“He is.” Dev does some things to the console, and the alarm cuts out. “But if he’s alarmed these beyond putting them in the cases, there might be something else there.” He nods to the sculpture. “Try again.”
“Is it going to scream at me?”
“I don’t think so.”
I’m not encouraged by that or by the thought that Fuchs might have put more than an alarm on these—like booby traps and blow darts. But I wrap my hand around the sculpture anyway. Slowly, with my breath held, I lift it.
The alarms stay silent. My shoulders sag with relief. But not too far—the sculpture is heavy.
I carry it to the desk. The sculpture makes a deep thunk when the base hits the glass of the desk. Dev comes over to join me.
“What are you looking for?”
“We’re looking for… I’m not sure what.” He runs his hand down the side of the sculpture, his skin stark against the deep black of the surface.
“Will we need to break it?” I’m suddenly afraid for these pieces. They’re not to my taste, but I don’t want to destroy them.
He knocks on it with his knuckles. It makes a hard, full sound—there’s no empty space inside this thing. “I don’t think so. Fuchs would do something more elegant to hide things—and every time he has something he wants to add to his stash, he breaks the sculpture open and has to get a new one made?” Dev shakes his head. “Not likely. And like I said, the sculptures are valuable. The artist doesn’t create anymore.”
“What?”
“Fuchs commissioned these pieces, and as part of the contract, she could never make a work of art for sale purposes again. He not only wanted to own these sculptures, he wanted to make sure no one else could own her work.”
A cold lump forms in my stomach. “She was okay with that?”
“I don’t know about okay. She was paid a lot, and she can still make items for personal reasons—she just can’t sell them. Or give them away, although she could probably challenge that in court. But she hasn’t.”
“You talked to her.” Of course Dev researched this artist, found every bit of information he could. Set up some favors so she would owe him.
He shakes his head. “She refused to see me. And I couldn’t get to anyone close to her. But Fuchs’s legal team had to tell me everything when I took over Corvus.”
Even though Dev was thwarted, I’m pleased about that. It’s a good lesson for him, to not always get what he wants when he does these things. He might have amassed a ton of power in Silicon Valley with his manipulations, but he’s taken down one of the tech world’s biggest, baddest companies already—he can slow down now. He doesn’t have to keep collecting other people’s secrets.
“Well, I hope she’s at least happy.” I run one finger down a corner of the sculpture. “That’s a lot to give up.”
Dev leans back, done with his examination. I’m not sure what he was looking for, but he looks a touch satisfied, so he must have found something. “I tore up the contract. Released her from it.”
“You… you can do that? Fuchs didn’t personally make the contract with her?”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “No, the contract was technically with Corvus. Because corporations are much more powerful than people when it comes to the law.”
There’s a rush of warmth in my chest, a stinging burst behind my eyelids. He broke the contract. He gave the artist her passion back.
Sometimes he can take my breath away. And those are the best times.
“Thank you,” I say huskily. “For her sake.”
He inclines his head in response. “I’m giving all these pieces back to her when we’re done. She can sell them, smash them, do whatever she wants with them.”
“It’s a good plan. But how will we know when we’re done with them?”
He picks up the sculpture. “We’ll know when we know.”
We go through the rest of the artwork, picking each piece up, examining it, looking for anything out of the ordinary, any clue that might be there. Handling them doesn’t make them any less unnerving, with their cold, slick surfaces and shapes that refuse to coalesce into anything meaningful.
They also don’t seem to be hiding anything. We get through ten of them, all without any luck.
“There’s only two left,” I say as we set another one back. “Are we sure we’ll find something? These might not mean anything at all to Fuchs.”
Dev releases his end of the sculpture with a grunt. “He wouldn’t have basically ended the artist’s career if they didn’t mean something to them. Just because we don’t see the meaning doesn’t mean it’s not there. He’s hidden something somewhere. I know it.”
I’m not so convinced. And I’m wondering if Dev is allowing his desperation to find his parents to cloud his better sense.
But there’s only two left, like I said. It can’t hurt to keep looking.
It will hurt Dev if we don’t find anything though.
We move to the next one, which is the largest. It’s a sort of sickly, pale green, a color that makes me think of stomach upsets. The curves of it fold in on themselves, like it’s about to collapse. And it looks very, very heavy.
I really, really don’t want to touch this one. But there’s no choice.
Dev takes one corner, or at least the closest thing to a corner the piece has, and I take the other.
“One, two, three.” Dev counts off and on three, we lift.
My arms strain from the load, my breath blowing out with the effort. It’s even heavier than I thought.
“Okay?” Dev’s straining too. I can tell from his tone.
“Yeah.” I grunt that out. “Let’s move.”
We take two steps, maneuvering it carefully off the base. I squeal when the sculpture clears the pedestal.
“There, look!” I resist the instinct to drop the piece and grab the thin sliver of something on the base. Something that wasn’t on the others.
“Hang on. Take it to the desk.”
We sidestep as quick as we can to the desk, setting the piece down way less gently than we did the others. And then we race back to the pedestal.
