Invisible Armies

by Jon Evans

  “That’s enough out of you,” Laurent says. “Understand?”

  Danielle barely manages to nod.

  “No,” Sophia says. “Nice try, but no. You’re not going to social-engineer me like that. Shadbold couldn’t have done that to my dad. His drugs don’t reliably cause the right kind of cancer in an individual. Let’s get back to the subject.” She turns to Keiran. “Shazam.”

  “It wasn’t just you,” Keiran says.

  “What?”

  “We did some research. There were a dozen young bright computer whiz kids whose parents fell sick or died in the same two-month period that year.”

  Danielle knows Keiran is bluffing. They never did any research. But he might be right.

  “Enough!” Laurent says angrily.

  “Look it up,” Keiran says. “You’re being used. You’ve been used for years.”

  Laurent takes two steps around the table, intending to punish Keiran.

  Keiran says, “Why do you think he’s so desperate to shut us up? It’s because your boyfriend here knows it’s true too. He knew all along.”

  Laurent stops.

  “But never mind,” Keiran says. “What do you care, right? You want Shazam? I’ll give you Shazam.”

  He starts into his technical deposition again. Danielle understands none of it. But she can tell that Sophia isn’t listening. She is lost in disturbed thought.

  Laurent sees this too. “Sophia, are you getting this?” he asks in a pointed voice.

  Sophia looks at him a moment before answering. “I’m a little seasick,” she says. “Can we do the other two questions first?”

  “Seasick?” Laurent is skeptical.

  “That’s what I said. Seasick.”

  He and Sophia exchange a brief hard look.

  “All right,” Laurent says. “Question two. Where is Jayalitha?”

  Keiran shrugs. “Fucked if I know.”

  The flippant answer earns him a broken nose. Keiran’s chair rocks back with the force of Laurent’s punch, and nearly deposits him on the floor before it rights itself. Blood streams from his nose, drips down either side of his mouth like a gory handlebar moustache. Keiran, incredibly, smiles.

  “Then where do you think she might be?” Laurent asks.

  “I honestly haven’t a fucking clue.”

  Laurent shifts the bowl of water to Keiran’s side of the table.

  “Do your worst, mate,” Keiran says dismissively. “You think we had a fallback plan in case we got kidnapped? She’s a ghost. After what she’s been through, living on the streets will be a piece of piss. You’ll never find her.”

  “We shall see. Question three. Where is the evidence?”

  Keiran looks at him like he’s crazy. “What evidence?”

  Laurent is on the verge of renewed violence, but Sophia raises a hand to stop him. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she says quietly.

  “What?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick. I need to go outside.” She stands up, folds her laptop, and walks out of the room. Laurent watches her go, a wary expression on his face.

  “Relationship problems, Laurent old son?” Keiran asks. “Is the level of trust between you and your new lady love not what it could be?”

  “Shut it.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me?”

  Laurent stands and walks out of the library, after Sophia. They hear the door lock behind him.

  “Find a lockpick,” Keiran hisses, the moment the door shuts. “Quick. He’ll send one of his men to watch us.”

  They both stand up and begin looking around. But the room seems barren other than shelves, books, table, chairs, and the bowl of water. Outside they hear Laurent issue some kind of command, and then boots, tromping towards them.

  Danielle examines the bookcase. It is bolted to the wall, but can move a little back and forth. Wooden brackets protect the top and bottom of each shelf, preventing books from flying out in rough seas, and requiring them to be inserted and removed sideways. The only exception is the top shelf, larger than the rest, which is covered by netting that hooks into holes drilled into the shelf below. The hooks themselves are too large to be useful, but – “There!” Danielle says urgently, seeing a folder full of loose papers behind the netting. “There’ll be staples. Or paperclips.”

  “Get it,” Keiran says, as he puts his back to the table and tries to shove it towards the door – but it too is fixed to the floor. The boots have almost reached them. Danielle gets up on the chair, manages to unhook the netting with her teeth, but the papers are too far away. The door opens. Vijay enters, looks curiously at Danielle standing on a chair, and Keiran with his back to the table.

