Free Souls (Book Three of the Mindjack Trilogy)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

I couldn’t see the image that popped up, but the male voice on the line sounded older, like my dad. “This is Sergeant Lenny Lee of the Chicago New Metro Police Crisis Unit. Thank you for picking up. I’m here to listen to you and to make sure everyone stays safe.”

  The man’s voice was calm and soothing.

  “Sergeant Lee,” Julian said. “I take it you’re our negotiator today?”

  “I am, Mr. Navarro,” came the reply. “Can I assume that you’re the one in charge of the water station right now?”

  “Yes, you can assume that.” I saw Julian fighting to keep the smirk off his face. Sergeant Lenny Lee might have years of experience dealing with crazed hostage takers and volatile crisis situations, but he had nothing on Julian’s smooth confidence and clarity of purpose.

  “It appears that you are injured, Mr. Navarro,” Sgt. Lee said. “Can we send in some medical personnel to assist you? Is there anyone else who has been injured?”

  The smile was rueful now, and not quite held in check. “Thank you for your concern, Sergeant Lee. My injuries are very minor, and I assure you that everyone is safe. We have no desire to see anyone hurt today. Our demands are simple. I assume you have been briefed on them already?”

  “That’s good to hear, that everyone is safe,” Sgt. Lee said. “That’s my paramount concern, Julian. May I call you, Julian? I don’t intend any disrespect, sir.”

  “Julian is fine,” he said, but the irritation was clear in his voice. “About our demands—”

  “Yes, I’ve been briefed on your demands.” Sgt. Lee’s voice kept the same measured pace in spite of cutting Julian off. “We have a team working on them right now. First, I need you to do something for me—”

  Julian jumped in, his words speeding up even as Sgt. Lee’s seemed to drag along. “I’m prepared to release hostages as a show of good faith. We have a dozen water-plant workers currently under sedation, and I have no intention of harming them. We can wake half of them and send them out. That is, if you can keep the National Guard from shooting them on their way.”

  “That’s a great start, Julian.” Sgt. Lee’s praise sounded genuine, but his voice had the same calculated evenness of tone. “And certainly no one wants to fire any weapons in the future. That was a misunderstanding earlier, before I arrived, but the tactical officer here assures me that won’t happen again.”

  “Good,” Julian said.

  “Since you’re releasing some of the hostages—and I think that shows what a reasonable person you are here, Julian, very reasonable, and I appreciate that a great deal—could you do one more thing for me?”

  “What is that?” Julian asked, wary.

  “There’s a girl named Kira Moore in the water plant with you.” Julian’s eyes went wide, but Sgt. Lee kept talking. “Her father is very concerned about her and would like her to come out. How about we keep her father from having to worry any longer by releasing her with the first set of hostages? That would go a long way in establishing good faith with everyone out here, I can assure you of that.”

  Julian didn’t respond immediately, and I could almost see him measuring and discarding a dozen responses before he finally answered. “There’s no one here by that name.”

  “Julian.” Sergeant Lee’s calm tone edged into patronizing, and I saw Julian grit his teeth in response. “I need you to be honest with me, Julian. I want to work with you to find a way out of this that’s safe for everyone. We can only do that if we’re being honest with each other, so I’ll start by being honest with you—the water plant’s surveillance footage shows that Ms. Moore is there inside the plant with you.”

  Julian flicked a look to me. He was trying to keep his face neutral, but this was news to both of us. I held a finger to my lips, so he wouldn’t say anything, and mentally reached out to Myrtle in the control room.

  I pushed hard to get her to let me in quickly. Myrtle! She reflexively shoved me out, then realized who I was and let me back in. They’ve tapped in to the monitors on the outside! You need to shut them down!

  I’m trying, but I haven’t located the controls for the cameras yet, Myrtle thought. It might take me a minute.

  I reached downstairs to Hinckley. Julian’s started negotiations, I linked the thought to him, but they’ve tapped into cameras inside the plant. Can you disable them?

  I’ll get someone on it right now.

  I was drawn back into the room by Julian finally composing a reply to the police negotiator.

