Calculated

by Nova McBee

  I finished my rounds and headed back to the suite, another day gone with no safe way to hack into Madame’s accounts.

  Madame was an anomaly. I still couldn’t figure her out. She kidnapped me, forced me to work for her, then personally threatened death to anyone who touched me. Her obsession with me was bizarre. I’d calculated 32 options as to why. The money I made for her wasn’t one of them.

  Back at my office, I deactivated the lock. I slipped inside, eased the door handle back into place so that it would not click. I was overly cautious but getting caught defying Madame was scary enough that caution was critical.

  I exhaled and turned towards my desk. My body involuntary jumped back against the door in a violent jerk.

  Someone was sitting on my black leather couch. “Caught you.”

  11

  Past: Octavia

  GOLDEN ANGEL HOTEL, SHANGHAI, CHINA

  Two dark eyes examined me from head to foot, as a wicked grin slid across his face. “Someone has been very naughty.”

  I froze in place trying to calm my heart and think up an excuse for being out of my room. My mind was totally blank.

  “Found a way out, did you?” His finger traced the contours of my fifteen-year-old body in the air. “What will you give me for keeping this little secret, hmm?”

  I shuddered with disgust. It was Lev, Madame’s sleazy husband, who cheated on her every chance he got, despite Madame’s boasts of his loyalty. If there was anyone I despised almost as much as Madame, it was him.

  Lev was dressed in a finely-tailored suit. He was European, like Maxima, some French mix, six-foot, 180 pounds. His face was red, most likely from alcohol. Hopefully, he was too drunk to remember this.

  I was grateful Madame forbade anyone to touch me. She was adamant that I belonged to her and no one else.

  Lev was early to pick me up for dinner. He rose from the couch and stepped toward me, a fire in his eyes. “Where were you, Octavia?” Lev asked, moving closer to me. “Won’t you tell Lev? I’ll keep it a secret for just one kiss. Maybe we can share secrets.” He laughed the way he did when other women were around. I caught a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the scent of alcohol. Sick.

  “Wait!” I commanded but my voice sounded too fragile to be demanding. Madame couldn’t know I was out of the room. God only knew what she’d do to me.

  Blackmail was my only defense. I was terrible at threats, so I worked out the words cautiously, hiding my trembling fingers behind my back.

  “We do share secrets, Lev.” I whispered. “What will Maxima think of your guests last time she was in Milan? You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

  His face flattened. He had been caught too.

  “Dinner is ready,” he said through clenched teeth. “After you, Cherie.”

  I turned and punched in the code, 81818, and stepped out into the hallway before Lev could touch me.

  He let the door shut with a thunk and took a few rapid steps to catch up to me. Lev slid his arm around my waist and grabbed my hip. Fear swept over me in a cold shiver. Every equation around Lev was negative. He was dangerous.

  His breath was hot on my ear. “Always so tense, Octavia,” he said. Apparently, our last conversation had gone in one ear and out the other. “You really do need to loosen up.”

  “Your wife is waiting,” I said, wrestling myself away. I held back tears on the brim of my eyes. I felt completely powerless. I walked faster, towards Maxima, my protector.

  I had to tell her about Lev. Only I didn’t know how, or what kind of reaction it would cause. If Madame had one weak spot, it was him.

  Her belief in his loyalty proved how delusional she really was. She was brilliant, but she overlooked the simple logic that anything built on a lie would one day crumble. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

  My lie, that I liked her, would also collapse the moment I found a way out. The lie was not meant to last. It was meant to aid me. After two months, I learned that begging and tears wouldn’t help me escape. The only thing that worked was a charade reciprocating what she wanted, my loyalty, my respect, even my love.

  The lie worked.

  Now, in her mind, I was not her captive but finally her protégé, her dear Octavia.

  “Do you know why I call you Octavia?” she finally said one day. I shook my head. “It means ‘the eighth’. There are seven in my operation, me included. I promised myself the eighth would be my successor. All this will be yours. You will inherit my wealth, my empire. Only you can do it.”

