A Rumor of Real Irish Tea (Annals of Altair Book 2)

by Kate Stradling

  “That’s the guy I shot at,” said Hummer proudly. “According to that report, I hit him once, too. And he’s the principal of Prom-E, the shadow campus. If he ever gets us there he’ll make our lives absolutely miserable.”

  “You know how many kids back at Prom-F would kill for this information?” Hawk asked.

  “All of ’em,” answered Hummer. He rifled through a couple more pages. “I hate to say this, but it looks like the GCA isn’t going to pull their punches anymore. Their plans are getting more aggressive. Your friend Smith may have been right about our options.”

  The file was divided into four distinct sections: first, a roster; second, the individual bios; third, a record of the Wests’ known movements and the GCA’s counter-movements thus far; and fourth, Altair’s two options to resolve the situation. The first of these options was a clear-cut plan to smuggle the children from the country, just as Smith had said. The second was branded under the ominous label, “Return to GCA Custody.”

  Hummer flipped through the options section with a deepening frown. “Hawk, you really need to have a look at this.” He proffered the pages to his older brother. “These people know what they’re doing. They have everything planned, right down to the minute. There’s definitely some risk, but I think we should at least consider the help they’re offering us.”

  This speech was intriguing enough to get Hawk up off the floor. He took the pages from Hummer with a wary glance and settled down to read. Honey and Happy joined him on either side, curious.

  “This is too dangerous,” he said as he scanned the text. “If even one thing goes wrong—one vehicle transfer, one checkpoint inspection—we’d be back in the GCA’s clutches forever.”

  “We’ll be back in their clutches anyway if we keep running around blind like we are,” Hummer said. “But if Altair can deliver the results they’re promising—”

  “That’s a pretty big if.”

  He wasn’t going to let the issue drop. “How much longer can we do this on our own? We’re living out of backpacks from day to day and place to place, and we all know that sooner or later we’re going to slip up and get caught unless we catch a break. This might be our only break.”

  “If we can trust them,” said Honey grimly.

  “We only have forty-eight hours to decide,” Hummer reminded them both. “I think after that, the window of opportunity will close. There’s a number here to call once we’ve made our decision, and it says they left a cell phone in the fruit basket. Our contact’s name is Ruth.”

  Hawk shook his head and looked away. He didn’t know how to answer, because he didn’t know what kind of sense to make of Altair. They provided options to help, but those options were nothing that the Wests had anticipated or wanted. If they accepted, the four children would have to give up searching for their parents, and they would spend the rest of their adolescent years wherever Altair deposited them.

  The past month on the run had taught him one thing, though. “We have to get away from the GCA. We’ll never be able to do anything as long as they’re tracking us.”

  The four siblings exchanged a solemn glance. On that one point they were in total agreement.

  XXIV

  The Big Break

  August 4, 7:14pm mst, GCA Regional Office, Central Phoenix

  “How much longer are we going to be here?”

  Emily glanced toward Quincy, who had asked the question, and Alyson, who studied the wall as though she hadn’t heard. The pair, along with Emily and Oliver, had spent their entire afternoon and evening in one corner of General Stone’s conference room doing absolutely nothing.

  Everything was still a mess. Even though General Stone had calmed from his furor of the day before, he was still short-tempered and expected his orders to be obeyed almost before he gave them. He had kept the two null-projectors in his sight for most of the day, but with no work for them to do.

  A few new faces had cycled through to speak with him, though, which made Emily wonder if there were projectors among them.

  “How much longer?” Quincy asked again, an edge to her voice.

  Alyson ventured a timid glance toward the austere general at the far end of the conference table. She whispered, “I’m sure it won’t be long. Maybe we can ask Mr. Birchard when he comes back again.”

  Quincy made a contemptuous face and fixed her eyes on the ceiling. Ben had waylaid her attempt to speak with General Stone the day before in much the same manner that he had kept Emily and Oliver away. Quincy had been in a sulk ever since, with very little charity to spare toward anyone, especially the ubiquitous “Mr. Birchard.”

