Kerry is seated next to me, Vex set still on. Claudine’s avatar stares blankly out at the room, unmoving and unblinking. Is she still in Vex with Kerry?
There’s a clear line between me and the door. Should I make a run for it? Get out of here and avoid the worst of Mr. Winn’s wrath? Or will that only make things worse? What would my friends do if they were here?
Without a doubt, Hank would stay. Taro would probably advise keeping a low profile and slipping out, especially if he thought he could convince one of the mercs to give him a ride back to the Village. Billy would—
Billy would use this opportunity to plant the Highjacker.
With a jolt, I remember the small device in my pocket. How could I have forgotten it? If ever there was a perfect time to plant the device, it’s now.
Riska pricks his ears in my direction. I scan the room again, double-checking to make sure no one watches me. Mr. Winn’s back is to me. Kerry is still in Vex. The few mercenaries present all hang back, observing the chaos. No one watches me.
Except, perhaps, Claudine. Her smiling, unmoving face is still plastered on her screen. She’s not looking directly at me; in all honestly, it doesn’t appear she’s looking at anything. Maybe she really is still in Vex.
This is probably the best opportunity I’m going to get. Even with the chance Claudine is watching me, I’m still under less scrutiny than I’ll be at any other time.
I turn my head in the direction of the server wall, pretending to watch the frantic techs. I inch my hand into the pocket of my khakis. Riska stares at me, his head cocked, not hissing anymore.
My fingers come in contact with the smooth, warm metal of the Highjacker. I wrap the small object between my fingers and pull it free. I pause, hand resting on my thigh. Another quick scan of the room, just to make sure I’m still not being watched.
Then I slide the Highjacker between the cushion and the side of the chair. I wedge it as far down as I can, hoping Mr. Winn’s housekeeping staff isn’t thorough.
“Miss Hom!” Mr. Winn’s voice snaps like a whip.
I jump in the chair. With an effort I keep my hand between the cushions, pretending like nothing is out of the ordinary. I turn wide, questioning eyes on Mr. Winn, not having to feign surprise and nervousness.
“Go with Ms. Sturgess,” Mr. Winn snaps. “I want a full debriefing. Tell her every detail you remember about that Anderson bastard. Every detail. You understand?”
I turn to find Kerry rising to her feet, Vex set dangling from her fingers. She looks like she’s being chased by one of those wild Alaskan animals Mr. Winn was shouting about. She jerks her chin at me, indicating I should follow her. I don’t have to be told twice.
I spend the next tedius hour relating all the events of the press conference. Kerry drills me for every detail—details about William Anderson’s clothing, his expression, the reactions of the audience, the Skeletex suit—everything.
Finally, after Kerry has asked me to describe Skeletex for the third time, I say, “Weren’t you there watching all this? Didn’t Mr. Winn have the event recorded?”
“Of course,” Kerry replies, waving a dismissive hand. “But you had a perspective no one else had. You were on stage with Anderson. There’s a chance you could have picked up on a nuance we missed.”
Like the way he looked at me with amused sympathy? If I’m lucky, no one noticed that. I sigh and obediently describe the Skeletex again. And then I do it again, and again.
By the time Kerry is done with me, I’m exhausted and frustrated. Seriously, how many times do I need to describe the way beams of light shot from Anderson’s hands? Or how his face looked when he engaged the audience?
When I pass by the closed doors of the media room, Mr. Winn’s shouts can still be heard. I can’t make out any words, but the anger in his voice is palpable. The mercs before the doors leading outside are all tight-lipped. When I ask for a ride back to the Village, three of them immediately volunteer.
Back at the Village, I make a beeline for Daruuk’s house, eager to tell him about the Highjacker. I’m rounding the corner of Daruuk’s street when I hear Aston’s voice.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Aston says in a low tone. “I think they may suspect us.”
“A week, two at most,” says another voice—a voice I recognize.
