by PM Kavanaugh
“Thanks for coming out,” Anika said. “What happened to Mari...I’m sure it hasn’t been easy on you, either.”
“I’m so glad that bastard...” Evan trailed off as she cast a glance around the room pulsing with light and sound. She set a palm-sized object on the small table between them. With its iridescent material, it looked as innocuous as a woman’s mini-clutch. “There. Now we can talk.”
“What is that?” Anika asked.
“I call it ‘Hush.’”
“What’s it do?”
“Blocks sound within a one-meter radius. My latest invention.”
“The name doesn’t sound very tech.”
“When you can invent a gadget that prevents anyone from listening to your conversation, you can call it whatever you want.”
“Point made,” Anika said.
“As I was saying, I’m delighted the bastard who killed Mari was terminated,” Evan said. “It’s a good thing he wasn’t valuable enough to keep alive. I only wish I could have been the one to terminate him.”
Anika avoided Evan’s gaze. How would Evan feel if she knew Anika could have been the one to do the termination, but decided against it? Would she consider it a betrayal of Mari?
“That guy on the dance floor looks like he fancies you,” Evan said after a moment.
Anika’s head swiveled. “What guy?” For a crazy moment, she thought she might see Gianni, even though she had never seen him in here. Not even when he had come that one time—the last time she, Evan, and Mari had been together. It seemed ages ago now.
A dark-haired, medium-built man was, indeed, staring at her. His head turned continually in her direction, even as his body swiveled and snaked against another woman on the dance floor.
Definitely not Gianni. She looked away. Disappointment deflated her, like a child’s popped balloon. “Not interested.”
“Why not? He looks like he could be good for a quick shag.”
Anika shook her head and took another sip.
“I mean,” Evan continued, “I know he’s not as cool-hot as Brambilla.” Anika choked on the liquid. “But then, who is? That man is definitely shag material. Best enjoyed slow and low, am I right?”
“I don’t...” Whiskey burned in Anika’s windpipe. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “How would I know?”
“Come on.” Evan tapped the scrambler. “It’s just the two of us.”
“Really. There’s nothing to share. You know the agency doesn’t approve of relationships.”
“The agency doesn’t have to know everything about everything,” Evan said.
“What makes you think there’s anything to know?”
“Hmmm.” Evan’s eyes narrowed.
Anika forced herself to sit still and meet her friend’s gaze.
“I watched the replay of your first mission,” Evan said after an extended pause. “The North Korean embassy gala.”
“And?” Anika’s mind flashed back to the most searing memory from that night. Their first kiss. But it had happened in the protective shadow of the jet plane, out of sight of the other U.N.I.T. agents. Surely, they hadn’t been seen on camera.
“There was a moment between you on the dance floor. The way he held you, a look that passed between you. I mean,” Evan said, rolling her eyes, “I know you were only meant to be playing the part of a couple, but I find it hard to believe you’re both that good as actors.”
Anika wondered if that moment was when Gianni had said she reminded him of his mother. When he had kissed her hand and told her she was beautiful.
She needed to change this topic of conversation. Fast. She didn’t trust Evan, or anyone, to know that Gianni’s and her relationship was anything other than professional. It was too great a risk to her future with the agency.
“I could have been the one to do it. Terminate Ryan,” she said. “I was given permission.”
“What do you mean, ‘could have been’?”
“I thought I would go through with it. As soon as the intel about the mission was validated. It’s what got me off my couch, out of my apartment. The promise of avenging Mari. But in the end,” Anika said, shaking her head, “I called Clinic to take care of it.”
“Why?” Evan gripped her glass until her knuckles bulged.
“What good would it do?” Anika shrugged one shoulder. “It wouldn’t change anything. Wouldn’t bring Mari back.”
“If it had been me,” Evan said, downing another shot, “I wouldn’t have hesitated to laser blast his ass to hell.”
“How do you know? Have you ever killed someone?”