The sliver of something is a USB key. Small, unassuming, the kind you can pick up at the grocery store these days. We both stare at it as if it’s something bigger, more explosive.
“Is that it?”
“I think so.” Dev doesn’t reach for it though.
So I grab it. It’s barely bigger than a key in my palm. But it’s probably got some of the most explosive secrets in the tech world on it.
“How did Fuchs manage to move that thing by himself?” I doubt he had Minerva help him.
Dev merely shrugs in response. He seems to have forgotten all about the artwork.
“Did you bring a laptop?” I ask.
Dev still looks stunned, like he can’t believe we really found something. Which is odd given his earlier assurance that we would.
He blinks like I’ve woken him up. “Um, no. We can’t just plug it into any machine. There was a dead man’s switch on the files Finn took out of Corvus. I bet there’s one on there too.”
That makes sense. If Fuchs went to all this trouble to hide the drive, he’d probably put a booby trap on the drive itself. If the wrong person opens the drive, the dead man’s switch will erase all the files.
“So what do we do?” I hold up the drive between my forefinger and thumb.
Dev stares at it. “We take it to the secure facility. Finn and Doc are already waiting.”
I want to ask him if told Finn what he was looking for here, what he expected to find. I hope so.
But that’s also between him and Finn. And I’m also desperate to see what’s on this drive, if it holds what Dev needs. So I don’t.
“Let’s go then” is all I say. The rest can wait.
Chapter 18
Finn and Doc were already waiting when we arrived at the secure facility. And when I told them we pulled the USB drive out of a hiding spot in Fuchs’s off
ice, they didn’t ask any more questions—they immediately got to work.
I wouldn’t have been able to answer them anyway. I’ve hardly been able to breathe since we found it.
My parents are so close. I can feel it.
Finn is on video chat with Minerva, the two of them speaking in low voices as Finn types into a command window. I can catch snatches of their conversation: “Maybe that might work… Nope, try… Oh, we’re getting…”
Anjelica and Doc are sitting together, talking about Doc’s brother. Doc’s been working on getting his conviction overturned with Finn’s help. And Elliot’s, although probably less now that he and Minerva are in hiding.
“It’s just such a slog,” Doc is saying. “For every step forward we take, there’s two back. And the waiting… The judge just keeps pushing back the dates as if this isn’t about a real, living being, only a pile of paperwork.”
The sympathy in Anjelica’s expression is radiant. It makes my chest ache, how deeply she feels for Doc and her brother. There might even be tears shining in her eyes, although she makes encouraging noises to Doc. I hear you. I share your pain. Your tempered hope.
People love Anjelica because she feels their hopes and sorrows as deeply as they do. I can’t even imagine what that’s like, to take on other people’s emotions along with your own. Doesn’t it hurt? Doesn’t it weigh on her?
Maybe that’s why I need her. She can feel the things for me I can’t anymore. But she seems convinced I can, if I just try.
Maybe whatever is on this USB drive will let me do that.
“Yes!” Finn pounds his fists on the table. “We’re in.”
We crowd around his monitor. On the video chat, Elliot pokes his head next to Minerva. She turns to smile at him, her expression absolutely glowing. And Elliot… glows back. I never thought either of them could ever look like that.
I don’t wear that expression when I look at Anjelica. But I understand it.
“What’s in there?” Anjelica asks Finn.
“Yeah, what is it?” Doc leans over his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him.
“It’s us,” he says.
And sure enough, there are folders labeled with our names—all the Bastards and Anjelica. There’s one for Callie, one for Doc, and even one for Grace. Minerva’s not there, but that’s because this must have been made before she escaped Corvus. Fuchs must have trusted her until the very end.
No one moves as we look at the screen. That folder with my name on it could have everything I’ve ever been looking for. My entire identity, just a click away.
But everyone is watching. I can handle Anjelica seeing what’s inside there, but others… A cold sweat breaks out on my skin.
“You’ve got a file here,” Finn says to Elliot. “But Emily, you don’t.”
The relief on Emily’s face is clear even through the spotty video link. “Thanks,” she says. She and Elliot share a look. “We’ll hang up now, but can you send us Elliot’s file?”
“Sure thing.” Finn calls up a command window, sends off the files. “Done. Thanks for your help.”
No one asks me if the files should be sent. I suppose my bringing it to Finn has made it communal property, not that I really object. Just as long as no one sees what’s in my folder.
Once they’re gone, we go back to staring at the files. I’ve never wanted to open something more, and I’ve never wanted to be alone more. I can’t wait to see what’s there, but I’d rather peel my skin off than show that to Finn or Doc.
“Open mine,” Doc says.
“You sure, babe?” Finn looks over his shoulder at her.
“Yeah.” She reaches for the mouse, clicks on the files. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
In the end, she’s right. There’s a lot about her brother and the panopticon program and her involvement in the protests against it, but nothing we didn’t know. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Finn watches her carefully as she looks through the files. “You okay?” he asks when she closes the last one.
“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. “I’d guessed that he knew it was my brother he put in prison, but seeing it… I’m okay.” She squeezes him once. “Now do yours.”
“Oh shit.” Finn sighs. “Mine’s gonna be way worse.”
