by Kristen Pham
“Then I’ll find my own way in. But you’re not going into this without me. Not again.”
The pressure that I’ve been carrying in my chest ever since my encounter with Adam and finding Sparkle’s body dissolves. Justus is right. This is a battle best fought with my team at my side.
Chapter 45
Three days of frantic planning blur together. I hole myself up in the Chrysalis, rehearsing every part of Crew’s plan exhaustively. I work, eat, and even sleep there, only leaving twice, both times to secretly meet up with Justus so he knows what’s happening.
The level of coordination that goes into prepping for Circe Night astounds me. There isn’t a Throwback in the building who isn’t dedicated to some part of the plan.
Dennis is making me practice hacking an encrypted video feed for the umpteenth time when Elizabeth joins us.
“It’s time to get you into costume. The car from Strand will be here to pick you up in two hours,” she announces.
“I can get myself ready in thirty minutes.”
She grabs my arm and yanks me out of my chair. “Yes, you’ve proven that you can turn yourself into a whore for sale in no time. But tonight, you need to appear classy, so Crew wants me to oversee your costuming.”
I let Elizabeth pull me along because I promised Crew I’d follow orders and I intend to keep my word. Mostly.
Elizabeth takes me up several floors to costuming. A team of four is waiting to get me ready. One is cloned from Madonna, but the others aren’t immediately identifiable.
They take me in hand and begin discussing my “look” for the evening as if I’m not there. Apparently, I’m not worth consulting. I close my eyes and let them work.
I’m scrubbed, plucked, painted, brushed, and dressed. Elizabeth is constantly correcting the team, ordering them to use less blush or insisting on a more sophisticated hairstyle. I tune it all out and go through the plan in my mind step by step.
“You’ve done her justice,” a deep voice says.
I open my eyes and find Crew staring at me, his head cocked to the side and his mouth turned down in a bitter frown.
“I remind you of Jo like this?” I guess, and he nods. “Then I must look pretty good.”
“Understatement,” the Madonna clone, whose real name is Lillian, says proudly.
Elizabeth turns my chair so I face the mirror. I thought I’d transformed myself before, but that was like a girl playing with makeup compared to how I’m done up tonight. Elizabeth has made me appear commanding, almost regal. The girl in the reflection dominates a room.
“Thank you.”
“Make it count,” she replies.
“I will.”
Crew is distracted by a message on his phone, and Elizabeth leans closer to me. “You’re going to make the headmaster pay tonight for all he’s done.”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth swallows once, then twice. “If you need more proof against him . . . I could testify. It was only once, but he made me give myself to a client of his. If I refused, he would have exposed sensitive information about my family to the public. I could not allow that.”
I know how it feels to think of yourself as strong and to have life prove that you’re as vulnerable as everyone else. Elizabeth’s forehead wrinkles as she recounts her pain, and my heart aches for her.
As if sensing my sympathy, her usual cold reserve returns. “Don’t mistake me—I’m no one’s victim. Nonetheless, it would give me great pleasure to see him humiliated and removed from a position that allows him to abuse his power.”
“Or drawn and quartered. That would give me great pleasure,” I say, and am rewarded when Elizabeth’s mouth quirks in a half smile. “Thank you for stepping forward, but you can keep your family’s secrets safe. We have all the proof we need. He’s about to have the worst night of his life.”
Elizabeth’s half smile turns into a full one, with teeth. It’s beautiful and frightening. She grips my hand in a solid grip. “Good.”
Crew slides his phone in his pocket and steps closer to me. “Come, now.”
I follow him into the Lab from the basement of the Chrysalis. As we make our way through the tunnels, he quizzes me on the plan until he’s satisfied that I know it cold.
“Joan, I know that you and your team are going to expose Headmaster Hunter tonight,” Crew says after he’s confident that I could execute the plan for tonight in my sleep.
I lick my lips nervously. “It won’t interfere with the plan, sir. It will be one more Evolved who is exposed for his sins.”
