by T. K. Toppin
John knew Adam would never resort to self-termination. It meant that to commit suicide, he would have to bleed, hurt, or suffer. And with Adam’s phobias and quirks, he wouldn’t like any of those options; he would choose poison over anything else. But even that would mean he had to either ingest something foreign that wasn’t food or stick himself in the arm. Adam was already his own prisoner, the apartment merely the vessel he existed in.
“He’s asked for you—by name.”
“Me?” Adam frowned and cocked his head with a jerk. “But he doesn’t even know the real me. I was always careful to disguise myself. And I’m sure Uron—I mean, Max—did not divulge my secret to him. Ho was just a pawn. An important pawn, but dispensable all the same.”
“I know what your answer will be, but I have to ask. You know John will, too.” It was a little uncomfortable thinking of it, but I knew it needed saying.
“I did not contact him. How could I?” Adam spread his arms with a dramatic flair. “The fight has left me, Josie. You know that best of all.”
I nodded. He sounded deflated, tired. Like a resigned young man living in a shriveled old body. A body worn and beaten from sickness…and shame.
“John thinks there’s a leak.”
“He would think that. He may be right—oh, a problem to solve!” Adam widened his eyes. An alertness shot through him and I imagined his quick mind darting erratically, his blood pumping with excitement. He loved to solve problems. It was something he was good at.
“But from where, Adam? Everyone’s been so careful. People think you died that day. And there’s only the droids that secure this area. Even if you’ve been seen, no one really knows or remembers what you look like, or will even think you’re John’s brother.”
“Droids can be hacked.” Adam shrugged. “And as I recall, Max used a lot of techs to help him get into this place. If I remember correctly, quite a few of them managed to escape.”
“True. That’s why I don’t trust those fucking things,” I muttered.
“Josie!” Adam flinched.
It upset him that I cursed like an outdated pirate. Adam knew I was a pod-survivor, though he didn’t know the full truth. It was the one thing John insisted I never reveal to Adam. Knowing what Adam was like, I agreed, but sometimes I forgot myself. It was very difficult to keep a secret like that. Especially when the handful of people who did know were the people I saw most often. Besides Simon, Aline and her partner Rand knew, and so did Trudi. Of the fours others who also knew the truth, three were dead.
“Sorry. You know what I mean.” I moved to pace the confines of the terrace. The tension had permeated to the rest of my body and I had to walk it off. “But can they access the droids here?”
“Anything is possible. The Citadel is the most secure place in the world, yet it was broken into and taken under siege. John weeded most of the infiltrators, and we know some managed to slip through his fingers. Max had a long time to prepare for his day in the sun. Some could still be living among us. The leak could come from inside. Or…” Adam appeared to be mulling over an interesting thought. “Or Ho could just be bluffing. Guessing. Whatever he is, he is not stupid. I think maybe we should insist that I am dead—call him out and frustrate him. Confuse things a bit. Make him uncertain.”
“And is that the mind of a strategist at work?” John’s cool voice came from behind us.
Man, that was annoying. I groaned. John had the stealth of a ninja cat.
Adam sighed and turned in his chair. “Good morning, John.”
With a stiff nod, John inclined his head. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, but I saw his jaw flexing over something bitter. He would not look at Adam, and his head bowed lower than usual, like a bull about to charge. He was angry at something, probably me for wanting to give Adam a head’s up before the meeting. We’d had a brief argument earlier. John had wanted to catch Adam unawares, to see his reaction for himself. But for some inexplicable reason, I had wanted to tell Adam first.
“You have to admit, what he suggests makes some sense,” I said from beside Adam, watching as John worked to control his agitation.
“And as he implies, Ho is not a stupid man. If he wants to talk to Adam, then he must know he lives. And if, by showing off Adam, he tells us what it is he wants, then that’s what we will do.” John directed a cold glance at his brother. “This is not a game we play here.”
