by Chris Babu
“She asked me to give you a letter.” Dennis scanned the area before continuing in a lowered voice. “Now, this is unusual. Borderline inappropriate. Since it’s not by the book, I shouldn’t do it. I need Lily to trust me, though, and I’m the new guy. Nobody trusts the new guy. While I agreed, I did have to read it first. Can’t say I understand it, but there’s nothing improper.” He handed Drayden the open envelope.
“Thanks, Dennis. Yeah, Lily was like an aunt to me. She and my mom were close.”
“Drayden, I meant what I said. If you need anything, stop by my office. Cool?”
“Yeah, uh, cool, thanks a lot.”
Dennis stuck his hand out in a fist, apparently hoping for a fist-bump.
He bumped it.
Dennis headed down William Street in the other direction, toward Bureau headquarters.
Drayden waited till he was out of sight before ensuring he was alone. He took a deep breath and pulled out Lily’s note. Totally perplexed, he shoved his face right up to it.
“Memory is a fragile thing;
A bee’s honey, and its sting.”
CHAPTER 4
It had rained overnight, giving the Palace a wonderful fresh smell, as if the water had washed the city’s dirtiness away. A thick, misty layer of clouds still lingered overhead, the air cool and humid.
Drayden and crew huddled on Liberty Street in front of an enormous glass and steel skyscraper towering behind them. Across the way stood the arched doorway to the Bureau headquarters’ main entrance.
The usual cast of Guardians, all heavily armed, milled around the structure. Several eyed the four teens suspiciously. On previous visits to the building, someone had escorted them.
“Follow my lead,” Drayden whispered. “Look confident, like we’re supposed to be here.” He marched across the street, the others in tow.
An older, husky Guardian stopped them. “Can we help you?”
“Yes, sir, we’re here to see Harris von Brooks,” Drayden said. “We’re the kids who passed the Initiation.”
“No kidding. Hey, Jack!” he yelled to another Guardian. “These are the kids.”
Jack, another stocky, middle-aged Guardian with glasses and a mustache, walked over. “We heard about you guys, the Initiation and everything. Was it crazy hard?”
Drayden nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty bad.”
“I always wondered how I’d do, you know?” the first Guardian said to Jack.
“Pffft. Nobody knows the details, but word is there’s some math in there. You’d spend the whole time on the first problem and then get it wrong anyway.” He couldn’t stop laughing.
“Like you’d do any better, Einstein. You can’t even count to eight.” They both cracked up.
Drayden laughed along. “Can you take us to Mr. von Brooks?”
“Is he expecting you?” the first Guardian asked, instantly all business again.
“We’re working with him on a project,” Drayden said. “He said to stop by anytime.”
“I’ll take them in,” Jack said. He patted them down, checking for weapons. “Follow me.”
Drayden raised his eyebrows at the others and tilted his head in the direction of the doors.
They trailed Jack, who led them to the security desk and spoke to Guardians seated there. After a few minutes of discussion, Jack offered to escort them up to von Brooks’s office. Once in the elevator, he said, “Mr. von Brooks is a terrific guy, isn’t he?”
Nobody answered. The teens shifted uncomfortably.
Jack belly-laughed. “Don’t worry, no surveillance in here.”
A lengthy, carpeted hallway gave way to the foyer outside von Brooks’s office, a spacious room with a magnificent red Oriental rug. Von Brooks’s assistant, a nerdy middle-aged man with glasses and a turtleneck, sat at a desk. Two burly Guardians guarded the door to the office.
“Here you are. Good luck,” Jack said, walking away.
“May I help you?” the assistant asked coldly.
Drayden tried to sound authoritative. “We’re here to see Mr. von Brooks. It’s very important.”
“I’m sure it is.” He offered a fake smile. “Unfortunately, Mr. von Brooks is quite busy. Leave your names and we’ll contact you when he’s available.”
Drayden’s face flushed hot. He wasn’t about to be denied by this snooty man. This was life or death. He couldn’t embark on this journey and die. He needed to find out what had happened to his mother. “Sir, we need to see him right now. It can’t wait.”
“Young man,” he said, raising his voice, “you are not the only one with important business needing his attention.”
To hell with you, Melvin von Turtleneck.
Drayden jutted his jaw and stormed toward von Brooks’s office.
“Drayden!” Catrice shouted.
The Guardians didn’t hesitate. Both rushed him with their weapons drawn. “Freeze,” one said.
Drayden stopped in his tracks. “Mr. von Brooks!” he yelled. “It’s Drayden Coulson. I need to speak to you. It’s urgent!”
One of the Guardians lowered his rifle. With his right hand, he seized Drayden by the shirt near his left shoulder, shoving him backward.
A flash of searing pain tore through his left ankle. Without thinking, he used his left hand to peel the Guardian’s hand off and twisted it outward, applying a brutal jiu-jitsu wristlock called Kotegaeshi. He pressed with his right hand to twist it further. If he kept going, he would break the wrist.
The Guardian let out a scream and crumpled to the floor.
Drayden pinned the Guardian there, maintaining the pressure on his wrist just short of breaking it. That was the beauty of jiu-jitsu; he was causing intense pain but not injury, and the guy would be fine in ten minutes.
