Fugitive Six

by Pittacus Lore

  Isabela sniffed haughtily to show her disregard, but also to hide the frustrated tears in her eyes.

  “They wrote . . . bad things about me,” she said.

  “I know. I read it.”

  She glared at him.

  “You should read my dossier when you have a chance,” Einar said. “If you thought yours was bad . . .”

  “They called me a—what was it? An RTH.”

  “Risk to humanity,” Einar said. “They call me that, too.”

  Isabela’s eyebrows shot up. “But . . . you are a killer! Why should I be lumped in with you?”

  Einar shrugged. “They think they can predict our futures,” he said.

  Isabela considered this. “You should prove them wrong.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Stop acting like an angry child. Stop killing. Bring them to justice. There are good people at Earth Garde. They will help.”

  Einar pursed his delicate lips. “You just want to save Nigel’s mother. I understand. He’s your friend. But trust me, she is not worth saving.”

  “You read our files, yes? Then you know that the Garde at the Academy like Nigel. He was a hero during the invasion. You want to unite the Garde? Prove you are not a shitty little villain? Well, you need to stop killing people’s moms and dads.”

  “You’re oversimplifying things,” Einar muttered, but he was listening. He was looking at Isabela the same way that Caleb had last night. Waiting for an answer.

  “I have a plan,” Isabela declared. “For when we get there. A fate worse than death for these Foundation bastards.”

  “What’s worse than death?”

  Isabela touched her smooth cheek and, for a moment, let her appearance waver. Einar’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of her scars.

  “For these people?” Isabela smiled. “Being seen for who they truly are.”

  From his vantage point, Nigel could see a dozen or so Blackstone mercenaries moving about on the rooftops at the edge of town. They’d have an unobstructed line of sight down to the clearing where he and his mom stood. He was sure there were others, too, who weren’t visible to him. Maybe in the cabin, maybe up on the cable car.

  “You sure you’ve got enough men?”

  “One sniper would be enough for Einar,” Bea said. “His Legacies are only effective at close range. I’ll have every angle covered.”

  “You thought of everything,” Nigel said dryly.

  “Darling, when I plan an ambush, I plan an ambush.”

  “Might not even show up.”

  “He’ll show up,” Bea replied. “I made sure to leave ample bread crumbs for him to follow.”

  Nigel squinted. It looked like one of the mercs was carrying a rocket launcher. He whistled.

  “Is that a bazooka up there? Christ, Mum. Going to blow us all up?”

  “My dear, it’s always best to be prepared for the unexpected.”

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” Agent Walker shouted. “We’re talking international incident here!”

  “You said our mission is to find Einar,” Ran replied coldly. “She will help us do that.”

  “We’ve kidnapped the daughter of a sheikh from a nation that doesn’t participate in Earth Garde,” Walker responded. “Do you have any idea how illegal that is?”

  Ran tapped her temple. “Is this legal?”

  “You didn’t kidnap me,” Rabiya added. “I came willingly.”

  Walker and Ran didn’t acknowledge her, too deep in their own argument. Kopano sighed and put his hand on Rabiya’s shoulder.

  “They’re always fighting,” he said. “In the meantime, best to just enjoy the view.”

  They stood on a mossy cliff overlooking a gorge filled with overgrown jungle. Fog rolled across the valley below and, through the misty gaps, Kopano saw the remains of an ancient village. Stone temples and houses, all built into the mountain walls. Next to him, a Loralite stone jutted out of the ground.

  “Where have you brought us, exactly?” he asked Rabiya.

  “Machu Picchu, in Peru,” she replied, hugging herself. “No one has discovered this Loralite growth yet, so it’s free from the usual checkpoints and security guards. I come here sometimes to think.”

  Kopano glanced over at her. She was hard to get a read on, but he thought he saw loneliness in her eyes.

  “You can just teleport all over the world and see such amazing things,” Kopano said with a grin. “What a Legacy! I’m jealous.”

  “Yes, it’s great until someone is trying to kill you.”

  “You can just teleport away!”

  “It’s not always so easy.”

