Keystone

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Keystone Page 18

by Katie Delahanty

“Because you’re an Influencer?” He shrugged, continuing to hold my hand. “Nah. That don’t bother me. I’m not a Disconnect. But tell me, what are you doing posing as one?” With a squeeze, he let me go.

  “I could ask you the same thing. What’s with the lightning if you aren’t a Disconnect?”

  “Fair question.” He smiles. “The truth is I’m Unrankable, same as everyone else here. I’m not ashamed of it. It’s the life I was born into, and I don’t think I’d want to rank on the Index even if I was allowed. If I had a choice, I’d probably be a Disconnect, but you can’t refuse what you’ve never been offered, so I show my support with lightning. That’s pretty much the most interesting thing there is to know about me, so now it’s your turn.”

  “I wanted to look up something that I don’t want my parents to know about,” I said. “They constantly check my Life Stream, so I had to go off-grid.”

  “I got you. You need access to the Network?”

  “You have that here?”

  “Of course. Even though we can’t post to the Network ourselves, watching you live your life is still our biggest form of entertainment. The way I see it, you Influencers need us. We may not be able to purchase stock in you, but we can sure use our stipend to buy what you’re selling. And that keeps your Corporates happy.”

  Leading me to a computer, he gestures for me to take a seat.

  “I never thought about it that way,” I said. “You’re a pretty smart guy, Johnathan.”

  “Nah. I’m curious is all. Now, this is called a mouse.” He held up a black plastic oval with a roller ball on the top. “You use it to click on this icon.” He demonstrated, clicking open a little blue check mark on the screen. The Network appeared. “Just click inside that white square, and you can enter whoever or whatever you’re looking for by typing the letters on the keyboard.”

  “Thank you.” I exhaled, barely able to contain my excitement.

  “Happy to help anytime,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your search.”

  Barely noticing him leave, I typed in Adam’s name. His feed appeared, full of surfing videos. It told me nothing, but tears pricked my eyes at seeing him again. At least I knew he was okay. I wanted to send him a message, but I didn’t have access to a currency account to pay him to read it. Looking around for Johnathan to see if I could give him some of Crystal’s quarters in exchange for use of his currency account, my hand slid almost of its own volition to Adam’s friend list. Something told me to click on Deena’s stream.

  I immediately regretted my instinct. Her feed was live, and there they were. Deena—and Adam—together. His hand sliding up her puny thigh.

  My heart pounded in my chest, sending blood straight to my head as I watched in dizzy disbelief. Adam leaned in, his lips finding Deena’s. The screen blurred through my tears, but I couldn’t look away. I wanted to throw up.

  “Are you okay?” Johnathan asked, appearing by my side. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost—which isn’t impossible. Ghosts are a major attraction around here.”

  “No.” I swallowed. Maybe Adam was in on Deena’s plan all along… Maybe there was nothing good in my life. My temples throbbed. I needed air.

  Knees wobbling, I stood. Pushing up my umbrella, I blindly ran out of the library, not caring where I was going. I wandered the streets in a fog, Adam kissing Deena on constant replay in my mind, until I ended up at Colonial Park Cemetery. Hazily focusing on the eagle statue lording over the gate, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I peered through the iron bars down a dark path lined with giant trees, their spindly arms dripping with moss, reaching out. Probably craving human flesh. I gulped and checked my map. All I wanted was my bed, and the quickest way to the hotel was through the graveyard. I was going in.

  The gate was locked, but I pushed it open enough to squeeze through. Dropping to my hands and knees, I crawled inside. The cemetery sprawled before me, coming to terrifying life. It must be in an augmented dome. The trees swayed as if in a storm, the wind howling through them. Statues turned to face me as I hurried down the path, and I broke into a run. My skin crawled as I ran past winged angels reaching for me from graves with headstones rubbed smooth. Apparitions soared to the full, yellow moon, and fingers ruptured the ground, grabbing at my ankles. It’s not real, it’s not real… My heart in my throat, I ran faster, the ghosts and specters a blur.

  Exiting the cemetery as quickly as I could, I ran straight to the hotel. I stumbled down the hall until I found Crystal’s room and banged on the door.

  “Oh, thank God, you’re back,” she said, embracing me the moment she saw me. She was still wearing her voodoo makeup from set. “I was so worried.”

  I rested my head on her shoulder, catching my breath.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s Adam…and Deena. They were playing me.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I was stupid to believe any of it was real.”

  She held me as tears rolled down my cheeks. I can’t believe I was so wrong about him.

  “I’m sorry, love.” She patted my hair. “Let’s get you to your room, dry those eyes. A hot bath will help.”

  I nodded and let her lead me down the hall.

  When we arrived at my door, I stopped abruptly. “Wait.” I threw up my hand to halt her. “Something isn’t right.” I studied the lock, a shot of adrenaline clearing my sinuses. Everything looked normal, but I had a weird hunch. “Someone might be inside.”

  “Why do you think that?” Crystal asked. “Your lock is biometric—only your fingerprints can open it. A lock, like I have, would be easy to pick, but breaking into your room would require a full set of your fingerprints…”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Placing my hand on the sensor, I waited until the light blinked green and the deadbolt clunked open.