“Isn’t it?” Adam gave his brother an airy shrug. “Everything is a game. We just have to know the rules…and bend them to suit.”
“Get dressed.” John turned his back on his brother and looked at me. I gave him my best “whatever!” smirk and had the pleasure of seeing him momentarily falter. He cleared his throat. “We’re going sub-level to meet with Ho.”
Adam obliged, but not before huffing out a sigh. He gave off the appearance of someone who’d become quite accustomed to life in solitude, and leaving it was nothing short of an annoyance.
“What?” John kept his voice low and with a challenge in his tone.
“Nothing.” I raised a brow, noting the coldness in his voice; it seemed to match the mood he was in. I realized there was still a great deal to learn about my husband. His moods could turn in the blink of an eye, sometimes for no apparent reason. His mood earlier, after our disagreement, seemed milder than what I saw now. Either his glower had improved over time or I could only assume something had happened since then.
“You know, you speak to him like he’s a piece of shit,” I continued.
“I no longer trust him,” he replied, as if that explained everything.
I made a derisive noise. “He’s still your brother. He lives alone like a fucking shut-in and he said he was sorry. Can’t you see the regret on his face? How sick he is? He needs help, not your scorn.”
John sighed with something like impatience.
It was an argument—a sore point—that we replayed over and over again. It varied slightly with each venting, but it was never resolved. Today, it held a note of finality. And from the black mood John was in now, it seemed he wanted it done. Over with. He obviously hadn’t gotten over the sting when I’d insisted on seeing Adam before the meeting with Ho. We hadn’t had a raging fight over it, only a mild disagreement, but I’m sure it felt like a slap in the face to him. Like a betrayal.
John regarded me with a cold glower, then paced the small living area once, twice, his jawline hard. He stopped. “I forget sometimes you are young, somewhat innocent and impetuous, if those are the correct words for your…naiveté. You still see the good in people, at least, good enough they can be forgiven from whatever evils they have committed. Forming a friendship with Adam, however odd it is, to you, it’s the most natural thing in the world. I commend you for that. It’s an admirable trait to have, and the main reason I fell in love with you. But it blinds you to dangers.”
John turned away in annoyance. “Yes. He is my brother, unfortunately. That cannot be changed. But I no longer care to hold any ties with him. You know where I stand on the matter. Why are we even discussing this?”
“No reason,” I snapped, bringing John’s attention back to me. Wow, his words stung. “At least you still have a brother.”
John flinched. “This is not about you.”
“I never said it was.” I leveled my eyes on him. “It’s all about you and how you can’t forgive your brother. Okay, it’s a big thing to forgive what he did, even though he’s sorry. But forgive me if I want to maintain some form of contact with him. You seem so bent out of shape by me even speaking about him—let alone visiting him. He saved my life, remember? I owe him a friendship, at least.”
John compressed his mouth and looked away. “I haven’t forgotten. How can I?”
I knew. He could never forget something like that. It was the one reason—the only reason—his brother still lived. Under normal circumstances, Adam would’ve been tried, then immediately executed, for treason, conspiracy, and patricide. And John would have done it himself.<
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“Josie, you don’t need to ask for my forgiveness. And there is nothing to forgive.” John paced his words. “I have faith…what I mean to say is, I understand your motives and your reasons for wanting a friendship with Adam. Regardless of what I think or feel, your instincts are always good. I trust you more than I trust myself. You know that. It has never failed you before, or me. It should not in the future. I just…” John struggled with a breath. “I just wish you were more…careful.” He bit off the last words with much difficulty.
“Less trusting of others, that’s what you really mean.” I crossed my arms over my chest and regarded him. Ice formed inside me, making me want to scream, to lash out.
“Yes,” John snapped. He shook his head immediately and raised a hand in apology. Then lowered it. “Josie, I just ask that you be wary.”
“I’m not some gullible fool, you know.”