  Kopano took a deep breath and extended his arms, letting the breeze blow across his chest. “At the Academy, they will teach you ways to defend yourself. You’ll love it.”

  Rabiya glanced back at Walker and Ran. “Will they let me stay? If they send me back to my father after what I did . . .”

  “Things will work out,” Kopano assured her, although he wasn’t so certain of that any more. He fingered the Inhibitor chip in his pocket, the one that he’d pulled out of his own head. What reason did he have to be positive when everything lately had sucked so hard?

  He thought of Taylor, back at the Academy, probably worried sick about him. He’d made a promise to her, too, about keeping her safe and making life boring. Now he wasn’t around to keep it. He thought about kissing her, about how their relationship was just getting started. Now, it was Kopano who had loneliness in his eyes.

  Agent Walker snapped her fingers at Rabiya and Kopano as they both stared wistfully across Machu Picchu’s crumbled architecture. Apparently, she and Ran had finished their latest argument.

  “All right, since we’re in this mess and we can’t hide in Peru forever, we might as well know,” Walker resignedly addressed Rabiya. “Where is Einar?”

  “Switzerland,” she replied. “Or, at least, he will be there.”

  “Why Switzerland?”

  “There’s a meeting happening there between one of the Foundation heads and one of their biggest customers. He won’t be able to resist.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “The woman from the Foundation approached my father about acquiring my services for the meeting. Apparently she wanted a quick getaway.” Rabiya had held Walker’s gaze throughout the mini interrogation, but now she looked away. “He denied her, but I heard the details. The meeting is soon.”

  Walker ran a hand through her hair. “Jesus. So this is all just a hunch of yours?”

  “No,” Rabiya replied sharply. “The Foundation woman in question is Bea Barnaby. She recruited Einar. He won’t be able to resist attacking her.”

  “But he might not even know about this meeting,” Walker groaned.

  Ran stepped in close to Rabiya. “Did you say Barnaby?”

  “Yes,” Rabiya replied. “I think you know her son.”

  Kopano’s stomach dropped. There really wasn’t much reason for optimism in this world. None at all.

  “How close can you get us?” Ran asked.

  Rabiya draped her hand against the Loralite growth.

  “Close.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  TAYLOR COOK

  ENGELBERG, SWITZERLAND

  “WHERE ARE ALL THE PEOPLE?”

  Taylor, the XO, and six other Blackstone mercenaries walked purposefully through the deserted streets of the Swiss hamlet. It was a quaint little spot at the base of the mountains. In her past life, Taylor would’ve loved to visit a place like this. Now, she saw shadows moving in every abandoned window.

  “Boss lady had them evacuated,” the XO replied. “Safer that way.”

  “So you’re expecting trouble?”

  He gave Taylor a look. “Cook, not a day goes by I’m not expecting trouble.”

  Taylor had to admit it was a stupid question, but she was nervous. The XO and his men had geared up when they arrived. They all wore body armor now and heat-vision
goggles on their foreheads. All their weapons were tethered to their armor by titanium alloy cords, so their guns couldn’t be ripped away by telekinesis. Taylor also noticed that some of them had adopted Mogadorian energy blasters recovered from the warship raid. A telekinetic could knock a bullet off course, but not redirect an energy beam.

  That meant they were expecting trouble from Garde. But who?

  The sun was going down. The snow on the mountains was tinted pink and dark purple, the clouds in the sky a wispy ripple. Taylor’s breath misted in the cool air, but this was nothing compared with the temperatures in Mongolia.

  A nice night. Too nice for a fight.

  They rounded the corner and approached a clearing near the mountains. Taylor spotted two people up ahead, not military by the look of them. Civilians. The woman, with her close-cropped blond hair and her long winter overcoat, Taylor recognized immediately as Bea.

  But the guy next to her made Taylor gasp and stop in her tracks, causing one of the mercenaries to bump into her with a grumble.

  Nigel.

  Taylor forced her feet to plod forward, her mind racing. The last time she’d seen Nigel had been on New Year’s Day. He’d gone to London to bury his father and never returned. His shady disappearance had propelled Taylor to this point and now . . .