“How do you think I ended up as a lifer in Bronzefield Prison?” Evan said. “I mean, I didn’t know for sure people were going to die when I blew up the House of Lords. But it was the middle of a weekday. So it was a safe bet that not everyone would survive.”
“That was you?” Anika asked. She remembered the nonstop media coverage. The undisclosed identity of the underage perpetrator.
Evan nodded.
“What...happened?”
“I was angry at the world.” Evan stared into her empty glass. “And my mum and dad. Both diplomats. More interested in jaunting around the globe to negotiate peace than spending time with me.”
The hurt in Evan’s voice echoed through Anika. She thought about how unwanted she had felt growing up in a federal orphanage. She had always believed a home, any home, would be better than that. But maybe not.
Evan’s lips twisted. “There was a boy in my little group. Thought he was better than everybody. A real square, but good-looking. The wanker didn’t think I could hack into the building’s antiterrorist system and reverse-activate it.”
“I don’t understand,” Anika said.
“The system was programmed to repel a terrorist attack. I reprogrammed it to self-detonate.” Evan’s lips tightened. “Guess I bloody showed him. And them.” She looked up. “Do you think I’m a monster?”
“No.” Anika shook her head. Only a hurt, angry little girl seeking attention. One with prodigious tech skills. Tragic for the people working in the House of Lords that day. Fortunate, now, for U.N.I.T. “And now you get to use your amazing talents to fight the bad guys. You’re making up for...the past.”
“I don’t know about that. But, at least now, I’m not spending my days and nights in a mega-security prison. What’s your excuse for joining the agency?”
“Oh, you know, making the world safe. Being part of something bigger than myself. Blah, blah.” Anika couldn’t bring herself to talk about the many rejections in her own past. How they created a deep longing within her. To be chosen, to feel special. Time for another topic change. “Well, back to Ryan. All I know is, I couldn’t do it.”
“You do realize ‘wet work’ is a key requirement of the agency, right?”
“Of course. When it’s necessary to save lives.”
“As decided by the higher ups. They order. We obey. Or else.”
“Not blind obedience. I didn’t sign up for that.”
“You signed the contract when you were recruited, didn’t you? Did you read it? Because I don’t recall it including an opt-out clause if you don’t agree with an order.”
Anika remembered signing a lot of documents for the recruiter. Medical, psychological, financial, academic, social. They were full of legal terms she didn’t understand. At the time, what she understood was that she had been singled out among all the other kids who had never been adopted. She had finally been chosen. When the federal orphanage was preparing, in their words, “to transition her to independence” (in her words, “to kick her out”) because she had aged out of the system, she had been given a lifeline by an agency called U.N.I.T. But now that lifeline was starting to feel like a chokehold.
“If that’s what it takes to succeed, maybe I should leave.” She shoved her chair back from the table. It was the second time she had spoken it out loud. First, with Gianni, when he had come to her loft to tell her about Ryan’s capture
. And now. “Maybe I’m not cut out for it.” The air around her was thick with sweat and alcohol. Her head buzzed like a pissed-off hornet. She gulped in a breath.
Time to call it a night.
“Oh, you’re perfectly suited to it.” Evan refilled their glasses.
Something in Evan’s tone siren-blared through Anika. “What makes you so sure?”
Evan glanced at the scrambler and motioned Anika forward, within the device’s range. “Because you passed their tests with flying colors.”
Chapter 24
“You mean the pre-recruit qualifying exams?” Anika asked, sitting back down.
Evan snorted. “I mean the exams you took while growing up. From baby school all the way through secondary school. You remember? Four-dimensional thinking, creative problem solving, observational skills, facial and emotional recognition, role playing, physical endurance, and on and on. All supervised by the orphanage.”
“Are you talking about game day?” Anika remembered the monthly Saturdays, attended only by federal orphans, in the school’s basement. Even the room’s stale smell and harsh lights couldn’t lessen the excitement tingling through her, especially when she won in her age group and advanced to a higher level. Game day had been the highlight of each month. Even better than the smoke ring contests she won against the boys in the orphanage.
