Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2)

by Claire, Nicola

  "And here I thought you didn't have a sense of humour," Trent murmured. "Well," he added, glancing back over his shoulder at me. "It's been fun, but there's more at stake here than just an Elite."

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Wang Chao scowl. Anger at Trent's dismissal of me - or the entire upper echelon of our society - evident in his face. It was enough to momentarily distract him. And then the security camera above his head exploded, sharp edged electronics raining down on a stunned Wang Chao, as Trent spun, pushing me out of the way, following my body with his own to the carpeted floor, and Alan fired a laser gun over our heads.

  I screamed, as the sizzle and whir of the gun escalated, the smell of burned wood managing to make its way through the sheets of sprinkler spray. A charred hole in the door behind where Wang Chao had been standing smoked and then petered out when the water from the sprinklers did its thing.

  Wang Chao lay on the floor holding his arm to his chest, blood dripping from a gash on the side. It could have been from the camera exploding, or shrapnel from the door behind. But I didn't have time to consider it further, he had a gun aimed at Alan and his finger was already squeezing the trigger.

  The rebel rolled backward in a move I had to admire; supple, swift, smooth. Avoiding a bullet by millimetres as Trent took aim with his own pistol and released a round. The bullet hit the drone that thundered through the now completely destroyed door. More shrapnel spraying in an arc before it, narrowly avoiding Wang Chao.

  The Chief Overseer barked out an order, making a second drone throw itself in front of him as a sacrificial barricade. And getting itself hit with Alan's next laser beam that had surely been meant for Wang Chao.

  Trent was tugging me up, firing randomly over his shoulder, as Alan pulled large decorative brass potted plants over onto the floor behind us, creating an obstacle course for the drones, as we raced down the long corridor, heading for the other exit.

  "Don't shoot the girl!" Wang Chao ordered above the clattering noise, and something inside me simply flipped.

  Why? Why was he so intent on saving me? Holding on to me until I choked to death. Why?

  I grabbed a painting off the wall as we ran past it and hurled it back towards the drones and Wang Chao like a Frisbee. I heard the shattering of its glass, the crunch of metallic feet as they simply walked over it, and went to grab the next picture on the wall.

  Trent let out a laugh, which was completely misplaced right then, and slipped his hand into mine and pulling me away from the makeshift weapon.

  "Easy, Tiger," he called, as we turned a corner in the corridor and for a brief time entered a reprieve. I growled at him, but kept running. He was right. It was a pathetic waste of energy.

  But I was so mad. Fuming even. Wang Chao had been a childhood friend, nothing more. And there was no way that friendship could have survived what we'd now been through. Yet somehow, he believed he still had a claim on me. The son of a man who had terrorised my formative years. A man who, I was beginning to suspect, had organised my father's death.

  That thought was unexpected, considering our location and the threat we were under right now. But the more Wang Chao held on, the more I wanted to let go. And letting go, meant facing up to things I'd buried and not addressed. The most important being my father's death at General Chew-wen's side.

  Supposedly from a bullet fired from Mason Waters' gun.

  But I didn't believe that. If I was honest, I'd never believed that. I'd just refused to see what was right before my eyes.

  Wang Chao was forcing me to face a lot of things right now. Not least of all was his obsession, his need to hold on to me, control me. Like his father had done. Had ensured he could do, when he had my father killed.

  Why?

  We slammed into the emergency door at the end of the stretch of corridor we were in, just as Wang Chao's drones stormed around the corner, vaulting over the pot plants, making the floor seem to shudder under their combined booted feet. A drone blinked red eyes at us as we stormed out of the doorway, not managing to raise its own laser gun in time before Alan fired.

  It fell over sideways, blocking our path up the stairs, but Trent simply lifted me up by my waist and hurled me over to the other side. Within seconds he and Alan clambered across.

  "Why wasn't it ready?" I yelled, as the door behind us shattered under an onslaught of laser firing.

