Fugitive Six

by Pittacus Lore

  “Ugh, what are you looking at?”

  “These?” Walker asked innocently. “Photographs of Einar’s victims.”

  Kopano shook his head, suddenly hot despite the air-conditioning. He pulled at his collar and loosened his tie. He was dressed like a salesman—dress shirt, tie, slacks. The women both wore white tunics, khakis, and headscarves. Walker also wore a light brown jacket to conceal her sidearm.

  “Put them away,” Kopano said, waving his head. “You already know what happened to them. Now it’s just morbid.”

  “Reminds me what kind of monster we’re dealing with,” Walker said. “Also, think it might be motivation to get our friend the sheikh to work with us.” She held up one of the photos—a squadron of men in body armor, ripped practically limb from limb—so that Ran could see it. “What do you think of that plan, Ran?”

  With a quickness that surprised Walker, Ran slapped the photo away. “Get that out of my face.”

  “I need you motivated, too,” Walker said, sliding the pictures back into their envelope. “That’s all.”

  Kopano cleared his throat. He had decided that if Ran was going to be the malcontent, he would try to be the diplomatic one, maybe get on Walker’s good side. She didn’t seem like such a bad lady, kidnapping and chip implantation aside. She was letting him drive, after all.

  “You really think those pictures will . . . motivate the sheikh to help us?” Kopano asked, giving Walker a chance to explain her plan and act all in charge. He found that adults liked that.

  “They would motivate me,” Walker replied. “Knowing there was a psycho Garde out there killing people? That he knows where I live? That I could be next on his list?” Walker shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch Einar in the middle of trying to murder the guy.”

  “You have a strange definition of luck,” Kopano said.

  “Anyway, it’s the best lead we’ve got. We haven’t been able to pin down the identities of many of Einar’s former . . . employers. Only got this one because his daughter—Rabiya, right?—got taken by the Harvesters. She told them who her father was while she was trying to talk them out of killing her.”

  Staring out the back window, Ran spoke without looking at Walker. “While we are here, you should arrest the sheikh. He works with the Foundation.”

  Kopano watched Walker out of the corner of his eye. She had a way of changing the subject whenever the Foundation came up. She even avoided saying its name when discussing Einar’s victims, even though membership was what they all had in common.

  “One thing at a time,” Walker said simply.

  Kopano tapped his hands happily on the wheel. “Then that means you will arrest them, eventually.”

  “I’ve got no jurisdiction to arrest anyone or—hell—even be in this country,” Walker replied. “Point is, the world is more complicated than you two make it out to be.”

  Ran fell silent again. They had left the city behind, trading the grid of tall buildings for a highway that cut through the desert. Even this highway seemed opulent to Kopano, with its equidistant palm trees and patches of soothing emerald green grass.

  “I think my dad would love it here,” he said. “He used to tell me about the world being complicated too, Agent Walker. It’s how he explained ripping people off.”

  Walker stared at him for a moment, then turned to look out her own window. Kopano drove them on in silence.

  Led by the GPS, Kopano steered them off the highway and onto a private road. The pavement glittered—Kopano swore it was laced with gold flakes. No one said a word until the palace came into view, the building rising out of the desert like something from a fairy tale, all sandstone columns and parapets, a parking lot out front cluttered with luxury cars shaded by groves of olive trees. Kopano shook his head—the audaciousness and splendor were like nothing he’d ever seen. Even his dad couldn’t have imagined this place in his wildest dreams.

  “Someone actually lives here?” Kopano asked.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” Walker replied.

  As the grandeur of the palace wore off, Kopano noticed the guards. There were dozens of them, some posted outside the front door, others on the roof and its walkways. They all wore white thobes and carried huge machine guns.

  Kopano swallowed. “They know we’re coming, right?”

  “They know,” Walker said flatly. “Operation Watchtower arranged to free up some of the sheikh’s questionable international assets in exchange for fifteen minutes.”

  Ran leaned forward to peer up at the many guards. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “We were not exactly kind to Rabiya when we last met. They may hold a grudge.”

