Keystone

by Katie Delahanty

  “Give us five more minutes, Miriam.” Nicki takes the herbs from Adam and inhales a long drag.

  “Pull yourself together,” Miriam says. “You know how important it is that you’re at your father’s side tonight. You’re the future face of Simon Technologies. Act like it.”

  Nicki sighs and takes Eric’s hand. “Guess we should go.” But before she leaves, she hugs me. “I want you two to be my guests at the Stern Grove Festival this weekend. I have an entire picnic table all to myself, and Berkeley & the Brightside is playing. Will you come?”

  “I’d love to,” I say. Truth. “There’s no VR access to Stern Grove, right? My parents hate not being able to check in on me, which is why I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Exactly,” Nicki says. “My dad thinks it’s totally archaic, too—actually having to physically show up somewhere? But I love it. It’s different witnessing a concert in person. The smells, the noise, physical contact with strangers—the actual energy of other people. It’s so fun.”

  “It’s dangerous for you to be in a public place, Nicki. You never know what’s going to go down,” Eric says.

  I frown at his accentless voice. I never knew him at all.

  “I have you to protect me,” Nicki says, curling her fingers around his collar.

  That’s what you think. I have to stop him from hurting her.

  She peers over his shoulder. “See you guys at the park Saturday at two?”

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Garrett says. “Can you friend me so my AMPs can find you?”

  Nicki lets go of Eric and taps the air.

  Feeling eyes on my face, I find Adam/Eric staring directly at me.

  “Can’t wait to see you again,” he says.

  …

  “Do you care if we walk?” Garrett asks as we hurry down the opera house steps. “I could use some air.”

  The night breeze is deliciously cool on my burning cheeks, and I’m so revved up I can’t imagine being trapped in a Bubble Car right now. “Not at all. I prefer it.” I can barely keep my feet on the ground.

  “How do you feel?” he asks, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and setting a brisk pace.

  “Honestly? Like I can fly. That was so much fun.” I’m practically skipping.

  “You smoked enough to float home.”

  I flinch, ready for a fight, but then I catch him smiling to himself, and I let it go. “Oh, come on. That was the point, right? I was always in complete control. How many drinks did you have? You’re just jealous because Nicki likes me better than you.”

  His jaw clenched, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye like I’m an annoying gnat he’d like to flick. “Uh-huh.”

  “Or you’re worried that you have competition…” I playfully whack his arm. “Who will win Nicki’s heart? Beau or Eric? I know who I’d choose.”

  Coming to a halt, he grabs my arms. “Do you?” His intensity catches me off guard, sending hot chills through me.

  Abruptly, he lets go and walks ahead.

  I watch him go, needing distance. The streetlights glow brighter as he approaches them, illuminating his path. I know they have sensors, but it’s like that first day in the Lodge, like his energy could make lightbulbs explode.

  Not wanting to be alone in the dark, I don’t let him get too far away.

  “Good work in there,” he says, seeming to have regained his composure when I catch up to him.

  “You weren’t so bad yourself,” I say, happy to restore calm. I can tell he’s in a weird mood, and I want the old Garrett back—I want to share my excitement with him. “It’s pretty amazing you were able to roll with the story when I didn’t get to tell you about the note.”

  He shoves his hands into his pockets. “What note?”

  “That guy we saw at the boardwalk yesterday passed it to me on my way into the opera house. It was from Faye. She said Nicki wants to be a superhero, to feel like she can help someone—so I flipped the script.”

  “I liked the direction. It felt right.” He nods. “We might make a good team…”

  I let that idea settle, pleased and terrified by it.

  We fall silent, our footsteps echoing on the pavement.

  “You’re never this quiet,” I finally say, unable to shake the brooding mood wafting off him. He’s killing my buzz. “What’s bothering you?”

  He rubs his temples, and I sense he isn’t listening to me. “I don’t know what Nash is doing here,” he mutters to himself as we arrive at our building and enter through the revolving door.

