I walked up the steps and extended my hand before he could attempt something more personal, like a hug.
“Dr. Cunningham,” I said. “It’s been a long time.”
All the while, I surveyed his face, took in every inch of his aura. He smiled again. His eyes showed relief, concern, gratitude. His posture remained relaxed and inviting. He was doing all the things he should, and naturally would, be doing at a reunion like this. So why did something not feel right?
He took my extended hand, firmly, but not too firmly.
“Jack. Good to see you again. Shall we make a plan to retrieve my daughter?”
*
Beckett, Imogen, and I watched from the hallway through a glass window while Dr. Cunningham inspected Finn—the usual routine: listening to his heart, pressing on his belly, checking his ears, normal doctor office stuff, except that Finn had been injected with drugs to seriously knock him out and now lay unmoving on the examining table, his legs dangling off the end because his body was too long to fit properly.
When was Cunningham going to fix up Finn’s arm? It was still bloody and swollen where he’d been shot, but Cunningham had yet to do anything besides rip off Finn’s tunic, remove the hastily wrapped bandage Imogen had put in place, and rub some alcohol around the wound.
I turned from the window and rubbed my forehead.
“I don’t like this. Cunningham is acting strange. He seems antsy. And he doesn’t look like I remembered him. Something is off.”
Beckett snorted. “The last time you saw the guy, we were three years old. That’s fifteen years ago. People change, Jack. Memories fade.”
Beck continued, “Besides, you’re taller than him now—you’re seeing his face from above, not below. That’s a completely different angle.”
Beckett had relaxed once we arrived. He thought everything was going to be okay now. Finn could get help from his dad, possibly even live. With the help of Cunningham, we’d go get Sage safely from Vasterias, and then we could all ride off into the sunset and disappear forever.
But he couldn’t see what I saw; he couldn’t feel what I felt. I just couldn’t distinguish specifically what that was ….
Beckett rolled his eyes when my expression didn’t change.
“We can’t all expect to look exactly the same in fifteen years. Maybe you will, but no one else will. The normal human population undergoes something called aging.”
I didn’t reply, and Beckett’s agitation grew at my lack of response.
“It’s him, Jack,” he said. “We saw where he’s lived for the last twenty years. The basement of this place is filled with pictures and stuff he’s worked on while he’s been here. His contacts are people we know and trust. No one could just manufacture all of this in a matter of hours. Just because he’s not exactly what you were expecting doesn’t mean you scrap every piece of evidence telling you otherwise.”
What Beckett said was true, so what was I feeling? Was it Cunningham’s attitude? His obvious lack of care and emotion for Finn? Was it simply my perceived change in his personality that formed my reservations? Maybe. But all my past experiences taught me to rely on my intuition, because usually it was right.
We stood in silence, watching Dr. Cunningham tap something into his tablet on the counter.
“Look at him,” I said. “It’s like he’s waiting for someone else to come in and actually work on his son.”
Imogen shifted from her spot where she leaned against the wall. “Maybe he’s just nervous. His wife left with Sage just after getting pregnant with Finn, right? He’s never even met his son before. This isn’t exactly the ideal situation to see Finn for the first time.”
I gazed at Finn’s body through the window, his skin had paled but still held the green, pasty tone. More of the rough bumps had popped up across his arms and legs, along with a few more boils, but that was typical of the modwrogs as their bodies deteriorated.
My stomach contracted. Every time I looked at Finn, I felt guilt. I thought about how I hadn’t gotten to him in time, how I could have saved him if I’d realized just a little sooner what my dad was actually going to do.
“Do you think he’ll live?” Imogen said, and I was surprised to hear a hint of hope in her voice. Usually, death didn’t affect her. Not much of anything affected Imogen.
“He doesn’t look good. It’s likely he won’t make it.” I was unwilling to let people see how much it hurt to say that and how much it hurt thinking about what it would do to Sage—if and when he died.
Beckett stiffened at my comment but remained silent, the tension between us building. Everything I said over the last twelve hours rubbed him the wrong way.
“We’ve got to stay focused,” Imogen said, unable to pull her gaze away from the glass window where she watched Finn. “I don’t know all that’s going on with Cunningham, but we do know two things: Finn needs help, and Sage needs to be rescued. The end.”
She inhaled deeply and lifted her arms over her head of red hair, stretching her thin frame, as if this whole day—the escape, the helicopter ride, being here in Kansas City—had somehow exhausted her bottomless reservoir of energy.
Dr. Cunningham pushed open the door then and exited into the hall.
“We have another doctor coming to attend Finn’s wounds. Dr. Bert Riddle. He’ll administer everything I know of that can help. I’m hopeful that some of my research can counteract what Dr. Adamson has injected into Finn’s system, but my concern is that the deterioration is too far advanced to make any difference. We’ll just have to wait and see. That’s all I can do at this point.”
Beckett’s eyes closed with the news from Cunningham, as if he braced himself while the words soaked in.
“It’s best that we discuss plans to get to Sage now,” Dr. Cunningham said. His voice sounded calm and heavy with sadness. His eyes remained soft, creases of concern on the outside corners, and his shoulders sagged in the appropriate “grieved father” posture. But still, something rubbed me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what.