  “If you can see Ms. Moore,” he said, “you should be able to see that she is not a hostage. I’m prepared to release the water plant workers, nothing more.”

  “I understand, Julian,” the negotiator said in his smooth voice, “but Ms. Moore’s father seems quite certain that she’s being held against her will. You can imagine how worried he must be about her in this situation. I understand that Mr. Moore is friends with Senator Vellus, so I’m sure you can understand the pressure I’m under here, right? The senator wants to make sure that Kira is safe as well. She’s underage, yes? Right now, no one’s been hurt, and this is only a simple breaking and entering, but if you’re keeping a minor against her will, well, that will complicate things.”

  Julian held my gaze while I motioned furiously for him to let me link in to his head. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  Julian, my dad isn’t saying any of this! I nearly gasped out loud, finally being able to communicate.

  I know. His thoughts echoed around inside his head. I can’t say that your father understands the situation without compromising him. He has to be under Vellus’s control right now. Out loud he said, “You’ll have to take my word for it, Sergeant Lee. Ms. Moore is not being held against her will.”

  Vellus probably has my dad at the Detention Center, I linked.

  Exactly, Julian thought. We’ll get him out, just like all the rest.

  “You may be right, Mr. Navarro,” Sergeant Lee continued from the screen. “I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea what Miss Moore’s relationship is to you and your fellow mindjackers. I understand how things can get complicated. A young girl runs away from home, finds a new set of friends…”

  “You don’t know anything,” Julian snapped.

  Julian, no, I linked the thought to him. Don’t let him get to you because of me.

  Julian took a breath. “Ms. Moore is not a part of this negotiation.”

  “I’m just saying, I can understand how we might have gotten into this situation,” Sergeant Lee said. “It’s not your fault or hers. No one’s really. But now we’re in a bit of a sticky spot, yes? Her father is friends with the senator, and he’s taken a special interest in ensuring her safety. We don’t want that to complicate both of our goals. You want your demands met—which I’m currently looking in to how we can accomplish that for you—and I want to make sure we have a safe end to this crisis. How about this? Why don’t you let her come out, and I’ll personally guarantee her safety. She can be your lead negotiator on this side, to reassure you that we’re negotiating in good faith. I understand Senator Vellus would like to have her take an active role in bringing this crisis to an end as well.”

  “I told you—”

  Julian, no. He’s right. If Vellus is sending the negotiator to get me out, he’s not going to have a “team” working on our demands without it.

  No, Julian thought, his face darkening. I’m not giving you over to him.

  “Julian?” Sergeant Lee said. “Is everything okay? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Julian ground out between his teeth.

  “Good,” Sergeant Lee said. “I know things can get distracting during crises like these, but I need you to stick with me, okay? I can see that you’re concerned about Miss Moore. I think we all want her to be safe. Like I said before, I personally guarantee no harm will come to her.”

  “I’ll call you back.” Julian shut down the call, and I hurried over to the other side of the monitor.

  He grabbed hold of my shoulders an
d this time I think he truly was tempted to shake some sense into me. “Kira, it’s a trap. You know this.”

  “I know.”

  “And once he has you… I’m never going to see you again. Do you understand that?”

  I stared up into his pained blue eyes. “I’ll go in, just like we planned before. You wanted someone to get close to Vellus. You wanted someone who could take him out. Well, guess what? I’m that person.”

  Julian shook his head, his face twisting, which I understood. Completely. But it didn’t change the fact that a jacker was lying in a pool of his own blood downstairs. That my father and Sasha and a hundred other jackers were locked in Vellus’s Detention Center. That this entire gamble of Julian’s was going to implode before it got started. Someone had to stop Vellus, and he was asking for me. I wouldn’t get another chance like this. And none of us were likely to walk out of this alive if I didn’t take it.

  “I’ll pretend to give Vellus what he wants, get close, and then take him out.”

  “There’s no way he’ll believe you, Kira.” Julian was trying to talk me out of it now, which told me I had already won.

  “It doesn’t matter if he believes me,” I said, “as long as I can get close to him.”