38
Intel
I leap backward, throwing myself behind a bright green shrub growing nearby. I practically squash myself against the ground to avoid being seen. Riska burrows into the bush, flattening his ears and staring at me with his big green eyes.
I try to peer through the shrub, but it’s too dense. I don’t dare raise my head for fear of being spotted.
“If things escalate, we’ll have to settle for what you’ve managed to get so far,” Aston says.
“Just a little more time,” Dad replies. “I’m close.”
Riska lashes his tail, ears swiveling as he follows the sound of Dad and Aston walking away. I stay huddled on the ground, mind racing. What is going on? What are they up to?
Dad and Aston move out of earshot. For the next three seconds, I consider following them. I ultimately decide against it, knowing there’s no good way to sneak up on a merc like Aston. I itch to find Billy and tell him I overheard, but I need to get to Daruuk first.
I hurry on to Daruuk’s house, banging on the front door when I arrive. Asha, Daruuk’s little sister, answers. She looks up at me, one hand balanced on her hip.
“Daruuk,” she screeches. “Sulan’s here!” To me, she adds in a whisper, “Did you get it done?”
At my nod, a grin spreads across her face. “Yes!” She thrusts one fist into the air. When Daruuk appears in the doorway, she announces in a stage whisper, “Sulan did it!”
Daruuk turns to me for confirmation, arching both eyebrows at me in a silent question. At my nod, his eyes spark with excitement.
“Good work, Hom. I knew you were the woman for the job. Give me twenty-four hours. I’ll have everything ready by then.”
“I’m sixth in line,” Asha tells me.
“Eighth,” Daruuk tells her. “I had to make a trade with Dennis.”
“Eighth!” Asha’s voice rises to a shriek. “You promised me sixth! You promised!”
“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good,” Daruuk tells her with a sniff.
“But you promised!”
“The need of my subjects far outweighs your needs, little sister.”
“I hate you! You always break your promises!”
I retreat, leaving Daruuk and Asha to their argument. They don’t appear to notice my departure. Even after Asha slams the door, I hear them yelling at one another.
I beeline to Billy’s house. He’ll want to hear about today’s Vex debacle, the Highjacker, and the conversation I overheard between Dad and Aston.
When I reach Billy’s house, I find Uncle Zed hunched over in the doorway.
“Zed?” I slow down, careful to keep a good ten feet between us.
He turns slitted eyes in my direction. The front of his polo shirt bulges. One arm rests just above his waistline as he cradles whatever is in his shirt.
“Is Billy home?” I hold my hands up to show him I’m unarmed. Riska trails in the air after me.
“He’s inside,” Zed replies after staring me up and down for several long seconds. “Aircats pick him up in an hour.”
With that, he unlocks the door and goes inside. He leaves it open, which I think is his way of telling me I’m welcome. I poke my head in cautiously. Zed leans over an open box, emptying an armload of bread rolls from his shirt into the box. A handful of knives and forks go in next.
“Hey,” Billy says, looking at me from beneath his bangs. They brush the tip of his nose. He’s perched atop a box bulging with old books. “What’s up?”
“Sulan?”
I turn in surprise, seeing Taro emerge from behind several boxes. The sight of him brings a smile to my face. “What are you doing here?�
� I ask.
“Trading with Uncle Zed.” He looks around sheepishly, stuffing something into his pocket.
I give him a quizzical look. “Trading for what?”
He shrugs without answering, then gives my hand an affectionate squeeze. I return the squeeze, giving him a look to let him know this conversation isn’t finished.
“What happened at the press conference?” Billy asks.
“William Anderson crashed it. I’ve never seen Mr. Winn so angry. But I managed to get the Highjacker planted. Daruuk says we’ll have access to Vex within twenty-four hours.”
I’m greeted by stark silence. Taro stiffens beside me. Billy pushes his hair aside to get a good look at my face. Even Zed stares at me, bread rolls and silverware forgotten.