  Ben had been in and out of the room all day, always on his phone as he came and went. He had paid the group in the corner little heed, except to check that they had food and drinks available to them. Emily had her doubts on whether he would be able to give them an estimate on their time of departure. He was just as much General Stone’s pawn as they were.

  It surprised her that her opinion of someone could change in such a short period of time. Her gratitude toward Ben for his quick actions on Saturday night had been the catalyst. He had interceded to help Oliver—and in so doing, her as well—when everyone else had been focused on the chaos around them. Her previous dislike of him was mostly petty, born from irritation at his smug, sure knowledge of the world around him. She had seen a different side of him since that night, though. He was rattled just like everyone else, scrambling to get the information he needed to make things right.

  It wasn’t a sudden crush on the hero who had swooped in to save her. She just understood him a little better, that was all.

  Alyson, now, she did have a crush. She got flustered and nervous every time he entered the room. Since she was generally a flustered person anyway, her heightened mannerisms became that much more obvious.

  He appeared again, finishing yet another phone call. Alyson straightened in a pathetic attempt to catch his eye. Next to Emily, Oliver emitted a scornful grunt. She glanced to him in disapproval.

  Ben remained oblivious to any of these movements, his attention fixed only on his boss. “Agent Knox is on his way with the intel reports from this afternoon.”

  “About time,” Stone said grumpily. “Have you learned anything from your little network of contacts?”

  “Not yet, but they all know to keep their ears to the ground.”

  The general raised suspicious eyes. For a moment he said nothing. Then, “You will inform me the moment anything comes through.”

  “Of course,” said Ben with a curt nod. He shifted his attention to the corner as Agent Knox appeared at the doorway. The man’s advent gave him excuse to move away from his belligerent superior.

  “How are things over here?” he asked the group of four in a low voice.

  “When can we go?” Quincy demanded outright.

  Ben laughed, a brief indulgence of levity in the midst of what had obviously been a stressful day. “I have no idea. You must be bored silly by now.”

  “Quit sucking up, Birchard,” she snapped, much to Alyson’s horror.

  He didn’t take offense. Instead, he replied in modest protest, “But that’s what I do best. You know that, Quincy.”

  “Has there been any word about the Wests?” Oliver asked.

  “The hotline’s had its usual share of reports,” he said. “Until we have something concrete, we’re back to the old plan of attack, which is not to attack at all. None of the reports panned out for the GCA agents sent to investigate, though.”

  “They’re long gone,” said Quincy. “There’s nothing to keep them here.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing but Altair. Whether that’s enough of an incentive for them to stay in the area, we don’t know, but we should shortly.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily asked sharply.

  “The GCA has a long list of alleged insurrectionists, and an even longer list of phone taps. Altair has stayed below the radar for the last few years, but they’re tra
ceable. If they make contact with the Wests and agree to help them, we’ll know and we’ll intercede. We’ll be the ones to ambush them this time.”

  “Only if they don’t outsmart you again first,” said Oliver darkly.

  Ben grimaced, but he was saved the trouble of replying when his phone rang. “Hello?” he said, more than willing to turn away from the present conversation. “Yes, that’s right. How can I help you? You have? Are you sure?” He made a sudden, swift motion to catch General Stone’s attention. “Understood,” he said into the phone. He grabbed a pen and scribbled something on the nearest piece of paper. “You know what procedure to follow? We’ll do our part on this end, then. Thank you.”

  He hung up, well aware that all eyes in the room were fixed upon him. “That was my contact at Central,” he said grimly. “They’ve picked up chatter on one of the phone taps. Altair made contact with the kids, and they’re planning to smuggle them out of the country within the next twenty-four hours. And this,” he added, holding up his scribble for the man to see, “is the safe house where they’re staying until then.”