The Guardian moaned in pain.
Starting a fight with two huge guys brandishing guns may have been a mistake.
The other Guardian charged him with his rifle drawn. He held the muzzle inches from Drayden’s head. “Let him go! Now!”
The doors to von Brooks’s office burst open. He stutter-stepped back, his mouth wide, processing the scene before him. “What the hell is going on out here? Lower your weapon!” he yelled at the Guardian. “And let that man go,” he said to Drayden.
Drayden released his hold.
The Guardian scrambled to his feet. He clasped his wrist, scowling at Drayden. “You’re a dead man, punk,” he snarled.
Drayden’s heart thumped in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying not to look scared.
Charlie, Sidney, and Catrice stood frozen in shock.
“Mr. von Brooks,” Drayden said, clearing his throat, “may we have a word with you please?”
Von Brooks pursed his lips and narrowed his good eye. He stepped to the side and extended his arm toward his office.
Drayden entered, and the others followed him inside, taking seats before von Brooks’s desk.
The Guardian hobbled into the room and hovered by the door, clutching his wrist. Von Brooks plunked into his chair. “Now, what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait and led you to attack my guards?”
“Sir, to be fair,” Drayden said, “we calmly requested to see you. When your assistant declined, I yelled to get your attention. Then your guards assaulted me. I had to defend myself.”
Von Brooks did not appear amused by the details of the encounter. “I will not ask this a third time. Why are you here?”
Drayden leaned forward in his chair, having rehearsed his speech. “Sir, I think we’re all in agreement that New America needs to contact Boston. We have a problem here. An imminent one. We need to pursue the best solution. We’ve analyzed our proposed expedition, and it’s fraught with potential complications. The boat may not work. We could contract Aeru and die before we arrive. We could be denied entry into Boston.”
Drayden placed his hand on his chest. “I believe Premier Holst intended for me personally to lead this, but I have a severely injured ankle. I may be a liability out there. And there is an alternate solution that simplifies this. The scientists have constructed a solar plane which they can fly to Boston using brand-new technology. It’s virtually ready to go. It can carry the same message we would deliver. We feel it’s in the best interest of New America to send that plane first. If it’s unsuccessful, then we go forward with the mission.”
He should have stopped there. He didn’t.
“I mean, you’re basically asking us to go on a suicide mission when there’s a superior alternative available.”
“Hmm, very interesting,” von Brooks said, filling out some paperwork on his desk.
Drayden studied him. Was that sarcasm or honesty?
Von Brooks set down his pen and walked in front of his desk, cupping his hands together. “It’s a good thing you decided to come to me with this…problem. If you had gone to the Premier, for example, I don’t think it would go too smoothly. I can be more reasonable than the Premier sometimes. I believe he would force you to go. I’m not going to do that. I can understand your apprehension. You are, after all, still children. However, if you’ll recall, the only reason the Premier granted you entry into the Palace was to undertake this mission. Therefore, if you are refusing the mission, you are no longer welcome in the Bureau.”
Von Brooks returned to his seat behind the desk. “Your families are lucky; they will merely be exiled. You, on the other hand, are Bureau members. Bureau members are never exiled. They are executed. If that is the option you would prefer, I can get started on the arrangements immediately.”
Holy shkat.
The others looked exactly like he felt.
“Which will it be?” von Brooks asked, an evil smile growing across his face.
Drayden didn’t need to confer with anyone. “We’ll be going on the expedition,” he said quietly, defeated.
“Ah, excellent choice.” Von Brooks’s smile faded. “We’ve made further changes to the plan. Instead of leaving Monday, we’re pushing your departure day up to Friday, just two days from now.”
Oh no.
That only gave Drayden two days to solve his mother’s exile.
Von Brooks crossed his arms. “Tomorrow you’ll meet your Guardian escorts, and I think you will feel much better about your mission once you do, but let me be crystal clear this time. If we have this conversation again, I will be deciding your fate. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Drayden stood and shot his friends a look.
They rose from their seats and headed for the door. When the Guardian opened it, he zeroed in on Drayden.
“Watch your back, kid,” he whispered.
The four teens walked up William Street toward their apartments.
“Soooo,” Charlie said, “that went well.”
Drayden shook his head. “What a flunk that guy is.”
“I’ve heard of exiles that have gone smoother,” Charlie said. “Hey, do you guys remember Julia Singer? She was in our class. I asked her once if she wanted to come over, have some alone time with Charlie. She kicked me in the shin. Didn’t say a word. Just hauled off on my shin. That went better than this.”
“We get it, Charlie,” Sidney said. “Drayden, what are we going to do?”
He waved a hand through the air. “Apparently, we’re going on the expedition. In two days. What a bunch of shkat.” He cursed under his breath, thinking of his mother. “It’s…my damn ankle.”
“Dray,” Charlie said, “that was sick the way you tossed that Guardian on the floor. He was, like, three times your size. Can you teach me that move?”
