by Sansa Rayne
“Kate-”
“You have something about Anton worth investigating, a reason to delay his induction. Take it to Hardt. I’d like to be left alone now.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen grief on his face before. Even during my torment, he kept his emotions to himself. There’s no anger in his eyes — no fight. I’ve never seen him so resigned.
“Get in your cage,” he mutters.
Whatever. This whole fucking island is a cage. Small or large, it’s the same thing.
I do as he says, even shutting the door myself. I don’t watch as he leaves.
At some point I’ll have to go in there and talk to her, but if she wants to be alone for a while, so be it. I have work to do anyway. Eyal arrives before long, bringing with him a report on recent operations.
“Victor’s gun came back clean,” he says. “No prints, no serial numbers. Completely untraceable.”
“Big surprise there,” I mutter.
There’s a good chance we’ll never know how Victor got the gun onto the island, or how long he’s had it. Did he have it smuggled in when he found out Kate was here? That’s hard to fathom; it would have been found by security. It’s possible he’s had it since faking his death, and maybe for much, much longer. Was he paranoid that someone here would betray him? Was he just planning ahead in case he needed to eliminate a rival? There’s no telling. Victor’s secrets died with him.
Right now there are more pressing matters anyway.
“What about the recruitment drive?” I ask.
It’s been three weeks since I instructed Eyal to seek out new operatives, looking to trap a mole. Whoever was trying to kill me before probably hasn’t given up just because I’ve been out of reach for most of the past month. They’ll try again. They’re likely waiting for me to resurface, ready for the day I show up on their radar. But, if they’re on a deadline and can’t afford to wait, then they’d have no choice but to be proactive. Maybe they won’t be so brazen as to try infiltrating my organization, but if they’re desperate enough, it’s possible. And if it’s a dead-end, at least we’ll have new assets vetted and available for hire.
“Six made contact,” Eyal says. “A retired FBI agent looking for some low-risk surveillance work, a little old but very experienced. There’s an undercover DEA trainee interested in making some black market connections. And one is actually an old friend from the Mossad-”
I flash him my summarize face.
“They all have impeccable credentials, and none of them have any past connections to our organization or operations that we could find. They look clean.”
“Good,” I say. “Keep checking, keep calling for more. Just in case. And put out word that I’ll be traveling and listen for chatter.”
“Going somewhere?”
I glance at the bedroom door and wonder what Kate’s thinking.
“Maybe. I’ll let you know. Have the jet ready. Thanks.”
Eyal nods.
I consider checking in on Kate before I go, but instead have Eyal monitor the room. There’s not much time to waste, so I head straight to Jamison’s. Now it’s my turn to show up unexpected and knock on his door. It’s gotten late since he visited me and Kate; he might have gone to bed. Either way, he’s not going to be happy to see me. Oh well. This is important.
I have to ring the buzzer three times before he answers.
“Ingram? What the hell are you doing? Come back in the morning.”
“I can’t. We have to talk. Let me in.”
Colette answers the door in her long, white nightgown; she doesn’t say a word. Her cheeks look puffy, and the bags under her eyes have darkened. I’ve seen her without makeup numerous times; this is different. Something’s wrong.
“I’m sorry to show up so late,” I say. “But we need to talk about Anton Ford.”
Before he can object, I hand him the file.
“Colette,” he mumbles, dismissing her with a quick wave.
I explain Kate’s findings — or, to be accurate, the lack thereof — his missing childhood records.
“Who was he before Anton Ford?” I ask Jamison. “Do you know?”
“I know what you know,” he says.
My jaw actually drops.
“You haven’t looked any further? You haven’t asked him to explain? Why the hell not?”
He sighs deeply, as though I’ve offended him. He doesn’t answer right away.
“Because it doesn’t matter who he used to be.”
“Are you fucking kidding? He could be a major liability! Why would he hide his old identity if it wasn’t serious? If he becomes integral to our operations and we find out he was a fucking teenage serial killer or something-”
“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t get caught,” Jamison snaps. “Just like we do for all of our people.”
Kate would have an aneurysm if she heard that.
“Ingram, do you think you’re so different?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a killer,” Jamison says. “You might not wear your victim’s skin or hear voices or eat people, but you’ve murdered or orchestrated the deaths of hundreds. You put most serial killers to shame.”
“It’s business,” I grunt. “And if I wasn’t doing it, someone else would be.”
Kate wouldn’t like that either.
“I don’t disagree with you. The point is, Anton’s past isn’t a concern. If it’s a problem, we’ll solve it, like we always do. His future is our future; that’s what matters.”
I recline in my seat, wishing I had a drink or a cigar, something to give me time to think. Is it possible I’m overreacting? Jamison knows what he’s doing — he’s led the Masters for decades.
Someone must know the truth, though. Unless Ford grew up alone in the wild, he came from a real place with real people. There has to be a way of figuring out where that was, who he was and why he’s gone to such lengths to become someone else.
