by Jillian Dodd
“There were very few children allowed at the Sphere,” Ares replies. “The scientist you are referring to worked for the top-secret bioweapons arm of Dupree’s pharmaceutical company. Dr. Nels. Full name: Dr. Nelson Hansen Andersen.”
“Was that the name of the guy PureGen suggested stole the virus?” Intrepid asks.
“No. That man’s name was Stephan Johansen.” He sits down at his computer and starts typing away.
A few moments later, he says, “Upon further research, it appears that, while Dr. Johansen’s work résumé shows him being employed by PureGen for the last twelve years, when I cross-referenced his name to the TerraSphere’s manifest, he’s listed under bioweapons research—meaning, at some point, he would have actually worked alongside Dr. Nels.” He shakes his head. “I should have caught that.”
“All that matters now is that we find Dr. Nels. I need to talk to him,” I say. “I really think I’m on to something here.”
Ares bangs away on his keyboard while I watch more seconds tick off my watch.
Finally, he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry to say that Dr. Nels is dead.”
He pulls a newspaper article up on the big screen for us to read.
Prominent Danish scientist dies in fiery London crash.
“More than likely murdered, so he wouldn’t talk,” Intrepid says. “You just might be on to something, Huntley.”
I don’t read the article further because my mind is back at the church, and I’m thinking about Lorenzo the Magnificent.
His Arcadia.
And how The Echelon played into it.
He’d created The Echelon and The Society because of his paranoia. Because he was worried about being attacked.
That is the same reason he built tunnels in the palace. He needed the ability to move freely and even escape if necessary.
“The villa where Terrance and everyone else has been working, where is it exactly?” I ask.
“Up north, near the border,” Intrepid replies.
“And, by chance, did Lorenzo let you use that villa because he owns it?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Intrepid says, looking curiously at me. “It’s one of their summer homes. Of course, we’re not actually in the home. Lorenzo allowed us to set up in a small and very old hunting lodge at the edge of the property.”
“Very old,” I mutter, a plan coming together in my mind. “I need to go there. Now.”
“Why?” Ares asks.
“Because, if it’s anything like the palace, there will be a secret way out. Why else would they put a royal residence so close to the border?”
“So you can escape attack?” Ares asks.
“Exactly. How long will it take me to get there?”
“About thirty minutes,” Intrepid replies.
“All right. You two stay here and find me an address for Dr. Nelson’s daughter, Sophie. If her dad’s dead, then she’s our only hope. And see if the royal family owns any property on the other side of the border. I suspect that’s where I’ll need to be picked up.”
“Are you giving the orders now?” Ares teases.
“Remember the shirt hanging in my mother’s closet? It was a clue. When she bought it, she said to me, Cause they’re The Cure.”
“I’m not following,” Intrepid states.
But Ares is nodding his head. “It’s not the cause; it’s the cure. The vaccine is what will reduce the population.”
“Exactly. And I know I’m right because there was one clue on my mother’s list that we didn’t understand that finally makes sense. The vaccine is the Trojan horse.”
“We’re opening the door and allowing the enemy in,” Ares says in understanding.
I nod and smile at him, and then I turn around and sprint up the stairs.
T-MINUS:19:31:46
After grabbing my backpack from my room, I run to the garage, stopping for a moment to consider my best vehicle option.
While Ari’s armored SUV would probably be a smarter choice if I’m wrong about the tunnels and I need to muscle my way through the border, my eyes land on a sparkling silvery-white car that looks like millions of diamonds when the sunlight hits it.
“Wow, now, that’s a car,” the king said. “Tell me about it.”
“Koenigsegg aluminum V8, double overhead camshafts. Zero to one hundred kilometers per hour in two-point-nine seconds. Top speed of over four hundred ten. The fuel tanks are integrated for optimal weight distribution and safety, and it even has a detachable hardtop.”
I hit a button to open the garage door and grab the key fob from a shelf on the wall. Then, I hop in the car, rev the engine, and peel out of the drive.
Once I get through town, I drop the hammer, using the paddle shifters to switch gears as I fly through the windy hills, focusing only on the road and not the cliffs at its edges.
But, even with my focus, I remember the day Lorenzo and Daniel crashed my party and how Lorenzo offered me a private palace tour.
“You aren’t sending your driver. If you wanna hang out with me, you can come get me yourself. Or I’ll drive.”
“You did mention that you have a new car here. Care to drive me home?”
“Sure. Why not?” I smiled as I escorted him down to the garage.
He whistled at the car I’d been dying to get behind the wheel of and said, “This isn’t a street car; it’s a track car.”
I didn’t know who had been in charge of acquiring this car, but they got two big thumbs-up from me. “I’m pretty sure it’s street legal. Besides, I’m with the prince of Montrovia, so I should be able to drive whatever I want, don’t you think?”
“This car is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That’s because there were only two made. They had planned to make three, but the white carbon fiber proved to be difficult, so they only made two. It’s a Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita. Badass, right?”