  I opened the door to find my room had been ransacked. Light from the massive moon outside the window spotlighted the disaster: clothes everywhere, makeup bottles spilled on the floor, empty drawers gaping.

  A fresh wave of dizziness washed over me.

  “How did you know?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. I just…felt it. It was like there was an impression left in the air, heat…energy. I can’t explain it.”

  “Interesting.” She studied me as we stepped inside. “Is anything missing?”

  I went straight to my bed, shaking out the covers. “My sleep sheep,” I whispered. “It had my Book of Secrets inside.”

  “What’s a Book of Secrets?”

  “My journal…”

  “Are the files saved somewhere?”

  I shook my head. “It was handwritten.”

  “Handwritten?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “My private thoughts… It was the only way to keep them out of my Life Stream…. It had things I overheard when my parents entertained—”

  She clamped her hand over my mouth. “Never mind. Don’t say anymore.” Pressing her forehead against mine, she whispered, “Knowledge is the real currency. Any info you have on someone, keep it for yourself. Don’t tell even me. The walls are listening.”

  I nodded.

  “We should call the police,” she said loudly.

  “Do we have to?” I asked. After what Crystal just said, I didn’t really want to publicize the existence of my Book of Secrets. Having to explain why I wasn’t in my room and reveal my new ability to go off-grid could only get me into more trouble with my parents. “I’ve been through so much tonight, and only my journal is missing…”

  “It’s your decision,” Crystal said.

  “Let’s clean up and pretend this night never happened. I can’t deal.” All I wanted was to crawl under my covers and hide.

  “Okay. Whatever you want. And then let’s get you into a hot bath. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Silently, she helped me reset the
room. When it was reinstated to its former neatness, she filled the tub.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” she asked before I got in the tub.

  I shook my head. “That’s okay. I need some time alone.”

  With a sad smile, she squeezed my hand and headed for the door. Before she left, she reached into my pocket, grabbing the map and pointing to an intersection. Holding up eight fingers, she mouthed, “Breakfast. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Breakfast,” I mouthed back.

  “See you tomorrow, love. I’m going to go get Bernard. He’ll be stationed outside your door so you’ll be safe. Promise. All you need to do is try to get some sleep.”

  “Thank you. Goodnight, Crystal.” With a tiny wave, I closed the door behind her. As soon as the deadbolt slid into place, I sank to the floor, my head spinning.

  Who would want my Book of Secrets? And who does Crystal want me to meet?

  …

  Setting down my pen, I rest my head against the chaise, Adam’s betrayal coursing through me like it happened yesterday. He had his reasons… It wasn’t easy, our life. Nothing was black and white. But even knowing what I know now, I can’t deny that night changed him for me. Even if he’d lived, we would never have been the same… I never would have fully trusted him.

  Crystal, on the other hand, I instantly saw as a friend. She still is.

  That much I know is true.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  January 3, 20X6, Keystone

  “Have you memorized the information supplied in your packet?” Folding his arms over his chest, Abignail leans back in his captain’s chair. He’s a retired con artist, an expert at forgery and assuming new personalities. I’m glad we’re paired with him because I’m going to need every ounce of my acting ability to transform into yet someone else.

  “We have,” Garrett says. “The first thing we need to do is establish cover identities—open currency accounts, hack our fake retina scans into the Network database—and most importantly, we need to create history for ourselves on the Network so Nicki can cyberstalk us.”

  I raise my eyebrows, surprised at his professionalism.

  “Very good.” Abignail nods. “Do you have anything to add, Elisha?”

  They look at me, and I rack my brain. Having tossed and turned half the night, wondering how I’m going to boldly walk back into the connected world, risking everything by subjecting myself to facial-recognition technology, my head is in the clouds. The sliding glass doors behind Abignail open to his infinity pool, and I imagine jumping in and swimming straight into the forest.

  Abignail clears his throat, making me jump.

  “I don’t. This is Garrett’s heist,” I say quickly. “He’s in charge. I’ll do whatever he says.”

  Garrett keeps a straight face, though I doubt he believes a word of it. I’m sure he’ll gloat later.

  “What are your ideas for cover identities?” Abignail asks. “You should come from a place you understand and are comfortable acting as an authority on, so you can stay in character at all times. Try to come off as confident, charming, sincere. It also helps to have something about you that stands out, that people will remember you by—so they don’t look too closely at anything else. Make that trait something easily discarded, rendering you unrecognizable.”

  His jaw twitching, Garret squares his shoulders and offers his hand. “Beau Bradford, pleased to meet you, sir.” As his posture changes, so does his essence, transforming him into a stranger. The ease with which he makes the switch catches me off guard. Will I ever know the real Garrett?

  “I just moved to San Francisco to spend the summer interning in nanotech so I’m ready to work for my father’s import business when I return to the Cayman Islands in the fall.”

  “What does he import?” Abignail asks.