“I know that,” he hissed in anger and returned my icy stare. His lips curled into a snarl as he took a step closer, like he wanted to reach out and shake me until some version of sense was knocked into me. “The man has killed—murdered. Calculated and methodically planned and executed. Not the clean death of combat, in defense, or even in honor. It was dirty, cowardly, and unnecessary. Murder is murder. I don’t care how much regret he has or shows. What he has done cannot be undone. He has lied and manipulated us to save his own sorry skin, and you wish me to forgive him? I cannot—not him. Do what it is you must; I’ll not question it. Just be careful. For me, if not for yourself. He deserves whatever punishment he gets. The more he suffers, the better. And don’t expect me to lose any sleep over it.”
John stared hard at me for a moment longer. “Enough of this! You need to learn that not all people are good. The sooner you learn, the better.”
I saw John through a red haze. My anger had spiked to new levels. No, people weren’t all good. I knew that. Even those you loved beyond anything imaginable. And right now, John was in my crosshairs and what I saw was nothing good. His clean-cut, right or wrong way of thinking was making him a stubborn, unbending asshole.
“Right,” Adam cleared his throat from across the room and presented us with a half smile. “Now that we’ve got that off our chests, shall we go?”
Chapter 5
The holographic image of Michael Ho, lifelike and life-sized, cast itself into the center of the room. His black hair, neat and slick, was combed back against his scalp. He kept his smooth and creamy mixed-Asian features in his usual rictus of faux pleasantness. His hands were clasped before him as if dispensing benevolence like an enlightened spiritualist.
Having arrived in the secondary sub-levels via a private elevator and passageway, unseen and unhindered, we were in an unregistered and secure communications room deep in the bowels of the Citadel. Belowground lay a vast network of mysteries and layers of secrets too deep for the truth to reveal itself. Every day I discovered yet another wonderment the Citadel held. Years ago, this network had been home to John and Simon. They had lived and worked underground, seeking out and shutting down the many factions of terrorists. Seeing them now, they were comfortable and at ease, in familiar surroundings. It made me wonder if living topside went against their grain. It probably did, considering how they thrived on stealth and secrecy.
I stood away from the transceiver’s scanner range, still seething from the way John had spoken to me earlier, more so because there had been a mild ring of truth to what he said. I was a bit too trusting. I couldn’t help it. Like trying to unlearn a mother’s lesson, it went against everything in me not to be trusting. I was from a different fucking century, peaceful times, where goodness and trust were the norm. And John was right: this wasn’t the same world. Here, dangers lurked everywhere. I had to adapt. But he could’ve at least expressed himself a little more restraint so it didn’t make me feel like a complete dimwit.
Adam, I noticed, had positioned himself out of sight as well. Simon stood before the transceiver and glowered at Ho. To Simon’s right, also out of view, stood John, inspecting the form of Ho with disdain, like one would a mound of cow shit. Any disagreement we’d had earlier, he appeared to have forgotten all about.
Ho, as if aware he was under close inspection, stood composed and impassive. A smarmy smile was plastered on his face, and every so often he tipped up his head as if looking up to the heavens for inspiration.
“Michael Ho,” Simon’s voice was cold. Brittle.
“As I said before, I do not wish to speak with you.” Ho sighed, and his smile curved downward. “Where is Adam Lancaster?”
“What do you want?” John stepped into view. No doubt, from Ho’s perspective, he appeared as though entering a stage from the wings. John stared down at Ho, dark and brooding, head bowed; he did scary-face so damned well I marveled at it before remembering I was still pissed off with him.
“President Lancaster.” Ho’s drawl curdled the air. The sight of John appeared to please him, and he broke out into a beaming smile that never failed to make my skin crawl. It made his cheeks rise, slanting his eyes even more. And the way he did it made it seem as if he did so on purpose. His theatrics were tiring. “And how is Josie, your charming wife?”
“Knitting.” John affected boredom with a flat, low voice.