“I’ll say. How did you get it?”
“I recently came into some money.”
He raised his eyebrow at me and then looked at the car again.
“Well,” I clarified, “it was quite a lot of money.”
“Roulette?” He laughed.
I lowered my eyes and my voice. “My father passed away.”
He gently touched my hand. “My own father is gravely ill. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Are you spending a lot of time with him?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
“You should make the time. Even if it’s hard. My dad died suddenly. Massive heart attack.”
“But he didn’t suffer. It’s hard to watch your father, the king, a man who has always been larger than life, wither away.”
“I suppose, but trust me, you should be with him. Every day.”
“Will you come with me?” he asked with such emotion that I had no other possible answer.
“Yes.”
“Maybe it will help you heal, too, no?”
“Maybe. I didn’t know my father. My parents passed away when I was younger, and I recently got a call from an attorney, asking me to come for the reading of a will. There, I discovered who my real father was and that I also had a brother. We are taking some time off to travel together. See the world. Get to know each other. Ari lost his parents, too, so we’re the only family each other has.”
I was surprised when he wrapped me in a hug.
“So much tragedy for someone so young.”
I allowed him to console me. It was really sweet.
“So, are you ready to go for a ride?”
“Oh, I think so.”
We got buckled up and pulled out of the drive. I took it easy through the city streets, giving people plenty of time to gawk at the car and take photos.
Ten minutes later, we were winding up the hill to the castle and pulling through the gates. I took in my surroundings like I had been trained to do.
“You have an airstrip up here.”
“Yes, for landing smaller planes
.”
“Anyone planning on using it in the next few minutes?”
“I don’t believe so. Why are you asking?”
I threw the car in neutral, revved the motor, and raised my eyebrows at him. “What do you say? I would love to see what she can do, and everything in Montrovia is really cliffy.”
“Cliffy?” He laughed. “Does that mean what I think?”
“What do you think it means?”
He gave me a smirk, shrugged his shoulders, and turned his hands sideways, gesturing down at his pants.
“Cliffy? As in your hard dick?” I asked, stifling a laugh.
He bit his lip, a little embarrassed. It was sexy as hell.
“Cliffy means that the roads are all on cliffs, and I don’t want to drive off one of them and splat into the Med. What you are referring to is a stiffy. A boner. Hot. Hard. Ready for action.”
“Oh, yes, stiff. That would make sense.”
I drove to the end of the runway. “You ready for this?”
He didn’t get a chance to respond because I quickly revved the engine and dropped the hammer. The tires screamed for every ounce of grip they could find. I used the paddle shifters to switch gears, the car responding effortlessly. This car was stupid fast, and since it had a supercharger as opposed to a turbo, there wasn’t the kick every time I shifted. The car just rocketed down the runway.
“How fast are you going?” the prince yelled. “Slow down.”
“I read you race for fun. You should be used to this.”
“There’s a difference. I’m not driving. A girl is.”
When I reached the other end of the runway—which happened quickly—I slammed on the brakes, downshifted, and swung the car around ninety degrees to prove a point, and then I hit the throttle again.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, looking very nervous.
“We haven’t even hit top speed yet, but we’re going to try.”
“What’s her top speed?”
“Four hundred and ten kilometers per hour. That’s, like, triple the speed limit in America.” I pushed the car, finally getting it up to four hundred before I had to stop at the other end of the runway. “Holy shit. Wasn’t that fun?”
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t just here for the history?”
When I get to the summer palace, the tears that fell down my face as I was getting here have dried to my cheeks.
And I managed to make the half-hour drive in less than twenty minutes.
T-MINUS:19:16:07
Josh meets me outside the hunting lodge.
“Damn,” he says, eyeing the car. “You get all the fun toys while I’m stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere.”
“Better than being dead.” I grab my backpack out of the car and turn to head into the house.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, stealing a kiss. “And I’m bored. We should go blow off some steam.”
“You’re very lucky I don’t have time to teach you a lesson about giving a woman an unwanted kiss,” I say seriously, pivoting on my heel and leaving him in my dust as I march off.
He must catch up because he grabs my shoulder and spins me around to face him. “Is Lorenzo the reason we can’t get together?”
“Josh, I’m in the middle of a mission. I have more important things to do. Like getting proof that the vaccine governments are going to give out worldwide will kill nearly everyone.”
He scrunches up his nose. “I heard Lorenzo got his fiancée pregnant already.”
I let out a sigh. “Wow. Well, thanks for being such a good friend and reminding me of that right now.”
He takes my hand, bringing it up to his chest. “We had something. And, if Lorenzo doesn’t die from the virus, I’ll kill him myself. In your honor.”
“I don’t have time to deal with your drama.” I tightly grip his hand, move my arm downward, taking control of the situation, and wrench his arm behind his back before pushing his face toward the ground. “If you ever speak of hurting Lorenzo again, I’ll kill you myself. Are we clear?”
