by Daniel Price
The moment Cain spotted her, he broke away from his entourage and joined her on the front porch. Melissa gave him a deferential nod. “Director.”
“Acting director,” he stressed. “The heads haven’t even finished rolling.”
“You think there’ll be prosecutions?”
He shook his head. “President’s already starting to waffle. He just wants to bury this mess and move on.”
Melissa closed her eyes in exasperation. “This is exactly why I left England.”
“Yeah, well, if I’ve learned one thing in my career, it’s that people are the same, no matter where you go.”
He took an uneasy look around Sunder’s property. “With some exceptions.”
Melissa arched her back, grimacing. Cain noticed the many new scrapes and bruises on her skin, all souvenirs from her ordeal in the disseminator pit. “How you holding up?”
“I’m in somewhat dire need of a smoke.”
Cain reached into his trench coat and retrieved a small container of hand-rolled cigarettes, pure Virginia tobacco. Cain always had access to the very best contraband.
He struck a match and lit her cigarette for her. “Probably goes without saying that you can write your own ticket in the agency. Any job you want. Any part of the world.”
Melissa took a deep drag and exhaled with pleasure. “You know what I want.”
“Oh yes. I figured as much. Just thought I’d give you the option.”
Another aership appeared above Sunder’s estate, a much larger vessel than the one Cain had arrived in. Melissa had already been briefed on who was inside: a hundred and two Gothams, the ones who’d been forcibly sedated by Gingold’s soldiers and transported out of the underland. Cain had to move heaven and earth to get them back from the Sci-Tech facility. As expected, they were all in good health and perfectly wretched spirit.
Cain sighed at the hovering aership. “Hope that’ll smooth things over with the clan chiefs.”
“Not by much,” said Melissa.
“Figures.” He looked to his subordinates and waved them over. “Anything else I should know before I finally meet these Gothams?”
“Yes.” Melissa took a final drag of her cigarette, then crushed it under her sneaker. “They hate being called that.”
—
A hundred eyes followed Melissa and Cain as they led the procession into the heart of the village. By now, the underland was starting to look decent again. The dead had been identified and returned to their families. The blood and gore had been reversed away. The ghastly remains of Gingold’s equipment—the guns and tents, the generators and spotlights—had been gathered into a sloppy pile and flushed by portal into the sea.
But the damage lingered on the faces of the people. Melissa could see it everywhere. Some of the locals looked angry enough to make her fear for her safety. All it would take was one vengeful tempic, one traumatized swifter, to kill her and Cain and the whole delegation. Luckily, the Gothams were painfully aware of the importance of this parley. If the peace talks failed, the clan would have to go on the run or brace themselves for another invasion. Neither option was very palatable.
By eight o’clock, the interim heads of Integrity were seated in the council chamber, along with all the surviving clan leaders. Luckily, Cain proved to be a much better diplomat than Azral. He absorbed every ounce of the Gothams’ wrath, then laid out his plans in straight and humble plainspeak.
“This is a partnership,” he told them. “You work with us, we’ll work with you. You tell us your secrets, we’ll help you keep them.”
Ninety minutes after it began, the meeting ended with handshakes and guarded optimism. Cain formally introduced everyone to Leticia Gutiérrez, a small and affable woman who’d spent eight years running Integrity’s field office in Madrid. As of Monday, she’d serve as the full-time, on-site coordinator for all of the agency’s operations in the underland. To the Gothams, she was their new best friend. To the administrators and scientists who’d soon be populating the village, she was the new mayor.
At 9:45, Melissa escorted Cain’s group back to the elevator, bristling at their giddy plans for the underland. An administration building over here, a research building over there, a new access tunnel for vehicles, a solic jail for the more belligerent timebenders. Gutiérrez even suggested they reinstall Gingold’s disseminator, in case the natives really got restless.
Cain ushered his people onto the lift, then stayed behind with Melissa. “Don’t worry,” he said to her. “I’ll keep them in line.”
“If I see one constitutional violation—”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“—I will be the least of your problems.”
“Melissa . . .” Cain held her by her shoulders. “Nine months ago, I asked you to take a leap of faith in me and you did. This is the part where it pays off. Just have a little more patience, okay? We’ll make this work.”
Melissa rubbed her throbbing temples. “I’m sorry, Cedric. After everything that’s happened, it’s just a little jarring to see.”
“See what?”
“That Integrity won.”
Cain lit up another cigarette, then took a somber look to the south. “I think it’s time I meet the orphans.”
—
The battle had barely left a mark on Freak Street. A small piece of dragonette had crashed against the side of Amanda’s cottage. A wounded Gotham took refuge in Peter’s house and bled on the carpet. Zack had only needed ten minutes to reverse away the damage. All that remained were the holes in their spirits, the yawning black space where Jonathan and David used to be.