“For whatever reason, he forged a new identity as a teenager. Since then, he’s built an empire. One that I’ve investigated down to the bones. Now if you think there’s some fatal lapse in my judgment-”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’d prefer for my time as a leader to end with dignity, not with infighting. And if I have to rethink my choice for a successor…”
There it is. The threat he can dangle — the prize that’s within my reach, but only if he doesn’t pull it out from under me, which he can do at any moment.
“I’m just trying to make sure we’re not causing ourselves a bigger problem later,” I say. “It’s nothing personal.”
“And I’m telling you, I’ve been vetting Anton Ford since before he stepped foot on this island,” Jamison replies. “I was sure about him before he even knew of our existence. I know what I’m doing, and if you want to take my place someday, you need to trust me.”
He stares me down with fire and steel; I stare back, not shying away. Has he ever put his foot down on something so vociferously? I’d remember. Normally he makes his point and everyone can see the logic, the pure, methodical attention to detail and consequential reasoning. When he’s right, he can explain why. There’s no need to force compliance. That’s why he’s been our leader for so long — he’s good at it.
I guess that’s why I’m not used to having a demand placed on me, and why I don’t like the way it feels.
“What if I told you I no longer wish to be your successor,” I say. Is it a bluff? Even I’m not fully sure.
“Excuse me?” Jamison laughs. “Why? Where’s this coming from?”
With a sigh, I tell him about what happened between me and Kate. When I say it all out loud, it’s hard to fault her. She’s not wrong about who I am or the things I’ve done. I wish she could look past them, but why should she? Kate comes from a different world. I would argue it’s not the real world, but it’s real enough to her.
“The fact is,” I conclude, “I’m not sure I want to keep this if it m
eans losing her. I’m upset, Jamison. You know me. That’s not how I am. When was the last time you saw me like this?”
He doesn’t answer. He can’t. I don’t know either. Not even after a car bomb nearly killed me did I consider making a change — in my profession, I expect threats to my life. But the thought of losing Kate after everything we’ve been through makes me want to scream. I’m used to my problems having solutions — something I can have stolen, someone I can have killed. Keeping Kate is another story. If my life as it is now is what separates us, then… which is more important?
“Listen to me, Ingram. I understand the way you feel about Kate — I’d do anything for Colette. I get it. But don’t throw away everything you’ve spent your life building for a woman you’ve known for a month.”
“Look, you know who I am, Jamison. I like this life, and I want to keep it. But I think I like Kate more. I love her. I don’t want to throw anything away, but what I feel for her is real. I’ll make a decision, if I have to.”
Jamison sighs, opening his wine cooler.
“You’re acting like an idiot,” he mutters, uncorking a chardonnay.
I watch as he pours a single glass.
“How come you’ve never married Colette?”
He shrugs. “What we’ve had has always been enough.”
“You sure Colette feels the same?”
“She’d tell me if she didn’t.”
“You’re positive?”
“Yes,” he snaps.
“She never wanted children? How come you never had any? Why not have an heir, instead of a successor?”
Jamison knocks back his wine and gazes down into the empty glass.
“I couldn’t afford to have such a weakness,” he says. “My enemies would exploit me through a child, if I’d had one.”
Practical. Sad, but practical.
“Do you regret that?”
“Not really. We rule the world, Ingram. I’ve accomplished more than any person who’s ever lived. I’ve shaped the course of history during my lifetime and through others I will continue to do so long after I’m gone. So what if I don’t wear a crown, or if millions don’t bow at my feet? One who’s truly rich doesn’t need any of that. I’ve conquered my enemies and built an empire that will last for centuries.”
I almost want to point out that every empire throughout history has fallen.
“The people who matter know what you’ve done,” I say instead.
“I know what I’ve done. That’s what matters. We all only get one life — I’ve made myself the most powerful man who’s ever lived or who ever will. No one else can create what I’ve created, because it already exists.”
“So the rest of us have to be content with tending the emperor’s garden, huh?” I say, reaching for the wine. I take a slug straight from the bottle, then pass it back.
“Yes. But you’ve known this ever since I recruited you. Be careful how you proceed from here, Ingram. There’s no going backward with us. You can stand still or go forward. Don’t let Kate hold you back. I’m sure in time she’ll accept her circumstances. If you’re lucky, she’ll thrive like Colette.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I mutter, getting up to go.
Jamison might mean well, but Kate’s not like Colette. She won’t just settle for being a prisoner here. It’ll kill her. It’ll ruin us. Unless…
“Anton’s induction vote is still on for tomorrow. I need to know you’re on board,” Jamison says, rising from his seat to look me in the eye.
“I will be, but I want a favor in return.”
Something important to him depends on this vote going his way. I’ve never had to use leverage against a friend, but under the circumstances… There’s one way to prove to Kate I really care. It might not be everything she wants, but it’ll be more than she’d ever thought possible. Whether or not it’s enough… that’s for her to decide.
“Ingram-”
“Yeah, I don’t want to do this either,” I admit. “But I am.”
He sighs, pouring himself another glass of wine.
“Fine,” he says. “What do you want?”