  “Not kind to her?” Walker asked. “Way I heard it, you saved her from getting burned to death by a bunch of religious yahoos.”

  “Yeah,” Kopano said. “But then we forced her to teleport us . . .”

  “And she got home safe, eventually,” Walker countered. “We’re here trying to catch the guy who got her into all that mess. They’ll cooperate.”

  “If you say so,” Ran said.

  The three of them got out of the car. Immediately, Kopano sensed eyes upon them. Eyes and guns, all the guards shifting or stopping in their patrols, angling their bodies towards them. Kopano let Walker take the lead, the woman walking confidently towards the palace’s double-door entrance, but he put himself between the gunmen and Ran, making sure that his skin was hardened.

  “That’s far enough.” A guard stepped out from the shade of a tree and held up his hand. Unlike the others, his thobe was black and he wore a golden pin on his lapel—a boss of some kind. He approached the trio with his rifle ready but low.

  “I’m Karen Walker. We have an appointment with the sheikh.”

  “You have an appointment,” the guard said. He gestured at Kopano and Ran. “These two may not enter. Their kind cause nothing but trouble.”

  Kopano frowned at that. Ran stared dead-eyed at the guard. Walker looked over her shoulder.

  “Stay here,” she told them.

  “What if you get in trouble?” Kopano asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Walker said.

  Kopano and Ran exchanged a look, but what could they do? If something happened to Walker in there—if she was killed—they’d be shocked into unconsciousness and probably soon be dead themselves. That was a lot of trust to place in someone.

  “Be careful,” Ran said coldly.

  The guard led Walker into the palace, leaving Ran and Kopano alone with the dozens of steely-eyed guards. Kopano shifted uncomfortably.

  “This sucks,” he said. “I wanted to see inside.”

  There was movement up on the wall. Among the dour guards and their identical thobes, Kopano spotted a flash of color. There was a girl up there in a golden hijab and a leopard-print dress. Kopano couldn’t be sure at this distance, but he guessed it was Rabiya. He raised a hand to awkwardly wave. She peered down at him and Ran for a moment, then disappeared back into the palace.

  “Everyone’s so friendly,” Kopano said.

  Ran frowned at him. Then, she licked her thumb and rubbed at a spot on his collar.

  “You have something on you,” she said. “Is this . . . blood?”

  “Damn, good thing Walker didn’t notice,” Kopano said with relief.

  He reached into his pants pocket, moving cautiously in case any of their hawkeyed guards thought he was reaching for a weapon, and flashed Ran the bloodstained microchip that he’d pulled out of his head.

  “What . . . ?” Ran said.

  “I got it out,” Kopano said. “The chip.”

  Ran’s eyes lit up. She moved in closer to Kopano, speaking quietly.

  “How did you do it?”

  Kopano demonstrated passing the fingers of one hand through the palm of his other hand and wiggled his eyebrows.

  “I don’t know what I should do with it now,” he said, pocketing the chip again. “Smash it, maybe, or . . . ?”

  “No!” Ran hissed. “T
hey might notice it has been disabled. Keep it on you at all times.”

  “Okay, right,” Kopano said. “Smart.”

  Ran tilted her head and flipped her hair back so her scar was in view. “Can you do mine?”

  “I, uh . . .” Kopano swallowed. “I don’t know. Doing myself was one thing but what if—I could touch your brain on accident or I don’t know what else. It’s a big risk.”

  “A risk I am willing to take to get this thing out of me.”

  “Okay, but maybe I don’t want to risk accidentally lobotomizing my friend.”

  Ran frowned at him. Kopano frowned back.

  Before anything else could be said, there was a small commotion at the palace gates. Rabiya emerged from within, flanked by guards who struggled to match her purposeful stride. Kopano and Ran both tensed up as she approached.

  “I know you,” Rabiya said by way of introduction. “You two are from the Academy, yes?”

  Kopano looked at Ran. She regarded Rabiya with her typically stubborn silence, so Kopano shrugged and took the lead.

  “Sort of,” Kopano replied. “Yeah.”

  “And now you are here with an American agent to hunt Einar?”