Melissa summoned the remaining residents to Zack and Theo’s backyard, then brought Cain into their circle of folding chairs. Only Peter and Amanda even bothered to make eye contact with him. Hannah and Theo stared down at their wringing hands. Zack and Liam doodled in their sketchbooks. Heath and Mia sat forward in their seats with miserable expressions, their heads buried in their hands. Melissa feared those two would need extreme psychological counseling, assuming there was someone even remotely qualified to handle their issues.
Cain crossed his legs and took a good, hard look at the orphans. “I hear you lost a good man today, and a not-so-good one yesterday. I’m sorry for both. On behalf of the United States government, I sincerely apologize for everything you suffered at the hands of my agency. It was a despicable act and it’ll never happen again.”
His left hand dawdled anxiously around a bulge in his coat pocket. Only Melissa knew that he was touching his cigarette case.
“It may be small comfort,” Cain said, “but your faces have been removed from our criminal codex. Your records have been expunged. From this day forward, you’re no longer fugitives. You can go where you like, though we humbly request that you continue to show discretion in public. The less news you make, the better for all of us.”
Peter nodded with faint approval. Cain studied the gloves on Liam’s hands before continuing.
“Additionally, I’m declaring you all to be special assets under Article Nine, Section Four of the United States Security Code. That gives you formal identification, a paycheck, and a whole mess of legal protections. You’ll also have your own full-time dedicated liaison to the agency. I don’t need to tell you her name.”
Melissa smiled softly. Cain hadn’t said a word about the position. He didn’t have to. It was the only job she wanted and he damn well knew it.
“She’s your den mother now,” he told the others. “So keep her informed. And if the six of you—”
“Eight,” Zack said.
“I’m sorry?”
He gestured at Peter and Liam. “They may not be orphans, but they’re part of our group. Whatever we get, they get.”
Cain scrutinized the Pendergens, expressionless. “You’ll get no quarrel from me. I was about to say t
hat we can house you up wherever you want. It doesn’t have to be—”
“We’re fine here,” Peter said.
“Okay. But should you change your mind—”
“We won’t,” Peter insisted. “This is exactly where we need to be.”
Melissa turned toward him, curious. The man was stubborn in all the same ways she was, but nowhere near as adaptive. She girded herself for many more clashes in the future, a perpetual tug-of-war between den mother and den father.
The yard fell into awkward silence. Amanda leaned back and took a wary look at Cain. “Question.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a man out there named Evan Rander. He killed someone very close to us, and we have every intention of finding him.”
“We can help you,” Cain told her.
Amanda shook her head. “We don’t need your help. We just want to make sure you won’t get in our way when we do what needs to be done.”
Mia’s bouncing legs came to a halt. Heath looked up for the first time since the meeting started.
“Maybe we should table this discussion for another time,” Melissa suggested.
“It’s all right,” Cain said. He turned back to Amanda. “I appreciate you being up front with me. And I’ve seen Melissa’s files on Rander. I won’t cry in my soup if he meets a grim fate, but I can tell you from experience that vengeance doesn’t always go the way you want it to. That’s my chief concern.”
Amanda’s expression softened. “Fair point.”
Hannah remained perfectly still, her dark eyes fixed on the grass. Melissa feared from the hard twist in her mouth that she had no interest in or use for Cain’s wisdom. She wanted revenge, plain and simple. Melissa would have to watch her closely.
“We’ll also have to talk about the Pelletiers,” Cain said, “but it doesn’t—”
Mia cut him off with a pitch-black chuckle.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” he finished.
The backyard fell into another long silence. Cain opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. Melissa knew exactly what was going on behind those shrewd blue eyes of his. This was the worst possible time to ask the question on his mind. But it couldn’t wait. He had to know.
“Is it true?”
The orphans and Pendergens gave him their full attention again. Cain looked at each Silver in turn. “Is this world ending in four years?”
Peter took a deep breath through his nose. “That’s not necessarily—”
“Yes,” Mia interjected.
“We’re working hard to make sure—”
“Yes,” Mia emphatically repeated. “Four years.”
She rose to her feet and stood directly in front of Cain. “But you don’t have to worry.”
His eyes opened wide as Mia waved a portal into the air.
“The Pelletiers will kill you long before it happens,” she assured him.
She whisked herself away, then closed the disc behind her. Melissa made a note to start vetting therapists.
Cain pulled out his cigarette tin. “Anyone mind if I, uh . . . ?”
“No,” Peter and Amanda said.
“Thank you.”
Cain popped a cigarette between his lips, passed a second one to Melissa, and then lit up both. He took two long drags before speaking again.
“Well, I guess the agency has a new secret to keep.” He turned to Peter. “You say there’s a chance to stop it?”
“I know there is.”
“Okay, then. You have the full and unconditional support of the United States government. For what it’s worth.”
He blew a fat puff of smoke into the air. “If there’s anything you people need—”
“Yes.”
Theo hadn’t said a word in hours. He’d been walking around with a troubled expression, as if he were trying to solve a complicated math problem. Now, at last, the numbers had come together. He looked at Hannah with a flash of guilt before locking his eyes on Cain.
