without being held in contempt and jeopardizing the hearings. We’re quite sure his office is under surveillance and have taken measures to circumvent it. Technically speaking, he doesn’t know you’re here yet. We have a very small window of opportunity to exploit the situation.”

  “Publicity,” Pilar said. “You want to stage a PR blitz.”

  “Yes.” The aide permitted herself a tight smile. “This business with Kate’s Crusaders and the concert is attracting a good deal of media attention. It’s put the issue of GMO rights on the national radar, right alongside this Outpost business.”

  “Interview time?” Loup asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Over the course of the next forty-eight hours, a string of journalists arrived and departed at the safe house. They interviewed all three of the Outpost escapees, working different stories with different angles. For the first time, Loup told the whole truth, holding back none of the details.

  The best of the lot was an aggressive young journalist named Brian McAfee from Rolling Stone USA, who came with a skilled filmmaking crew. “So are you really going to show at the concert?” he asked when the interview was largely concluded. “We’re going live with this tomorrow, and that’s what all the fans want to know.” He ordered the cameras turned off and lowered his voice. “This is off the record, but according to my sources in intel, they plan to make a move if you do.”

  Loup glanced at Pilar. Pilar shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, but held her gaze and gave her a tiny nod. An empty chasm yawned in Loup’s heart. “Yeah,” she said softly. “We figured.” For Pilar’s benefit, she managed a faint smile. “But you’ve gotta give the fans what they want, right? And what’s a concert for GMO rights without a GMO?”

  “I doubt they’ll let you get that far,” McAfee said pragmatically. “You’ll be picked up backstage before it begins.”

  Pilar paled. “So no one would even know what happened?”

  Loup eyed the cameras thoughtfully. “Unless someone recorded it.”

  Brian McAfee grinned. “Funny you should say that.” He held up a slim, expensive Dataphone. “Miz Garron, I don’t want to encourage you to endanger yourself. But if you do plan on showing, we’ll have a real ostentatious film crew backstage. And they’ll get shut down. Meanwhile, I’ll get the footage Kate needs on the sly. They can air it on the big backdrop screen, yeah? Mix it up with the footage that’s already out there and what we’ve got? We can edit it together lickety-split, send it out live to all the feeds.”

  “Yeah?” Loup inquired, intrigued.

  His grin widened. “Hell, yeah!”

  “Pilar…”

  She sighed, dialing. “Calling Geordie, baby! He’ll be thrilled.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.” Pilar swallowed hard. “But I’m trying.”

  FORTY-THREE

  An unmarked black sedan carried Loup to the concert on the Mall.

  “You understand—” Janine Westfield began, worried.

  “Yeah, yeah. No protection. I know.”

  Miguel planted a rough kiss on her temple. “Stupid fucking girl! Why do you have to be such a goddamn martyr?” He held her at arms’ length, surveying her security togs, his expression racked with regret. “Nice getup. You look hot.”

  “Thanks, Mig.”

  Pilar…

  They’d stayed up late into the night saying their goodbyes. Now it didn’t seem like enough. Loup wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight. She felt Pilar tremble. “Shh,” she whispered, burying her face against her neck. She breathed deep, inhaling her scent, never wanting to let her go. “It’s okay. It is.”

  “I could still go with you,” Pilar whispered in tears. “It’s not too late.”

  “No.” Loup let her go with an effort. “For all the reasons we talked about. You’re gonna make a great witness. We can’t risk it.”

  “Okay.”

  It was a soft, broken word. Loup looked away, unable to bear the pain in Pilar’s face.

  “Are you ready to go, miss?” the driver asked sympathetically.

  “Yes.” She looked back at Pilar, her heart aching. “It won’t be forever. I promise. I’ll come back to you, just like before.”

  Pilar nodded and took a deep, shaking breath. “Tell the boys I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Tell them I’m proud of them.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you, Loup.”

  “I love you too.”

  In the sedan, Loup pressed the heels of her hands against her burning eyes, wishing that she could shed tears like normal people. When she lowered her hands, the driver was gazing at her in the rearview mirror.

