by T. K. Toppin
“Come now,” Simon broke the silence. “We can do this all night and get nowhere. We have to be leaving shortly. My ward’s husband awaits her return.” He said it like a threat. Should harm come to me, the wrath of the president would be great. “Deliver us the girl.”
James directed a cool glance at Mrs. Patel. “Bring her.”
With another squeak, Mrs. Patel jumped and bolted out the room.
“Why this place?” I asked from behind Simon.
James smiled wide. It changed his appearance; he looked like an angel. “For nostalgic reasons. It was Mr. Ho’s idea. He thought to give you an edge, you see. You would be familiar with the place. In case you had to…run.” He shrugged.
“How very considerate. Give him my thanks. But I don’t run much these days.”
“And as a courtesy, I have come alone. There is no one else, but I assume you knew that already. Enough time was given to make sure you had a chance for a proper surveillance. Mr. Ho is not an unreasonable man, just one who is determined to get what he wants.”
“Then there’s no reason to kill anyone, is there? We have your code. Let’s just do the exchange as planned.”
James smiled. It was no longer the angelic look; now a hint of wickedness slipped through. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine.
From the other room came the sound of shuffling feet and a quick clop of hard shoes as they rapidly approached. Mrs. Patel, leading the way, came huffing into the room, holding Margeaux’s hand.
The girl was pale, disheveled, exhausted. Her small face was pinched tight in a mold of determination. Bravery. Her eyes were quick and darted across the room, taking in everything at once before resting with a sort of shock on me.
Mrs. Patel brought her forward, a protective hand placed on Margeaux’s shoulders. Margeaux held her left hand, now swathed in a thick bandage, close to her body, favoring it.
“Don’t be scared, child,” Mrs. Patel whispered to her. “Don’t be scared.” She looked as if she too was trying to be brave.
Margeaux was reedy, now that I saw her in the flesh. Thin and gangly with oversized feet, like a child that had grown too fast. But she wasn’t as tall as I had been at that age; at least a full head shorter, in fact. And her skin was so pale I could see the blue veins running beneath the surface.
“Margeaux…” My throat locked, unable to say more. Instead, I pushed off from the wall and stared at the girl. Questions flooded my mind, but I knew now wasn’t the time for lengthy conversations.
Unable to speak, whether from surprise or shock I didn’t know, Margeaux stared back as well.
“The code, please.” James brought me back to my senses.
“I have it,” Simon replied. “If you will allow me to remove it from my pocket.”
Shifting his position again, James nodded. Simon dipped one hand gingerly into his jacket, brought out a metallic card, and held it up before him.
“Now, how shall we to do this so we don’t kill each other in the process?” Simon smiled wide.
James returned the smile. “First we must check to see this is the correct code.” Like Simon, with utmost care, he pulled out a small rectangular device and held it up to Simon. “Insert the card. Let Madam Lancaster do it.”
“Not a chance.” Simon stepped forward to insert the card himself.
Both men watched the other as the device uttered a series of burbling noises and a final tone to suggest the scanning was complete.
Simon still had his hand on the card. With his left hand behind his back, he flicked a hand signal to me. I caught it without giving myself away. With care, and no sudden movements, I sidled toward the entrance of the room and took a position closer to Margeaux, who watched me with reverence.
“Wait for me by the door,” Simon said, our agreed signal. It meant that under no circumstances, unless there was no other alternative, was I to engage in combat, and to keep my back against the wall with weapons at the ready. No problem.
With delicate care, Simon removed his hand from the card and took one slow step backward.
What followed was nothing but a blur. Simon’s left hand snapped out, gripping James’ extended wrist—the scanner juddered in it for a second. Simon whirled, leading with his right hand, and smashed his fist into James’ neck—or what should’ve been his neck. James had already hurled himself backward and snapped up like a spring to slam a clawed fist into Simon’s mid-section. He missed, as Simon curled his body inward like a marionette that had snapped free of its strings.
Their hands still joined, Simon expelled a controlled noise and whipped a counter-punch, hitting James in the chest. It was like a dance, two stags locking horns, until finally, reluctantly, their hands parted in a snap.
Simon did an upward twirl and kicked James’ shoulder. James staggered, dipped down into a crouch and jabbed a leg at Simon, who jumped up and did a back flip, landing with his pulse gun in his hand.
James shot up like an arrow, lashed out his open palm at a lamp, and sent it flying through the air toward Simon. With an easy flick, Simon deflected the lamp in a shower of sparks. Then Simon took aim, fired. But James had vanished. Simon swung around to me; deeming me safe, his eyes scanned the area.
I was by now standing with my back to the wall in the entrance hall. The thin form of Margeaux was wedged between my body and the wall. No doubt she was suffocating. I stood with my krima engaged, and my Snare Gun in the other hand.
“Took you long enough. Can we go now?” I said. I waited until Simon reached us before peeling off Margeaux. I glanced at the cloakroom door. “Mrs. Patel, you can come out now.”