  “Sit,” he says. “Behave.”

  Defeated, for the moment, they obey.

  “At least Jayalitha got away,” Keiran says.

  “Yeah.”

  “You are to remain silent,” Vijay warns.

  Keiran looks at him scornfully. “Or what? We’ll probably be dead in an hour. What can you possibly threaten us with that isn’t already going to happen?”

  The Indian man has no answer.

  “And they think we know where Jaya’s evidence is,” Keiran continues.

  “Should we talk about this –”

  “Why not? It’s not like we know anything. Good thinking with Sophia’s father, by the way.”

  Danielle shrugs dully. “Too little too late. Probably.”

  Keiran nods. “Alas. Afraid we don’t have much longer. If they knew we don’t know anything about Jaya or her evidence, they would have just buried us in the desert instead of bringing us here. Where are we, incidentally?” he asks Vijay.

  Vijay smirks.

  “I asked you a question, you stupid fucking cunt,” Keiran says, and hawks a stream of bloody phlegm across the table into Vijay’s face.

  For a moment the sheer chutzpah of the act freezes both Danielle and Vijay with shock. Then Vijay is on his feet, rushing around the table towards Keiran, brushing past and nearly knocking over Danielle. Keiran runs, keeping the table between them. Vijay gives up on the Keystone Kops chase, jumps up onto the table with surprising nimbleness, and leaps at Keiran, who does not dodge, but lets the force of the charge carry him backwards into the bookshelf – the same bookshelf that holds the sheaf of papers. The force of the impact causes them to spill out into the room. Danielle, understanding now that this is method not madness, gets out of her chair, and as Vijay slams a fist into Keiran’s solar plexus, and he collapses into a quivering wreck, she manages to squat down and liberate a paperclip from the papers strewn across half the room.

  Vijay stands and uses one of the fallen papers to wipe the spittle off his face. Danielle gets back into her chair, holding the paperclip tightly. Her broken finger sings with agony. She hopes Keiran isn’t too badly hurt to pick locks. The wind has been knocked out of him, he fights for breath for twenty seconds, his eyes bulging from his face, before he is able to draw in air again. An idea hits her. She stands up, leaving the paperclip on her chair, and goes to kneel beside Keiran. “Are you okay?” she asks, her back to Vijay, putting as much worry into her voice as she can. And then as he looks up at her, she bends towards him and whispers: “Take my chair.”

  “Sit down,” Vijay warns. “Now. Or I will end the love taps and a real beating will begin.”

  Keiran slowly gets to his feet, his face liberally smeared with blood from his broken nose, totters to Danielle’s chair, and sits, breathing hard. Vijay appears not to have seen the paperclip. Danielle hopes Keiran won his DefCon Lockpick Challenges honestly and not by hacking the scoring system. Not that she can imagine how his escape from cuffs might possible save them. She stands, intending to take the nearest seat, but Vijay blocks her path. He closes his hand around her throat, not quite hard enough to block her breaths, but firmly, as if he owns her. He steps close to her, keeping his legs inside hers, preventing a knee to the groin.

  “Danielle Leaf,” he says. “It is a pleasure t
o see you again. As I told you before, we have many more subjects to discuss.” His hand tightens. “I hope we can spend some time before you depart. I have such plans for you.”

  The door opens. Laurent is there. “Let her go,” he says sharply.

  Vijay obeys. He looks a little hurt, like a child whose toy has been taken away for some incomprehensible adult reason.

  “Danielle,” Laurent says. “Come with me.”

  She doesn’t want to, but has no choice. Wondering if he will now simply push her off the edge of the boat, she follows him through the galley and out onto the deck again. The sun hurts her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Laurent says.

  She looks at him. “What?”

  “For what I did to you in there. I didn’t intend it. I panicked. I thought I had to silence you and it was the only way.”

  “That’s what you’re sorry for.”

  “Yes. I regret the rest of what happened with us. But this was different. This was a mistake. What happened before was unavoidable.”

  “And what happens next? Is that unavoidable too?”

