My mouth is hanging open. I knew the Fronters were tangled up with the government somehow—I’ve known that since Julian’s assassination—but this level of calculation? Why did I think the president would be any less of a ghoul than Wright?
“Save your shock, Zeph.” He seems annoyed now. “You’re far from innocent.”
I’m about to protest, but I shut my mouth in time.
He tips his head. “Tiller’s orbs are the right solution—he just deployed too soon. Now I need to reassure the public that we have a viable plan to deal with the jacker menace, one that will let readers rest comfortably at night knowing their government has kept them safe. We need a successful demonstration of our power to do that, and we need it now. Before this gets too far away from us.”
I frown. Too far away? So the president’s feeling the heat? That can’t just be the Jackertown slaughter—it must be the reaction to it. A reaction that Kira and Tessa and Juliette with her data are pushing with all they’ve got. They’re providing the heat, and Torquin is feeling it. Wright, too, judging by her insistence on accelerating the Obedients program.
And I’m smack in the middle of it all.
“What kind of demonstration?” I ask. Because I’ve got the edges of an idea forming—a dangerous idea, and one that could completely go south, but then again, it could work.
He gives a small smile. “You’re smart. Like your father. That’ll serve you well, Zeph.”
By smart I think he means doing what the president wants. But the mention of my father rubs me the wrong way. “Guess you designed me that way.”
He smiles with more teeth, the way a shark does when it’s getting ready to eat you. “Tomorrow, I’m hosting a rally with our newly elected Senator from Illinois. We’ll release some prisoners from the Detention Center—a magnanimous display, a pardon by the president to show we have nothing but goodwill towards jackers. But the condition of their release will be conversion. I’ll bring out the orbs to demonstrate for the cameras. And lo and behold, these dangerous criminals will be converted to ordinary law-abiding readers by the power of technology!” His voice lifts at the end, and I can almost see him conducting this circus.
“Only the orbs don’t work.”
“Oh, but they will.” There’s a hard gleam in his eyes. “You’ll make sure of that, won’t you? Because I know you can, Zephyr MacCay. Any jacker the orbs fail to convert, you will, from a safely hidden position backstage. And in a final bid for reassurance—and to satisfy a little of that bloodlust—we’ll reserve three as incorrigible cases. Jackers who fail to be turned. That’s when you’ll create the finale, Zeph.”
“How’s that?” I’m horrified and not even trying to keep that off my face.
“You’ll make them Obedients, of course.” A smirk twitches at his lips. “It’ll be red meat for my supporters, those who want jackers controlled just as they fear jackers will control them. The majority of jackers will be simply rendered impotent—redeemed by returning to their natural reader state—but a few will pay the price for the sins of the rest. As Obedients, they’re completely controllable by readers but supremely dangerous to jackers. Wright’s invention is truly inspired in that regard.”
My mind is grappling with the horror of all this while trying to spin my way to an alternate plan, some way to subvert this insanity. “Is that really necessary? I mean, couldn’t we just…” I trail off because Torquin’s smirk transforms into something that’s stopping the words in my throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a way that’s not sorry at all. “I shouldn’t have let you think this was open to negotiation. You’ll do this, Zeph—or I will destroy you and everything you love.”
My mouth drops open. “I just meant—”
“No.” Torquin holds up his hand to stop me mid-sentence. “Let me be clear since you can’t read my thoughts and see the utter sincerity of my intent.”
I shut my mouth and swallow.
He leans back, now casually gesturing with his hand. “I will use you, Zephyr—your only choice is how.” All pretense is gone—this is the president in his normal suit, having discarded the human one. “You’re part of a conspiracy to kill the President of the United States. In fact, you are the hidden jacker that the country has been thirsting to be brought to justice.”
My heart is thudding, but I know better than to say anything.
He goes on. “We have you on tape at Jackertown. In Tiller’s office. As I told you before, Zeph—I know everything. It will take no effort at all to pin you as the jacker who assassinated the president. I doubt even I could pardon you at that point. You will almost certainly get the death penalty while providing a useful catharsis to a nation still grieving the loss of a beloved president to a vicious internal menace. One who tore apart his mind with fear. Any attempt to implicate anyone else in the conspiracy will be met with jeers.”
I’m having a hard time drawing a normal breath. He could do it. He would do it, no question—the only wonder is that he hasn’t done it already.
“Or,” Torquin says, leaning forward again, “you could do precisely as I require until such time as your government no longer needs your services. And I do have other plans for you, Zeph, beyond tomorrow. You should understand, the future is lost for jackers—they will become us once again, or they will perish. That is the only way to restore stability to our world. It won’t go well for jackers in general, but it could go very well for you… if you play this right. However, I need your utter and unquestioned loyalty, son. There is no other way this can work.”
My mouth is moving, but nothing’s coming out. I have to agree—there isn’t a choice. But there’s a rushing sound in my ears that makes me feel like I’m drowning.
“Can I count on you to do what’s right for your country, Zeph?”
“I… um…” I’m literally choking.