Except it isn’t. It’s mostly about the public works Finn has financed in his hometown.
“You…” Anjelica points to a photo of a massive sports complex that Finn gave money for. “You’ve rebuilt an entire town.”
Finn looks like a kid called to the principal’s office, except with tattoos and a beard. “No. That’s…” He shifts uncomfortably.
“He doesn’t like anybody to know that he’s not always a hacker bad boy,” Doc stage-whispers to Anjelica. “He doesn’t want to ruin his rep.”
I already knew most of this about Finn—he told me bits and pieces and I put it all together—but I understand the impulse to hide it. Even if it is something that can only make him look good.
Anjelica laughs, then slowly her expression freezes. “We probably shouldn’t look at anyone else’s files if they’re not here. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Yeah,” Finn says slowly. “We should send them the files unopened.”
There’s a heavy pause. Finn and Doc opened theirs… but Anjelica and I haven’t. Finn and Doc aren’t going to force us to, but there’s still the imbalance there.
“Open mine.” Anjelica’s voice is firm. Determined.
“You don’t—” I stop when she pins me with a defiant look.
“I’m not afraid.”
I don’t know if she means I shouldn’t be either. Afraid isn’t the right word for how I feel. It’s much deeper and darker than that. It’s a lifetime of wanting and waiting building in me. Not fear.
“Here.” Finn gets up, offering his chair to Anjelica. “We can…” A look passes between him and Doc.
Anjelica takes the chair, faces the monitor. “It’s okay. I think I know what’s in there. I don’t mind if you see.”
With that, she clicks open the folder. There’s some stuff about where she’s from, where she went to college, what people at Rhodes Partners said about her when she worked there.
And an engagement announcement. It’s a scanned-in copy of a paper original, a picture of her with some dude, gazing happily into each other’s eyes, the text declaring that Anjelica Caprice and Kaleb Younger are going to spend the rest of their lives together.
Anjelica doesn’t react to the image. This is her pain, but she reacted more strongly to Doc’s pain.
And Kaleb… I squint at his image as I realize that it’s the neighbor. The one she grew up with, the one who still lives next door to her parents. She was going to marry him. Spend the rest of her life with him.
A bolt of pure, sickening jealousy spears me. I have no right to feel it since this was well before she ever met me and I have no hold on her at all—I explicitly gave that up, in fact—but it’s still very real. Very potent.
I hate Kaleb. Mostly for the fact that he hurt her. He could have spent his whole life with her, but he fucking blew it.
She closes the image, clicks through the next few pictures in the folder. A wedding announcement for Kaleb—with someone else as the bride—flashes past, along with several birth announcements for Kaleb’s kids.
Kaleb looks like he’s having a very nice life. Something that Anjelica would normally cheer, but the fact that Fuchs saved these means that it hurts her. Badly.
This was a life that she wanted at some point. A husband, kids. An intact family. Something I’ve never known.
No one is saying anything. My hand reaches out, settles on Anjelica’s shoulder. I’m surprised to see myself do that, and yet not. She needs comfort. I can at least put my hand on her shoulder.
I hold in my darker emotions. She doesn’t need to see those.
“We can close it up.” I mean the entire drive, just shut all this down for the night and face the ugly surprises Fuchs has for
us later.
I’ve waited this long to meet my parents. I can wait a little longer if it will spare Anjelica.
She shakes her head. “No, it really is fine. It was so long ago… it’s silly that it still hurts.”
“It’s not silly at all,” Doc insists.
Anjelica sinks farther into the chair, breaking our contact. “I should have told all of you about this years ago. Kaleb and I grew up together. Our parents bought houses next door to each other at the same time. Had kids at the same time. We were like a big happy family. Kaleb and I started to have feelings for each other in high school, and it all felt so natural. Of course we’d fall in love.”
I’d phrase that differently—of course he fell in love with Anjelica. So why did he leave her? Or what did he do to make her leave him?
Anjelica gives us a bleak smile. “Kaleb and I went to college together, along with a group of our friends. We were going to get married, move home when we were finished… It was like we had this entire happy existence mapped out, one that we were already living.”
We all seem to hold our breath, waiting for the bad ending we know is coming. I might be holding my breath the hardest.
“But it turned out that the entire time we were at college, Kaleb was seeing a girl still in our hometown.”
Doc gasps. “Oh no.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” Anjelica says. She’s trying for funny, but it’s not hitting.
I want her to stop this. We can all fill in the rest; she doesn’t have to expose herself like this. I’m hurting so much for her, which means she’s hurting even worse.
But she doesn’t. It’s almost as if getting all this out, walking through the pain, is helping her. “The reason it all came out is because this girl—Harper, his wife now—got pregnant.”
That falls like a stone into a bottomless well. Anjelica’s not looking at any of us, staring at her knee instead. I want to put myself between her and everyone else, to hide her from this rawness.
But I don’t think she needs it. I just… I don’t understand how she can do this.
“Oh, Anjelica.” Doc covers her mouth with her hand.
“Fuck, man,” Finn mutters. “Do you want me to go find this fucker?”
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