“I’ll allow it. But I want him exposed first, before we reveal the evidence against the Strand executives.”
“Thank you.”
We leave the Lab and make our way toward the Little Theater. Crew glances at his phone.
“Everything is in place,” he says.
Other than a slight twitch of his left eyelid, Crew appears totally calm. I wish I could siphon off some of his certainty. I’m pretty sure that Crew and the rest of the Throwbacks in our rebellion have run out of their store of forgiveness for me if I screw up again.
“I can do this,” I tell him when I spot the sleek, black car sent by Strand rounding the corner.
“I’m sending you because I know that’s true,” Crew replies. “Not because I knew Jo, but because I believe in you.”
I give him my best attempt at a confident nod before he vanishes down the street, likely headed back to the Chrysalis to make sure that the rest of tonight’s plan is in place. Harriet is coming as Nic’s date, and I see her leaving the dorm.
“Good God,” Nic says when he comes out of the Little Theater and sees me.
I do a dramatic spin. “Try to remain conscious in the face of so much beauty. I know it won’t be easy.”
“And the spell is broken.”
“I think we’ve solved the riddle as to why you don’t have a girlfriend, Nic,” Harriet says.
Our silly banter helps dispel the anxiety that hovers over us like an impending thunderstorm. The car from Strand is idling in front of the Little Theater, waiting. It’s all I can do to keep myself from pacing.
“Where is Rob?” Nic asks.
Harriet nods toward the dorm as Rob bursts outside and takes long strides toward us. “On his way.”
Rob is dressed up, and his hair is slicked back. His eyes glow with a light that is difficult to interpret. When Crew told me that I would be bringing him as my date, I tried to say no. But Crew ignored me, and now I’m stuck with this sociopath. In my opinion he’s one more person to babysit tonight, but Crew must have his reasons for sending him.
“Let’s go, team,” I say, leading the way toward Strand’s car.
Inside, we begin the first part of our plan, which is to play for the camera mounted in the car, in case anyone is watching. The forced merriment is painful. I’d rather be dueling the Darwin herself.
The car slows in front of a theater three times as large as the Little Theater. I recognize the Showbox, the biggest and most popular theater in Seattle. It’s named for the original theater that stood here and was torn down to make way for this marvel of modern entertainment.
A mob of people, including the media, crowd the front of the building. I’m stunned at the turnout. It’s like a red carpet event for a mainstream vid with real Hollywood stars. But our car rolls past the front of the theater, where other limos stop at an LED-lit red carpet. Instead, our car continues to a side entrance, where no mobs of people are waiting.
“Why are we back here?” I ask.
I look around the car and realize that I’m the only one who’s confused.
“The front is for the Evolved actors’ grand entrances,” Harriet says.
“Did you think that Strand was going to turn a bunch of Throwbacks into celebrities?” Nic asks, his tone implying that I’m an enormous idiot.
The car door opens, and we get out. Up close, the entrance is labeled as the official entryway to the Showbox for Genetic Replicants.
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“All public facilities have separate entrances for Throwbacks,” Harriet whispers to me as we go inside. “Separate restrooms, backstage areas, everything.”
Nic and I present the tickets on our phones to the tablet embedded next to the door, and a security scanner flashes a red light over us. Crew told us that the scanner confirms our identities and makes sure we aren’t carrying any weapons, which is why none of us are armed.
Part of me worries that I won’t be allowed in, that Lexi has revoked my ticket, but the door opens. Somewhere in the theater, I know that Justus and his dad are also present, ready to step in if we need help. Crew doesn’t know about this part of the plan.
Before I can assess my surroundings, a headache slams into the back of my head. I barely hang on to my lunch. Harriet slumps to the ground.
“What the hell?” Rob groans, sinking to his knees.
Nic braces himself against the wall when he sees the rest of us suffering. He’s the only one who has had the chip in his head deactivated, and it’s important that he doesn’t let Strand learn that fact. I stagger a little, and he steadies me by putting his arm behind my back.