  Realizing who he must be talking about, I come to a halt. The door bumps into me, trapping us in glass. “The guy Nicki was with. You know him?”

  “Yeah. I know him. We trained together.”

  The words land with a thud in my gut.

  He presses his lips together, and I know that’s all he’ll say on the subject. “Keep it moving, Bets. We don’t have all day.” Pushing the door forward, he rotates us until we’re spit out into the lobby.

  “He’s a Keystone Disconnect?” I ask, in my shock not realizing I’m practically yelling.

  “Keep your voice down. You could seriously wake the dead.” Grabbing my arm, he drags me to the elevator. “He used to be.”

  “What is he now?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispers. “Listen, it’s not safe to talk in here. All I know is when that guy’s around, bad things happen. We need to make sure we get the ring first.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  March 20X6, San Francisco

  “Okay, so let’s review,” Garrett says, spreading a map of San Francisco out on the dining room table in our apartment. “Our plan is to get photographs and a mold of Nicki’s ring at the Stern Grove Festival and transport it to Faye so she can have a replica made. Once she gives us the replica, we’ll figure out a way to get Nicki’s ring off her finger and replace it with the fake one.”

  “Easy,” I deadpan. “Seriously, how are we going to get the ring off her finger without her noticing?”

  “I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out.” He sighs. “We just have to take it one step at a time. Let’s concentrate on getting the replica made first. The Stern Grove Festival is here.” He circles a park on the map. “And the Bubble Car depot where you’re going to make the exchange with Faye is in St. Francis Circle.” He traces a path to a point at the edge of the park. “It shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes to walk there—remember, the timing is important. You have to drop the key fob containing the mold and photographs in the return kiosk right away. Once I put the ring mold in the liquid nitrogen, it will harden the wax, but if it’s in there for more than an hour, it will start to dissolve. And Faye will be waiting. She’ll be disguised as a Bubble Car employee and will break into the kiosk to retrieve the key fob, but we don’t want to risk her running into a real Bubble Car employee or anyone emptying the kiosk before she does.”

  “I know, I know.” I turn the key fob over, examining the key emblem etched into it. A gift from Allard, it has a hollow interior and a seven-letter code that must be correctly arranged on the side roller bar to access the compartment. Faye already knows the password is “Justice.” “Isn’t a key fob kind of archaic?”

  “Yeah, but the Bubble Cars kept getting hacked, so the city went old-school. The cars will only start if the key fob is present.” He shakes his head. “I love it when technology breaks down. Maybe someday they’ll see it our way.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not getting my hopes up,” I say.

  “Me neither,” he says, still studying the map. “Have you decided how you’re going to get pictures of the ring?”

  “Yep—with this.” I pull the 1950s Echo 8 Lighter Camera I borrowed from the Crypt—on a hunch it might be useful—out of my tool garter and flip it open. “It’s a concert. She’ll want to smoke, right?
I’ll be able to get up close when I light her herbs. Simple.”

  He squints at the lighter. “It’s never as simple as you think. We don’t have room for mistakes. Are you sure that thing will work?”

  “Positive.”

  “Give it here.” He waves it toward him.

  “Why?” I cradle it to my chest.

  “Just let me see it.”

  I hesitate.

  “I’m not going to hurt it,” he says, his eyes flashing.

  “Fine.” With a sigh, I give it to him.

  He flicks the lighter. Nothing happens. He tries again. Nothing. Holding it up to the light, he examines it. “Did you put lighter fluid in it?”

  Blood shoots to my cheeks, and I snatch it out of his hand. “Not yet. I was going to do it later.”

  “Mm-hmm…” He grins.

  “Don’t look so smug.” I turn my back on him, willing my blush to fade.

  “Why not? I just proved a point.”

  “Oh yeah? And what exactly is it?” I whip around. “And whatever it is, believe me, it’s not the winning point.”

  “Bets, it’s not a competition. I just proved you need me is all.”

  “Need you? I need you.”