“I’m not going with you,” Imogen said, nodding toward Finn. “I’m going to stay here with him. Just to make sure he’s okay when the next doctor comes. You guys can fill me in on the plan for Sage later.” Her voice held that tone. I knew no one would change her mind.
My gaze landed on Dr. Cunningham, and he paused, as if unsure of the idea of her remaining behind, but then he smiled—a forced, tired look.
“That’s just fine,” he said. “Follow me, and we’ll talk plans.”
I furrowed my brow, wondering at Imogen’s sudden concern for Finn. No matter. She was fully capable of taking care of herself, and Beckett and I could do this alone, no problem. I just knew that, normally, Imogen didn’t like being left out of the action.
“See you in a few minutes,” I said to her.
“Boys,” Cunningham said, “if you’ll just follow me to the conference room.”
But as he led the way down the long corridor, I still couldn’t push away the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Keep calm and play the game. We had to find out everything Dr. Cunningham knew without him realizing I was suspicious. I had to go into this conference room with my head on straight. I needed to stay calm so I could control the meeting.
I elbowed Beckett walking next to me, silently telling him the same message with my eyes.
Stay calm.
He rolled his eyes back at me, a look of annoyance on his face, and wouldn’t look at me again.
12
BECKETT
Jack was annoying me, big time. He cared about no one. No feelings, no pain. It was always about the ultimate goal: keeping on the mask. I knew he felt something about losing Sage in that helicopter, and yet he wouldn’t say two words to acknowledge it. Well forget it then, forget him.
We stepped inside the conference room. Dr. Cunningham sat down across from us at a dented, metal table. Cracks in the concrete walls ran from floor to ceiling.
Jack and
I lowered ourselves into seats. Jack leaned forward toward the table top; I slouched back against the chair.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Dr. Cunningham said. “They’ve taken Sage to the mansion, and because she knows and trusts you both, I need you boys to be the ones to retrieve her. It’s the only way I think our plan will work. Are you open to the idea?”
“We’re open,” Jack said. “Go on.”
“There’s a gala happening there tomorrow night. It’s a good time to attempt a breach; there’s so much happening with the festivities. I’m sure you understand we don’t have much time. She’s not safe with your father. We need to get to her as quickly as possible. I have someone on the inside, Sven is his name, but he’ll need your help getting her out. Do you remember him, Jack? He’s been a recruit trainer for the last half-decade, stationed overseas for the past couple of years, and has recently returned to the New York headquarters.”
Jack critiqued Cunningham’s every word, not so much as nodding at Cunningham’s question.
I settled my gaze on the tabletop, to Cunningham’s hands, wondering how we got here, at this moment, at this time, everything so convoluted. I pretended to be positive about getting to Sage, but inside, my stomach twisted with doubt and fear.
“Sven will help you get Sage out; he’ll help with whatever you need. We’ll leave the details up to you and Beckett. I assume you still have connections to various necessities in New York, but you are welcome to any of my own belongings if you need. Transportation, most certainly. I have motorcycles here, a car, a van, and various guns.”
“Guns?” I looked up from the table. Dr. Cunningham had never been the aggressive type. Strictly a scientist, and docile, from what my dad had said of him.
“Only in case of necessary protection, of course.” He smiled tightly. “I’ve been tracked and hunted by Vasterias, you know. Twenty years of that can wear on a man.”
A heavy silence blanketed the air.
Cunningham eyed us, seeming uncomfortable with the quiet. His eyes lingered on Jack’s arm muscles, no doubt assessing Jack’s general physique. I could tell Jack noticed, and he crossed his arms to accentuate his biceps further. I’d seen this before—Jack did it all the time, both to impress girls or to intimidate, based on the conditions of the situation. It usually ticked me off, but this time I felt silently satisfied by the maneuver.
Dr. Cunningham cleared his throat. His voice grew more emphatic. “Bring her to me. Please. They want her eggs. We can’t let that happen ….”
I frowned at Cunningham, and he quickly added, “I want to see her again, too, of course. The last time I saw my little girl, she wasn’t even two years old.”
Sage. So young, so innocent. And myself, too, before … everything. Back before our mom died, before Jack stopped talking about Mom, before our dad turned into a man I didn’t recognize ….
Enough.
I knew Jack wanted us to stay relaxed, but something about the tone of Cunningham’s voice when he talked about Sage, or maybe the unfeeling look on Jack’s face, set me off. I pushed away from the table and stood up. Next to me, Jack’s eyes closed slowly, like he knew what was coming and tried to contain his irritation.
I pressed my fingertips to the cold table and leaned in toward Dr. Cunningham.
“Bring Sage here to you? For what? So you talk her into letting you use her body for science instead of Vasterias? Because you think whatever is inside her is going to help the world? Sorry, I don’t think so. You’ve created enough pain for her.”
I shoved my chair under the table. “You know, after not hearing from you for all these years, she actually hoped you might want to save her just because she’s your daughter. Imagine such a juvenile thought.”