He waves off my stuttering. “It’s all right. I know this is a shock, and you’ll need some time to process. Not much, mind you, as I need you onboard for tomorrow. So here’s what you do. You return to the base. You turn Director Beatrix Wright into an Obedient. And you report back to me. Once you’ve done that, I’ll know you’re fully in.”
“Wait, what?” I blurt out. “You want me to turn Wright?”
“She’s a liability.” He shrugs. “She knows too much, and she has ambitions to control this army of Obedients she’s creating.”
I gape, but he’s not wrong about that.
“She would have been eliminated eventually anyway,” Torquin continues, as if speaking about taking out the trash. “Some people are too hungry for power to be trusted. Wright wants to build an army—an army of jackers who answer solely to her. Surely you can see how that’s unacceptable.”
“But if you knew she was doing it…” My brain is getting whiplash with the hypocrisy of this guy.
“Oh, she’s been extremely useful until now,” he says like this is obvious. “And an army of Obedients is the perfect threat to hang over jackers who might not voluntarily come in for conversion. But they have to be under my control, Zeph. I am the Commander in Chief, after all. And you… well, the man who creates my army of Obedients, who is able to with the flick of his mind subdue the entire jacker menace? That man would be very powerful and very wealthy. Surely you can see that.”
Until I’m not—until I’m a liability like Wright. I don’t know if Torquin means to leave that implication hanging in the air, but it hovers over me like a guillotine.
“Yeah. I can see that.”
He brightens and stands up from his chair. “Excellent! Ailsberg will provide you with a phone. Just drop me a vid of Wright when the deed is done, and we’ll make arrangements for tomorrow.”
I hustle up to standing.
“Walk with me,” he says as if we’re the best of pals, and he wants to impart some last-minute advice.
I fall into step beside him, watching my feet, so I don’t trip because the whole thing is so surreal. Plus there’s a full-body
tremor that’s shaking me to my core. I don’t know if it’s fear or anger or outrage—maybe all three.
“I knew you had potential, Zeph,” Torquin says, walking me toward the front of the gallery. “As soon as I saw you strike down your sister in cold blood for the cameras.”
I flick a look at him.
He grins. “Oh, I know she’s alive. That made it all the more masterful. You were made for this role, Zeph—literally—but we’re truly fortunate you’ve such a talent for deception.”
We’re getting close to the front—within earshot of Ailsberg and the two Secret Service agents, so I keep my mouth shut. I figure Torquin doesn’t want a response from me anyway.
He gives a nod to Ailsberg, who slithers up to my side.
Then Torquin lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Glad to have you on board, son. Believe me—you’re doing something truly important here. And it’s going to bring a long-needed peace to our country. You can be proud of that.”
Peace. The kind that’s built on the obliterated minds of jackers.
Torquin straightens his jacket and strides toward the atrium, his two Secret Service agents falling in line behind him. I wait, giving him plenty of lead to leave the building before me.
Ailsberg rattles on about something and hands me a phone.
My direct line to the president.
I look at it and wonder what the odds are of me surviving any of this.
I’ve been on the phone half the afternoon.
Coordinating with Scott and Tessa and Kira. Making plans with Juliette and Sammi. I even got to talk to Jiaying about Rutkowski and how he’s enjoying his new life as a reader in a jacker prison—assuming he’s still alive. I left that part unspoken.
We’ve got plans for the president’s demonstration tomorrow—and my role in it—but I’m far from the only player. Everyone has a part, and despite all our preparations, I’m not sure we’ll get any of it to work. And if we don’t, I will be the country’s most-hated jacker. And headed for the electric chair.
I haven’t told anyone that part—not even Tessa.
If it happens, they won’t be able to miss it.
Wright must not be monitoring my phone, or she’d have stormed my apartment by now—but I can’t put off visiting her any longer. It’s only been a few hours since my armchair meeting with the president, but if I wait too long to send Torquin his proof, he’ll think I’m hesitating. Or running for Wisconsin. Or plotting a way to bring down his entire presidency.
I hope he won’t think I’m capable of that last one. Or stupid enough to try.
I’m definitely stupid enough.
But I’m not sure how much surprise we have on our side. A guy like Torquin may not know everything… but he knows way more than I do about the levers of power and how to pull them. I’m punching way above my weight class—and the first round is today, with Wright. Right now. If I can just force myself out the door.
Stop stalling, Zeph.
I shove my phone in my pocket and make myself walk.
The base has electric carts scattered all over, so I snag one and jack an autopath to the Obedient’s dorm. Wright showed it to me after I converted Anna—something I need to undo before this is all over—and I get the sense that Wright likes hanging out there. If she’s not at the dorm, I’ll have to resort to calling her.
I arrive at the two-story barracks-style housing—it’s stuck in a corner of the base that’s out of the way. When I pass the check-in station, the young reader orderly gives me a wary look but doesn’t try to stop me. She’s a civilian—probably a DARPA employee, not regular base personnel—and she keeps the Obedients housed and fed. They each have an identical bunk with a thin, gray blanket, a single white-sheet pillow, and loose-fitting clothes all the same steel-gray—just like the recruits on base, only the Obedients don’t just follow orders. They literally don’t do anything unless they’re told to. The orderly makes sure they take care of the normal functions of life… the ones they no longer remember how to do. Not a job I envy, but the Obedients are highly suggestible to reader mindwaves, so it’s not hard work, if tedious.
