Second Guess (The Girl in the Box Book 39)

by Robert J. Crane

  With a leap, Scout was out the window, clutching her new piece of information to her heart.

  And poor Martin? Well, he wouldn't remember much of anything about this – or a lot of things, probably. She'd almost gotten him. Too bad she'd had to quit before she drained him dry...

  Next time, Francine cooed. After all...you've got another name. And I'm about to get the address, and once we find him?

  “There'll be no one to stop us then,” Scout said, already anticipating the thrill. She barely even noticed the cold, because her skin felt so warm.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO

  Sienna

  I stepped off the plane in London with just a touch of hesitation. If it had been entirely up to me, I might not have stepped off the plane at all.

  Breathe, Brianna said in my head. Breathe. We might have been hundreds of miles from Scotland, but this was the closest I'd been since...well, since.

  “You okay?” My grandmother was behind me. Her own breathing was regular, but she seemed tightly coiled.

  “I am filled with doubts of every sort,” I said, just being honest.

  “Good,” she said, and when I gave her a look of surprise, she said, “Only an idiot never doubts themselves.”

  “Confucian indeed,” I said.

  “Let's make sure they don't gun us down,” Reed said, eyeing the authorities, who were definitely present. I counted a half dozen cops, all watching us warily. None were pointing a gun at us, though, so there was that. But I hadn't gotten definitive word from the president about entering the UK before we'd left the cell towers of New England behind for the radio silence of the North Atlantic.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I'd switched it on before we'd hit the loading dock, but it hadn't registered a message until now.

  YOU ARE APPROVED FOR UK ENTRY. GOOD LUCK, GODSPEED – AND TAKE THESE SCUMBAGS DOWN – ALL OUR HOPES ARE WITH YOU. – Richard

  “Tell me that's from who I think it is?” Reed was staring at my phone.

  I turned off the screen. “You remember that worst date ever I told you about a few years back? His name was Ricardo.”

  Reed's eyes narrowed. “That's not him.”

  I shrugged. “Is it really so bad that the president would have faith in me?”

  “No,” Reed softened. “I think it's the best news I've had all year.”

  There was a woman waiting on the tarmac for us. Someone short. Someone smiling a little tightly. Someone in a boring suit and skirt that matched, with hair that was turning gray but a few less wrinkles than you might expect given that shade. She looked a little past middle age, but was weathering well.

  “Hellooo!” she said, in a deep Scottish accent. “My name is Mrs. Kelly. I work for the Home Secretary, and I'm here to escort you to your destination.”

  “Which is?” Reed asked, taking the lead.

  “Well, it's a funny thing,” she said, taking us all in with a look. “We've had a bit of an incident this evening in London.” She looked around. “My superiors have sent me oot here,” she really said oot, “with highest clearance and dispensation to discuss this matter with you. Apparently you've been dealing with a certain metahuman problem over across the pond?”

  “We just call it America now,” I said. “After a couple World Wars of us showing up and saving the day, we're hoping you can say our name the next morning without shame.”

  She emitted a slightly choked laugh. “Oh, my, that's funny. Anyhoo, one of our men in Scotland Yard seems to have been assaulted in his office this evening, after which he developed a very strange case of memory loss. Curious thing, too, since his secretary saw him at six this evening, and he was quite fine then.”

  “Yeah, that's no accident,” Reed said. “Are you going to escort us to the Scotland Yard?”

  “No,” she said. “I'm here to escort you...elsewhere.” She waved us to a couple vehicles that were waiting. “Come along.”

  “If Scout already drained this guy dry,” I said as we adopted a clipped pace and headed for the waiting police cars, “does that mean she got what she needed?”

  “Maybe,” Reed said, redoing his ponytail. He was apparently as fidgety as I was. “Maybe not. Depends on where Ms. Kelly is taking us.” And he looked pointedly at her.

  “I'm to be taking you,” Ms. Kelly said, “right to the spot where we've discovered a lab linked to a certain Scottish lass of your former acquaintance.” She looked at me, and her eyes glinted with great significance.