  His eyes sparkle. “Yes.”

  “You’re right. I do need you. I need you to realize you’re not God’s gift to thieves.”

  “I love it when you’re angry.”

  “I love it when you’re silent.”

  He laughs.

  Behind me, the apartment door flies open. Kyran and Rayelle burst into the room, giggling.

  “What’s up with you two?” I ask, staring in shock at Kyran’s grin. It changes his entire face—makes him almost approachable.

  “This,” Kyran says, and before I can blink, he tosses something tiny and gold at me.

  Catching it, I examine the Byzantine-era ring that is eerily similar to Nicki’s. The only difference is the blue stone is set with a round rim instead of prongs. “You stole this?”

  “Yep. Heist complete,” Kyran says.

  Garrett peers over my shoulder. “Does it fit in the key fob case?”

  Opening the case, I slip the ring inside. “Yep.”

  He takes the case from me, removing the Italian ring. “Faye can use this for size and weight when she replicates Nicki’s ring. All the more reason to get the mold quickly. Is anybody looking for it?”

  “Not yet,” Kyran says. “It’s somewhat-legally missing for forty-eight hours.”

  “How did you pull that off?” Garrett asks.

  “Tell us everything,” I say.

  We move to the living room, and Garrett and I settle onto the couch, giving them the stage.

  “We knew we needed to sneak into the basement archives to get the ring, so we timed the heist while there was a student art exhibit going on. Sophia disguised Rayelle so she looked thirteen, and we had her show up with an art project full of contraband items,” Kyran says, spouting more words than I’ve ever heard from him.

  “Balloons, birdseed, confetti, and glitter are forbidden inside the museum, so my project contained all of them.” Rayelle exhales. “I didn’t mess up. I’ve always been the outcast in my family, but I might actually be meant to do this!” She’s practically glowing.

  “While she was arguing with the guards about her project being ‘art,’ I picked one of their pockets. That gave us keys to the locker room and a pass card to the archive basement,” Kyran says. “Years ago, the museum employees went on strike when they were asked to give their thumbprints because they were afraid of their information being hacked, so the museum doesn’t use biometrics for anything. Once I was wearing a guard jacket and had a pass card, I walked right into the archives. Nobody questioned me. I knew from doing surveillance yesterday that I needed a request slip from a researcher to check out the ring, so I forged one from this guy named Charles Sweeney. He’s head of acquisitions for the museum.”

  “The archivist, of course, wouldn’t let him leave with the ring without calling up to Charles’s assistant,” Rayelle says.

  “But I had called earlier pretending to be a curator who met Charles last week while he was visiting the Prado on his vacation to Madrid, and I said he gave me permission to borrow the ring,” Kyran continues. “I knew Charles was on vacation by checking his Network, but that made his assistant trust me.” He rolls his eyes. “When the archivist called, the assistant validated my story, they let me check out the ring for forty-eight hours, and I walked out with it.”

  “Wow,” Garrett says.

  “Allard wants us to give it back so no one comes looking for it,” Rayelle says.

  “Forty-eight hours is a tight turnaround…” I say.

  “I wish we didn’t have to give it back,” Rayelle says, taking the ring from Garrett and sliding it onto her pinkie. “It’s the first thing we ever stole together, Kyran. Maybe we should keep it. The museum won’t miss it, will they?”

  Kyran raises his eyebrows and examines the ring on her finger. “Dangerous,” he says. “Nice.”

  She giggles.

  “If Allard said to give it back, she has her reasons,” I say, shooting Rayelle a we-need-to-talk stare.

  “Yeah. We can’t risk any mistakes. We’ll make sure you get it back in time to return it,” Garrett says. “Ellie, we’ll need to coordinate a second dead drop with Faye to get this ring back, even if the replica isn’t ready.”

  Kyran and Rayelle are still staring at the ring. An unseen force vibrates between them, and Garrett and I look at each other. An unspoken moment passes. He says what we both are thinking.