“Message from Strand,” I choke out. “Not to cause trouble tonight.”
“Letting us know our lives are in their hands,” Nic says, his free hand briefly straying to his temple.
“If this is the best they’ve got, they’ve underestimated us,” Harriet says. She sucks in a deep breath and stands.
Rob’s forehead is slick with sweat, and he sways on his feet when he pulls himself off the floor.
“Stay focused,” I command.
I’m the most experienced at dealing with these headaches. We’d known it was possible that Lexi would send one to me tonight, but we hadn’t guessed that she’d hit us all.
“We should find our seats,” I say, making eye contact with each of them.
The element of surprise is only ours if we act like we’re here to watch the show. Harriet nods at me, immediately understanding my unspoken reminder that cameras could still be watching us.
Harriet has memorized a blueprint of the Showbox, including the locations of all security cameras. She orients herself with an agility born of years spent navigating the streets of Seattle—above and below ground.
We bypass the backstage party for Throwback actors and head toward the theater. On stage, an enormous screen displays the title of Blake’s promotional vid for Strand, To Each, His Place. Rob growls when he sees the title.
One of the managers of the theater sees us, and his eyes flick to our lavalieres. “You’re out of your area, Knockoffs. Make your way to Throwback seating, or I’ll have you kicked out of this theater.”
Next to me, Nic and Rob tense.
Slipping into my Sweet Lil’ Joanie persona has become second nature, and I bat my eyelashes at him. “We’re awfully sorry.”
“And thank you for the warning, sir,” Harriet says, her tone humble as she leads us away. Once we’re out of earshot, she mutters, “Asshole.”
Hearing Harriet swear makes me grin, in spite of my headache and the tension in my shoulders.
Harriet leads us to the Throwback seats, which are two floors higher in the back of the theater.
“I came here once on a field trip to see a play,” I say. “I never knew there were seats up here.”
“That’s the point,” Rob says, acid dripping from his voice. “We’re meant to be in the background, existing only to serve the Evolved and die.”
“People do stupid things when they’re angry. Keep an eye on him,” I instruct Harriet under my breath.
“I intend to,” she replies. “Now go.”
I glance at my phone. I have twenty-three minutes to hack into the video feed before the screening begins. I head to the back row of seats in the Throwback section where there is a blind spot in the security feed, so my actions can’t be watched. The rest of the audience, both Throwback and Evolved, trickle into the theater.
After choosing seat 23B, I reach under the cushion. Even though Crew promised it would be there, it’s a relief when my hand closes around a state-of-the-art tablet that our team planted there two days ago. Under the armrest is a circular Taser, which can deliver a shock from three feet away. Now that I’m armed and in possession of the tablet, my head clears and my hands stop shaking.
Three rows down, I see the light from Nic’s tablet turn on as well. I log in. The tablet is already connected to the theater’s Wi-Fi, but it’s up to me to access the computer that will display the video feed.
Harriet and Rob are acting as lookouts, but so far, no one has noticed Nic and me sitting all the way back here. Most of the other Throwbacks are thrilled to be here to see their performances on screen. Harriet ushers a Molly toward the front row to divert her from coming toward Nic.
Hacking into the video feed is so simple that I worry that I’ve made a mistake. But after triple-checking the connection, I take a breath and acknowledge that this part of the plan has gone well. I can’t take over the computer’s controls until the vid starts running, because if I alert anyone that the system has been hacked, the theater will be evacuated and the screening will be canceled.
I shoot off a message to Dennis, Marie, and Crew, who are overseeing the technical side of tonight’s plan from the Chrysalis, to let them know I’m connected.
Nic scratches the back of his head, signaling Harriet, Rob, and me that he’s hacked into the security system controlling the theater. It’s perfect timing because the lights dim.
Blake walks out on stage, his chest puffed out with pride. “Many directors have lengthy speeches to deliver before showing their art. But I will let this masterpiece speak for itself, me, and the company that has made America the best country in the world. Strand.”