  “There’s no way he’ll let you close enough to hurt him.”

  “I have a few skills Vellus doesn’t know about,” I said with a small smile. “He won’t harm me as long as he thinks I’m going to give him the tru-cast he’s wanted since he had me in his office before. And if I fail, well, you’ll just have to come rescue me again.”

  “I told you,” he said, and the tremble in his voice just about broke my heart on the spot, “I didn’t want to do that anymore.”

  I pressed my fingers to his lips so he wouldn’t say any more, then leaned close to him, as close as our two flak jackets would allow.

  “There’s a chat-cast I made.” My voice was whispery, aching as the words leaked out of me. “Hinckley has it, and I gave a copy to Anna, too. If you see me on the tru-casts, saying things I would never say, you cast it out everywhere. The whole thing except for the last part.”

  Julian was shaking his head again.

  “That part’s just for you.”

  The soft whiskers of his cheek brushed against my fingertips. I stopped the movement of his head by capturing his lips with mine and kissing him, hard. He held onto me so strongly I was afraid he wouldn’t physically let me go. But when I pulled away, he slowly released me. I couldn’t say anything else, so I left him standing in the office, a piece of my soul staying behind with him.

  I linked in to Hinckley’s mind as I hurried down the stairwell. Wake up the plant workers, Hinckley. I’m walking them out.

  The Guardsman driving the armored transport didn’t say a word the whole way to the Detention Center. His short buzz-cut hair disappeared under his anti-jacker helmet, and the rest of his body was swathed in combat gear: urban military fatigues, flak jacket, camouflage winter coat, a strapped on communicator, and a pistol that he transferred to his left side for the drive.

  Like he thought I’d grab it and shoot him.

  I probably looked dangerous when I came out of the water station, fully armed and leading a stumbling brigade of half-awake water station operators. I was quickly relieved of all my weapons. They even took my flak jacket and my ultralite so they could pat me down extra thoroughly. Now, with only my black buttoned shirt and empty-pocketed cargo pants, I almost looked like a civilian. But I was still armed and dangerous, and the Guardsman seemed to know it.

  He was taking me to see Vellus, and he didn’t seem to think that was a good idea either.

  We pulled up to the guard station at the front of the Detention Center named after the good senator. I mentally surged the blue uniformed guard, who was sitting in his fortified-against-jackers box, then skimmed the disruptor shield along the twelve foot high concrete walls and barbed razor wire that circled the prison. Just to be sure there were no cracks in their security.

  There weren’t.

  The large, gray concrete buildings of the DC loomed over the top of the razor wire. Apparently this was where I would meet Vellus. Either that, or it was all a lie, and they were simply taking me in without bothering with handcuffs.

  The gate was comprised of a double door system activated by the guard. A double-helix full-body scanner sat outside the heavy, metal door, no doubt tuned to guns, explosives, and any kind of electronic device that might be construed as a weapon. A couple of employees without anti-jacker helmets approached the gate. A brief scan of their minds showed they worked in the kitchen. The guard checked their credentials, then spoke out loud to them through a speaker. They deposited their phones into a box that swallowed them up, and I lost contact with the workers as they passed, one at a time, over the threshold.

  I climbed down the metal steps attached to the side of the Guardsman’s armored transport. The air was crisp, and a faint ghost of my breath wisped out in front of me. The Guardsman hustled around the front of the vehicle, falling into step with me as we approached the guard shack. Hovering close to me, as if I might bolt.

  He leaned down to the tiny speaker. “Kira Moore, here to meet with the senator.” He pressed his badge with military insignia against the scanner. The guard only flicked a look our way, intent on verifying the information on the screens in front of him.

  The Guardsman turned to me. “Are you carrying a phone, ma’am?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll have to leave it here, ma’am,” he said with a completely straight face. As if he expected I would comply with no trouble. “Mindware enabled devices aren’t allowed inside the DC.”

  Once I was inside, it wasn’t like I would be calling for help—if I got out at all, I’d be talking or shooting my way out. Maybe sneaking out on a laundry cart. I fought off the grin that came with the gallows humor. I dug my phone out of my pocket and handed it to the Guardsman. He dropped it in the box.