  "Not the girl!" I heard Wang Chao shout from inside the floor we'd just left. I almost rolled my eyes, but sweat was dripping into them, panic and adrenaline taking root inside, and the focus required to lift one foot after the other as we bounded up the stairs as fast as we could, took every ounce of concentration I had.

  "Si's confusing their frequencies," Trent yelled back. We rounded the bend in the stairwell and kept running. My chest stretched tight, my thighs aching.

  "How?"

  "Your transponder," Alan said gruffly, not even appearing out of breath. I frowned. Not just for the fact Simon had managed to figure out how to use my father's transponder when I had never been able to. But also because Alan was showing me up and I didn't like it.

  I shook my head, wanting to ask more questions, but losing the ability to talk and walk at the same time. Or run, as the case may be.

  Trent gripped my elbow and propelled me faster up the stairs, as chips of concrete rained down all around us; laser beams connecting with the stairwell overhead, rather than risk hitting me if they fired on Trent or Alan. It was madness. Utter chaos in a strange ballet made of survival. But the drones were gaining; machines never needing to slow because they were tired. Inexorably moving closer, and at any moment I expected another to appear on the steps above.

  But we passed the penthouse floor without incident, other than the fine hairs lifting creepily off the back of my nape, because I imagined the non-existent breath of a drone breathing down my neck. I could practically feel the cool of their metallic hand as they reached out to grip my shoulder. The reverberation of their booted feet sending shockwaves of dread through my entire frame making the imagined sensations seem more real.

  They didn't talk or demand we stop for an iRec. They didn't offer any warning or instruction at all. And I couldn't decide if their ominous silence was worse than hearing Shiloh's voice out of their speakers commanding us to halt. But I could hear the buzz as they came closer. The whine of their laser beam as it powered up to fire.

  I could also hear the sound of rotor blades, the soft whump-whump-whump of a helicopter, or something large, as it hovered above the SkyPark.

  We burst out of the emergency door near the end of the cantilevered deck, the wind of what could only be a helicopter's blades adding to the early evening thunderstorm. Lightning arced across the sky in the distance, rain pelted down in a harsh warning of what was to come. And the heat of Wánměi welcomed us, as we sprinted down the deck towards the crowd who waited to be rescued near the pool, just this side of the middle of the SkyPark.

  There were more people than had appeared earlier in the day, but some of the guests in our tower would have chosen to use this as a means of escape, rather than walk down the emergency stairwells from the uppermost floors. At the very least, they would have considered standing out here a better alternative than risking a fire or bomb in one of the towers.

  But there was no fire, and we knew there was no bomb. Just the Chief Overseer hunting the revolutionaries and claiming back what he thought was his.

  I scanned the crowd, spotted a now widowed Lady Markham near the winch basket that led up to the helicopter hovering fifty meters up in the sky. Something made her turn, before she accepted the Civil Defence Force rescuer's hand to climb aboard. It might have been the crashing arrival of the drones on the SkyPark deck at our backs.

  She frowned at the commotion behind us, then spotted me running, two apparently Elite gentlemen trying to help me escape the approaching fire.

  "Honourable Wentworth!" she called, waving out to me and indicating I should join them.

 
It was ideal. It couldn't have gone better than planned. But something in me made me hesitate. I'm not sure what. I couldn't identify the sheer terror for what it was. I just knew getting on that helicopter would be bad.

  I shook my head, as Trent urged me to go towards the Overseer's wife. Who held up a rescue mission because she believed me a member of a well respected family. The irony of that wasn't lost. I scanned the SkyPark, spotting several Elite who deserved, just as much as me, to be off this deck and in the relative safe hands of the Civil Defence Force.

  And one who had hair the colour of a zebra.

  I changed direction, grabbed the arm of the zebra-like Elite and began to drag her towards the winching platform. Trent shouted out behind me, Alan swore, and I asked, "What's your name, Honourable?"

  "Huh?" she exclaimed, in a very un-Elite-like fashion.

  "Name," I demanded.