I thought of Sage, on the farm, innocently going about the business of her life—feeding cattle, managing the wheat harvest, attending high school. Specific moments flashed across my mind like a video reel: Sage riding her horse across the pasture; Sage leaning against the giant oak tree in her side yard, holding a glass of lemonade; Sage, lying in the barn loft, her hair splayed out, pieces of straw caught in her ponytail. These images, they were of a real life—Sage’s life. And my life, too, for three years. Wrapped up in those memories was the girl I loved, but it was also the me I loved. The best of me came out with her.
Cunningham spoke so lightly of her, like her life before didn’t even exist. I felt the sudden urge to reach across the table and wrap my hands around his neck.
He must have sensed it. “But I want to save her for that very reason,” said Dr. Cunningham. “I never intended for her to get dragged into this mess. I just want her to be safe.”
My voice raised. “And what makes you think we believe any of that?”
Jack rubbed his forehead, saying nothing, attempting to offset my intensity, but I wasn’t stopping now.
“Your daughter doesn’t hear from you for fifteen years, and you say nothing when she and Finn are kidnapped. You contact Jack to say you want him to bring her to you, but you don’t respond when they threaten to inject Finn and change him into a modwrog. You don’t respond after they do it, or even when they threaten to do the same to your daughter. You only call my father after you know, without a doubt, that they’re about to find out your secret—that you stored the code directly inside of her. So, just answer this question, Cunningham. Do you, or do you not, want the code inside her?”
Dr. Cunningham straightened in his chair and looked calmly at Jack, not me.
“I believe in my work. Whether you two believe me or not, I’ve devoted myself to helping humanity. That is why I hid the code in the first place. There were no other options.”
I snorted.
“So that’s a yes, then? You only want her for the code. You’re sick. Sick and twisted, just like the rest of them. I don’t want to hear your excuses and your reasons, or your plan to make the world a better place. Your equation doesn’t work when you’re screwing with lives along the way. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to help Finn get better, and then you’re going to leave us all the hell alone.”
Dr. Cunningham focused his gaze on his hands resting on the table, fingers interwoven with one another. “I can’t do that. I will help my son, but I’m not leaving it all alone.” He cleared his throat and shifted his hands a bit. “I think you’re both missing the bigger picture, here. I think that—”
“There is no bigger picture!” I shoved my chair again, and when it hit the ground, it made a clanging sound that echoed through the room. “At least not a bigger picture that’s good for her! And screw all of you who think you can control us like circus puppets. Your daughter and son—they’re human beings, Dr. Cunningham, in case you forgot.”
I strode out the door. Jack’s gaze and Cunningham’s bore into my back.
If I had it my way, we’d get Sage and never come back here again. She didn’t need to meet this man. She’d only be disappointed, and she didn’t need more heartbreak. I was trying to help patch up her heart, not tear it to pieces again by introducing her to a father who cared nothing for the person she was outside of the code. But Finn was part of this equation, and as long as Finn was here, we would be returning, for better or worse.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
And screw Jack for saying I had to stay calm about any of it.
13
JACK
I didn’t move or speak after Beckett stormed out.
Across the table, Cunningham remained silent, too. I studied him, in no hurry to fill the void with useless words. I surveyed the doctor’s meek posture but couldn’t sense a matching weakness inside him. It was feigned weakness. That perplexed me. I was still trying to figure him out. What did the doctor really want? Everyone wanted something. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on this man, not yet, anyway. I needed time.
My chair made one solid scrape on the concrete floor as I stood. “Let me talk with Beckett. I’ll be back in a few minutes. If
you can get in touch with Sven, we’ll talk with him next.”
I paused by the door. “We will get her, doctor. And, as long as you agree to do your part for your son, we’ll bring Sage here. I think she wants to meet you, anyway, from what she has said. But we won’t make you any promises from there. If she wants to leave and have nothing to do with you anymore, I’ll shoot you before I’ll let you keep her here against her will.”
Dr. Cunningham swallowed, still in his seat. “I’m looking forward to seeing her. She can start a new life. She’ll be well taken care of. There is plenty of money for her here. Please tell her that.”
“With all due respect, doctor, I don’t think money is what she wants.”
“It’s my daughter. I just want her to know.” Dr. Cunningham stood and walked around the table. He extended his hand toward me. “And thank you. Thank you very much for your help.”
I stared at his hand for a moment. How odd. This felt more like a business transaction than a rescue mission.
Play the game, Jack. Just keep playing the game.
Pushing away the unsettled feeling, I took his hand, and I shook it.
14
JACK
Beckett and Imogen weren’t with Finn. I found them both out front; Beckett pacing next to the steps, Imogen watching.
The exterior door clicked shut behind me, but Beckett didn’t acknowledge my presence.
“Cunningham’s an asshole,” Beckett said. “I don’t trust him, and if it weren’t for Finn, I wouldn’t bother coming back.”
Imogen glanced at me wearily, like she’d been trying to rationalize with Beck for a few minutes already.
“Just because we save her,” she said, “doesn’t mean we have to hand her over to Dr. Cunningham. One thing at a time. We start with getting her back, and then we make plans from there.”
The Golden Order Page 4