  “It’s kind of a secret mission,” Kopano said.

  “Good enough,” Rabiya said. She looked at the retinue of guards that continually inched closer. “Step back,” she snapped at them. “Or you will incur my father’s wrath.”

  Looking uneasy, the guards eased back a bit. One of them spoke into a walkie-talkie, probably notifying the sheikh that his daughter had come into the open.

  “We must speak quickly,” Rabiya said, urgent eyes locking first with Kopano and then with Ran. “And then you will need to make a very quick decision. Understood?”

  “Not really,” Kopano said.

  Rabiya extended her hand and a torrent of cobalt blue energy funneled forth. Where her energy hit the driveway a glowing Loralite stone began to grow, making a noise like boots crunching over broken glass.

  “My father will not help you find Einar,” Rabiya spoke briskly, her eyes on Kopano and Ran as the stone grew. “After your fight with him in Iceland, Einar used me to teleport into a Foundation facility and steal a Mogadorian spacecraft. Then, he let me return here. He promised not to hurt my family during his little jihad. My father knows this. He will not risk upsetting Einar or the Foundation by informing.”

  “Please, sheikha,” interrupted one of the guards. “You must go back inside. This is not appropriate.”

  The guard tried to take Rabiya by the elbow. In response, she shoved him with her telekinesis and sent him flying into the side of a nearby Porsche, the glass of the driver-side window shattering from the impact. Nervous and fidgeting with their weapons, the rest of the guards took a number of paces back.

  “Why are you telling us this?” Kopano asked. Next to him, Ran picked up a handful of loose gravel, prepared to charge them with her Legacy if matters deteriorated further.

  “Since my brother was cured,” Rabiya continued as if she hadn’t just assaulted one of her own guards, “my father wishes to wash his hands of matters related to the Garde. The beating I endured by the Harvesters shamed him. He claims our powers are against God. He will not let me practice. I have heard him on the phone discussing a surgery to implant an Inhibitor in me.”

  Kopano instinctively touched his own temple. “So, you want us to what . . . ?”

  “I will help you find Einar. I know where he will strike next,” Rabiya said. “In exchange, I want you to take me to the Academy. I wish to enroll there. You must decide now. My father’s men will try to stop us.”

  She was right. Catching the drift of their conversation, the guards had started to creep closer, their weapons at the ready. The one with the walkie-talkie was speaking fast, probably relaying the situation to his boss in the black thobe.

  “Stop this madness, sheikha!” One of the guards implored. “You father, he is coming . . .”

  The Loralite stone was finished. Rabiya stepped forward. “Well?”

  “Uh, the thing is . . . ,” Kopano began, glancing nervously between Rabiya and her armed protectors. “We can’t really speak for—”

  “Yes,” Ran interrupted. “We agree.”

  “Good,” Rabiya replied. “Hold hands.”

  Kopano, flustered, let Ran grab his hand. Rabiya then took hold of Ran.

  “We cannot leave without Walker,” Ran said.

  “Fine,” Rabiya replied. “We’ll get her.”

  A pair of guards lunged at them, but too late. Rabiya brushed her fingers against the stone and the world dropped out from under Kopano. He remembered this feeling from teleporting back and forth to Iceland, but that didn’t mean he was used to it. He was swallowed up by the azure Loric glow, turned head over heels.

  And then, in the space of a breath, he was somewhere else. A courtyard, to be precise, inside the palace. They’d emerged from a second, smaller chunk of Loralite hidden within a grove of palm trees.

  “Look,” Ran said. “You got to see inside after all.”

  Kopano, dizzy, barked a surprised laugh. It wasn’t often that Ran made a joke.

  He didn’t have time to take in the vast courtyard’s bubbling fountains and sculptures. Dead ahead Kopano spotted the guard in the black thobe dragging Walker across the courtyard by the hair. She’d been roughed up a little and disarmed, but her scowl was still in place. They were joined by two more guards and an imposing older man with a huge beard and a very expensive suit. Kopano took him to be Rabiya’s father—the sheikh. He was in the middle of berating Walker as their group hustled towards the palace entrance.