“That was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. If von Brooks hadn’t bailed me out those guys would have pounded me into dust.” After years of suppressing his jiu-jitsu skills, Drayden finally had the confidence to let them shine, thanks to the Initiation. Still, he even surprised himself a little by reflexively securing the wristlock.
“What you did worked,” Sidney said, draping her hand on his shoulder. “You got us in there. That was really brave.”
Catrice held her stomach as if she were going to get sick.
“You all right?” Drayden asked.
“I guess. Just trying to wrap my head around doing this.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that terrible, you guys,” Charlie said. “We go for a boat ride and come back. Sounds a heck of a lot easier than the Initiation.”
It struck Drayden how weak he must look to Catrice. Here he was, allowing his fear to pervade his life again, like early in the Initiation. It wasn’t that he was scared as much as too weak for the expedition and in need of more time.
Sidney gawked at Charlie. “The Initiation didn’t have any challenges that involved avoiding the bacteria that killed everyone in the world.”
“They’re probably saving that for next year’s Initiation,” Charlie mumbled.
They reached Wall Street and stopped.
Charlie scratched his head. “What do you guys want to do? We’ve got a free day.”
“I—I need to go take care of something,” Drayden said, fumbling with the enigmatic note from Lily Haddad in his pocket. It was late Wednesday morning, and the boat departed for the expedition on Friday morning. That gave him the rest of today and tomorrow to untangle the web of his mother’s exile. A week of investigation had revealed zippo thus far. He needed to finally make the uncomfortable meeting he’d been avoiding, and he no longer had the time to wait.
“You want some company?” Sidney asked excitedly.
Catrice glowered at her. “What is it, Dray?”
“Nothing, it’s just…it’s nothing.” He kicked around a few pebbles on the sidewalk.
She pulled him by the arm away from Charlie and Sidney. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
“I’m investigating my mom’s exile.”
“I could help you,” she said.
While he’d love Catrice’s help, digging up dirt on an exile would likely be considered a serious offense if he got busted. He’d be putting her life at risk. Drayden hugged her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you. I’d love your support, and I have you no doubt you could help me figure this out. Unfortunately, I need to do this alone.”
She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Okay.”
“I’ll come find you in a little bit.” He touched her arm. “This shouldn’t take long.”
She walked away with Charlie and Sidney down Wall Street, toward their apartment building.
It shouldn’t take long at all. Nathan Locke’s office was only five minutes away.
Drayden hurried in the other direction, toward the old New York Stock Exchange. As he passed it, he imagined the tourists that must have flocked here PreCon, snapping photos, documenting their trip. He reached Broadway, with the crumbling Trinity Church across the street, and the crowd of people thinned out. He turned left, heading for Twenty-One Broadway.
It was barren here, a ghost town of deserted office buildings. He stared at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the abandoned drug stores and cafés, noticing he hadn’t bulked up despite the superior food in the Palace.
Something caught his eye.
A person was walking behind him, around thirty feet back. Not really anything special; there were other people in the Palace after all. But it was how he was dressed, in a long coat with an old-fashioned hat tipped low in the front, obscuring his eyes. It resembled the type of hat the gangsters wore in that mafia movie The Godfather the Bureau had played once. He was a rather large man as well.
Drayden pulled out the letter from Lily Haddad, reading the poem:
“Memory is a fragile thing;
A bee’s honey and its sting.”
He held it up t
o the sky, thinking it might have contained a hidden code. There was nothing other than the poem. What did it mean anyway? Memory was like a bee’s honey, and its sting. Or memories. Sweet, or painful? If it was a reference to his recollection of the Dorms, he was thinking more along the lines of ‘painful.’ He stuffed it back into his pocket and sneaked a peek behind him.
The man was still there. A little closer, in fact.
Hmmm.
Drayden tried to appear casual as he strolled across Broadway to the right side of the street, noting that the man didn’t follow. He breathed a sigh of relief.
As he approached the famous Wall Street bull statue, the road forked. Twenty-One Broadway was past it to the right.
Quick glance back.
The shadowy man had crossed and was behind him again.
His body instantly went into panic mode: nervous sweating, rapid heartbeat.
Morris Street, a narrow street, almost like an alley, led to the right. Drayden darted down it about halfway before stopping and facing back toward Broadway. He backed himself against one of the brick walls of the alley, vaguely aware he was holding his breath. His stomach twisted in knots when the man followed him onto Morris Street.
Well, that answered that. He was being followed.
He could turn and bolt, certain he could outrun a burly, grown man. But whoever this man was, he wanted something and had found him once already. He’d probably be able to locate him again. More than that, Drayden was done running. He’d been running in fear his whole life before the Initiation. He stood his ground and tried to exude confidence as the man reached him.
Mere feet away, he tipped his cap back, revealing that he was a she. A towering woman. Not fat, just big, like a Pre-Confluence football player or pro wrestler. Before Drayden had a chance to say anything, the powerful woman gripped him by the shoulders and slammed him backward into the brick wall. It hurt, a sharp edge of brick digging into his shoulder. She leaned in as if to kiss him; an oncoming bus of short red hair, strawberry skin, and freckles.
What in the hell is this?
She brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “Memory is a fragile thing; a bee’s honey and its sting.”