  The guard scowled at us through the glass of his concrete shack, then pressed a button on his console. “Step through the door.” The gate swung open, waiting for me. I twitched, unable to suppress the reflex.

  I was walking into a prison designed specifically for jackers.

  I passed through the weapons detector without setting anything off, then stepped over the threshold of the gate. A slight electric buzz from passing through the disruptor shield made the hairs all over my body bristle out. I rubbed the back of my neck, smoothing the hairs down, but not soothing my nerves. The metal door clicked and buzzed into place behind me. I mentally reached out, but I was hemmed in between the first and second gates, both of which were shielded. A boom mic hung overhead, the kind that picked up thought waves during tru-casts. I jacked into the mindware interface, so that it would pick up my thoughts as well as my spoken words, but no one was talking to me. A prickling sweat broke out between my shoulder blades. I tried to keep my face calm.

  After a stretch of seconds just long enough for my stomach to twist into a pretzel, the second door clicked. The sound made me jump, my nerves were strung so tight. There was someone waiting for me on the other side of the gate as it swung open, someone not in military fatigues or the starched, navy-blue uniforms of the prison guards.

  Kestrel.

  I saw the eyes first, piercing and blue. I didn’t think; my body just reacted. I darted across the threshold, pulling my fist back and landing a punch before his hands were halfway to his face. My brain still hadn’t engaged, being overrun by white hot fury, but some part of it had aimed for his nose. My fist connected with his jaw instead, and my other hand grabbed a fist full of starched shirt and Gman blue jacket. He stumbled backward, but I clung to him.

  Just as my brain clicked in enough to grab for his throat and plunge into his mind, he shoved me away. I lost my grip on his clothes and my footing as well, landing hard on the rough cement of the prison yard. My head snapped back and whacked with a melon-on-concrete sound that dulled my hearing and
made my vision warp. As I blinked to clear it, half a dozen guards descended on me, the sharp ends of their rifles pointed at my head. They all wore anti-jacker helmets. Kestrel waved them back, rubbing his chin and then spitting on the ground at my feet.

  Warm satisfaction coursed through me when I saw red mottling the gooey saliva.

  Kestrel took two steps closer, until he was standing over me, composure regained. He had the same hollowed out cheeks, the same look of stony dispassion, as always. As if I were a bug he didn’t want to sully his shoes by stomping.

  “Can’t say I’m happy to see you either, Kira.” He said my name like it was something foul in his mouth. “If it were up to me, you’d be locked in a cell, juiced up and forgotten, until you couldn’t remember your own name.” He sneered, like he was picturing that happening. Trouble was, I could too.

  The guards had taken a step back, but their guns were still trained on me. As much satisfaction as punching Kestrel had given me—and I’m not sure I could have stopped myself, anyway, it was so automatic—I realized what an idiotic move that was. I was supposedly here to negotiate for Julian, to gain the prisoners’ release. I was here to pretend to give Vellus what he wanted, so I could get close enough to kill him. I wouldn’t be able to do any of that from a prison cell.

  I swallowed and absently noticed my hand throbbing.

  Kestrel looked disgusted with my lack of response. “Get up!” He turned his back on me and marched toward the far end of the courtyard where the closest gray cube building loomed above us. The guards didn’t take any chances, still tracking me with the business end of their guns. I pictured myself grabbing one of them and shooting Kestrel. It took every restraint I had not to try. I scrambled up from the ground to hurry after him.

  Why was Kestrel here? Was he was pulling prisoners from the DC for experiments again? I thought we had shut him down with the raid a few months ago, but he certainly could have set up shop somewhere new. My heart pounded with that thought. My dad and Sasha were in here now.

  “Too bad you’re not in charge here, Kestrel,” I said, keeping pace with his long stride and ignoring the forest of rifles pointed at my back. “And sorry to ruin your day by being unavailable for torture. I hope I’m not keeping you from rounding up some new changelings to torment.”