“Game day. Is that what they called it?” Evan said. “More precisely, ‘evaluation day.’” The agency was monitoring and evaluating you. Well, not just you. Everyone who performed well. Scouting their future agents. I thought you knew.” Her brows furrowed. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You’re only a Level One. The way you handled the crap I threw at you today, you’re primed for Level Two. Is it hot in here?” She blew out a breath. “I’m feeling a bit...hot.”
“Wait, go back.” Anika’s hand gripped the edge of the table to ground herself in a world about to tilt and shake. “Future agents? What are you talking about? The games were held at the school. They were a special activity for federal orphans only.”
“I need to use the loo.”
Anika’s hand shot out and grabbed Evan’s wrist. “How could U.N.I.T. know what was going on at the school?”
Evan looked down at her wrist. “Ow,” she said, blinking. “You don’t have to come with me. I can manage.”
Anika slammed her hand down, still holding onto Evan, against the table. “Tell me.”
Evan’s head bobbed up. Her gaze drifted over Anika, then settled, focused. “U.N.I.T. has two recruiting pools. Life row in prisons and federal orphanages.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, they monitor both. Constantly searching for promising candidates.”
Anika’s stomach snarled into knots. “How do you know that?”
“Because,” Evan said, sighing with impatience, “I’m a tech goddess. When Command and Second are doing initial evals of the inmates and, you know, the kids, I feed them the files from the prisons and the orphanages. Now, either walk with me to the loo or let go of my wrist.”
“One more thing.” Anika leaned forward. “Kids like me, who did well in the games—I mean the tests—early on... What if we...if I...had been adopted? How would the agency be able to continue testing and evaluating me?” Her mind fired with possibilities, unwilling to land on the only answer that made sense. “It doesn’t seem very efficient. Unless...” The answer exploded in her brain.
Evan squirmed in her seat.
Anika let go of Evan’s wrist and slumped back in her seat. “Unless the agency made sure I stayed at the orphanage. Made sure I was never adopted.” Her gaze drilled into Evan. The knots in her stomach moved into her chest, stealing her breath. “Is that what they do?”
“Look,” Evan said. “Personally, I think recruiting kids from orphanages is rubbish. But I don’t make the rules. I just—”
“Obey,” Anika said. “Yeah, I get it.” She emptied her glass and hoped the whiskey wouldn’t come back up as fast as it went down. “I’m out. Want me to order another bottle?”
“That’d be brilliant.” Evan stood, swayed, steadied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
As she passed by, Anika reached out a hand. “Does Gianni know? About keeping kids in orphanages in order to recruit them later on?”
“I’ve no idea.” Evan shrugged. “He might. You could always ask him. The way he checks up on you and monitors your daily performance reports, I imagine you could get away with asking him anything.” She gave a lopsided grin. “He was settling into his new office when I left. He’s just been promoted to Level Four.”
“You saw him?”
“I set up the new passcode for him. Sub-level Two.” Evan stood, steadied herself. “Be right back.”
Anika tapped in an order for more whiskey on the table’s e-pad, paid the tab, and grabbed a complimentary packet of Dry Out.
She gazed toward the dance floor. But instead of the writhing bodies, all she saw was a little girl, with short dark hair and bright blue eyes, in the school’s grungy basement, playing—and winning—game day, month after month, year after year.
Chapter 25
“Did you know about the games? How they were used to evaluate me, to recruit me?” To keep me from having a family of my own?
Anika stood in front of Gianni’s desk where he sat in his new office. Bare walls. A lone monitor on the side console. A chair she had pushed aside.
She held up the device she had taken from Amnesia. “This will allow us to talk privately. It blocks sound within one meter. The new head of tech ops invented it.” The cherry aftertaste of Dry Out lingered on her tongue. The sobering liquid had taken effect—her head was clear, but her body was coiled.