  “You will not be harmed further,” Laurent says. “You have my word. You understand we cannot release Keiran, he is much too dangerous, but you will go free.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s truth. I realize you have no reason to believe me. That’s fine. You don’t need to believe me. But when you are released, you need to understand the necessity of not ever talking about this, to anyone.”

  “What about when they come to arrest me?” Danielle asks.

  “I can promise you that the FBI will soon realize that they erred in making you part of the investigation.”

  “Sure.”

  “As I said, it does not matter if you believe me now,” Laurent says.

  “Why would you possibly let me go?”

  “I’ll be honest. In part in the hope that Jayalitha will contact you again. And because we have nothing to fear from you. You aren’t a credible source. Anything you say will be called paranoia, with no evidence. But mostly it’s an operational decision on my part. I think you deserve another chance at life.”

  “That’s big of you,” Danielle says.

  “Ask yourself, why would I lie?”

  “So you can use it as a carrot for Keiran. If he tells your pet hacker everything he knows, then I get to live.”

  “That incentive for cooperation is an added bonus,” Laurent admits.

  “Assuming your pet hacker doesn’t turn on you.”

  “She won’t. I don’t know whether your allegation about her father is true. I agree it’s plausible. But if Mr. Shadbold does find a way to live, he will share his cure with all other victims, that was no lie. It will be his legacy. He intends to go from pariah to hero. Even if he changes his mind, Sophia will be able to steal the cure, as long as she stays within his organization.”

  “Is that how she sees it?” Danielle asks.

  “That’s how I explained it to her. I think she agrees. It just took her a moment to adjust to the new understanding.”

  “Doesn’t she realize you’re a lying fucking sociopath?”

  “She knows I will lie to protect my loyalties,” Laurent says. “As will she. In a way it’s a more candid understanding than most relationships. Ours is a partnership of equals.”

  “Two tigers, huh? Not like you and me. Not like tiger and mouse.”

  “You are not a mouse.”

  “No. If you’re telling the truth, I get to be a lab rat in a maze. I spend my whole life with you watching everything I do, in case Jayalitha calls me or I start to make trouble. Is that about right?” Danielle asks.

  “Yes.”

  “After you tie Keiran to an anvil and drop him off this boat?”

  “Operational necessity.”

  “You’re so casual. You’re so fucking casual about it.”

  “The inability to be casual about death is what prevents otherwise exceptional people from becoming great,” Laurent says. “Such as yourself. We live in a world where the strong inevitably eat the weak. Great men and women accept this. Only fools deny it.”

  “Great. Psychopath philosophy. As if my day wasn’t complete.”

  “Your hand needs medical attention,” Laurent says, ignoring her sarcasm. “Then we’ll go back to the library. I would like you to be there while Keiran explains what he knows.”

  * * *

  The ship’s medical clinic is small and immaculately clean, all chrome and white. Laurent sits her at a metal table and unlocks her handcuffs. Danielle closes her eyes as Laurent deftly sets and splints her broken finger. She doesn’t want to watch him touching her. It takes all her willpower not to cry from the pain. By the time he has finished she is breathing in short gasps and her cheeks are wet with tears. Neither of them say a word as he reattaches her handcuffs and leads her back to the library.

  She hopes and even half-expects to find Vijay unconscious and Keiran gone to work some evil technical wizardry on the ship. But the room is unchanged except that Vijay has been exchanged for one of the burly khaki-clad white men, the spilled papers have returned to the bookcase, and the blood has been cleaned from Keiran’s face; he must have been escorted to a bathroom.

  Laurent stays outside.

  “Well?” Keiran asks. “What did he say?”

  Danielle doesn’t want to answer. She knows that this is all part of Laurent’s plan, to incite Keiran’s cooperation with the hope of her survival, as well as the threat of turning her over to Vijay the sadist. Both carrot and stick. He must have learned that from Shadbold. But she isn’t willing to lie to Keiran. She recounts her conversation with Laurent.

  “You believe him?” Keiran asks.

  “He’s a liar.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Danielle hesitates. “I do. But it might, I mean, like, denial, of course I’m going to believe what might be a happy ending for me, right? I don’t want you changing what you do because of anything he says, or…” Her voice trails off.