  I was one of the only people allowed to call her Celia—another name—and live in her suite. Her obsession with me must have been rooted in someone from her past—I reminded her of someone. A sister, her mother, a friend, but she’d never let on whom.

  As I tried to work out who she really was and why, I answered her questions, no matter how off the wall. At first, I’d been too afraid to speak, too confused, but I didn’t refuse her anymore. Each day I worked up enough courage to talk with her. In part, it was because of my mom’s game, Seagulls. I imagined I liked her, which was as impossible as me flying. But I was not a seagull anymore. I was a vulture and I was circling.

  Lev distanced himself from me before we entered the private dining room. I remembered my plan—make her trust you, Jo. Find out who this woman really is.

  Lev leaned down, and kissed Maxima. “Bon soirée, ma chérie,” he said to her. “I brought Octavia, as you requested.”

  “Merci, amour.” She returned his kiss. How could she appear so normal?

  “Lev, darling,” she said, her gold necklace sparkling, “I need to talk to Octavia alone tonight. I’ll meet you later.”

  “Bien sur, my love.” He winked at me as he walked away.

  Their relationship must have been a lot like Madame’s and mine. A contract of sorts—Maxima proposed a death threat unless we complied with her will and we gave in while concealing how much we despised her. Lev must know that she’d most likely kill him if he ever decided to leave her and therefore found his freedom in other girls and the money she threw at him. For a moment, I understood his deceit.

  “Happy New Year, Octavia.”

  “Happy New Year, Celia.” My eyes darted to the newspaper folded by her dinner plate. It was probably for me. When I first arrived, I pleaded and bargained to be in touch with my family. Newspaper articles were all I got.

  She flashed her icy grin then held out an article from the Seattle Times. “An interview with your father.”

  “What did he say?” I considered taking the paper but decided against it. If I looked at it, I might cry. Like the last article Celia had shared—there had been a funeral for me back in Seattle. I was officially dead.

  “His business has nearly dissolved,” she said. “He’s very upset about the loss. On the bright side, he’s glad your death bought a lot of sympathy and your sisters are doing better than ever. No one left to be jealous of. Let’s be honest, Lily would have hated you as Mara did sooner or later.”

  At first, I didn’t believe what she said about Mara or Dad. She lied to everyone as far as I could tell. But after months of nothing from my father, no sign of help, and the articles, the truth became blurry. I had started to believe a part of what she said was true. Your father loved you for what you could do, nothing more.

  My nights were still an emotional game of tug of war. Love and hate, hope and despair, desperate to hold them and anguish that they hadn’t looked for me. I couldn’t deny a bitter root grew in my heart, crowding out the love I once had for them.

  It would have been easier just to forget them forever. But no matter how hard I tried I hadn’t come close. The nights I pushed them out were the darkest nights of all.

  “Thanks for the update but I really don’t care anymore,” I lied.

  Celia looked pleased. “On a brighter note, Rome worked out after all.”

  I’m stunned. The numbers didn’t check out. There was no way for her to get on board that project so late. “How did yo
u—?”

  “Darling, I’m always one step ahead. Please eat.” She motioned to the table.

  The meal was hot. There was no ceremony in this room. No prayers or speeches, not even a bon appétit, just eating. I picked up my chopsticks and surveyed the banquet. Steaming plates with meats, fish, vegetables, and sauces all neatly-placed onto beautiful serving plates. I picked at some chunks of chicken in red sauce. Tasted like sweet and sour.

  “Octavia,” Celia said, sipping a glass of wine, “I hope you like your new appearance.”

  “Very much, Celia,” I said. I was blonde this month. Last month I was a redhead, like her.

  “And your winter wardrobe?” Her eyes stared hard, unflinching.

  “Love it.”

  I dressed a lot like Madame. Expensive leathers, wools, silks. Madame filled my closets with the finest clothes, and she changed my appearance often—hair color, contacts.

  “Didn’t I tell you that if you do as I say you’ll never want for anything?”