  “Hey Kyran, I need to get a ring off a girl’s finger and replace it with a replica without her noticing the switch. Any tips?”

  “You came to the right guy.” Kyran smiles and holds up Rayelle’s hand. “We can use her to practice.”

  They huddle around the ring, and, satisfied Garrett has things under control, I put on my pink mask and goggles and slip out of the apartment in search of lighter fluid.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  March 20X6, San Francisco

  “You have your disguise, right?” Garrett asks as we weave between the picnic blankets sprawled across the park. The festival is packed with people enjoying the blue skies on this rare sunny day.

  “Oh no.” I come to a halt, grinning up at him. “I knew I forgot something.”

  He glares at me and keeps walking.

  My jaw drops. “You’re nervous,” I say, catching up to him. “The great Beau Bradford…he’s human after all. Don’t worry.” I lower my voice. “It’s all right here.” I pat the messenger bag slung across my body. My hair is piled on top of my head, and Rayelle painted a white fan across my forehead, punctuating the points with beads. It will only take seconds to pluck off the beads, tuck my hair under a blond wig, pull on the yellow poncho in my bag, and smear gold glitter over half of my face.

  “Aren’t you?” he asks.

  “Human or nervous? You only get one answer.”

  “Would you be serious?”

  “Why? Aren’t you serious enough for the both of us?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Sorry.” I relent. “I can’t be serious. It’s a nervous thing.”

  “That’s good. That means you’re ready. Nerves are useful—they keep you on your toes.”

  “Well, you can never be too prepared.” I bat my eyelashes at him. “You have the wax, right?”

  Elbowing me in the side, he smirks but keeps us moving, sidestepping a group of concertgoers wearing masquerade masks.

  Up ahead, Nicki, Joanna, and Eric are centered directly in front of the stage, sitting at a table covered with a pink plaid tablecloth and dotted with mason jars containing white daisies.

  “You made it!” Nicki, wearing a fringed tube top, bunny e
ars, and a stack of glowing neon bracelets, waves us forward.

  As Adam/Eric/Nash—whoever he is—lifts the twine that separates Nicki’s table from the crowd, I raise my eyebrows at the daisies, getting his message. I’ll never tell. He catches my eye as I enter, and my heart thumps with possibility, but I remind myself he is—and always has been—no good. He may have been able to fool me at first, but never again.

  “Love the ears,” Garrett says, patting Nicki’s head.

  “Check out my tail.” Turning around, she shakes her rear end. “It’s for the Networks. You know how it is.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’m so happy you’re here, that we’re all here. And…good news!” She puts an arm around my shoulders. “I got you on the list. Once you send in a hair sample, we’ll know how long it will take to grow your kidneys. Eric can cut one today and send it up to the farm for DNA sequencing tomorrow if you want.”

  My eyes shoot to Garrett’s. I can’t give a hair sample! They’d know everything about me…

  “You’re incredible,” he says, hugging Nicki. “How can I ever thank you?”

  “It makes me happy to help,” she says. “No thanks needed.”

  He releases her, holding her at arm’s length. “All the same, I’ll think of something. Let me surprise you.” I watch Garrett stare into her eyes, his lips curving up in a knowing smile, and she blushes, practically melting into him. She’s putty in his hands, and my stomach turns.

  “How can I say no to a surprise?” she says. “I’ll let you.”

  “Good.” Taking her left hand, he places his palm over the ring and squeezes. “I’ll have to think of something extra special.”

  Behind us, Berkeley & the Brightside takes the stage. The crowd roars to life, and Joanna stands up and starts dancing on the table as they play the opening notes to their hit “Headshot.” With a whoop, Nicki joins her, but I wait, watching Garrett seamlessly slip the wax mold into the canister hidden in his pocket. I’ll fill the canister with liquid nitrogen and put it in the key fob when I change into my disguise, but the clock has already started. I need to move quickly and photograph Nicki’s ring before the wax melts. Climbing onto the table, I join Nicki and Joanna.