  General Stone was out of his chair in an instant. Ben met him halfway to pass the address into his eager hands. “You’re sure this is the right place?” the general asked suspiciously.

  “No,” said Ben. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to kick in the front door and wrap this up before the nine o’clock news. Knox! Cross-reference this address in our database to see if it raises any red flags. And get the elite retrieval squad ready. I want that house surrounded with agents in ten minutes flat. Birchard, call Veronica at NPNN. Where are the satellite images of this area?”

  He was in full assault mode, storming about the room and shouting orders at everyone.

  Ben turned on his phone only to have it chirp at him. “Are you kidding?” he muttered in disbelief, to no one in particular. Then, he turned to Emily with a desperate expression. “Can I borrow your phone? My battery’s dying, and if I don’t get this call made, Stone’s going to tear my head off.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alyson scrambling to locate her cell phone instead. Emily slipped her own from her pocket and handed it over.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” said Ben gratefully. He turned away as he punched in the numbers for his phone call to Veronica.

  Emily patently ignored Alyson’s venomous glare. Oliver’s was more difficult to avoid. “What?” she asked him defensively.

  “Nothing,” he grumbled, and he fixed his gaze on the wall.

  “Veronica’s on her way to the site,” Ben said to General Stone two minutes later. He handed back Emily her phone.

  Stone looked up from the maps he was poring over. “Good. Call the South Phoenix branch and make sure their men have mobilized. Then get everyone down to the vans.”

  Alyson leapt forward with her cell before Ben could ask for Emily’s again. “Thank you,” he said as he took it, a charming smile on his face.

  She blushed and tittered.

  “We’re just moving out?” Emily asked Oliver in a low voice. “What about all of the planning, like on Saturday night?”

  “I’m guessing the elite retrieval squad has infiltrated their fair share of homes,” he replied dryly. “It doesn’t take as much preparation as the warehouse district.”

  “They could do this sort of thing in their sleep,” said Ben, who had finished his quick phone call. He proffered the phone to Alyson.

  “You… you can keep it longer. Y’know, in case you need to make any more calls,” she nervously said.

  “Creepy,” Oliver muttered under his breath.

  Ben thanked her with a charming smile and tucked the phone into his pocket. “Let’s go,” he said. “Same procedure as last time: Quincy, you’re in General Stone’s car. Oliver, you’re in the second retrieval van.”

  Emily experienced a keen sense of déjà vu as they filed to the basement garage, where black-clad agents were receiving their tranquilizer guns. “How can they be sure there’s not another rat?” she asked Ben.

  “There’s not,” he said with complete certainty. “Not among this group—they’ve all been questioned by Veronica and a couple other projectors that Secretary Allen sent. This time there’ll be no mistakes.”

  “There’d better not be,” said Oliver.

  They split up to climb into their appropriate vehicles. In no time at all, they were barreling down the road to a central Phoenix neighborhood. Emily could see the same grim determination on Oliver’s face reflected in the face of every agent around her. She only hoped that Ben’s informant was correct, that this was the right house.

  They parked halfway down the block to let all the agents out. To Emily’s great surprise, she and Oliver were ordered to remain behind. “This is going to be the command van,” said the driver in answer to her confused expression. The next moment, General Stone himself climbed up into the front seat, and Quincy appeared at the back with Alyson and Ben in tow.

  Stone had a handheld radio. “Is everyone in position?” he asked into it.

  A man’s voice on the other end answered. “Front and back doors are both covered. Waiting for your command.”

  “Where’s Veronica?” General Stone asked Ben.

  “She’s with the news van, parked at the other end of the street.”

  “Remind them not to record us entering the house.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Ben, and he immediately phoned the news reporter to relay that information.

  “All units at the ready,” Stone commanded. Each squad leader reported back a confirmation. Then, “Go ahead,” said Stone to the driver.

