The 48

by Donna Hosie

  I had to self-correct. So I told her I wasn’t going to see her anymore outside of training and classes. I was going to be seventeen before she was. My training was going to step up. I was going to be too busy. It wasn’t her, it was me. I was trying to protect her.

  Every dumb-ass excuse for breaking up poured out of my mouth.

  Alice didn’t cry. She never cried. Even when her mother died on an assignment when Alice was fourteen. She got pulled aside in physics class and told.

  Then she was expected to just go back to class and write a paper on kinetic theory.

  Which she did.

  * * *

  —

  The sound of heavy boots thundering up and down the corridor outside startled Alex awake. Alice didn’t stir. When the footsteps gave no indication that anyone was coming for us, I made a decision.

  “Enough of this waiting. We’ve been kept too long. We need to find Aramis—now,” I whispered.

  “But Alice can’t wander around the court dressed like that,” said Alex. “At the very least, she needs to get rid of the jeans and sneakers.”

  “I know,” I replied. “Which is why you’re going to go find her some clothes from this time.”

  “What! Why me? You go find her clothes. She’s your ex-girlfriend.”

  “I don’t want to leave her, Alex,” I said sternly. “Now stop effing around, go find that Lady Margaret or whoever, and get Alice some clothes.”

  “I can’t just ask to borrow a woman’s dress!”

  “Use your imagination, Alexander!”

  Grumbling, Alex pulled himself off the floor and left the room for the second time.

  I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled out the small wad of papers from the kit bag that had been strapped to my chest. It was the full assignment brief. I could still remember the mix of emotions I had felt when Grinch had handed Alex and me the portfolio after the successful reconnaissance. It was still a testament to how well we were graded that we were chosen for an assignment nearly five hundred years in the past. The reputations of new Assets could be made or broken on that first dossier.

  Now, with everything that had happened since we’d arrived in Paris, I wanted to look at the dossier again. Was there a clue to what was happening in these papers? What had we missed? I sat down on the floor and started to read, keeping one eye on the small gap between the floor and the door for lurking shadows.

  “Is that your dossier?” whispered a voice behind my left ear. Alice was awake and leaning in toward me.

  “Hey,” I replied softly. “Yeah. I’m just going through it, to see if there’s any explanation as to why Grinch would drag you back here.”

  “My head still hurts,” said Alice, touching her temple with her fingertips. “Any chance you have some painkillers?”

  “I don’t, but I think Alex does in his kit bag,” I replied, turning around. Her oval face was inches from mine. I could feel her breath on my skin. Her lips were pale and thick, like half-cut grapes.

  “You have your voice back.”

  “What?”

  “Your normal voice,” said Alice. “You were speaking with a German accent earlier when those guards were around.”

  “We’ve taken on the guise of the sons of the Duke of Cleves,” I said. “The story is we’ve been educated here and in France and so our accents aren’t that strong, but we need to be a little Saxon for the cover to be convincing. We’ve told them you’re a maid, so you need to have the accent too while you’re here.”

  “Can I read through it?” she asked, nodding toward the dossier. “I know it’s not my assignment, but I want to be useful. Or at least not screw anything up more than I already have.”

  “You haven’t screwed anything up. None of this is your fault.” I passed the file to Alice. Not because I thought she could help, but because I felt important and wanted to show off a little. I had an assignment. I was a real Asset.

  The dossier was mainly background stuff. Henry VIII’s personnel file in history: height (a towering six feet one inches, which made him far taller than most in his court), weight (at this moment it was an obese 280 pounds—it would get a lot heavier over time), and also his recorded health problems. That last list ran to several pages and included smallpox, malaria, severe migraines, leg ulcers, and a near-death experience while jousting just three months earlier. It was a combination of the pain from these that would turn him into such a psychotic tyrant.

  Also listed were close associates (Thomas Cromwell, the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Cranmer, and Edward Seymour were just a few who would come and go). These were people to be wary of, but also those we needed to get close to.

  “And your assignment is to stop him and Jane Seymour from getting married?” asked Alice after she had read through the pages twice.

  “Yes. Henry can marry, but his wife needs to be a Protestant. We’re part of the team that will end Catholicism in England. The assignment starts under Henry’s rule because this was judged to be the best point in time to do it.”

  “Huh. How are you going to do that?” asked Alice. “Stop him from marrying Jane, I mean.”

  “What do you mean how?” I replied. “We just will.”

  “That’s it? That’s your plan? You and Alex just will?”

  “Yes, Alice,” I replied, trying to keep calm because this wasn’t her fault. “We’re already in the inner circle. I’ve even played archery with Henry already.”

  “But there’s no information on how you and Alex are actually supposed to do this in the time frame you have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, okay, so you’re in the inner circle. That’s great. But what’s it going to cost you, time-wise?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you can’t just make someone fall in or out of love with someone else. Love isn’t straightforward. It’s complicated. Messing with people’s minds and hearts the way you’ll need to to accomplish this mission is going to take time. And if you take too much, you might end up killing an innocent woman.”

  “We’re not killing Jane,” I said.