“Steady on,” Simon muttered, his attention elsewhere. James had simply disappeared; he could be anywhere. I felt his unease too.
When Mrs. Patel’s lumbering form emerged, Simon grabbed her. She squeaked as he brought her close to his side. “Stay close. Ready?” We moved to the front door. “Josie, behind me, now. Put the girl behind Patel.”
Dragging Margeaux by her skinny arm, I did as instructed, then told her to hold tight to Mrs. Patel. I then angled my body so I could see behind us. The krima remained engaged.
We pushed through the front doors. With a brisk nod, Simon signaled the outriders who were watching from outside the property. Too far away, but close enough to know if something was amiss.
“Status,” he muttered. Through the earpiece he wore, he no doubt got the all-clear. Leaving nothing to chance, we kept our formation until reaching the vehicle. He ordered me to get in first, then Margeaux, then Mrs. Patel. With a final sweep of the area, he jumped in and engaged the engine.
“Wait, I can’t leave my husband!” Mrs. Patel screeched. “They’ll kill him!”
Simon slammed on the brakes.
I gaped at her. “Is he in there?” I barked. “Where?”
Mrs. Patel shook her head vigorously. “No, they have him. I must stay here. They said he’ll be returned to me in the morning—if everything went as planned. Please, I must stay here!”
“I’m not letting you stay here!” The thought horrified me. “You’re coming with us.”
“Josie, we must hurry,” Simon through his teeth.
“It’s true. They have her husband.” Margeaux spoke for the first time. Her voice sounded ragged and hoarse…like she’d been screaming the whole day.
Remembering the blood, I shuddered.
“I saw a man being brought into the room I was in before I came here. He was very scared. He kept saying that they took him before he had his breakfast.” Margeaux continued, glancing from me to Mrs. Patel. “He had grey hair, receding? Plump with a moustache?”
“Oh, my! Yes, yes!” Mrs. Patel groaned out loud. “Please, Josie. You must let me stay here.”
I exchanged a look with Simon. What were the chances they’d let Mr. Patel go free, let alone live?
“Look, Mrs. Patel,” I said. “Come with us. We’ll leave someone here to wait for him. But you have to come with us. You’ll be safe.”
“I-I have to tell you something important, Josie,” Mrs. Patel squeaked out, almost incoherent with worry. She cast a longing look back at the house, whimpering and sniffing. “B-Before Mr. Wellesley went away—”
I patted her from the front seat. “Okay, not right now. Wait until we’re airborne. Margeaux,” I glanced at the girl, small and cowering, next to Mrs. Patel. “Are you…all right?”
Margeaux nodded. “I am fine.” She still hadn’t taken her eyes off me. She seemed enthralled, fascinated, with the way I barked out directives and instructions.
From the driver’s seat, Simon made a noise and spoke into his communicator. “Are you sure?” He waited for the response. “Damn it to hell!”
“What?” I stared at Simon. “Are we being followed?”
“No.” His set his mouth into a grim line, making his sharp features angular. “But they’re tracking us. A low-level signal.”
“What?”
“Possibly to make sure we leave.”
“Is it on the vehicle or…” I slid a suspicious glance to the two new passengers. “Elsewhere?”
“Remote tracking. They’ve locked onto our position,” Simon explained. “And they’re jamming us. I wonder why?”
“We’ve lost our communication?” I gasped. “Shit. How much farther until we get to the landing strip?”
“Another eight minutes. Hang on.” Simon pushed a button that sent us all slamming against our backrests. “Make that about six.”
* * *
John was beside himself with worry. He kept repeating to himself that Josie was in good hands. Still, it didn’t make him feel any better, nor did it settle his nerves. He should’ve tied the silly woman to a post to prevent her from leaving.
When he heard their communications had been jammed, he roared out a curse that had the two others in the communications room cringing in fear.
“Are the backups in position?” he bellowed.
“Yes, sir. Ten-man unit. The shuttle is secure,” one of Simon’s trusted men replied. His name was Todds, a solid and reliable communications expert who could be counted on to keep his cool, and his head. He was familiar with the John’s temper, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t petrified of him.
John pushed off from the chair he’d been leaning on and stalked the room. He was tempted to just go there himself. “Can we counter the jammer signal?”
“We’re trying, sir,” Todds responded in an even voice that showed he had masterful control of his fear.
John glowered back. His brows knitted together, mouth clamped into a thin line. “Try harder. Do we know why? Is there anything in the area that could pose a threat? Are they being followed?”
“No, sir.”
He’d have to be satisfied with that. John moved off into a corner to scowl. Waiting was the hardest part. It sickened him.
“Sir, the jam is hiding a tracking signal.”
“A what? Are you sure? How long, since their last position, before they reach the shuttle?”
“They’re about seven minutes away, providing Simon hasn’t punched it.”
Simon would, John thought. He remained silent for a full minute, suffering from something close to sheer horror. A chill soaked his face as the blood drained from it. Simon, he knew, would see to it that everything was under control—safe. He knew that.