“I need to leave.”
FIFTY-SIX
He arrived at Alcatraz in a state of discord, a temporal jet lag that left him thoroughly discombobulated. The Transonic G-9 aerodart had been shifted at 18x, traveling from East Coast to West in just forty-eight minutes of standard time. Yet thirteen and a half hours had passed inside the cabin, with little for Theo to do but fidget and twist in his Elite Class seat. If the other passengers resented the interminable journey, they certainly hadn’t shown it. They were all businesspeople from the looks of them. They probably relished the chance to sit back and relax while the outside world only barely creaked forward.
The courtesy shuttle pilot, a middle-age blonde with the arms of a weightlifter, caught Theo’s muddled expression as she flew him to the terminal gate.
“I know that look,” she teased. “Your inner clock’s gone cuckoo and you’re trying to orientate.”
Theo nodded. Thanks to temporis and time zones, his plane managed to land two hours and twelve minutes before it took off.
The pilot tapped his wrist. “You should get yourself a duochron watch. They self-adjust.”
“So do I,” Theo said. “Eventually.”
The woman smiled politely. She was already aware of his federal VIP status, a badge that entitled him to priority service everywhere. Theo could only guess that he was the scruffiest-looking dignitary she’d ever seen—a wild prince of the Philippines, perhaps, or an eccentric scientist. If he told her the truth, she wouldn’t believe him. If he showed her the balance on his government cash card, she’d probably cry.
“Well, whatever you’re here for, you should take the time to look around,” she told him. “There’s no place on Earth like San Francisco.”
“Yeah.” Theo fixed his vacant stare out the window. “I’ve seen it.”
The shuttle arrived at the terminal. The pilot thanked Theo for flying Transonic and wished him a pleasant stay.
He only had a few moments to marvel at the splendor of the aerport before his handphone vibrated. Theo frowned at the name of the caller, then answered the phone.
“You spying on me already?”
Melissa scoffed. “Can’t you ever just say hello?”
“I literally just got here. How did you know?”
“I checked your flight status. It’s not hard to do.”
He threw a nervous look over his shoulder. “I told you I don’t want anyone following me.”
“There’s no one following you, Theo. I kept my word.”
He peeked over the guardrail and nearly buckled from vertigo. From the outside, Alcatraz National Aerport wasn’t that impressive, just a squat concrete ziggurat on the northern side of the island. Inside, however, the place was surreal—a massive gorge of mezzanines and escalators that seemed to go all the way down to Hades. Flying platforms ferried passengers back and forth across the chasm while subterranean shuttles provided quick and easy passage around the Bay Area. Once upon a time, this rock had been impossible to escape. Now . . .
“You still there?” Melissa asked him.
“I’m here.”
Melissa cradled her phone on her shoulder while she tinkered with her new computer. Integrity had installed a two-story housepod at the front end of Freak Street, a modular dwelling that would serve as both home and office. While her upstairs bedroom was still a jungle of boxes, her workspace was fully organized. All she needed was a lumbar cushion for her desk chair and she was ready for business.
She watched Theo on her monitor as he bumbled his way through Alcatraz. She’d only promised not to send spies after him. He didn’t say anything about electronic snooping.
“Still wish I knew what were you doing there,” she complained.
Theo shrugged. He felt awful leaving his friends after everything that had happened, but he desperately needed to be
here. Something big was coming to San Francisco: a cataclysmic event that would either save the world or kill it sooner. The pivot point would occur in fourteen months, and Theo wanted to make damn sure he was ready for it.
He sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry, Melissa. I wish I could explain it better.”
“If you need help finding Ioni—”
“No.” Theo retrieved a granola bar from his shoulder bag. “Nobody can find her unless she wants to be found. And she’ll be steering clear of me for a while.”
“How do you know?”
Theo’s face tightened as he chewed on his snack. “Because she screwed over Mia. That puts her right back on my shit list.”
Melissa frowned at his image. “You have an entire government agency at your disposal. There has to be something we can do for you.”
“Just be there for my friends. They’ll need you now more than ever. Especially Hannah.”
“You make it sound like you’re not coming back.”
“I’ll be back,” he said. “I just . . .”
Melissa tilted her head. “What?”
Theo mulled his words a moment before shrugging again. He could see the future clearer than ever, the long and twisting road that he was forced to walk alone. Though he’d return to the underland on many occasions, the place would never be home again. Not for him.
“Just have faith in me,” he said. “If there’s a way to save this world, I’m gonna find it.”
Melissa opened a new window on her computer screen and opened the data file for Michael Pendergen, a.k.a. Merlin McGee. Theo had mentioned that he was an important player in events to come. Maybe she could find him and get her own answers.
“Just promise you’ll check in as often as you can,” she said.
“I will.”
He saw a glowing sign for Golden Gate Aerocabs, then changed direction. “All right. I should go.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?”