Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2)

by Claire, Nicola

  "What's the beam laced with?"

  "An opiate," Lena advised. "First euphoria." Her eyes met mine and her lips tried to lift in a smile, but failed. I offered a cocky one back with a wink. She closed her lids. "Then paranoia," she added in a soft voice.

  When her eyes opened again the blue was no longer cool. But my blue. The one I liked to see best in her beautiful gaze.

  Alan whistled this time. "That's some hit."

  "We don't know the exact make-up of the drug they've used," I offered. "How it makes the victim want to test specifically, other than a fear of not testing making them desperate to obey the rules."

  "That's impressive," Alan commented. "Did you get what you needed at Lena's?" In other words, was the injury received worth it.

  "Yeah," I said, smiling crookedly. "A treasure trove of delightful things." I paused, then in a more subdued voice said, "Thanks for last night."

  "Don't mention it," he replied automatically, but his eyes met mine briefly. He'd do it again.

  I cleared my throat. "Until we clean the tech room, we need to communicate carefully on this. How much we tell Harjeet and how much we keep to ourselves could mean the difference between our success and our failure. How's he been?"

  "Asking after Lena. You, he didn't even mention."

  "Not surprising," I said on a huff of breath.

  "Isha will be waiting as soon as you arrive," he added. "How do you want to play this?"

  I looked back at Lena, who was looking out the side window again, as if none of this mattered. As if none of it affected her. I'd have to keep chipping away at that Elite wall she kept rebuilding. Every time I thought I'd destroyed it, it went the fuck back up again.

  "We'll distract Isha," I said. "It's us - or at least Lena - she wants. You take the gear to Si and clean that tech room. If she doesn't see the duffel bag, she can't tell Harjeet about it."

  "He'll suspect," he argued, albeit carefully.

  "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him. And we're sure as hell not gonna tell him, are we?"

  Lena flinched. I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't have been obsessed with the woman and watching every single breath she took. I frowned, just as we turned onto Grafton Road, Harjeet's Park Road swiftly approaching.

  Well now. It seemed I had more than just one selfish reason to be watching Lena.

  And I had a suspicion, on this occasion, I wouldn't like what I'd see.

  Chapter 18

  The Cheshire Cat Grinned

  Lena

  Park Road was busy, even this early in the day. Hawkers touting their wares, calling over and above each other. Voices raised in a lullaby of Anglisc and D'maru. Colourful k'ri k'ri wrapped women swayed between harried looking r'aru wearing men. Pinks and golds and aubergines and jewel-like sapphires sparkled in the early morning sun. Coriander and cumin, mixed with turmeric and cinnamon on the air. The heat making the spices thick and cloying, but conversely causing my mouth to water hungrily.

  We'd not eaten since the breakfast bars last night and although I was famished, I was also grimy from a night spent on the run, racing over rooftops and dodging drones down alleys. Not to mention my shoulder now ached continually, making first aid the immediate concern. But the instant we wended our way through the back stalls of Little D'awa and into the upper levels of Park Road itself, heading towards our new tech room, I knew none of that would be on the horizon.

  Isha stood waiting just inside the final door.

  Trent made a grunting sound; half amusement, half frustration. Isha just eyed him superiorly.

  "Harjeet is expecting you," she announced, her gaze taking in Trent's dishevelled state, pausing on a rip that had somehow appeared in the upper thigh of his jeans. Bare flesh peeked through the gap and rather than being entranced with the image of Trent's muscular thigh, she seemed repulsed.

  Clearly the girl was a traditionalist, and Citizen clothing was no match to p'ta trousers.

  "He'll have to wait," Trent replied casually, moving to walk past her.

  Isha's eyes swept towards me.

  "He has breakfast ready," she advised. "The tea will get cold."

  "Then you'll have to brew it again," Trent argued. "We need to clean up first."

  "He does not wish to speak with you."

  And there you have it. The moment I'd been dreading.

  Trent turned slowly to face me, filling way too much of the space in the hallway where we all stood. I was thankful Alan had taken a different route into the building than us, to avoid being seen with the duffel bag of gear. Isha and myself next to Trent in this small enclosure was more than enough.