But Josie…
Panic started to rise inside him. His Josie. He refused to think that something was being done to her. Harming her.
“Sir?”
Since they’d met, there had not been a moment when they were parted for any extended period of time. They’d grown to depend on each other. The bond between them was so brutally strong that sometimes it scared him. He knew that if harm came to her, it would destroy him. And he’d move mountains to prevent such a thing. Every bone in his body raged to be there with her.
“Sir?”
He needed to focus. This had been planned from the very beginning. Ho had done this intentionally. To what end, he’d find out. He had every intention of finding out.
John sought for calm but kept his anger boiling. Anger would see him through this. And when Josie was safely home, he would hold her tight and drown in his relief. Then he’d tie her up and lock her in their room.
“Simon will see to it they return safely,” John said, his voice calm.
Todds looked relieved. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
It was early dawn when we arrived back to the Citadel. Exhaustion punched me from all directions, but I barely felt it save around the edges of my awareness, like a dull sensation in my joints. At a guess, I hadn’t slept in close to twenty-four hours.
After our communications were knocked out, Simon had driven like a bat out of hell and beat his own estimate by arriving at the landing strip in four minutes flat! I had managed a few clipped words through clenched teeth during the ordeal; my face had felt stretched from the G-forces. He’d pushed the vehicle until the speeds clipped just under the hypersonic mark. Any faster and we’d have zoomed straight off the land and onto the next continent. As it was, Simon had had to go half-airborne so he wouldn’t crash into trees or wreck the asphalt from the heat coming off the engine.
I had no chance to speak with Margeaux other than to give her short instructions, nor did I get a chance to take a proper look at her. As we boarded the shuttle, already primed and ready for take-off, I was sent straight into a safety ejection pod—strapped in, secured, and sealed off from the rest of the passengers.
This pod—on sudden altitude change, impact, or manual override—was designed to immediately eject, engage its own independent engine and transport me straight back to the Citadel. It was fully equipped with its own air supply, communications consoles and navigation equipment. Not that I was required to use these unless emergency manual operations were required. Ironically, to date I’d never been given any flying lessons.
During my confinement, my mind was utterly blank as I gripped the straps of my harness. In desperation, I listened for any outside noises. There were none, save the loud ringing silence, interspersed with the reassuring mechanical beeps and buzzes telling me everything was in working order.
I was told later that Simon worked furiously with the onboard communications link, trying to emit a signal via a rogue network. He didn’t have much luck. The jamming signal eventually lifted as we approached Switzerland. We were finally able to contact the Citadel.
Only once we had disembarked and scurried through the docking bay located on the other side of the mountain from the one the Citadel rested on did I allow myself a huge sigh of relief.
I saw John and zeroed in on him. His face, which had been tight with strain, went slack the moment he laid eyes on me. In a quick sprint, I launched into his arms. We clung to each other for a moment, all else forgotten.
Leaning back, I grinned foolishly. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”
He twisted his face into a weak smile. “Do I get points for trying?”
Simon approached us with Margeaux and Mrs. Patel in tow. Margeaux darted her quick eyes all around the docking bay anteroom, while Mrs. Patel seemed drawn into herself, wringing her hands with worry and sighing.
“All right?” John asked Simon.
Simon nodded with a half shrug. “Can’t say I completely understand why they jammed us. Unless to ensure they got a head-start and make sure we came straight back here. Like a distraction; make us panic a little while they got away unhindered.”
“I wondered that, too.” John gave my arm a squeeze. It felt possessive, and I welcomed it. I ran a hand along his shoulder in reassurance.
Simon then grinned, and I caught him signal John with a nod. I frowned at them. He turned and instructed Margeaux and Mrs. Patel to follow him, a
nd they disappeared through the doors.
John looked at me with concern as we followed.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Just need some breakfast and a big jug of coffee.”
“She looks very young,” he said.
“She’s so tiny.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’ll talk to her afterward. Where’s Simon taking them?”
“To some guest rooms. You’ll remember them.”
I’m sure he was smirking. By guest rooms, he meant the specially designed rooms for detainees. I had been a “guest” there when my presence here had been questionable. Watched all the time, restricted in where I’d been allowed to go, and fashioned with a security bracelet that I tried habitually to remove. That was a year ago.
“You think she’s a threat?” I wasn’t upset and understood the need to be cautious, but a small part of me was in turmoil. Defensive.
“I think they both are,” he said without emotion. “I’m sorry, Josie. I can’t have two potentials roaming freely in the Citadel. Until they are proven otherwise.”
“I know, I know.”
Weariness pressed down on me. I wondered again about the strange sensations tormenting me. Maybe Trudi was right. I needed to feel connected, to be a part of something; a sense of belonging. While blood didn’t necessarily dictate family, right now it meant a great deal. Confirmation was what I needed. I wanted it. If I just spent some time with her, maybe I’d know for sure. Would I feel it like a bolt of lightning?
“She must be so scared. She’s been very brave,” I said with a bit of concern. It popped out of my mouth before I realized what I said.