  Emily had wondered how Oliver was supposed to block a projection from halfway down the street, but now the van drove boldly forward and parked in the driveway of the presumed safe house.

  “We’re in position,” said General Stone. “Take the house.”

  She leaned forward, and through the driver’s window she saw several dark figures emerge from the shadows to rush the front door. They kicked it in with a loud clatter and shouted commands for the occupants to put their hands on their heads.

  “Front door breached,” said a voice on the radio.

  “Back door breached,” said another.

  “We have visual contact.”

  “Put your weapons down! Weapons down, and hands on your heads!”

  There was shouting and the sound of some scuffling. Emily thought she might die from the pressure of that tense moment. Then, “Four targets have been captured, General,” said the first voice. “The rest of the house is clear.”

  “Let’s go,” said General Stone smugly, and he exited the vehicle.

  Ben motioned Quincy and Oliver to go in front of him. “Now comes the fun part,” he said to Emily. “The cover-up.”

  She followed at the rear of the column that entered the house: General Stone first, then Oliver, Quincy, Alyson, and Ben. The inside was a sea of black-clad agents. “Get that van out of the driveway, Birchard,” General Stone barked, “and tell Veronica to get ready to record.”

  “I’m on it,” said Ben, and he slipped back out the door.

  The sea of agents parted for Stone and his minions. Emily half-expected some innocent family under arrest in front of her. Her stomach twisted when she saw Hawk, Hummer, Honey, and Happy West sitting in a row on the couch. Their hands had been cuffed, and their faces wore mirror-image rebellious expressions.

  General Stone paced in front of them. “Your little run is finally at an end. I’m here to offer you back your home at Prometheus—at the E campus this time, of course.”

  They sullenly ignored him.

  Agent Knox in his black uniform stepped forward to report. “They were carrying the tranquilizer guns they stole. We’ve confiscated them, along with their supplies. How do you want to proceed?”

  “Was there anything else in the house?”

  “Just a basket of fruit. There are some ashes in the fireplace, though, so we suspect the
y burned something.”

  “What was it?” he asked Hawk, who raised his nose haughtily. General Stone caught his chin. “What was it, boy?” he repeated in a menacing tone.

  Hawk jerked away with a voiceless sneer. At the other end of the couch, Happy burrowed his face into his sister’s shoulder. “We didn’t burn anything,” she said belligerently.

  “Honey, shush,” Hummer said.

  “I’ll have the truth from all of you soon enough,” said General Stone. “Where’s Birchard?”

  “Here, sir.” Ben pushed his way in from the door, a box in his hands. “Veronica’s in the right spot, and I’ve brought the blankets. Did you want to add these two to the list of victims?” He tipped his head toward Quincy and Oliver. “Six instead of four would heighten the drama and vilify the insurrectionists that much more.”

  Emily looked between the two men in alarm. Ben seemed almost to be enjoying himself, and General Stone had a steely look in his eyes that did not bode well.

  “If there are enough blankets, I don’t see why we shouldn’t put the nulls with them,” said Stone. “They’ll have to be transported with them anyway. Is Veronica ready to record? I need all but five of you men out of here. Those who stay behind need to keep their weapons out of sight when they escort our rescued little lambs out to safety.”

  “The public doesn’t like to see armed men leading children around,” Ben told Emily in a low voice. “At least, that’s what all our focus groups say.”

  Then, he handed a blanket to Oliver. “Put that around your shoulders and act like you’ve just been rescued from the most harrowing experience of your life.” He moved on to Quincy, to whom he issued the same instructions.

  Emily noticed the girl looking in Hawk’s direction, trying to catch his eye with a wordless apology. Hawk kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, though.

  “Stand up, you four,” Ben said. “We’re going to put blankets around you, and you’re going to keep them around you until you’re loaded safely into the van.” He made a great show of slinging the first blanket around Hummer’s shoulders and tucking the ends into his handcuffed hands. Hummer glared at him.