Only right now, there’s a fight going on inside.
I throw an inquisitive look at the orderly as I hurry into the main bunk room, but she just shrugs and goes back to her screen. Wright’s here, but she’s not stopping the fight—it looks like she’s orchestrating it. She’s cleared out a central area where two Obedients are wrestling on the floor—one female and physically small, the other male and also fairly lean. Wright’s gaze is intense, locked on them, which means she doesn’t see me, too wrapped up in controlling their violence with her thought waves. Punches are being thrown, legs are being kicked—one already has a bloody lip and the other a black eye.
“Wright!” I call out even before I reach the center of the barrack. “What the hell?”
The Obedients lose their grip on each other and fall to the floor. They stay down, suddenly inert, like puppets whose strings have been cut.
“Mr. MacCay,” Wright clips at me. “If you could refrain from interrupting the training session—”
“They’re beating the crap out of each other!” I arrive at her side with my hands in the air—I can’t believe she’s playing some kind of blood sport with people under her control. I’ve met jackers who were worse people than Wright—but not many.
“Obviously.” She gives me a look like I’m an idiot, but at least I’ve broken it up. The Obedients climb to their feet and head to the nearest bunks to take a seat. The one with the bloody lip doesn’t even wipe the small rivulet of bright red as it drips down her face.
I’m tempted to just spin Wright’s mindfield and turn her into one of them. It would be fair—one could even argue it would be justice embodied—but doing Torquin’s dirty work won’t get me what I want from Wright.
She smooths down her white suit jacket. “I presume you didn’t do anything tremendously stupid during your meeting with the president. Given that you’ve been allowed to return.” Her voice has hiked up. And she has every right to be nervous.
“No, it was pretty terrible.”
She flinches, ever so slightly, just the twitch of one eye. “I told you—your cooperation is essential—”
“Wright.” Cutting her off just makes her more steamed. “He wants me to make you an Obedient.”
She blinks. Twice. In theory, she could set all her Obedients on me at once, something I didn’t quite consider before bringing this up here.
“But I’m not,” I say, hands up, placating. “No one deserves that fate.” I nod toward the beaten-up Obedients then sweep a quick look around the barrack. At least twenty-five are within her thought range. I can reach further, but all I can do is spin their mindfields—and that’s a delicate operation if I don’t want to kill them. But I can’t control any of them.
“He wants… he told you…” She’s still sputtering. “You are lying!” She spits it with impressive venom, but I’ve never seen Wright more scared.
“I’m really not.” I glance warily at the Obedients. A few of them have risen up from their beds. I don’t think she’s even consciously controlling them—they’re just responding to the epic cursing that must be raging through her mind, directed at me. I link into her head. Tell them to back down, Wright. Let’s pretend we’re civilized and talk this out.
Get out of my head. Her lips twitch. Or I will have them tear you to pieces.
I sigh and pull out. “You and your army here…” I sweep a hand across around the room. There are at least forty Obedients, and I know there are more upstairs. Anna and Renell are on this level, lying quietly on their bunks at the far end, but they’re no help, not unless I convert them. Which I can’t do while under attack. “The president thinks they’re a threat to him. He wants them answering only to him. And you know too much, Wright. He sees you as a liability.”
I can see the doubt and then the horror creep into her eyes.
I dig out the phone that the pres
ident’s flunky gave me and wave it at her. “I’m supposed to turn you into an Obedient then take a vid and send it to him. Once I do that, I’m in with him for good. And he’s got all kinds of plans for me—including a demonstration tomorrow where I’m supposed to convert a bunch of jackers into Obedients real-time for the cameras.”
Her eyes are getting wider.
“He’s cutting out the intermediary between him and me,” I add. “And that’s you, Wright.”
Her eyes narrow, and her lips press together, but I think she believes me. “Why are you telling me all this instead of…”
“Instead of turning you?” I flick a look at the bloodied Obedients. “It’s not because I like you, I can promise you that.”
My honesty makes her relax a little. “What do you want?” This has to be more familiar ground for her—and that’s just where I need her to be. Not panicked. Semi-rational. Looking out for her own interests, like she always does.
“I need everything you’ve got.” I take a breath because this is the danger zone—this is where Wright either picks up her own direct line to the president and tells him I’ve gone off plan, threatening her and betraying him or where she believes I’m crazy enough to take on the president.
She measures me with her eyes. Finally, she says, “You want information. For your revolutionary friends.”
“This is all or nothing,” I say, which is true. “You’re in deep with all of it. The experiments. The Obedients. The orbs. Tiller. Torquin. The plot to kill the president.” Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t stop me. “You can’t just leak that kind of thing. You need to go full whistleblower. Turn on all of them. Expose everything.”
She’s back to giving me a pinched look. “Or you will kill me.”
“Or Torquin will kill you,” I say coolly. “I’m just the weapon he’s pointed in your direction. If I don’t do it, how long do you think it will take him to find a different weapon?”
Broken Wide Page 19
