“They used soldier-bots to keep the hostages in line,” Alma was saying. “Which meant they only sent one PRM member to each of the fifteen locations they targeted around the country.” A projected map of America covered the wall behind her, red dots marking the locations where hostages had been taken. “Each person took a team of three to ten bots, which they used to maintain a commanding presence without risking any more of their people than necessary. Once they were inside, they blocked out windows and doors to obstruct visibility. After that, it was just a matter of waiting.”
She pulled up images from the prison where Ryku had been up until about six hours ago. “While the entire country was focused on the hostages, there was a riot at the North Atlantic Regional Correctional Institution, which is where former chairman Ryku has been serving his life sentence. Since all law enforcement officers in the area had been pulled to deal with the hostage situation, there was no one left to back up the guards at the prison. Two of them died, as did seven inmates. Several more were injured. Ryku is still unaccounted for. He likely escaped during the riot, probably with the help of some True PRM associates.”
Whispers spread through their ranks like ripples across still water, growing in volume and alarm the further they expanded. Alma raised a hand to silence them. “Okay, quiet down, everyone. This is obviously a major blow, but the good news is that no hostages died during last night’s events. Considering the PRM took over two thousand people, I’d call that a miracle.” She glanced in Josefina’s direction on this last note. She hadn’t said a word to anyone since last night, but both of her children—an eight-year-old girl and a thirteen-year-old boy—had escaped the ordeal unscathed.
Alma continued. “We recovered eighty-nine soldier bots, all with serial numbers matching those on our list of missing munitions. We also arrested nine of the fifteen hostage-takers. Three others opted to kill themselves rather than be taken into custody, and the last three are still missing. The nine we captured are currently being interrogated, so hopefully that will yield some useful information. For now, you should all continue your investigations as usual.”
They all dispersed to go about their normal routines. Even though it was still early in the day, Jared was relieved when Zira didn’t bother taking the team downstairs to train. They were all running on just a few hours of sleep, and finding Ryku and the rest of the missing munitions seemed like a bigger priority at this point, anyway.
Less than an hour later, Zira approached Jared’s workstation. She motioned Tripp over as well, and when the three of them were gathered together, she pulled up what looked like a facial composite on her CL. “This is Cedric’s best rendering of Mallory, or the woman he saw claiming to be Mallory. Based on his report, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was involved in setting up everything that happened last night. She’s obviously not who we thought she was, but that doesn’t mean we were wrong about her being an informant or some other former member of the Project. Does she look familiar to either of you?”
There was an uncanny, obviously inhuman quality about the image that was typical of composite renderings like this, but Jared tried to see past that as he studied the woman’s face. Jet black hair, brown eyes, a high forehead and square jawline. Her only distinguishing feature was the scar that ran from temple to jaw on the right side of her face. She could have been anyone. According to Cedric, she appeared to be in her mid-twenties—younger than the informant they’d identified as Mallory, but not by much. Closer to Jared’s own age, though, so maybe someone he’d trained with in the Project during his teenage years.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember anyone who even vaguely resembled the composite in front of him. Cecilia, maybe, but she didn’t have a scar, and they’d eliminated her from their previous list after confirming she’d taken a plea deal and was currently serving ten years in prison. He thought of a few other potential candidates but couldn’t recall which ones had been on the original list of Ryku’s contacts they’d based their search on. Then again, since they were essentially starting back at square one, maybe they needed to widen the search pool.
He looked up at Zira. “I still think it would make the most sense that she’s someone who used to be in the Project, but maybe we should start over from scratch. She may not have been on Ryku’s contact list.”
“I can look through the Project’s personnel files to see if there’s anyone who looks like her,” Tripp said.
“Just the ones who aren’t in prison or a labor camp,” Zira reminded him.
He nodded. “I’ll send photos of the ones that look like possible matches to Cedric. And I’ll show Celeste, too. She was in the Project. Maybe she’ll recognize whoever this is.”
“Good idea.” Zira forwarded a copy of the facial composite to both of them. She lingered there a few seconds longer, and her expression remained troubled. “Whoever she is, why would she pretend to be Mallory?”
Tripp offered the obvious answer. “Because she doesn’t want us to know who she really is.”
“Yes, but why?” asked Jared. “And what happened to the real Mallory?”
* * *
By the time their workday ended, they were still no closer to answering any of the new questions that had arisen over the last twenty-four hours. Celeste had been just as clueless as they were about who the woman in Cedric’s composite image might be, and they had no new information about Ryku’s whereabouts. As they headed out of the office for the night, they had to pass through a modest-sized group of protestors who’d gathered outside to express frustration over the hostage crisis, which to them must have seemed like yet another example of the Republic’s incompetence. Their anger was understandable, but Jared was unprepared for the intensity of the shame he felt as he walked through their ranks to get to the car. Every sign they waved and every insult they hurled felt like a personal attack.