“Wait right there.” Billy disappears into his room, then remerges with a battered notebook and a pen. He returns to his seat on the book box, then motions for me to take a seat on a pile of used clothing.
I flop down, pulling Riska into my lap. Taro sits down next to me, the clothing pile sagging so that our hips bump together. His warmth is pleasant and comforting, despite the fact that tension still seeps off him.
“From the beginning,” Billy says, flipping open his notebook. I glimpse small, scratchy blue penmanship. “Start with Anderson.”
“Commie,” Zed mutters. He sits down across from us on a miscellaneous stack of junk. He smells like he hasn’t showered in weeks.
I shift, trying to put some distance between me and Uncle Zed’s stink. Riska leans forward, nose twitching as he sniffs the air close to Zed. His ears swivel toward the man.
“What is that?” I point to the notebook in Billy’s hand.
“My conspiracy notebook,” Billy replies. “I started it the day we arrived. I have to write everything down by hand now.”
“It looks like you’ve almost filled up the whole thing.”
Billy nods, then sits with his pen poised, waiting for me to begin. Taking in a deep breath, I launch into my tale. I relate everything that happened in the last few hours, beginning with my disastrous press conference and ending with my accidentally eavesdropping on Aston and Dad. Billy scrawls in his notebook, only pausing to ask me questions or to clarify some point.
“What does all this mean?” I say at last.
“Which part?” Billy asks.
“Everything.”
Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know yet.”
“Anderson is turning up the pressure,” Taro says. “He’s devoting a lot of resources to hacking Global. That doesn’t come cheap or easy.”
“I need to get into Vex.” Billy clicks his pen closed and slides it into the spiral binding. “Come on, let’s go find Daruuk and find out how soon I can get in. Oh, and—” He pauses, wincing. “Don’t tell Hank, okay?”
We exchange a look. I wonder how Billy can keep things from Hank. I wonder if it makes him as sad as it makes me.
I nod, showing him I understand. “I won’t say anything.”
We head toward the door, nearly reaching it when Zed says, “Morning Star.”
I pause, glancing over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I never give intel away. Neither should you.” He rises, pacing toward me, the whites of his eyes stark against the dark tattoos covering his face. “You gave me intel tonight. Good intel. I’ll pay you for it.”
A quick look at Billy confirms my suspicion that it’s better to go along with this. “Okay.” What does he want to give me? A pair of shoes? A candy bar?
Zed stops when he’s a foot away, leaning toward me. “Maxwell.”
This draws me up short. “What about Maxwell?”
“Claudine sent him out this morning.”
“Are you sure?” I say, at the same time Taro says, “How do you know?”
Zed stares at me without blinking. “Positive. He left shortly after your press conference.”
Billy, Taro, and I look at each other. We don’t speak, but I know we’re all thinking the same thing: tonight’s the night to break into Maxwell’s.
39
Maxwell’s House
The plan is to meet at Billy’s house at three in the morning. We’ll have a few hours of darkness on our side for the break in.
I’m dressed and about ready to leave when there’s a tap on my window. I pull the curtain aside and find Taro standing there.
“Did something happen?” I ask, opening the window for him. “Aren’t we supposed to be at Billy’s?”
“Everything’s fine.” He drops onto the floor inside my room, his boots barely making a whisper of sound. “I just wanted to … see you first. I mean, I want to give you something.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out something thin and shiny, handing it to me. I step closer to the window to look at it by the light of the moon and stars. The movement takes me close to him, my arm brushing his torso. His breath feathers across the top of my head. He doesn’t touch me, but doesn’t move away, either.
I peer down at the object in my hands. When I realize what it is, my lips part in awe.
It’s a red rose—an honest-to-god red rose, the sort you’d see in a pre-’Fault movie. It’s been pressed flat between two thin sheets of plastic. The petals, leaves, and stem are all perfectly preserved.