  “What corruption is this?” The sheikh bellowed in Walker’s face. “Have you come to take my daughter, is that it?”

  “Agh—what?” Walker replied, clearly clueless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Rabiya adjusted her headscarves. “Shall we rescue your babysitter, then?”

  The three Garde stepped into view with Kopano leading the way. One of the sheikh’s guards, startled by their sudden appearance, raised his rifle and squeezed off a single shot.

  Kopano flinched as the bullet bounced off his hardened shoulder. It hurt, but on the same level as getting punched in the arm. He gritted his teeth and put on his scariest face.

  He needn’t have bothered. The sheikh lunged at the guard and slapped him to the ground. “My daughter is with them, you fool!”

  In the commotion, Ran reached out with her telekinesis and yanked Walker away from the guards, not at all concerned with handling her gently. Kopano grabbed her out of the air, smiling at the look of utter bafflement on her face.

  “What have you done?” Walker asked through her teeth.

  Rabiya waved at the sheikh. “I am going to America, father! Don’t try to get me back! Inshallah!”

  She grabbed Ran’s hand and in turn Ran put her hand on Kopano’s shoulder. The sheikh and his men rushed towards them, but they wouldn’t make it in time.

  “We can’t take her,” Walker yelled. “We don’t have the authority!”

  “Then stop us,” Ran replied.

  There was nothing Walker could do.

  Rabiya reached behind her, touched the Loralite stone, and they were gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  TAYLOR COOK

  BAYAN-ÖLGII PROVINCE, MONGOLIA

  MACLAUGHLAN WAS DEAD.

  Taylor tried to heal the man, holding him by the sides of what was left of his head. But there was no spark, nothing for her Legacy to rekindle. Gone. His face was a mess of burns from the Mogadorian blasters. There were places on his shoulders where his body armor had melted into his skin.

  Taylor gagged. She’d been around sickness and seen death before, had watched Einar force the sheikh’s guards to kill each other back in Dubai. This was worse, somehow. She’d at least known MacLaughlan a little, had been talking to him like five seconds ago. Was that really all it took to erase someone from the world
? It almost seemed too easy.

  Still ducked down in the backseat, Taylor saw a tongue of flame burst out from under the hood of their truck. No time to ponder existential questions now, no time to freak out.

  She needed to move.

  But something had caught her eye when MacLaughlan was shot. Something had fallen off his belt as he shoved Taylor down. The urge to flee was strong, but Taylor fought it. She groped around on the floor of the truck, fingers scraping over broken glass, until she hit upon something hard and plastic.

  A satellite phone. Hurriedly, she tucked the object into her parka.

  Black smoke was filling the inside of her truck. Outside, she could hear shouting, gunfire, and explosions. A full-fledged battle.

  She had no choice but to go towards it.

  With her telekinesis, Taylor knocked the battered back door off its hinges and leaped out into the freezing night. She kept low, blaster beams sizzling through the air from both sides. It was an ambush. The Mogadorians had come at the Foundation’s convoy from the east and west.

  Mogadorians. Freaking Mogadorians. Taylor couldn’t believe it. She’d seen the alien creatures on TV—pale and sunken eyed, tattoos on their scalps, hideous creatures that looked like they belonged in subterranean caverns. They’d failed in their invasion of Earth and been mostly eradicated or imprisoned, but Taylor had heard the rumors about pockets of them still at large, thriving in the world’s more lawless places, avoiding the reach of Earth Garde.

  Apparently, western Mongolia was one of those places. The pieces clicked together for Taylor, despite the panic. The Foundation had come here to procure something from the fallen warship. The Mogadorians had discovered them and not responded politely.

  She could see them out there at the edges of the floodlights’ radiance, their pale faces and dark armor illuminated in bursts by their glowing blasters. A mercenary taking cover behind an overturned Humvee sprayed bullets at a pack of the aliens and Taylor watched as they exploded into clouds of dust. Unreal.

  A blaster beam struck the burning truck she’d climbed out of. Taylor scrambled for cover and bumped right into a soldier doing the same.