  "Honourable Catherine Chaucer," she managed, making me lean toward her in order to hear her quivering words. A lower Elite family. No ties to the Overseers. I didn't know her. I'd never met her. Her family had never done a thing to stand out in my mind.

  Just an ordinary Elite living the life of luxury at the expense of Citizens.

  It shouldn't have mattered, but I spent a precious second searching for someone more worthy. She was the only Elite with zebra-like hair. In that she had done something worthwhile.

  I stared at the strands, at her pale face, at the dress she was wearing. It was a simple summer frock, costing, no doubt, thousands.

  "It'll be cold up there," I announced.

  "Up where?" she asked, and my eyes flicked to the helicopter.

  "Take my jacket," I offered, slipping out from under my handbag strap and handing it to Trent, who watched me with keen interest but no argument. Then I doffed Harjeet's impeccably made matching bolero to my exquisite dress, holding it out. It was lightweight and inconsequential, so my reasoning to the Elite was not sound. But she accepted it, in a numbed kind of state, slipping the navy and cream outerwear on over her dark blue dress.

  It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

  I pulled her towards Lady Markham, who beamed at me as we approached, eyeing the change in my hair colour only briefly. Did she think I'd been at the Spa?

  "There's room for more, Honourable Wentworth. And I do owe you," she declared.

  Oh, dear lady, you have no idea.

  I offered an Elite smile back and pushed my double towards her.

  "I couldn't possibly go before my dear friend: Honourable Catherine Chaucer," I advised. Lady Markham frowned delicately. "She's pregnant," I announced, making our would-be rescuer soften.

  Honourable Chaucer went to open her mouth and deny the claim, displaying a severe lack of survival skills. I pinched her arm and said, lying through my straight white Elite teeth, "Hurry along now, smoke is beginning to accumulate on the upper floors."

  The Civil Defence rescuer helped both Honourables into the basket and declared it was all they could take on this trip.

  I watched them rise up off the SkyPark deck, and then slid through the crowd which had hidden us so successfully, aware the drones were checking the identity of those people nearest them. We moved away from that end of the group of desperate Elite, and the few Quay Resort staff dotted throughout, and made our way to the other side of our makeshift barrier. Nearer the middle of the SkyPark.

  "What now, Lena?" Trent asked, a strange look of incredulity and astonishment on his face.

  Did he think I sacrificed myself - us - for a stranger?

  "Now we head in to tower two," I announced, and watched a slow appreciative smile spread across his lips.

  Tower two would be under far less drone presence; the Chief Overseer having concentrated on tower one where the Markhams - and I - had been. Chaos would still reign, evacuation of the entire structure a standard procedure if one tower was under threat. But that would just add extra cover.

  Alan made a rasping laughing sound, as though reluctant to cede victory to his amusement.

  "Very clever," Trent whispered, just as a drone down the far end of the SkyPark, at the door that led into tower one, fired on the helicopter still hovering above us.

  "No!" I heard Wang Chao shout, as cries of stunned dismay sounded out all around us.

  And utter pandemonium ensued, as the helicopter started to spin uncontrollably, smoke billowing out of the tail fin.

  "Holy fucking shit," Trent exclaimed, as a lump in my throat threatened to choke me.

  I watched until the flailing helicopter passed the edge of the SkyPark; shocked, frozen, devoid of understanding. The machine slowly spinning towards its inevitable crash at the ground two hundred metres below, the faces on the occupants panicked and mouths wide open as they screamed their terror inside.

  "Come on," Alan announced, voice heavy and solemn.

  "Jesus," Trent murmured, gripping my arm again and leading me through the door to tower two and away from what I had just done.

  I'd killed them. I'd painted a target on the side of that helicopter. I'd used an innocent decoy, whose only failing had been to follow fashion in a country that controlled everything.

  I'd killed them. Even if the drone had fired on Shiloh's orders and not the Chief Overseer's.

  It was me who had killed them.

  Because I was an icon for a rebellion, that in all honesty, had no hope of fighting this war.