  "Selena requires first aid," Trent offered, eyes on me and not Isha. I had the feeling he was offering argument for the sake of it, already aware he'd lose this battle.

  Or maybe he just wanted to see what I'd do. How I'd play this.

  Harjeet could wait. I could easily insist on a shower or a dressing for my shoulder first. But by not delaying this meeting, I'd have a reason to leave when the conversation got too hot. I'd have an out. With Harjeet Kandiyar having an escape route planned seemed wise.

  "You go ahead," I said with a lift of my chin. "This won't take long."

  Trent smiled. It was in no way humorous. It brought to mind a wolf baring its teeth to its prey.

  Then he shrugged his shoulders, grimacing slightly at the move.

  "Have it your way. There's a shower with my name on it."

  He turned and walked away, leaving me acutely aware that he suspected something. Trent never left an argument halfway through. If there was one thing I had learned about the rebel leader in the short amount of time I'd known him, he never backed down.

  But he'd backed down from this. And he must have known me meeting privately with Harjeet was not a good thing for the revolution. Or for him.

  I turned towards Isha, who'd watched the entire scene play out, and catalogued our reactions and words to memory, for later retelling to Harjeet. My eyebrows arched, daring her to make a snide comment. Letting her know I saw through her every move.

  "Come," she said, sounding more Elite than I did anymore.

  I followed behind desperately wanting to shower myself, but fortifying my resolve to face Harjeet. What did he already know? What could I tell him without revealing too much?

  This was a game of cat and mouse, played out on a high wire with no safety net. The D'awan wanted something, and his endgame was not the same as ours, I was sure. But what it was, I just didn't know. Maybe he wouldn't be the only one to be asking the questions this time.

  The room we walked into was cool and the low table sitting in front of a reclining Harjeet, who was reading from a vid-screen and didn't look up as we arrived, was laden with several types of Dosas; fragrant crepe pancakes rolled and stacked next to an array of chutneys and a coconut Sambar. The scents wafting up from the dishes were enticing. Much more so than the man lying relaxed on a mountain of shining cushions.

  He shifted as I crossed to the opposite side of the table, placing his computer on a nearby pillow on his chaise longue. I noticed he'd been reading The Wánměi Times. My picture adorned the front page. Which, of course, Harjeet had left open on his vid-screen.

  "Honourable Selena Carstairs," he said, as he smoothly stood to his feet and bowed in greeting.

  I nodded my head and sank to the cushion-filled matching sofa on my side, not waiting for an invitation. I was tired of playing by the rules. Exhausted, a little beaten, definitely bruised. Nothing was what it had seemed and yet I had never felt so alive.

  "I'm starved," I declared and proceeded to serve myself two Dosas with a good portion of the Sambar on the side.

  Harjeet didn't miss a beat, but simply leaned forward and poured me a cup of tea.

  He sat down and watched me eat for a long moment, his fingers steepled in front of his body, his eyes shrewd. He didn't touch a single piece of food, nor sip from his half empty tea cup sitting to his side. He waited until I had finished one Dosa
then spoke.

  "He is becoming desperate," he said, not bothering to explain who "he" was.

  I remained silent. How Wang Chao acted was not something I could control.

  "He offers a substantial reward in the papers for any information pertaining to your whereabouts."

  "Are you thinking of cashing in, Harjeet?" I asked.

  He smiled. It was a Cheshire cat grin.

  "Merely appraising you of the latest news."

  No, he wasn't. He wanted something.

  I finished my second Dosa and then leaned back and sipped my tea.

  "There are more drones on the street," I offered, blowing gently across the steaming surface.

  "Yes," was all the answer I received. Not enough information to pay for our continued safe harbour here, then.

  "Shiloh is evolving," I added.

  "What leads you to this?"

  "A drone survived an interface spike, after only a short amount of time out of commission."

  "The connection was not severed," he countered.

  "It was." Enough to stop the drone choking me. "But it reconnected somehow."

  "Any idea how?"