Garth and Colette come in the morning to take me to the harem. Ingram’s asleep on the couch, fully dressed from yesterday. How late was he up? Why not bother coming to bed? I would have thought he’d want to talk and sort things out. Has he given up? Has he written me off? It might make things easier if he did. He’s not an idiot, he should know this is intractable.
Once we arrive, Colette takes me to the cafeteria for breakfast. I’m not hungry, but I let her get me a bowl of fruit salad. I pick at it a little. We mostly sit quietly. She looks tired, like she’s barely slept. She still looks better than I do.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She dons a false smile and nods.
“You don’t seem okay.” It’s probably rude to pry, but that was kind of my job back in my old life — and I didn’t do it for the sake of gossip. “If there’s any way I could help…”
“Thank you, that’s kind,” says Colette. She lets out a pained laugh. “After what you went through last week, I really shouldn’t complain. No one should have to endure such cruelty.”
While I appreciate her concern, she’s not changing the subject.
“That’s in the past. I’m worried about you. If there’s a problem, maybe I can help.”
“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “Everything’s under control.”
Could she tell me if it wasn’t? She may be a pet like me, but doesn’t Hardt trust her with some privileged information? And if not, perhaps she can tell when her master seems troubled.
Still, this feels more specific — not a general dread. This is something imminent — maybe even unstoppable.
“Colette, I can tell you’re distressed,” I say, forgoing subtlety. “If there’s a serious problem, tell me. We can figure something out. I could…”
What? What could I do? Tell Ingram? Like that would matter.
“Kate, please. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Damn.
I’m about to press her again when a hand clasps my shoulder.
“Hey!” I growl, spinning around and rising, only to get pushed back down.
“Ingram wants to see you,” says Garth, holding up a pair of cuffs and a leash.
Super.
I watch Colette as he applies the restraints, hoping she’ll give me some kind of sign. She doesn’t.
We don’t go very far, just to a private room in the harem. However, when we arrive, Ingram isn’t there — Anton Ford’s alone in the room, sipping from a tumbler and waiting.
“Thank you,” he tells Garth, who nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him.
“What the hell?”
“Sorry for the ruse,” Anton says, bidding me to sit down. “I wasn’t sure you’d come otherwise.”
Maybe not — although I didn’t exactly want to see Ingram either. Oddly, it might be nice to talk to someone other than Ingram and Colette for once. In the weeks I’ve been on the island, I’ve had little contact with the courtesans. Madeleine, Courtney, Paulina and Sam — they’ve never really invited me into their circle as a friend, and I’m not sure I want to be theirs. Bethany’s never going to talk to me, even with Victor gone. And the other Masters? That’s not going to happen.
But it’s good to talk to someone. If I play my cards right, I could even learn some things.
“Well, I’m here,” I say. “And I actually wanted to thank you for what you did at the trial.”
He laughs, setting down his glass and taking out another from the minibar. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a set of standard handcuff keys and frees my wrists.
“Really? I’d hate to accuse you of dishonesty, Kate, but considering I proposed five days of brutal torture, that’s not what I expected to hear.”
What did he expect?
“I meant it, Mr. Ford.”
“Anton.”
“Anton. Without you
r input at the stalemate, they may have sided against me. I didn’t want to die, so you did help me.”
He nods and pours me a glass of bourbon. There was a time when I would have joked about it being too early in the morning for a drink, then ordered a double. Now there’s no need for pretense.
“Plus, I could take it,” I say, tasting mine. It’s strong and it burns, but I relish the oaky, smoky flavor. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“I believe it,” he replies, raising his glass in a toast.
We both drink.
“I hope you’ll understand I needed to watch,” he says. “The others expected me to. I couldn’t avoid it.”
“Oh… that’s… I get it,” I mumble. It never even occurred to me that any of these men might have some shred of decency and choose not to watch my punishment.
“But it did confirm that you’re quite resilient. It was impressive, truly. My friends had bets on when you’d break. You showed them. They’re not going to forget that.”
“Good,” I say, finishing my drink. “Thank you for telling me.”
“If no one has mentioned it, I know a thing or two about disciplining women,” Anton adds with a smirk. “And giving good girls their reward.”
Oh boy.
Is this his version of a booty call? Do people somehow know I’m not exactly happy with Ingram right now? Or is he just bold enough to try and put on the moves regardless? Wouldn’t that compromise his induction vote? Of course it would. So what is he playing at?
“Anton, why am I here? What did you want to talk about?”
He pours himself another drink, but doesn’t offer me one.
“Excuse me if I came on strong there. I’ve been thinking about the future: my company’s, the Masters’ and yours. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but by now you’re aware of the fact you’ll be spending the rest of your life on this island. Yes?”
Like I need a reminder.
“Yes,” I grumble. “So?”
“So if you’d be available to work in your spare time, I could use your skills.”
Oh.
Now that’s interesting.
“You need a reporter?”
“No,” he chuckles. “A communications director. I need someone involved who can oversee Innovative AF’s press, but with the knowledge of what’s really happening behind-the-scenes. If it’s not you, then I have to bring in someone I trust not to run to the FBI. But you don’t have that option, obviously — and you’re more than qualified.”