Ahead of him, Zira held her head high and walked at a steady pace. Not too slow, but not so fast that she looked like she was trying to escape, either. When they got into the car, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes replaced her confident façade. Tripp started the car’s autopilot system to drive them home, and no one said anything during the entire ride.
When they got to the house, they divvied up leftovers from the fridge and stood around the counter eating in silence. Nova left half her meal untouched and headed to bed early. When Tripp finished his food, he quickly washed his dishes before bidding Zira and Jared goodnight.
Zira called after him, stopping him in his tracks just before he reached the room he shared with Jared. “Are you okay?”
He tilted his head to one side as he considered this for a moment. “Surprisingly, yeah. I think I am.”
“Okay. Just…promise me you’ll talk to someone if you need to. It doesn’t have to be me. Just someone.”
“I promise.” He went into his room and shut the door behind him.
Jared finished eating and went to the sink to wash his plate and fork. Zira stared past him absently. Shadows darkened the skin under her bright, blue eyes, and her ponytail had become disheveled over the course of the day. Still, when he looked at her, he saw strength and resilience that erased any outward signs of weakness she may have displayed.
She walked to the sink with her empty dishes and waited for him to finish with his. He did, then traded her places to dry his plate with a towel hanging from the refrigerator door.
“Rough day, huh?” he said.
Zira grunted. “Has it only been a day? It felt like five. At least.”
“If you ever need someone to talk to…” Uncertainty made him hesitate. Was it his place to offer her help that was unasked for? Possibly even unwanted? But if he didn’t offer, would she even know it was an option? “I’m just saying I’m here. That’s all.”
She nodded, shut off the water, and reached for the towel he held out to her. Her knuckles brushed against his fingers as she took it, and for a moment, all he wanted was to take hold of her hand and weave his fingers
between hers. Instead, he pulled back and wrapped both hands around his plate, then stifled his feelings the way he usually did—by reminding himself of the darker parts of their history.
A knife in his hand. Her blood on the snow. Misunderstanding. Betrayal. Resentment. Mistrust.
He turned to the cabinet to put his dishes away. She joined him a moment later, reaching up to stack her plate on top of his. Then she crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. Her posture was tense, and she stared daggers at the floor in front of her, just like she used to when she was trying to work up to saying something that made her feel vulnerable or uncomfortable. So instead of going to bed, Jared got a drink of water, buying her a few extra seconds, and waited.
“I’m sorry about Ryku,” she said at last.
“It’s not your fault he escaped.”
“No, I mean before that. I’m sorry about what happened to you, whatever he did to you back at the compound.” She finally looked up at him, her eyes wide and almost frantic in their intensity. “It was my fault you ended up in that situation. And now he’s out there somewhere, and he wants you dead because of me.”
“Zira, you don’t—”
She didn’t let him finish. “I wanted to come get you. I’m not sure how I would have done it, but I wanted to. Chase wouldn’t let me leave, but I should have tried harder. I could have figured something out. I just left you there, and I—” She sucked in her bottom lip and wrapped her arms tight around her middle. “I’m so sorry.”
Jared’s chest ached at the pain in her eyes. How long had she been carrying all that unnecessary guilt? He was the one who had insisted on remaining loyal to Ryku until it was too late. She didn’t owe him an apology for anything that had happened because of his own mistakes. “It wasn’t your fault. You tried to tell me, over and over again, and I just didn’t want to hear it. Even if you didn’t come and break me out of that cell, I’m still alive because of you.”
“You never would have been in there in the first place if—”
“No,” he said. “No more guilt.”
“Fine. That goes for you, too, then.”
No more guilt. She would probably never explicitly say the words, but he took her request to mean she’d forgiven him, or that she was finally ready to admit she had forgiven him. He felt like he was taking his first breath of fresh, free air in a long time. “Okay.”
“Can we just…?” She stretched her arms out and took a step towards him.
Jared didn’t need any further prompting. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that was both familiar and exhilaratingly new.
His heart pulsed against his chest like the steady bassline of an upbeat song as he held her there, and this time, he didn’t try to drown out his affection with bad memories or tell himself this was all a big mistake. This time, he finally accepted the full reality of what he knew had been happening all along.
He was falling for her. Again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
With everyone still reeling from Ryku’s escape and the nationwide hostage crisis, Jared had every reason to keep his newly-acknowledged feelings for Zira to himself. Instead, he let them settle back into the mostly-dormant parts of his heart and mind to give himself time to decide whether they were feelings he even wanted to deal with, whatever that might entail. Later, perhaps, when things weren’t so chaotic. Right now, he just needed to focus on his work.
Morale in the office was understandably low. Protestors still gathered outside the building, demanding answers no one had and justice that was impossible to give, at least for now. The PRM hostage-takers whom law enforcement agencies around the country had captured and interrogated hadn’t provided much information. They’d only been told the bare minimum of what they needed to know to carry out their parts of the operation. Cedric and other undercover SIO agents filled in some of the gaps, but that still wasn’t enough to answer their most critical questions.