“Indeed.” Ho continued to smile. “She has become quite domesticated, I see.”
“Indeed.”
A flush of anger pulsed over my face. Domesticated? What other insults will there be today?
I remembered Ho from when I lived with Lorcan Wellesley, what seemed like a lifetime ago. I’d never liked him then, had never trusted his unctuous demeanor. My feelings hadn’t changed.
“Is she there? Oh, of course she is. I hear she rarely leaves your side these days.”
“I ask again, what is it you want?” John clamped his mouth tight. He was growing impatient.
“Adam. Let me see him.”
“He is dead.”
From beside me, Adam raised a brow and stared at his brother. So did I. Sometimes, I wondered exactly how the mind of John Lancaster worked. What was he playing at now? At other times, I marveled at how alike both Lancasters were—how tricky and sneaky they could be. Regardless of their differences, when it came to protecting the Citadel and its inhabitants, their own, they stood surprisingly united. Simon had explained with a shrug that they came from the same tree.
“Come now, stop telling tall tales.” Ho showed a slight hint of annoyance and brushed at a speck of lint from his sleeve, his long, graceful fingers smoothing the fabric with slow and careful strokes. He composed his face again. “You may have fooled the world at large, but you have not fooled me.”
“It was not my intention to fool you.” John pursed on his lips. “We had heard you were also dead.”
“Thankfully, no.” Ho beamed with another of his brilliant smiles. “I am like a cat, with many lives to spare.”
“It would appear so. But that can be fixed, if you like.” Simon, showing his distaste, curled a wicked smile on his face and took a step closer. “Come now, stop wasting our time. What do you want?”
Ho inclined his head as if conferring with someone at his right. He paused a moment in thought. “Josie,” he said, still facing the mysterious person on his right. “How badly do you wish to meet your dear great niece? Or, let me rephrase, your great niece…seven times over.”
A hushed silence followed for exactly five seconds. John frowned and Simon scrunched his face, doing some mental calculations. I shook my head, positive I’d heard wrong. I glanced at Adam, as he was closest. His eyebrows were high up his brow. He cast me a suspicious look, the beginnings of some realization dawning on him.
Simon was first to recover, his dour expression having never changed. “You amuse us, Ho. It’s clear you’re playing a game you alone know the rules to.”
“Indeed, it would appear so.” Pleased with the effect of his statement, Ho’s grin widened.
“You will enlighten us, no doubt,” John sa
id, stepping forward past Simon to glare at Ho. They stood feet apart. Ho was a full head shorter than John.
“Of course,” Ho said. “You see, after Wellesley fled his home, I had the house to myself. Ah, all alone in a marvelous candy store. And I found some very interesting discs of recordings…”
Shit!
My stomach dropped to my feet. Blood drained from my face and an involuntary gasp left my mouth. Adam moved a fraction closer, but didn’t reach out for fear of touching me. I gaped at him helplessly. Fuck-shit-fuck!
Until recently, I’d worn the pendant that contained a copy of those recordings. It told the story of my entire life, and had been created by my father three hundred years ago. The pendant was now stored in a vault in our bedroom, but I still instinctively put a hand to my throat.
Before that, I had carried around a chunky image-bank unit Quin Aguilar had made and stored all the original discs on. The original discs had been returned to me during my time with Lorcan Wellesley. By then, Quin had gone into hiding, but had seen to it that I had them as keepsakes. Of course, since I had no control over the rapid series of circumstances that brought me to the Citadel, those discs had been completely forgotten. Until now.
“…very old recordings,” Ho continued, bringing my mind jerking back to current issues, “on very primitive discs. And what should I discover?”
“So, the secret comes out—as all secrets eventually do.” Simon made a half shrug. “What of it?”
“What indeed.” Ho smiled wide. “I took it upon myself to do some research. It took some time and a great deal of effort and funds, but I have located Josie’s family. Her sole remaining family.”