  Anything except my own life. “Yes, Celia.”

  “I’ve arranged another gift for you. The private pool,” she said. “You can swim in the morning before work for one hour, alone. Would you like that?”

  “Excuse me?” I nearly choked on the chicken. Eighteen days ago, Celia asked me to tell her my greatest fear. Being kidnapped didn’t seem like a response she’d like, so I told her that although swimming is my ultimate pastime, death by drowning would be it. She nodded attentively. I assumed she’d been marking it in some wicked part of her memory, ready to pull it out later. I never expected this.

  As she waited for my response, that glimmer appeared in her eyes again. Something fragile—as if I refused, she’d break apart. Or was it the look of a workaholic mother, who threw money at her child, desperate to buy love? Whatever it was, she wanted me to accept her gift.

  I was too afraid to say no, and unlike her other gifts, this one I really wanted. I’d missed any form of exercise, and swimming reminded me of home, a piece of who I was.

  I snapped up a fried shrimp dripping of lemongrass and garlic. “I would love that. Thank you.”

  After I said yes, the glimmer vanished. It never lasted long enough for me to understand it. Celia seemed calmer now. I wondered if it was a good time to tell her that Lev was in my room.

  I swallowed a bite of sticky rice and formed sentences in my head. “Lev cheats on you.” “He’s been coming on to me.” But the words were imprisoned in my throat, kind of like I was in this hotel, because if I spoke up, Lev would too.

  “You’re quiet,” Celia said. “What’s bothering you?”

  Was she asking me outright? I felt like it was the time to tell her, but my calculations produced odds of a mixed outcome. Feelings weren’t always mathematically logical. Could mine be trusted?

  I tapped my leg. Fear muddled up the numbers, and my moment of courage dissolved. I couldn’t tell her yet.

  “I feel apprehensive about you leaving tomorrow,” I said instead, which was true. Shivers traveled down my legs at the thought of her being gone. She was my captor, but she was also my protector.

  Celia put down her spoon. “My dear Octavia,” she said in an unpracticed voice. It took a moment, but she stretched out a hand to touch my shoulder in some odd attempt to console me.

  The touch was brief, and she recoiled before I could reject it.

  “I’ll only be gone a few days,” Celia said.

  A few. Didn’t anyone try to be exact? Last time she said that, it was ten.

  “All right,” I said. I focused on the soup I’d just ladled into my bowl. It smelled fishy and had long skinny strands of seaweed in it. I used my spoon to swirl them around. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “I’m promoting you.” She pulled out her cell phone and punched in a code. “I want you to follow through with Gao’s assignments. I sent him to King.”

  My spoon dropped from my hand, clanging against the small white bowl.

  King? I gulped hard. According to rumors, meeting the grim reaper was better than meeting King.

  Madame didn’t miss a beat. She continued gently spooning her soup as if Gao, her employee, would find another job someday. But Gao couldn’t work again if he wasn’t breathing.

  Did I want Gao’s position? Did I even have a choice? One slip and I’d be fish food. Or maybe not. Everyone knew Celia had a heart of stone…except with me. Even Lev saw how she looked at me. Promoting me was her way of trusting me.

  “Octavia?” she asked. “Did you hear me?”

  “I want the position. I’ll do whatever you ask,” I said, playing up the charade. I couldn’t stop now. No, especially now. Taking Gao’s position meant access to information. I was ready to learn what was happening here and ready to do something about it.

  12

  Past: Octavia

  GOLDEN ANGEL HOTEL, SHANGHAI, CHINA

  Celia left at dawn.

  My first morning at the pool was glorious. It was empty except for Guard Ma, who escorted me. I dove into the wet warmth heading for the bottom of the pool. I glided over it, touching my fingers on the bottom. I used my feet to push up to the surface, then did it all over again until my one hour was up.

  I finished my crawl stroke and pulled myself up on the edge of the pool. My eyes opened to two fleshy, hairy blurs. Feet.