Polite applause follows his speech. To Each, His Place begins, starting with the syrupy introduction of smiling Throwbacks. I tap a key to allow Dennis to access the video feed and find that my connection has been broken.
Dennis warned me that this could happen. Software has detected the intrusion and cut me out. It’s almost a relief because this mission was going too smoothly. I signal Harriet with a flash of the light on my phone and make my way out of the Throwback seating section.
Rob and Harriet follow me, and we slip past the ushers lining the exits of the theater.
“This way,” Harriet says, leading us toward a utility door that technicians access to make repairs.
Harriet moves confidently through the maze of narrow hallways lined with sensors, wires, and screens embedded in the walls. Back here, there aren’t any security cameras, but Rob and I would be hopelessly lost without Harriet to guide us. I’d insisted to Crew that I wanted Harriet inside the theater not because she’s my friend, but because of her navigation skills. She’s proving that I was right.
Harriet picks up the pace, and Rob and I jog behind her until she stops at a door in the bowels of the theater.
“Through here,” she says.
I grip the Taser in my pocket.
“Ready?” I ask Rob and Harriet, who also have their Tasers out.
Rob grins. “Time for the fun part.”
Chapter 46
Rob twists the handle of the door, but it’s locked. To my surprise, he pulls out a laser from his other pocket, which melts the metal handle in under five seconds. He puts the laser in the hole he created, and there’s a small hum and a faint whiff of smoke.
The door opens soundlessly. The room is lit with dozens of monitors, like the Emerald City newsroom. The screens on the sides display images of the audience, but the block of screens in the center all show the Strand promotional vid. Silhouetted against the bright light coming from the screens are three men and two women.
All of the technicians are staring at the various monitors, occasionally pressing buttons on a dashboard that is so complex it looks like it belongs on a rocket ship.
Our research into the technicians was thorough, and I know what each of these
people does. Four are Throwbacks, all trained in stagecraft. The fifth is an Evolved manager, and he stands, directing his minions.
Harriet, Rob, and I move in sync. Harriet uses her Taser on two of the Throwbacks in quick succession, and I take out the other two Throwbacks with a touch of a button. There’s only time for one scream before the room is silent. All five of our targets are collapsed in their seats, and they’ll remain unconscious for thirty minutes to an hour.
I’m breathing hard from fear, but I grin at Harriet, who smiles back. Rob is staring at the man he took down. His eyes are wide, and I worry that his target is still conscious. That’s when I see something dripping down the Evolved’s chair onto the floor.
“What did you do?”
Harriet and I race over, and I touch the man’s head. He’s bleeding. My fingers automatically go to his neck to find a pulse. There’s none.
Shock, combined with the leftover effects of the headache, freeze my mind. “You killed him.”
“Get moving,” Rob orders me. “Get Crew connected to the video feed.”
“You’re crazy,” Harriet says, and I see her body subtly shift into a defensive pose, in case Rob decides to attack.
“This trash deserved what he got. Sal researched him. He evicted thirty tenants from an apartment complex he owns, sending them onto the streets in the middle of winter. Kids too. One woman died from exposure.”
“You’re a murderer,” I snarl, snatching the laser weapon he’s holding before he can use it again.
Rob ignores me. “Get on with the plan!”
I press the button on my Taser again, and Rob drops to the ground with a heavy thud.
Harriet’s face is still and stony. “What’s the right thing to do here? Do we abort this mission or continue?”
I fight my rising nausea. There’s no way to save the Evolved man, but going forward as if our plan is on track is unthinkable.
“Joan, look,” Harriet says, pointing to a monitor on the far left side of the room.
The headmaster occupies a seat in the front row of the theater, with the rest of the Strand executives who are attending the screening. We knew that he somehow escaped from his office about eight hours after we confronted him, but it’s still a shock to see him here, his smug smile in place. Isn’t he afraid of what we’ve found on his tablet? Maybe he thinks we’ll blackmail him personally. No one sees an attack coming here tonight.