When he doesn’t reply, I add more pressure by shoving my knee into his back.
He pounds the ground with his free hand in frustration, twice, tapping out. “Whatever.”
I don’t let go.
“That’s not an answer, S,” I say, using his Blackwood Academy call sign. “But, before you answer, I do have something to tell you. The second you told me your real name and that you loved me, I was out. That’s how we were trained.” I push down a little harder, trying to add more force without breaking his wrist.
“So, that’s it? We’re over?”
“We never even started.”
“Fine. I promise, I won’t harm your idiot boyfriend.”
“Actually, Josh, in case you haven’t heard, he’s my husband.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard. And it’s not legal. Also, you’re engaged to Daniel. Using the two of them just like you used me.”
What he says stings.
Because, sometimes, throughout all this, I’ve wondered the same thing. Did I let my emotions get wrapped up in Lorenzo and Daniel because of my mission? Was I just playing the part? Or is it real?
“I was trained like you, X. To thrive on my own. To not crave emotional entanglements. We were brainwashed. When I said I loved you, it wasn’t real love. I loved you because we got the flag. I’m not capable of real love anymore, and neither are you.”
“I would have gotten the flag with or without you,” I say, finally letting him up.
“I know that,” he says as he dusts off his pants. “I’m sorry, X. I’m going stir-crazy. I should be out in the field with you.”
“If I don’t figure this out, you can take my place. I was at the opening ceremonies. It’s only a matter of time before I get sick and die along with everyone else.”
He looks down at the ground. “I don’t want you to die.”
“Let’s get inside then.”
We enter the small building and step into a cozy great room with a two-story stone fireplace, wood-paneled walls, and red Scottish plaid couches.
Terrance and Olivia have turned the dining area into a makeshift office, their computers and cans of energy drinks filling the long farmhouse table.
“Have you found her yet?” I ask them.
They both shake their heads in defeat, but The Bartender pops out of a nearby room.
“I just did. Sophie Andersen is in London, living with a flatmate from her university days at St. Andrews. I texted you the address, but I want to know exactly where she will be when you arrive. I was coming out here to get everyone to help me cross-search social media.”
“That’s awesome. Thank you.”
“No way you’re going to get across the border,” Terrance says. “The military is—”
“I’m not going across the border,” I interrupt. “I’m going under it.”
A phone rings before he can question me further. Olivia answers it and pulls up Ares, who is in his Uncle Sam disguise, on a screen suspended from what appears to be the antlers of a large moose.
“Is Huntley there yet?” he asks as Olivia motions for me to stand in front of a video camera.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Must have been driving pretty fast,” he says with a laugh. “Your hunch was correct. The royal family owns a small farmhouse just a few kilometers across the border. We’ll arrange for a car to pick you up there and take you to a nearby airport for your charter flight into London.”
“Thank you. I’ll start looking for the tunnel.”
“I’ve already started searching,” Blake says, appearing in the kitchen from a hidden door. “No luck yet.”
“Have you seen a spotted dog anywhere?”
“They have two sweet retrievers here, on the property, but one is yellow, and the other is black. Neither have spots,” Terrance states.
Josh laughs out loud, but I stifle mine. For someone so intelligent, Terrance can be a bit of an airhead.
“I believe there is a secret passageway leading to a tunnel that goes under the border and to the farmhouse. Lorenzo was taught a song when he was young. The spotted dog is your friend. Wag his tail then go to the end. Is there a war room here?”
“No,” Blake says, motioning for me to follow him. “But there is a study off the biggest bedroom.”
“I’ll help you look,” Josh says, giving me a wry smile.
When we get there, I find this room to be so much more ornate than the rest of the rustic cottage. There is a large fireplace, oil paintings of majestic animals, and shelves filled with books.
“Here,” Josh says, standing in front of one of the bookcases. “There is a small collection of dog figurines.”
“Try moving their tails to see if anything happens, but the one at the palace is carved into the wall,” I say as my eyes are drawn to something else.
Above the fireplace, ornately carved into marble, is a relief of Arcadia with Lorenzo the Magnificent’s Echelon crest scrolling from its edges. I imagine the first king coming to this room, opening a secret passage, and then making his way into Spain.
It makes sense. If you were worried about attacks, you wouldn’t want to bring spies into your country. You’d have your meetings somewhere off-site.
I take a few steps forward, getting closer, and then smile as I scour the animals for a dog, finally finding one with its feet practically resting on top of the mantel and with a thick, stubby tail protruding toward me.
But, when I try to wag the tail, it doesn’t budge.
Another poem suddenly fills my head.
All who enter
Must bear the key.
And keep it secret
For all eternity.
I run back to the great room, open my backpack, take out The Echelon ring, and slip it on my finger.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and wondering what I’m even doing. A glance at my watch confirms, whatever it is, it needs to happen fast.