Beside me, Taro shifts, scrubbing a hand through his short hair. “It’s dumb, I guess, but I wanted to get you something and there aren’t a lot of options around here. Dad once told me that guys in the pre-’Fault days used to buy red roses for girls they—for girls they—cared about.” He swallows.
I look up and see tension across his brow and around his eyes, making me realize how nervous he is. I’m so touched it takes me a moment to find my words.
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful.”
He gives a soft, relieved chuckle, his shoulders rounding in relief. I lean against him. His arms come around me, drawing me close. I let myself relax into his embrace.
“Is this what you were trading for with Uncle Zed?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“What did you give him for it?”
“He wanted salt shakers from the cafeteria. I stole two for him.”
We both laugh. The soft rumble of his chest thrums against my ear. I like being in his arms, I realize. It’s no longer the scary place I thought it would be.
Was Hank right? Is having someone—a boyfriend—a nice thing? What would Mom say, if she were here? I can’t help but think she would approve of Taro, the mercenary boy who doesn’t like fighting or killing. In fact, I can’t think of a boy she’d like more.
Seized by impulse, I rise up on my toes and plant a quick kiss on his lips. I drop away almost instantly, feeling shy, but his arms come up and catch me, holding me close against him. He covers my mouth with his.
Our last few kisses have all been tender and gentle. This one is different. It’s hungry, deep, and passionate. His lips devour mine, one hand coming up to cup my face. There’s a slight tremble in his fingers as he touches me. He pins me against his body with his other hand, the muscles of his chest and torso hard against me.
The kiss both thrills and terrifies me. I break away, overwhelmed by the intensity. I rest my forehead against his chest, trying to catch my breath. His rough breathing ruffles across my hair.
We stand like that for a long moment, neither speaking.
“Billy is waiting for us,” Taro says at last, pulling away. “We should go.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
“Taro?” I say as he boosts himself over the windowsill.
“Yeah?” He lands lightly on the ground outside.
“Thanks for the flower.”
A smile blooms on his face. I take the hand he offers me and climb out after him.
• • •
“This is the one,” Billy breathes, indicating a small yellow bungalow tucked into the street on the northernmost edge of the Village. The three of u
s glide forward, slipping into the shadows of the front door.
“How are we going to get in?” I whisper.
Billy slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a thin box of old-fashioned lock picks.
“Where did you get those?” Except for the Dome, homes don’t even have old-fashioned locks anymore; it’s all palm scanners, voice recognition, or eye scanners.
“Zed brought these with him to the Dome. Do you know how to use them?” he asks Taro.
“Yeah. Dad’s training was thorough.” Taro takes the box, sliding out the picks and inserting them into the lock. After a little twisting, the door clicks open.
I look over my shoulder, half expecting to get caught, but the street is silent and empty.
We slip into the house. Riska rides on my shoulder, crouched low, black wings tucked tightly against his body.
It’s dark inside. Taro pulls a small flashlight from his belt.
“Where should we start?” I whisper.
“His bedroom,” Taro says. “If there’s anything he doesn’t want found, it’ll be hidden there.”
We creep through the small living area, which looks like every other living room in the Dome. I stand close to Taro, practically glued to his back as we ease into the bedroom.
He shines the beam over the room, careful to avoid the window. It’s a small room with a narrow bed, a single dresser, and a bedside table. It has the same gray bedspread with the Global Arms logo embroidered in the bottom corner. It smells like Maxwell—that strong stench of cigarettes.
“I haven’t smelled cigarettes on anyone else in the Fortress,” I whisper.
“Claudine’s other mercs aren’t in the Dome,” Taro replies. “Maxwell is the only one I’ve seen.”
“Where are they?” There’s nothing in the closet except an extra pair of boots and a row of Global-issued black jumpsuits.
“Outside the Dome doing work for Claudine,” Billy says. “Or at least, that’s what Zed and I think.”
I stick my hands into all the boots while Billy combs through all the pockets of his jumpsuits. We both come up empty.
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