  Chapter 31

  One Day You'll Trust Me

  Lena

  We made it out of tower two with only a few cursory glances. But as there had been other evacuees from tower one, as dishevelled and bedraggled as us, the glances were just that. Cursory.

  I hadn't said a word, as we travelled down in the still operative elevator, soft, wholly inappropriate music wafting on the air. I didn't utter a syllable as we navigated the lobby, shock and horror reaching the concerned Citizens on this level who'd heard or seen the helicopter crash.

  I was silent as we walked in a direction away from The Quay Resort, and the clouds of dark smoke, and the sirens of approaching fire engines. Trent and Alan were clearly aware of where we were going, but I couldn't even fathom where I was. I made no sound as we stopped outside a nondescript van three blocks away, rain masking my tears, thunder concealing my small gasps of pain and disbelief, lightning slicing through the ache inside my chest.

  I let Trent guide me inside mutely, and only barely registered surprise at seeing Simon out of the base, his long blond hair tucked up under a baseball cap. Hiding in plain sight. Risking his life to rescue us.

  These were the true heroes of our nation. Who had I thought I had been?

  Just a reckless, ineffectual Elite, with too much blood on her hands.

  My mind started cataloguing my sins. The lives I'd so easily ruined. The Yehs in Muhgah Keekee; Zhang Yong, his three children, and his ration addicted wife. My replica-dosed concierge at Parnell Rise; Augustine Tengku and his entire family. Honourable Catherine Chaucer. Lady Melanie Markham and her Elite friends. Zhang Jun's grandfather in Muhgah Foh. Aiko. My beloved Aiko.

  My nanny. And now I suspected my father.

  Killed because of me.

  I leaned forward and placed my face in my hands and just breathed. Through the guilt and despair and hopelessness.

  "That was some excellent work you did in there," Trent said quietly toward the front of the van, his attention on Si as he drove. His body heat warmed the chill that had invaded my body from right beside me. But I couldn't seem to care enough that he was there. "Without the drones' confusion, I don't think we would have made it out."

  "Nifty little device you had there, Lena," Si remarked, and I saw Trent shake his head slightly off to the side. Warning Simon from engaging me.

  "Yeah, well," Alan started, attempting to cover the awkward silence that had followed that exchange. "It was definitely going FUBAR right before then." His tactic didn't work.

  "I gotta ask, boss," Si said, picking up the reins Alan had just
dropped, as he smoothly navigated downtown Wánměi. "Was it worth it?"

  Trent made a slight growling noise, as if the entire world was set against him and determined to remind me of what had transpired.

  Remind me of what I had done.

  "We did learn one thing," Alan remarked, coming to his leader's rescue. "Shiloh is out of the Chief Overseer's control."

  "True," Trent agreed readily, seizing the chance to discuss something remotely neutral. "Wang Chao did not order that shot."

  And we were back to what they had been trying to avoid. The moment lives were lost because of me.

  I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath of air, then released it along with all the visceral sensations of culpability. This didn't change anything. Not really. It was a guilt I'd have to bear alone. But, what was still glaringly obvious, was the state of our nation. The fact that our tyrannical leaders were losing control.

  And I couldn't help thinking Shiloh would be worse an Overseer than even Wang Chao.

  But that wasn't the worst of it.

  I reached for my handbag... and suddenly stilled. It was gone.

  I turned in my seat, searching blindly, frantically, knowing already that I'd taken it off to dress Catherine Chaucer in my clothes. To better condemn her.

  "What is it?" Trent asked, looking around the back seat we were sitting on.

  I had to swallow twice to get the words out. The reason for why I'd been there. The reward for what had transpired. The pay-off for half a dozen deaths.

  "My...my handbag. Where is it?"

  Trent watched me, no emotion on his face that I could see. It just ratcheted up my panic. He didn't know why I'd gone to all this trouble; the antidote Harjeet had promised. For him. All he saw was a reckless Elite who had risked his life, along with others of his small rebel army, and caused the death of innocent people.

  "What was in it, Lena?" he finally asked and I swear the world swam before my eyes.