  The resemblance clicked into place. Bea and Nigel. Mother and son.

  Jesus Christ. If Nigel was Foundation, that would mean her cover was completely blown and she was walking right into a trap.

  No. He couldn’t be. Not Nigel. That wouldn’t be punk rock at all.

  But Miki had said they had ways. Ways of manipulating you. Turning you.

  His own mom.

  The distance between them was closing. He stared at her. Bea smiled warmly. Taylor didn’t know what to say, how to play this situation. If only they had a minute alone so she could feel this out.

  Hell with it, Taylor thought. Be natural. Be yourself.

  Being herself meant rushing the last few steps up to Nigel and hugging him.

  “Oh my God, Nigel! You’re okay! They told us . . . well, they didn’t tell us anything,” she gushed. “We thought you could be . . .”

  He didn’t hug her back. Instead, Nigel extricated his gangly limbs from under Taylor’s arms and took her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length.

  “Oi,” he said with a sneer. “Getting the stink of sellout all over me.”

  “Oh, do calm down, dear,” Bea said. “Not everyone can be as hopelessly righteous and naïve as you.”

  “Been bitching about how unhappy you were for months,” Nigel said to Taylor, ignoring his mom. “But I never thought you’d actually go through with this shit and join these craps.”

  Taylor had to stifle a smile. He was playing along. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She’d forgotten what it was like to have an ally. It took some effort to cock her head defensively and raise her voice.

  “You never understood how much was wrong with that place,” she said sharply. “Do you know what happened to Ran and Kopano, huh?”

  Nigel turned away as if he couldn’t stand the sight of Taylor.

  “Now, now,” Bea said, clapping her hands twice. “There will be plenty of time to smooth out these squabbles later. For now, we must present a unified front. Our guests are arriving.”

  Taylor and Nigel both looked to the sky as a silver vessel sliced through the clouds and descended. The thing looked like a giant Frisbee. No. More like a B-movie flying saucer.

  “The shit is this, then?” Nigel asked. “The martians invading?”

  “That,” Bea replied, “would be Mr. Wade Sydal.”

  Taylor knew the name. The weapons manufacturer and inventor. The one who designed the gear the Harvesters had used against them. She glanced at Nigel. His face was screwed up and he chewed his bottom lip. He was confused. So, his mom hadn’t filled him in on every detail.

  “You’re selling him the stuff we brought from Siberia,” Taylor stated to Bea.

  “Indeed,” she replied.

  They formed up around Bea as Sydal’s saucer landed across the clearing. Nigel and Taylor stood on either side of her, the XO next to Taylor, his men fanned out in a loose half circle behind them.

  An entrance ramp extended from the saucer and a trio of dark-suited security guards filed down the ramp. They didn’t look nearly as fearsome as the Blackstone mercenaries—they were lacking body armor, blasters, and a great deal of facial scarring. They looked warily at Bea’s gang, but eventually called the all clear back into the ship.

  Moments later, a boyish man with jet-black hair and a wide smile sauntered down the ramp. He extended his arms in cheerful greeting as he crossed the grass.

  “Bea, you old hellcat, what a dramatic location you’ve chosen for . . .”

  Taylor didn’t hear the rest of his words. She was too distracted by the three people who made their way out of Sydal’s saucer.

  Melanie Jackson, Taylor had never met but she knew from all the magazine covers and YouTube videos. She was the face of Earth Garde.

  Daniela Morales, Taylor had encountered briefly before. She was one of the first to develop Legacies. One of the only ones to fight alongside John Smith.

  And Caleb Crane. Her friend. Her fellow fugitive. He looked as shocked to see Taylor and Nigel as they were to see him.

  “Christ, one reunion after another,” Nigel muttered.

  The two groups stood on opposite sides of the clearing, not getting too close. Caleb awkwardly raised a hand and waved. Nigel gave him a too-cool up-nod. Taylor just stared.

  Of course, the adults were talking. They loved talking.