What little evidence they had suggested that Mallory and the True PRM had been behind the entire plan. The True PRM’s main objective had always been to get Ryku out of prison, a detail they’d neglected to share with the other PRM cells they’d roped into their hostage scheme. When Jared watched the interrogation footage, all nine of the captured hostage-takers seemed genuinely shocked to learn of the former chairman’s escape. A couple were even downright angry about the deception and much more willing to talk as a result.
According to their accounts, it had never been their intention to hurt anyone. They just wanted to make a point and force people to pay attention to the issues that were important to them. Many of them hadn’t even been aware there were others across the country doing the exact same thing they were until negotiations for the hostages’ release began. It seemed Mallory and whoever else was pulling the strings had gone to great lengths to make sure none of them knew too much, which meant they’d been expendable all along. And of course, none of them had any idea where Ryku might be now.
If there was a silver lining to the whole mess, it was that the public had stopped sympathizing with the PRM on even the most basic level. Where they’d once been viewed as simply a vocal minority disgruntled with the upheaval of their country, the vast majority of the population now saw them as terrorists. Even the media quickly adopted the term ‘domestic terrorism’ when describing their actions. That didn’t mean people were more supportive of the Republic, however. The hostage crisis may have been a distraction first and foremost, but it had also served as an effective destabilizing influence on the Republic’s authority and perceived level of competence.
Several days after the incident, Alma emerged from her office to make an announcement before everyone left work for the night. These days, she looked perpetually exhausted, and it seemed like that crease between her eyebrows had become a permanent fixture of her expression. It had been a stressful week for all of them, but as the leader of SIO, she bore the brunt of that stress. “I just spoke to President Bradshaw. He’ll be coming in to talk to us sometime tomorrow. I expect you all to present yourselves like the capable professionals you are.”
She looked directly at Dodge when she said this, and he looked behind him to see if anyone else was there. No one was. “Hear that, Tripp?” he said in a voice loud enough for the entire office to hear. “Alma doesn’t want you embarrassing her in front of the president.”
Tripp winked at Alma. “Oh, I’ve embarrassed both of us in front of Chase Bradshaw plenty of times. Believe me.”
This elicited a few snickers from the rest of the office and a dramatic eyeroll from Alma. “I’m glad you’re all taking this so seriously.”
“Are we in trouble?” a man at the other end of the room asked.
“No. He just wants to check in on how we’re doing and address any concerns you may have. Any other questions?”
Someone else raised their hand as Jared leaned over to whisper to Zira. “Maybe I should just skip tomorrow. Pretend to be sick or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He wanted to arrest me. You don’t think it’s going to be a little awkward?”
“Probably, but you’re on our side now. That’s all that matters.”
“I guess.”
“Just keep your head down. Maybe he won’t even notice you.”
Jared hoped it would be that simple, but a quiet apprehension continued to gnaw at his gut. This was, after all, the same man who had advocated for his death at one point. The president may have decided he was useful enough to justify withholding punishment for now, but given everything that had happened over the past week, Jared didn’t exactly have much to prove his arrangement with SIO had been worthwhile.
What if Bradshaw changed his mind?
* * *
When Chase Bradshaw stepped off the elevator and into SIO headquarters the next morning, an electric buzz that was equal parts excitement and nervousness circulated through the office. Six individuals wearing g
ray suits and stern expressions flanked the president, their eyes automatically scanning the room for potential threats. Jared shrunk back behind his desk to watch from a safe distance and wished he was invisible.
Alma was standing near the elevator, and she stepped forward with an outstretched hand to greet President Bradshaw as he approached. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Bradshaw returned her smile and shook her hand. “Of course. It’s an honor to be here.”
She turned to a member of Bradshaw’s security team and gave him a slight wave. The man waved back. They both had the same dark, curly hair and high cheekbones. Her brother Javier, Jared assumed.
The president’s security team backed off and stationed themselves at calculated intervals throughout the room as Bradshaw looked around at everyone. “I appreciate you all accommodating me today. I’ll try not to interrupt your work too much, but it was important to me that I come and let you all know in person how much your efforts mean to the Republic. I know it hasn’t been easy, and I know some of you have sacrificed more to this cause than I can even begin to understand. My gratitude may not mean much in light of those sacrifices, but I offer it anyway. Thank you for your service. Thank you for remaining steadfast in spite of everything that’s happened. Without your efforts, we would have lost this fight a long time ago.”
Jared slid down a little further in his chair as Bradshaw’s gaze shifted towards the far end of the room. “We’ve encountered some tough resistance. Some of it has been greater than I ever anticipated it would be. That’s the reality of democracy. There will always be people who disagree with our choices, as is their right. But the PRM represents a significant threat to that right. They want to restore the PEACE Project, and some of them would even go so far as to place Ryku at the head of that dictatorship once again. We cannot allow that. More importantly, we must regain the public’s trust by keeping them safe and repairing the damage that’s already been done.
Survivors of PEACE Page 20