  My heart fluttered and nearly dropped, but I maintained an icy facade. Breathe, Brianna said. Breathe. She's dead.

  She's dead, I agreed, but did not say aloud. “If we're cutting straight to this, maybe we're finally going to get ahead of Scout,” I said. “We might be able to ambush her – and end this once and for all.”

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE

  We got out at a building in London's downtown, just a couple blocks off that stretched-out Fabergé egg in the middle of the city. Ms. Kelly bustled ahead of us, hurrying to open the doors.

  “Feel like I'm in Downton Abbey,” Reed griped, throwing his own door open. Privately, I agreed, having recently mainlined the entire show and feeling fully capable of opening my own damned door.

  “They're just trying to show civitas or something,” I said, stepping out of the car. The others were just pulling up behind us. Lethe and Olivia had ridden with us, and we were already striding toward the front door.

  “Twenty-eighth floor,” Ms. Kelly called after us. But she waited at the curb.

  A security guard rushed to unlock the lobby for us, undoing the pegs that trapped the door in place. He held it open, and Reed wore a sour look. They were just determined to open a door for him somehow, it appeared.

  I got to the elevator a little before the others and hit the button. The elevator lobby was marble encased and beautifully appointed. I waited, watching the digital display until a loud ding sounded and silvery doors slid open to reveal an elevator big enough for all of us.

  “In you get,” I said, slapping an arm in against the door to prevent closure. I counted each of my friends and co-workers as they got on, getting in last.

  “You did that so you wouldn't have to be squished in the back, didn't you?” Reed asked, squished in the back.

  “You don't want to see me when I feel trapped in a confined space,” I said, keeping my arms folded, hands under my armpits.

  The elevator raced upward, and I felt the press of gravity as it seemed to go to hyperspeed. It surprised me that it went so fast given the building wasn't that tall. Pretty quickly we were at floor twenty-eight, and a ding heralded the opening of the doors.

  I stepped out first, into a hallway secured by a London police team, complete with guns. They nodded to us, or me, at least, and I nodded back, keeping a wary eye on them. This country had suffered a significant blight called Rose, after all, and part of me would always be looking over my shoulder, forevermore, afraid that someone with a stray tendril of her still stuck in one of their heads would cause someone to walk up behind me when I least expected it and blow my brains out.

  “Loosen up,” Reed said, sotto voce, behind me. “You look like you're about to sprain a butt cheek.”

  “Stop looking at my ass, Jaime Lannister.”

  That prompted a round of giggles. I knew he didn't mean anything by it, but my riposte sure shut him up.

  We were in a hallway of the sort office buildings possessed the world over. This one was a cut above in terms of style, but it was still an office building, just with a little more grandeur.

  Augustus let out a low whistle. “Is this a government building or...?”

  “No,” I said tightly. “This is one of Rose's digs. Class A office space.”

  The cops were clotted outside double wooden doors, with a brass nameplate on the wall:

  Dark Furred Fat Cow Inc.

  I stared at it for a bare second.

  “Uh...” Jamal said. “Is that...?”


  “Yeah,” I said. “From beyond the grave, Rose is still taking shots at me.”

  “That doesn't necessarily mean–” Augustus started to say.

  “You don't have to worry about my feelings, Augustus,” I said, turning my head slightly. I still couldn't see him, but he could see part of my eye, part of my face, just to reassure him and the others I wasn't weeping or ready to open fire on someone. “She damned near killed me. Taking backhanded swipes at me in the naming of her shell companies? Doesn't really register after that.”

  Liar, Brianna said.

  Oh, shush, you. I've been called so much worse.

  Yeah, but from her...everything is like salt in a wound.

  This is London, I said, shoving my way forward, pushing into the door. Not Scotland. This isn't her ground. She isn't here. She can't–

  The door swung open and I found myself in an office suite made up like a lab, with sprawling windows and–

  And Scout standing there, a needle buried in her arm in front of a shattered window, looking impish and faux guilty, all at once.