  My head tilted up to Lev in swimming trunks. It was seven o’clock. He usually slept in, but here he was, disgusting and wide-awake, with a rabid look in his eyes.

  “Nice suit. Is it new?” Lev asked, stifling a yawn.

  “No.” I made a beeline for the lounge.

  “Leaving so soon? I thought we could swim together for a while,” Lev said following me.

  “Sorry, my time’s up.” Guard Ma came at my wave.

  “Have it your way.” Lev dove into the pool, and I hurried back to the office.

  Although Internet was limited and there was no phone access, I used her personal computer to work on Celia’s investments. I was right about having more access to her files in my new position, but her computer was linked to her phone, so I had to be careful. She tracked everything I did.

  Since she was on a six-hour flight and she’d never trust open networks, theoretically I could get in and out and erase all my history before she got online again. This was the chance I’d waited for.

  It took 83 minutes to break simple security protocols—three times longer than usual. It was new technology—stuff I’d never even seen at PSS.

  Finally, I broke into her documents. At first glance it was just housekeeping, travel expenses—nothing to prove a lick of who she was or what she did.

  But as I dug further, I noticed an arbitrary game folder. Madame is not the game type. I clicked on it and noticed a ghost folder encrypted into it. After a hassle of unlocking it, a file marked X appeared. Bingo. The floating file!

  I clicked on it as there was a knock on the door.

  The door opened and Lev walked in. I sighed with relief. He wasn’t at all tech-savvy. In this moment, it was an attribute I liked.

  “I waited for you at breakfast,” he said, pouting like a spoiled boy. “I hate eating alone.”

  My stomach knotted up. Even his voice oozed creepiness. Although mathematically evolution did not have a sound theory, there was a high possibility that Lev actually did evolve from slime. “Wait for Celia.”

  “She won’t come home until Saturday. That’s two days,” he whined. “Dinner later?”

  “Can’t. Too much work to do,” I said, tilting the computer screen away from his eyes. Two more files left. “You know Celia’s really picky about getting things done.”

  He cocked his head. “Her work never takes you this long.” Numbers swarmed like angry bees. He couldn’t care less about Celia’s work, which meant he’d been watching much closer than I thought. Suddenly, I was alarmed.

  “After dinner drink?” he pleaded. “Come on, I need comfort when she goes away.”

  “Sor
ry, Lev. Can’t. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  He paused, defeated. “Fine. If you sleep badly again, come and find me. I sing lullabies,” he whispered. Thankfully, he left and I jumped into latching on and breaking into the floating file.

  After fifteen minutes I still couldn’t crack the wall. I wished I had my mental calculator friends. What did they used to say? Start with what you know about the person.

  The first thing that came to mind was Celia’s obsession with gold. Where was she flying to today? Italy. My mind spun with four hundred and sixteen possibilities until it merged gold and Latin. After looking up the translation, I tried a sequencing code with letter affiliation for aurum or “gold” in Latin. Transmuting the alphabet affiliation, a-u-r-u-m became -120232013- then decoding it once more, it became, 1-20-23-20-13—and finally I cracked it. Not difficult at all, just had to know the person.

  Inside there were two folders. One folder was entitled with a number, but it was empty when I opened it. The number on the file looked like a phone number with a +61 international code. I memorized every country code when I was five. +61 was Australia.

  Strange. Her containers never went to Australia, and there were no expos there. Equations buzzed in the back of my mind. The questions piled up, but I couldn’t investigate the phone number until tomorrow. Instead, I memorized it and moved on. Right now, I had to focus.

  The second folder appeared empty too, but I knew better. Its visibility was locked with a serene code.

  A serene code was like a pill bottle with a child-proof safety cap. You just had to be one step ahead of the child to open it. This, I could do.

  As I unlocked the files, my mouth gaped open. I clutched at my stomach, fighting the urge to be sick. Celia’s empire was beyond anything I could have imagined. Her collaboration extended to every remote corner of the earth, with a who’s who of the world’s most-wanted lists. I finally knew who she was.