  “I hope not, Charlie, but that brings us back to the dossier, or rather the lack of one. You don’t seem to have been given a lot of information to prevent that outcome. I mean, look at this thing. I would have expected a lot more details. A lot more than the background they gave you. Stuff like recommendations for manipulating personalities, and notes on contingencies, that sort of thing. This dossier is tiny.”

  “Of course it is,” I snapped, starting to lose my temper. “I need to keep it hidden on me if we move palaces. I can’t go around with a dossier the size of The Complete Works of Plato down my pants.”

  “Well, that’s an image I didn’t need in my head,” she shot back. “My point is, first assignments are supposed to be easy, a gradual easing in for the crap that will come down on us in future years. The 48 haven’t made your assignment easy. They couldn’t have made it harder if they tried. You do know that you and Alex were the only new Assets chosen for the Religion Eradication operation, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” I said hotly. “I’m pretty sure everyone does by now. It’s something I’m kind of proud of.”

  “Well, the others assigned RE missions have years of operational experience, which would probably come in handy right about now. Think about it, Charlie. Look at the background info they did give you. Henry the Eighth is a basket case with pain because of the recent jousting accident. He’s a ticking time bomb. Anne Boleyn is about to die. He already has his eye on Jane Seymour. That makes it a pretty complicated mission, don’t you think? The 48 have put two untested Assets in huge danger by bringing you guys back to this time.”

  Alice was making all my worries about deviations resurface. I needed to shut this conversation down.

  “You’re just pissed that we
’ve got a great first assignment. The 48 think we’re exceptional. That we can handle it. And you can’t stand that.”

  “Are you kidding me, Charlie?” cried Alice.

  “It’s Charles,” I replied. “You have to call me Charles. And Alex is Alexander when we’re in company.”

  At that moment, the door opened again and Alex glided through. For someone who was six feet tall, he had amazing grace. He was coordinated in a way I wasn’t. I think it was because he truly excelled in the physical activities of the Imperatives. Alex knew how to move without really thinking about it.

  I had to think about everything, which was why I had a permanent headache. This argument with Alice was not helping.

  “Your clothes, milady,” said Alex with a theatrical bow. “Do not ask how I got them, for I will never tell. Except to say that people really shouldn’t leave their drying laundry unattended.”

  The tension between Alice and me eased a little.

  “Not bad, Alex,” said Alice, picking up a pair of gray satin shoes. They were slightly frayed but still in good condition. He had also found a cream-and-pale-gray dress with a high waistline, and a gray fringed wrap. Not a highborn lady’s clothes, but those of a chambermaid. A perfect disguise to stop any questions.

  “I thought about dressing you as a boy, but you’re too pretty,” replied Alex. Alice beamed.

  “I suppose I can dress like a chambermaid for a few days,” she said.

  “And a bit of good news for you both,” said Alex. “The guard outside appears to have stepped away.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. “Why?”

  “I might’ve mentioned something about ale down the corridor.”

  “That’ll buy us a couple of minutes,” I said. “Alice, you get changed while Alex and I wait outside. Then we’re getting out of here to find Aramis.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer.

  * * *

  —

  In the corridor, a distinct chill was setting in as the weak springtime sun dipped lower and lower behind the windows.

  “And what were the women’s clothes for?” The voice nearly made me jump out of my skin.

  “Aramis!” exclaimed Alex.

  Our mentor stepped out of the shadows. He looked regal in a pair of burgundy knee-length pants and a belted white-and-gold tunic. His beard had been trimmed into a neat goatee and his deep auburn hair was tied back.

  “Good to see you…Father,” I said, looking up and down the corridor before adding quietly, “We were getting worried.”

  “Oh?” asked Aramis.

  “We’ve got a problem. An anomaly. Alice Tanner from The 48 is here. We don’t know why, but it appears that Grinch—”

  Aramis held up his hand. Two ruby rings glinted like fire as they caught the last of the sun’s rays. Aramis’s face, which was prematurely lined like those of most older Assets and pockmarked, was creased so much it was in danger of imploding.

  “Did you say Alice Tanner?”

  “Yes. We found her—”

  Aramis suddenly had a wild look about him: wide-eyed and panic-stricken. It was completely at odds with the way older Assets were supposed to behave. It was unnerving.

  “No. She can’t be.”

  “Yeah, she is,” replied Alex. “We need to send her back somehow. There must have been—”

  “Dammit, she’s onto us…I thought we had more time,” he muttered, pulling a knife from within his tunic.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he growled. “I’m sorry, Charles, but Alice can’t go back. We need to dispose of her. Now.”

  Aramis’s reply to my brother washed over me. Panicked, I repeated the ethnobotany Tenet of The 48 several times in my head to try to quiet the roar in my ears.

  We of The 48 consider ethnobotany a key area of study. Knowledge in this discipline could mean the difference between life and death. Ethnobotany is to be studied in conjunction with toxicology. All Assets are to become conversant in knowing which plants can cause death in humans. Assets will test all trainees without notice. Trainees are hereby given notice that they should inspect all meals at all times for rogue ingredients and be aware of antidotes.