  “Is that my acquisition your man has there?” Sydal asked, gesturing at the XO.

  “It is,” Bea replied. She took a smartphone out of her coat and checked the screen. “Haven’t seen the transfer clear yet, Wade.”

  Sydal took out his own phone and pressed a button. “There. A whole metric butt-ton of moola was just transferred to your daughter’s trust account, like you asked.”

  That caused Nigel to give his mom a look. Bea checked her screen and, satisfied with what she saw, gestured for the XO to bring Sydal the case.

  As the XO marched across the field, Sydal took a closer look at Bea’s group. His forehead creased in consternation when he noticed Taylor and Nigel. Maybe she was mistaken, but Taylor thought he recognized them.

  “Bea, light of my life . . .” Sydal said, his voice tense despite the levity. “Are those Garde I see at your side?”

  Bea glanced at Nigel and Taylor, as if just noticing them. “Why, yes,” she said. “Only two, I’m afraid. Couldn’t acquire my third in time. You’ve got quite the entourage yourself.”

  “These three are lawfully assigned to me by Earth Garde,” Sydal responded, a note of righteousness in his voice. “Yours . . . forgive me, Bea, but you aren’t authorized to have them, as far as I know.”

  Taylor hated this. She hated these two talking about the Garde like they were things, like they were accessories. Yet, through her annoyance, she also sensed something important playing out. If Sydal dealt with the Foundation, then he already knew they had Garde at their disposal. But Bea had put him in the same space as them, with witnesses. She’d implicated him and now he was trying to play it off.

  “My son and his friend are here of their own free will,” Bea replied, her haughty tone goading. “Are you going to go tattle on me, Wade?”

  Sydal’s face twisted like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He snatched the reinforced briefcase containing the Mogadorian ooze away from the XO and handed it off to Melanie. Poor girl. She looked more confused than anyone and now she was stuck handling something truly toxic.

  “As a law-abiding citizen, it’s my obligation to report you,” Sydal said. “This was very stupid of you, Bea. Very, very stupid. Our whole relationship . . .” He paused, as if trying to rein himself in from saying more. “Our whole relationship is based on discretion. You’re ruining s
omething gre—”

  Case delivered, the XO had started his way back to Bea’s group. The soldiers looking on weren’t very tense. They probably interpreted this whole thing the same way Taylor did—as a pair of rich assholes showing who could piss the highest.

  That’s why none of them reacted initially at the sudden whoosh through the air.

  Just like that, the XO was flattened by a giant mass. He lay on his back, writhing, one of his legs twisted, his arm bent awkwardly over his head.

  At first, Taylor thought that a rock had fallen off the mountain and struck him.

  But then the rock stood up.

  The XO’s attacker wore a baggy hooded sweatshirt that did little to hide his hideousness. His skin was an abnormal patchwork—mostly, it looked to be the consistency of gleaming steel, but then there were islands of cancerous black that reminded Taylor of the puddle of ooze she’d stepped in. The guy had only one eye and he swung it back and forth to take in both Sydal’s group and Bea’s.

  Nigel took a half step back. “Five,” he breathed.

  “Anyone who shoots,” Five shouted, “gets their head ripped off.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  CALEB CRANE

  ENGELBERG, SWITZERLAND

  SECONDS AFTER FIVE LANDED ON ONE OF BEA Barnaby’s mercenaries and flattened him like a pancake, a Mogadorian Skimmer began its descent from above. The ship looked nothing like the sleek disk Sydal had built using its technology. This vessel appeared to have been through a war and was barely holding together—scorch marks on its sides, pieces hanging loose where they shouldn’t, a visible crack in the windshield.

  As spaceships went, it was a junker.

  “You know who that is, right?” Daniela whispered to Caleb.

  “Yeah, of course,” he replied, trying to simultaneously watch the Skimmer descend and keep an eye on Five.

  Unreal. This had to be the we Isabela had been referring to. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  “I don’t,” Melanie hissed at them. “Who is he?”

  “Five,” Daniela replied.

  “The Loric?” Melanie snorted. “Shut up. He’s dead.”