  “Aw shiiiiiiiit,” Augustus said, speaking for us all.

  “Got me,” Scout said, standing there with the needle hanging out of her forearm, bold as a junkie shooting up in the middle of San Fran. “But not really.” She winked, and floated up, in front of the shattered window, flicking the empty needle from her vein. “Come and see me in Paris, once this has taken effect – we'll bring a little darkness to the city of lights.”

  And she roared out of there at supersonic speed, the shockwave shattering every window left and knocking over everyone but me.

  I was left staring after her, wanting to go but caught in the lie that I didn't have that power anymore, well aware that there were witnesses – cops – standing behind me, watching me watch my villain get away.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR

  “Is she really heading to Paris, y'think?” Reed asked the moment she was gone. He was resting a hand on my shoulder, I realized, as if trying to remind me – like I'd forgotten – not to fly out of here after her.

  “Yes,” I said, staring out over the London skyline after her. The wind was really roaring up here, blowing through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun was starting to show early signs of arrival on the horizon, though sunrise was probably an hour off. I blinked my bleary eyes and spun around. “Yes, I think she's serious.”

  “Why Paris?” Augustus asked. He motioned with a hand, and sparkling shards of glass lifted off everyone in our party. They glittered like a trail of stars as he tossed them to the side.

  “And furthermore, where's the rest of the drugs?” Lethe asked. She waved a hand; there was a lone fridge unit on the counter, but it was visibly empty, nothing else left in the place but an empty container of syringes. No alcohol, no gauze pads for sterilizing. If you were developing metahuman powers, infections weren't really a thing to worry about, after all.

  “Why was there only one?” I called out to the cops behind us. “Has anyone been in here?”

  “Only for the initial search, ma'am,” the head of team said from behind his balaclava. “Nothing was touched. We keep turning up these facilities, one or two a month. Long-term leases with the rents paid for years. This one we just got a tip on yesterday.”

  “So she sucked it out of the head of someone really in the know,” Reed said.

  “Aye,” the cop said. “They're scrubbed within 48 hours of discovery, and the drugs are destroyed so they can't fall into the wrong hands.” He must have caught us all staring funnily at him, because he added. “They're not evidence for an ongoing prosecution, see?” He glanced at me. “The lass who set it all up is dead, after all, we're assured.”

  “She's dead all right,” I said, turning away. “But as you can see, she still manages to make a right pain in the ass of herself.”

  “I really thought we were going to get ahead of Scout for once.” Jamal's voice registered the disappointment all of us were feeling. “Now, though...Paris?”

  Reed leaned in closer to me. “How the hell do we pull off Paris? I mean, I know the UK's been a little fast and loose with us before, but you know the continent is going to deny us entry. We so much as cross the channel–”

  I nodded, already going for my phone. I replied to the president's text with a simple message: Clashed with the perp in London. She's got the super serum and will be a full Hades shortly. Announced her intention to strike Paris. Can we get entry? “Let's see what comes back,” I said, starting to put away my phone. It buzzed before I got it to my pocket.

  PARIS IS A NO. SECSTATE NGO CHECKED WITH EU BEFORE YOU EVEN DEPARTED FOR UK. THEY WILL NOT ALLOW METAS ON THEIR SOIL. SORRY TO BE BEARER OF BAD NEWS – THOUGH IT'S WORSE FOR PARISIANS. –Richard

  I flashed my phone screen at Reed. “Seems the president wanted to get ahead of things.”

  Reed swore so loudly they probably heard it in Southwark. “Of course it couldn't be easy.”

  “We're not seriously thinking about letting Paris get its just desserts, are we?” Scott asked, watching the interplay between me and my brother.

  I glanced at the cops, who were all lingering near the door. “Would you mind...giving us a few minutes?”

  The head guy waved a hand, and the squad split, leaving us alone in our tiny crime scene, closing the door behind us.

  “We can't just let her eat Paris,” Augustus said.

  “I think we all know I'm not a big rule breaker, but the idea of consigning a city of millions to being devoured by a Hades...” Olivia said.