  I shrugged my good shoulder in a blatant show of non-model behaviour. Harjeet smiled. This time amused.

  "Shiloh controls them."

  His eyes sharpened.

  "All of them, Selena?"

  "It has been a while since I have spoken with a Cardinal controlled drone."

  "Yes." Nothing more.

  Time to ask some questions of my own.

  "What do you know?"

  "Oh, so this is to be a sharing of information?" The amusement lingered in his smile, but underneath it was pure calculation.

  "Why not? What have you to hide, Citizen?"

  "Absolutely nothing, my dear." He spread his arms wide, showing off a splendid p'ta today. Rich blues, laced with deep purples. Very regal. I wondered if it had been chosen with care. I was sure it had. Harjeet did nothing without thought. "What you see is what you get," he finished.

  I smiled at that. What you saw with Harjeet Kandiyar was the very tip of a very deep iceberg and no more.

  "What have you learned of Shiloh?" I asked, not bothering to even try to hide my semi-repeated question.

  "She is evolving," he offered. Exactly what I had offered him.

  For a second I thought it was all pointless. Harjeet was cunning and manipulative and had ulterior motives that none of us could fathom. But he also liked very much to surprise.

  "Why don't you ask your friend Lee Tan."

  I stilled; feeling my pulse spike and sweat begin to trickle down my back.

  Any time anyone mentioned Tan I choked. Guilt and worry and desperate pain lanced my body. I hadn't spoken to him in days. I'd thought, no I'd hoped, it was because we were busy. Trying to organise ourselves after such a disastrous culling of our numbers. Trying to rebuild what had been destroyed. Broken.

  But nothing could bring Aiko back and part of me had feared his absence in my life was purposeful. Tan couldn't face me. The pain only deepened.

  And now this. What on earth would Tan know about Shiloh? He had contacts in the Palace, servants who worked for the Chief Overseer. Maybe he'd heard something. Maybe he'd told Harjeet, rather than Trent or myself.

  I wasn't sure I could breathe at the sensations of loss and heartache. I wasn't sure I could survive losing him in a similar manner to how I'd lost Aiko. Three feet away from me, eyes locked on mine. Life slowly ebbing from her body.

  But I was certain I couldn't let Harjeet see this weakness. I picked my tea up and took a sip, praying my voice wouldn't crack when I next spoke.

  "I'm asking you," I managed in a perfect Elite tone of voice.

  He completely ignored the statement.

  "Where were you last night?" he demanded. And now we'd reached the part of our conversation that made it too hot.

  I leaned forward to place the tea cup on the table... and missed the edge, the liquid spilling out all over Harjeet's beautiful rug. I made a sound from the movement, my face grimacing in pain.

  "You've been hurt," he exclaimed, moving forward as though to offer assistance, but it was Isha who appeared with a cloth, and a scowl directed at me, as she mopped up my mess.

  "Only a scratch," I offered, leaning back in my seat and then moving again as though uncomfortable.

  My fingers came up to pinch the bridge of my nose, my eyes closed and mouth parted on deep breaths. Hoping I wasn't over acting this.

  "How?"

  I lifted tired eyes to his. Sharp, intelligent, assessing amber stared back.

  How to play a manipulator?

  "I fell off a roof and landed in a garden. The fence scraped my shoulder as I came down."

  "Where?"

  He didn't believe me. But he was playing the game. I had the disconcerting feeling he was playing it better than I ever could. Despite my being the Elite and he only a Citizen.

  I lifted my chin, held his stare, and said "Wáikěiton."

  My father had always maintained an element of the truth can help hide the lie. Give your opponent something they want, all the while withholding what they need.

  Harjeet needed to know everything. I'm not sure why. But he had fixated his focus on me. Wáikěiton would have been in the news, it may well have been the article he had been reading when I walked in, with the photo of me attached. But would Wang Chao have let slip the apartment was mine? Or merely that I had been connected to it, maybe held there by the rebels, and despite bringing the place down in a blaze we had slipped through the Cardinal's fingers and escaped again.

  They'd escaped with me.

  I had to hope that was the official story anyway.