  “He 3-D prints seashells.” Garrett smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  Abignail laughs. “The perfect answer. Everyone knows better than to inquire about a Cayman-based business, but can you speak to what the nanotech project is you’re working on?”

  “I wouldn’t want to bore you with minute details—besides, it’s top secret—” Beau says.

  And he really is Beau. There’s no trace of the Garrett I think I know.

  “Let’s just say my father would be very pleased if he were to get the first contract to export items via a space elevator.”

  “Very good,” Abignail says. “You know, you were given this task specifically because of your social skills. We felt you were the perfect candidate to get close to Nicki—partly because you’re nearly the same age, but also because of your ability to quickly analyze a situation and think on your feet. I trust you understand how to behave in the tech-savvy world. Despite what happened during last year’s heist, you did prove yourself sufficient in portraying an Influencer…”

  My ears perk up, but I keep my expression neutral.

  “And who’s this?” Abignail gestures to me.

  Remembering Rayelle’s suggestion I pose as Garrett’s girlfriend, I imagine how much trouble we could get into pretending to be in love. We’d probably have to get comfortable kissing… How would it happen the first time? Would he push me up against a wall and plant one on me to keep us from being discovered? I can practically feel his lips pressed against mine, and my stomach drops. I frown. These fantasies must. Stop.

  “This is my kid sister, Betsy,” Beau says. Unable to quite contain his grin, the Garrett I’ve come to know and hate appears, and the daydream comes to a screeching halt.

  My glare could cut glass. “Beau and Betsy Bradford? You can’t be serious.”

  He ignores me. “Mom and Dad sent her along for the summer hoping I’d rub off on her and she’d get her act together. She’s gotten a little too into island life lately.”

  “A lazy little girl? That’s what I’m an authority on?” I say. “I can’t be an intern, too? Or have my own start-up?”

  Beau evaporates, and it’s Garrett that faces me, his eyes full of mischief. “Of course you can, but in this situation, you’ll be more believable as my sister.”

  “But we don’t look anything alike.”

  “Not yet.” He grins. “Besides, with your innocent looks it will be easy to convince Nicki I need help making you over. She’ll jump at the chance to mold you. Then you’ll be on the inside, and she won’t suspect you’re after her ring. She’ll feel like your big sister.”

  “Won’t we be a happy family,” I mutter before realizing Abignail is watching us, hiding a smile behind his fingers that are folded in prayer over his lips. Shutting my mouth, I compose myself, attempting to appear the obedient mentee.

  “I like the social engineering in this plan—make Nicki think she’s helping you. People naturally want to help when they’re asked,” Abignail says, leaning forward to ruffle through a stack of papers on his desk. “And you two are well suited for each other, though a true partner is years in the making. You’ll need to become extremely comfortable with each other to make others believe you’re brother and sister. From now on, I expect you to be glued at the hip.”

  “I won’t let her out of my sight,” Garrett says.

  I focus on the ceiling, wishing for a lightning bolt—a spear—anything to strike me and put me out of my misery.

  Producing an envelope from the stack, Abignail slides it over to Garrett. “There should be more than enough currency in this account to get you started. Begin with the physical transformation so you can build your Network feed. You have a couple months to get yourselves situated and make sure you’ve planned for all possible scenarios. According to our sources, Madden’s Mind Upload Centers won’t be functional until mid-April—that’s when Simon will launch the Quinn update persuading people to start backing up their ‘mind files’—but it’s imperative you leave us enough time to steal the algorit
hm once you have the ring. We’ll send you to San Francisco at the end of March. That should give you time to get close to Nicki and steal the ring so we can get the algorithm and shut down Quinn before Simon launches his update.”

  I sit, transfixed in silence, my shoulders knotting under the pressure of the enormous task before us. But we only have to steal Nicki’s ring. We’re one little piece of the puzzle. But even being a small part of the big picture fails to calm me.

  “Understood,” Garrett says. “We’ll get to work right away.” Seeming to realize I’m frozen, he takes my arm and yanks me to my feet.

  “And remember the Moscow Rules,” Abignail adds before we leave. “Assume nothing. Never go against your gut. Everyone is potentially under opposition control.”

  “Trust no one,” Garrett agrees.

  “Not even each other,” I mutter.

  …

  We exit Abignail’s cottage, the icy winter wind stinging my cheeks helping me regain my wits.

  “You were undercover as an Influencer last year?” I ask as we head to our classes. The trail is only wide enough for one person, so I fall in line behind him.

  “That’s classified,” he says over his shoulder.

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  “But I thought we were supposed to learn everything there is to know about each other.”

  Garrett comes to an abrupt halt, and I almost run into him.

  Turning around, he raises his eyebrows. “Do you really want that?”

  “No.” I sigh. “But what about Faye? She’s our contact, and she was your partner last year.”

  He starts walking again.

  Dodging tree branches, I scramble to keep up with him.

  “Don’t you think it’s important for me to know?” I ask. “If there’s romantic history between you two and things get weird, it could tank the entire heist.”

  His spine goes rigid, but he allows me to catch up to him as the path widens.

  “I’m only going to tell you this once,” he says. “And then I don’t want to hear about this topic again.”

 

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