  “True or not, I’m not leaving this ship,” Keiran says.

  “No.” Danielle realizes that this is true. It is pure self-delusion to stake some kind of hope on a stolen paperclip. Keiran will die on this vessel.

  “I might as well give you a chance. I hope it’s real.”

  Danielle doesn’t know what to say. She wants to cry.

  Laurent enters, accompanied by Sophia, carrying her laptop. She sits next to Keiran. Laurent stands during the ensuing technical conversation, which makes little sense to Danielle, or apparently to Laurent or the guard. Both Sophia and Keiran speak in clipped, unemotional tones, one scientist to another, as if it is a conversation between co-workers, rather than the surrender of potentially world-shaking knowledge by a man who will soon die. Only about half their words are recognizably English. Keiran’s cuffs are removed so he can take turns using Sophia’s laptop, which she can tell makes Laurent uneasy. Their mutual technical respect is obvious; Sophia makes little impressed grunts as Keiran tells her details, and Keiran nods as Sophia understands what he says, often before he even finishes his sentences.

  “Sorry,” Keiran says after a good hour of this. “I’m losing focus. It’s been a hard day. I need to rest before we continue.”

  “Continue?” Laurent asks. To Sophia he says, “You said this wouldn’t take long.”

  Sophia shakes her head. “I didn’t know how much he had. It’s not just breaking into systems, it’s understanding them and using them once you’re there. Keiran’s been doing this for fifteen years. He’s a walking encyclopedia. I could spend all week learning from him.”

  “We haven’t got a week,” Laurent says darkly. “He’s just stalling.”

  “He’s not. I’ve learned more in the last hour than the previous six months. Give me two more days with him and we’ll have fingers in every pie within five miles of the Internet. Seriously. This is amazing stuff.”

  “Two more days.” Laurent consider
s. Danielle can tell he doesn’t like this at all, is on the verge of just ordering Keiran dead on the spot.

  “What have you got to lose?” she asks.

  Laurent gives her a sharp look, but then nods. “Back to their brig. Both of them. 24-hour watch. At both the door and the camera.”

  * * *

  The adrenalin that has fuelled Danielle all day drains away when she realizes both she and Keiran will live to see another. By the time they get back to the room they woke in, and their cuffs are removed, she is dead tired and her headache is so immense it clouds her whole mind. Thankfully, the beds have been outfitted with 300-thread-count sheets, incredibly soft blankets, and firm pillows. The luxury is surreal. But it is still a jail. It is still light out, and she can tell Keiran wants to talk, but Danielle doesn’t think she is capable of conversation. She curls up under her blanket, closes her eyes, and waits for sleep to wash the pain away.

  It is night when she wakes. This is apparent only from the dark porthole; the fluorescent octopus above them still burns with eye-scarring brightness. Danielle feels immensely better, fully alert, her headache a damp throb rather than yesterday’s stabbing agony, and her finger hurts only when she moves. She can tell by Keiran’s breath that he too is awake.

  She might survive this. Keiran is surely doomed, but Danielle might be released. Maybe Laurent is lying. But maybe not. It is a tiny but golden strand of hope. If you let me get through this, she vows to God, the cosmos, whatever supernatural forces might be listening, then I promise… She comes to a mental halt. She isn’t quite sure what to promise. To be good, as a five-year-old might? To do good, she decides. To stop wasting my life. To devote it to something. A better world. She doesn’t know how, exactly, but maybe the how isn’t so important.

  She needs the bathroom. Danielle gets up, bangs on the door, starts to shout. Eventually the guard, his eyes red with sleeplessness, allows her out and into a opulent bathroom of marble and gold. He doesn’t allow her to close the door, but she is beyond physical embarrassment, and he doesn’t pay any attention to her anyway. She drinks water straight from the sink’s solid gold tap. When the guard comes to escort her back, she briefly considers making a run for it, but gives up the idea as futile and meekly lets him lead her back to captivity, where she joins Keiran on his bed. He reaches out to her and they hold each other closely.