  "Wáikěiton," he repeated, remaining very still, half leaning forward, half sitting back. "Now why were you in Wáikěiton again, Selena?"

  Wáikěiton was lost to me. As was Parnell Rise. I could do this. I had to. To throw the scent off everything else.

  "Trying to enter my home," I said levelly, eyes locked on his.

  His eyebrow arched. He'd known I'd been there before, but possibly not why. And drones had been guarding Elliott Street for days; Harjeet would have concluded I was connected somehow. But exactly how? I had to hope he was still in the dark. I was sure, though, that he did know I'd been there again last night.

  But, again, hopefully not why.

  "A Wáikěiton home," he murmured, his lips tipping up in a smile. There was something off about it. "You are full of surprises, my dear."

  Thank God. I began to move to my feet, preparing to leave.

  "But before you go," he added, making me pause half standing, half sitting, utterly still. "How long have you got before you'll feel compelled to test?"

  I sat down again very slowly. He knew. He probably knew everything that had come to pass. How? Was I really keeping anything at all from this man?

  His smile widened. My stomach contracted and then flipped.

  "I can help you," Harjeet offered softly, leaning back, lighting a cigarette and effecting a casual pose.

  OK, how? How could he help against drug induced paranoia? By locking us up?

  "But it will cost you," he added, blowing a stream of smoke from his lips as he crossed his legs elegantly at the knees and tapped the fingers of his free hand on the table to his side.

  "You do want my help, don't you, Honourable?"

  Honourable. The choice of title was purposeful.

  "What would you ask of me?" I whispered. It went without saying that our continued sanctuary here would be part of whatever deal he proposed. But what else did he want?

  And what would it reveal of him?

  "Nothing you haven't done a thousand times before," he said in a velvety voice. "I require an item. It would take a certain set of skills to fetch it for me. Skills you possess."

  "You want me to steal something?"

  "Yes," he answered with a simple nod of his head.

  "I see." I breathed steadily
through my nose for several beats. "What is the item and where is it housed?"

  His grin widened, stretching the fine planes of his cheeks, crinkling his eyes at the corners, adding character to what had merely been handsome before. He'd be attractive if he wasn't such a snake.

  "A small piece of technology currently residing in The Chairman Suite at The Quay Resort."

  The most Elite of all Wánměi buildings. A luxury hotel, serviced apartments, and a casino with boutique shops, exhibitions centres and entertainment theatres throughout. Getting in there wearing a flight-suit would be impossible. Scaling any one of the three two-hundred metre towers would be impracticable. Sneaking in through a side door impossible. Security would be tighter than Ohrikee or Wántel.

  But the challenge was undeniable. The pay-off even more enticing perhaps.

  "Tell me more," I said.

  The Cheshire cat grinned.

  Chapter 19

  Leave Lena To Me

  Trent

  Lena had been gone for almost an hour. I'd showered, fixed up the laser injury on my back with Emir's help, and was now sipping a steaming cup of coffee in the hopes it would dampen the effects of the opiate coursing through my system like it did Serenity. All the while watching a silent and determined Simon sweep the room with one of Lena's bug detecting gadgets.

  Alan sat at a nearby table going through the duffel bag quietly. Cameras had been detected and removed before I arrived so he couldn't be seen, but as Si was still working on listening devices, Alan kept his lips sealed. The raise of his eyebrows as he pulled out each new shiny item from the bag was all the indication he gave that he was impressed.

  Nothing shocked me anymore where Lena was concerned. She was just one big jumble of surprises after another, sooner or later you just had to go with the flow.

  Alan looked up and caught my eye, then tossed me a small device. I turned it over in my hand and shook my head. I remembered throwing it into the bag, but had no idea what the hell it was. I shrugged, relieved my back didn't complain at the movement, and tossed it back to Alan with a what-the-fuck look on my face.

  "We're clear," Si announced. "Five in total, and I've swept twice more to be sure I haven't missed any." He returned to his desk in front of the screens. "But he'll try to put more in here again," he added. "Isha just has to walk inside and you can guarantee a bug's been left."