  “You all right, miss?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Just sad. Thank you.”

  “You’re the band’s GMO bodyguard.” It was a statement, not a question. She nodded. There was wonder in his gaze. “The stories, the rumors you hear… I didn’t know you could feel the same way we do. Humans.”

  Through her pain, Loup summoned a rueful smile. “Love?”

  “Love.” He watched her in the mirror. “Loss.”

  She turned her head and looked out the window. “We hurt and bleed the same as you.”

  He was silent for the rest of the drive.

  A huge stage had been erected on the Mall. It was hours before the concert was scheduled to begin, but there was video footage playing on the big backdrop screen and a large crowd had already assembled despite the cool weather. Loup gazed at the scene—the throng of people on the green lawn, the soaring obelisk of the Washington Monument at one end, the white dome of the Capitol Building at the other.

  “Quite a sight, isn’t it?” the driver said.

  “Yeah.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I hope it all stands for something.”

  They slipped past the outskirts of the throng, Loup shrouded in the driver’s overcoat, and passed through security into the tents backstage.

  “So you’re really doing it,” Bill Jones said by way of greeting.

  “Yep.” She shrugged out of the overcoat. “Any trouble?”

  “Not yet.”

  Loup gave the driver back his coat. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, miss.” He shook her hand. “Good luck to you.”

  Brian McAfee was there with the ostentatious film crew he’d promised, doing follow-up interviews with the band. Donny leaped up the moment he spotted her and hurried over, tripping over cables in the process.

  “You made it!” he said, breathless.

  “Yeah.” She smiled sadly. “Pilar said to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t be here today. And that she’s really proud of you guys.”

  Donny flushed. “Is she okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’m sorry.” He touched her hand. “What you’re doing, what all of you are doing… it’s really amazing. And I just want you to know that we’re all honored to be a part of it.” He smiled a little. “Loads of press, too. Geordie’s beside himself.”

  “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

  The film crew took a break and Loup greeted the rest of the band. Randall surprised her by folding her in a gentle hug, pressing her carefully to his lanky body.

  “Just wanted to be sure I got a chance,” he explained.

  “Me too!” Charlie followed suit, copping a quick feel in the process. “Huh. Different.”

>   Loup plucked his hand away. “This is not hand-on-the-ass time, Charlie.”

  He grinned at her. “Says you.”

  She smiled despite herself. Donny leaned over to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’m not gonna hug you,” he said. “Because I’ll fucking well lie awake thinking about it for days if I do. But just know I really, really want to.”

  “You’re a good guy, Donny.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “How the fuck did that happen?”

  The crowd outside grew. The band settled into performing their preconcert rituals. Geordie Davies came over to shake Loup’s hand.

  “It’s been an interesting journey,” he said formally. “All I can say is that I hope this isn’t the end of it.”

  “Thanks, Geordie,” she said. “So do I.”

  Brian McAfee asked to get some footage of Loup working the portable heavy bag that had been set up backstage for her. She agreed gladly, grateful for the distraction. She fell back into the old familiar rhythm, eschewing the kicks and elbow strikes that Clive had taught her in favor of the pure boxing technique she’d learned from Coach Roberts and practiced for hours and hours in the church’s garage. It was comforting.

  It made her think of home.

  It helped dull the vast sorrow she felt every time she thought of the pain on Pilar’s face.

  It blotted out the sound of the National Guard arriving.

  The silence settling into the background alerted her. Loup stopped and turned around. A dozen men in uniform moved through the tent, issuing orders, shutting down the film crew.

  “Freedom of speech!” one of the cameramen protested.

  “National security,” was the curt reply.

  Brian McAfee held his Dataphone cupped in his palm at waist level in an unobtrusive manner, aimed at Loup. He gave her a wink.

  The officer in charge strode toward her. “Loup Garron? aka Guadalupe Herrera?”

  She folded her arms. “Yeah.”

  “I have a warrant to take you into military custody.”

  Loup didn’t move. “You know what you’re doing totally sucks, right?”