  “It's nuts,” Scott said.

  “Oh, so we're cool with breaking laws now?” Jamal asked.

  “As long as they're not American laws,” I said, mostly facetiously. Mostly.

  “Where's Greg?” I asked, looking around. Had he not come with us?

  “Stayed with his plane,” Reed said, looking vaguely hacked off. “I think he was afraid someone might steal it, it being an antique or collector's item or something.”

  “Why didn't he just shrink it and bring it with him?” Augustus asked.

  Reed sighed. “I couldn't pay him his full fee, so we get transport from him but no combat assistance. That's why.”

  “Think he'd sell me a gun?” I asked. “For use against Scout?”

  He gave me a withering look. “So not only do you want to break the laws of France by setting foot on their soil, you want to go for broke by blasting Scout's head off with a sniper rifle at long range?”

  I shrugged. “In for a penny, in for a pound. And I very much doubt they're going to give me a gun here, even if I ask politely.”

  Reed's grimace was fierce. “Dammit. You know this isn't just about breaking the law.” His anger petered out, and dropped to a whisper. “It's about rehabbing your image so people don't fear you. So they don't cry out for the law to do something about you. And if we're going to go bust EU law to pieces, I would suggest we not absolutely shatter it while flipping a giant bird to the authorities. We should at least look like we're the good guys while we're doing it.”

  “Kinda rude that the good guys don't get to come riding in with a machine gun in Europe, but I guess I'll make do with what I have,” I said. “Which, according to the knowledge of all...is ice. Which she can easily defeat.” I threw my arms wide in desperation. “So...I'm going to go in there and win the image war by dying.”

  “You've got us, too,” Olivia said quietly. “I mean...we're not nothing.”

  “She can redirect my lightning,” Jamal said. “I think I might be nothing in this, unless you need something hacked.”

  “You're a shield,” Reed said, “for the rest of us. That's not nothing.”

  “Whatever goes on here,” I said, “she's got the ability to fly off. Mobility edge goes to her.”

  “I can curtail that,” Reed said, then cringed. “A little.”

  “I can go after her, but you and me are the only ones capable of flight,” I said.

  Olivi
a cleared her throat. “I can...sort of fly. Well, bounce off things and people in a flight-like manner.”

  “Okay, maybe in a pinch that helps,” I said, “but the problem is...she's got full mobility and so do I. Reed, I'd rate at half effectiveness flying. No offense.” I waved a hand at him. “You can move well in a straight line, but changing directions requires currents, and those don't lend themselves well to pinpoint turns.”

  “I'm aware of my faults,” he said a little snippily.

  “If this is an air fight, I'm next to useless,” Augustus said. He glanced at my grandmother. “Same for her, I'm guessing, but...uh...in a nice way.”

  Lethe had been eyeing him warily. “Good save.”

  “I can work with the Seine,” Scott said, "but like the others if this goes airborne, I'm out.”

  “And Greg's on the bench,” I said, mostly to myself.

  Whatcha thinking? Brianna asked, voice coated in slight alarm. She knew what I was thinking, at least a little of it.

  “Sienna?” Reed asked, a little gruffly.

  I stood there, a slight breeze blowing in from the busted window. The city of London perched in darkness below me. I felt strangely alone, and took a few steps toward the shattered glass.

  “I think we need to come up with some innovative ideas,” Reed said. “There's got to be a way to stop her.”

  “How?” I asked quietly.

  “There are always ways,” Reed said. So unconvincing.

  “Yeah,” I said, the bitterness bubbling out. “And the way, as per usual, is me.”

  “Hooboy,” Olivia said.

  “That's not fair,” Augustus said.

  “I agree.” I spun on them. “I agree it's unfair. It's always unfair, because life's not fair, it's a perpetual series of kicks to the most sensitive parts of your anatomy by a steroid-infused giant. That's life.” I shook my head. “None of you can help me here. And if you try, you'll probably just get your soul sucked out by the world's newest Hades type.”