  I’m sorry, Charles, but Alice can’t go back. We need to dispose of her. Now.

  Dispose was a clinical word. It was how you treated trash. You just got rid of it when it wasn’t wanted or required anymore.

  “Aramis,” I said, finding my voice. “I don’t understand. You heard us say Alice Tanner, right? Sixteen-year-old Alice—from The 48.”

  I looked at him. The wide-eyed, crazy appearance had gone. Instead he was staring directly at Charlie with total concentration and clarity. He stepped closer, and his skin took on the menacing orange glow of a recently lit torch above us.

  “Did you hear me?” said Aramis. “I’m your superior Asset. Now do as I say and dispose of the girl.”

  “No.”

  Charlie’s single syllable cut through the air like ice. He looked so calm, so in control. We had been taught to compartmentalize our emotions. We had also been taught to obey at all costs.

  But disobeying Aramis wasn’t complicated at all—not even for my brother—because Aramis’s instructions were absurd.

  “This assignment…your work here has…has been compromised,” said Aramis; his voice was low and deep. “If you fail on your first assignment, it is unlikely you will receive a second. The 48 and TOD are merciless with failures.” He was warning us, and when you received a warning from The 48, you listened.

  And I was listening—while also trying to figure out a way to defuse the situation. I didn’t want to do anything drastic. Aramis was one of the good ones. But this made no sense.

  Like all experienced Assets, Aramis was one step ahead.

  “Your brother is looking for a blade hidden in his boot, Charles,” he said. “Cease thinking of ways to reach it and just dispose of the girl.”

  “How do we know you’re not the one who has compromised the assignment?” I asked. Subterfuge was useless. I had been fumbling around the top of my boot, looking for my knife, but it was gone. “Everything has gone wrong since we came back. For all we know, you’re the one screwing it up.”

  “I am not your enemy,” replied Aramis. “But nothing can be left to chance. A third Asset arriving means danger. It is not the prescribed way.”

  “No kidding!” I cried. “But Grinch brought her here. And Grinch is your superior. She’s the Deputy Director.”

  “Get back in that room and dispose of the girl now, or I will do it myself.”

  “I said no,” said Charlie. “And we won’t let you hurt her either.”

  My brother’s coolness was heartening to see. But it seemed to fuel Aramis’s rage all the more—and his speed, too. With a knife in his right hand, he threw back the door to the antechamber with the other. He was inside before I had time to stop him.

  Fortunately, with his back to me, I could disarm him and take the knife myself.

  * * *

  —

  This is how you stab someone with their back to you: You thrust down between the shoulders to reach the spinal cord. Aramis’s hair and cloak would act as a barrier to the base of the neck, so I would have to be hard and true. There was no time for debate or fear. Just do it, Alex. I could hear Piermont’s mocking voice in my head. Just take the knife from Aramis and do it, Alex. Just do it. Do it.

  Down.

  Down.

  Down.

  * * *

  —

  “Where’s the girl?”

  “Alex…Alex.” Charlie wrapped his fingers around my arm, which was already raised at head height, readying to grab Aramis in a chokehold. Everything was moving in slow motion. Black amorphous shapes were swimming across my line of sight. Everything was clouding at the edges.

  I had been ab
out to kill someone. An Asset. A surge of fear swept upward from my stomach to the back of my throat. I was going to puke.

  “Where’s the girl?” repeated Aramis, kicking the blanket Alice had used away with his boot. He pulled the table toward him to check behind it. Three candles fell to the floor. The pot of glittering gunpowder wobbled but stayed in place.

  The other door. The keys that had been left on the latch were gone.

  As was Alice.

  “Stay here,” growled Aramis. “Do not move until I come back for you both.”

  With his knife still clasped tightly in his hand, Aramis threw open the small door next to the fireplace, ducked, and disappeared.

  “We have to find her,” I said. “He’ll kill her, Charlie.”

  “But why?” he asked. “Why would he kill her? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it sure as hell doesn’t. He’s one of us and he’s still gone to kill an Asset. This is like what happened back at the hotel in Paris. Something’s gone wrong, Charlie. Something major. There’s no denying it now. And as far as our assignment goes, Aramis is now as likely to stab us in our sleep as help us with it. And I’m pretty sure we don’t want his help, seeing as he wants Alice dead.”

  “Alice isn’t even an Asset,” Charlie mused. “She isn’t of age.”

  I stared at my brother, openmouthed. Infuriated by his calm, by his seeming lack of emotion, I kicked out at a chair and then turned to face him with clenched fists.

  “Let’s go! We have to help her! She’s one of us, Charlie.”

  “No, she isn’t,” he replied. Then he turned to me and gave me a small, sly smile. “She’s better than us. She always has been. And I would bet everything I have that Aramis isn’t going to find her. Not here. Not in this warren of rooms.”

  Alice had the brains and training of ten Assets. When she turned seventeen, she would be a natural. Perhaps the best time writer The 48 would ever know. But Alice had something else, too: a subtle way of creating disorder and distraction.