“How do you know it works?” Gianni asked, eyeing the shiny object.
“Honestly, I don’t care if it does or not.” She dropped it on the desktop. “Did you know? Answer me.”
He tapped a few buttons on his handheld. The monitor flickered and darkened. “Yes.”
She sucked in a quick breath. She had expected a more evasive answer. Or one that recited the agency’s policies against revealing information above her clearance level.
“I joined U.N.I.T. because I believed it was the first place that ever thought I was special. That they chose me.”
“You are special. And you were chosen,” Gianni said.
“I was targeted.” Anika stabbed her finger into the air. “Because of my skills, my abilities. And only if I maintain my proficiency levels. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Why don’t you sit?” he asked.
“Because I’m leaving.” She spun on her heel and pulled off the wig she had been wearing in Mari’s honor. “Because I’m done.” She approached the door. Click. She yanked on the handle. It didn’t budge. Without turning around, she said, “Let me out.” She ground her teeth. “I swear to God, if you don’t unlock this door...” Fury boiled inside her. What will I do? How will I make him? Her hands curled into fists. She wanted to pound the metal surface until the heat was gone. Until all the emotions were gone. Anger, betrayal, hurt. Until there was nothing left inside.
“What if I were a hostile? How would you get me to unlock the door?”
“I’m done performing,” Anika said. “Done playing your stupid games. Done with everyone’s games. Just let me go.”
“Where will you go?”
I have no idea. “Far away from here.”
“How will you disable your tracking chip?”
“Every recruit knows how to do that.”
“That’s a temporary solve. You’ll need something permanent. Along with a new ID. Money. Comms. Weapons. Transport. You have them?”
No. “I’ll get them.”
“You need to secure them before you go on the run. And it wouldn’t hurt to have at least one contact who can help, preferably someone who owes you a favor. Even then, to my knowledge, no one’s ever succeeded.”
Anika turned her head. Gianni’s gaze was focused on a distant point
over her shoulder. “You’ve thought about it,” she said.
He picked up the sound-blocking device, studied it, set it back down. “Convince me to unlock the door.”
A tiny flame of hope lit inside Anika. “Come with me.” She stepped toward him. “We could go together.”
“Why would I do that?”
She rocked back on her heels, his words like water dousing the flame. But then she remembered other words he had said to her. It was time to learn which words he really meant.
“Because of what you said to me at the end of our first mission. And, again, in the training facility, after I shot the hostile. About wanting a relationship. Even though you know it’s dangerous. That the agency won’t allow it. Not long term.”
“The agency can’t prevent it as long as we both do what’s asked of us.”
“What’s asked of us,” Anika said, repeating his words. “You mean, killing people.”
“Hunting terrorists to protect innocents. Like our mission in El Salvador. You don’t believe in that?”
“I’m an innocent. The agency kept me from ever having a family of my own. Recruited me under false pretenses. I can’t accept that.”
“Well, I wasn’t recruited like you. I was in prison. I knew what I was signing up for.”
“Why were you in prison? You’ve said you were responsible for the deaths of four judges, but you never told me the full story.”
From underneath his shirt collar, Gianni pulled out the oval medal hanging from the chain around his neck.
Anika remembered him telling her it was all he had left from his family. She could see a raised image on the medal’s surface, but didn’t know what it represented.
Gianni rubbed a finger along the medal’s edge, lost in memory. “My parents were fervent Catholics and social justice revolutionaries. They believed equally in honoring God and in overturning the Italian government which they deemed corrupt and oppressive. They raised me to share their beliefs. I grew up attending masses and protests in equal measure. My parents did not use violence. That didn’t stop the government from treating them as if they did. I was sent to live with distant cousins in a different part of Italy, while my parents went into hiding. But they wouldn’t stop practicing their faith. The police ambushed them as they left a small church in the countryside after early morning mass. They were both killed. I was thirteen.”
