Great. Now the uneasiness was back. “And what’s my cover?”
It was Noah who answered as she settled on the couch next to Patrick. “We thought you could go in as me. My own face is known to the Emporium, of course, but not my current alias, Felicia West. I’ll show you the disguise I’ve been using, and you’ll copy it using Patrick’s ability and your nanites. Lately, I’ve been to all the events with Patrick and Mari, so my presence won’t be questioned.”
“Everyone always asks her to sing,” Mari added.
“Wait. What if they ask me to sing?” The idea was horrifying. I’d done a stint in school choir as a teen—long enough to know I didn’t belong there. I wasn’t bad, exactly, just not good.
Ritter’s eyes gleamed as though the idea of me up on a stage appealed to him. “Noah will be with me,” he said, “and we’ll be close enough for you to channel if you need to.”
I relaxed. Channeling was something I could do. “But I won’t sound like Noah, even if I’m any good.”
“Close enough,” Noah said. “I have a recording of my newest song, and if you listen to it, you should be able to copy my style sufficiently. One ability that most singers have is to mimic, and it’ll be easy when you’re channeling me.”
“You should hear all the impressions Noah does.” Patrick flashed her a look of admiration. “Dionne Warwick, Karen Carpenter, Whitney Houston, Barbra Streisand, and Taylor Swift. And that’s just in pop music. She really excels in her opera impersonations.”
Noah laughed. “I went through a phase fifty years ago. Everything I sang was opera. Now I’m going through what I call my modern phase. Well, modern chic, mostly.”
“You have your own style,” Mari said. “And everyone loves it.”
Noah looked down, and a wave of embarrassment came from her surface emotions. Not because she didn’t have confidence and pride in her ability, but because her singing was a part of her like her hair or skin, and she had no control over how others reacted to it. “Anyway,” Noah said. “It’s a new song, and no one has heard me sing it besides those living here, so your impersonation will be close enough. You’ll give the debut public performance.” She laughed, letting me know the idea didn’t bother her. I suppose after launching so many songs under different aliases, she didn’t mind sitting this one out.
“What’s Ropte’s perimeter security like?” Ritter asked Cort. Next to mine, his leg tensed briefly, the only sign of worry I could detect.
“That’s the best part.” Grinning, Cort leaned farther back on his couch, crossing one knee over the other. “It’s a townhouse smack dab in the middle of other townhouses. It’s big and expensive and elaborate inside, but the front meets the street where anyone can walk practically up to it. So no scaling walls and taking out surveillance cameras. Sorry to disappoint you. There’s a garden area, but it’s not even a fourth of an acre. You’ll be well within Erin’s range so she can channel you or so you can swoop in for the rescue.” Cort held a hand up against my protest. “Not that anyone will need rescuing. But those of us remaining outside will be loaded to the teeth because we don’t have any idea how many Unbounded hit teams Ropte has at his disposal. There are bound to be some. This is a Triad member we’re talking about.”
“We have to know before we go in,” Ritter said. “If I were him, I’d have snipers in place, and agents among the help.”
Cort cleared his throat. “And he may have all those. But with the most prominent people in Washington DC assembled at his private residence, the last thing he’s going to want is a bloodbath. Killing off his supporters, even as collateral damage, isn’t going to put him in the White House. Besides, Patrick has Secret Service flanking him wherever he goes, and after what happened at that school last month, they’ll have someone on every roof in the near vicinity and half a dozen more on Ropte’s roof watching for windows that shouldn’t have movement. So, if something happens, it’ll be either after Patrick leaves Ropte’s—and Mari makes sure that’s impossible by shifting him here—or inside wherever Ropte has his computer.”
Inside where I was stealing his information, Cort meant. “So where is the Secret Service anyway?” I asked. “Shouldn’t there be at least four agents breathing down our throats here?”
Keene laughed. “We discovered early on that we need to be the only ones who know where Patrick is staying. They don’t like it, but we’ll meet them somewhere in DC right before we go to Ropte’s. We have alerted them, and they’ll be scoping out the area now.”
“I’d feel better if Erin did that.” Ritter looked at me.
“We need to be there early,” I agreed. “There’s too much they could miss.” I hesitated as my gaze landed on Keene. “I could use help if you think you’d be able to boost my range.” I felt odd asking. We’d worked together before, and while our teamwork had saved many lives, his role in the matter had also caused the death of several innocents. I believed I was equally responsible for their loss, but Keene didn’t see it that way, and I knew he still agonized over what he could have done differently.
He hesitated only an instant. “I can do that. Mari and I’ve worked out a system. I think it’ll work for you.”
“We’d all better get some sleep then,” Ritter said, standing. “It’s after midnight local time, and we need to be sharp tomorrow. We’ll finalize our assignments in the morning.”
I nodded, giving a yawn that wasn’t faked, but Noah was already slipping into the empty seat next to me. “Here’s the recording,” she said, placing a tiny MP3 player into my hand.
I put in one of the earbuds but didn’t turn it on. “If you wouldn’t mind,” I said, pushing aside thoughts of sleep, “before we turn in, I’d like to see what happened at the party where Ropte talked to Patrick. Were you there that night? Did he talk to you? It would be good to see any interaction you had with him, so I know what to expect.”
“I was there.” She tilted her head to think, her black curls gliding over her bare arm and shoulder. “I don’t remember if we talked, though. There were so many people. But you’re welcome to take a look.” Her mind shield lowered and I slipped inside. “How does it work?” she asked.
I was acutely aware of everyone watching us. “Think back to that night. What happened? Just start talking. I’ll let you know when I see it.”
Noah concentrated. “I was wearing a green dress that night. I have some stuff that makes my skin even darker, and that’s what I’ve been using for part of my disguise. I also sculpt my nose and cheekbones with some specialized clay, and I use contacts to make my eyes lighter, more golden. The night we saw Ropte, it was balmy for so early in April, and I was sweating before we . . .”
There, I had it. Memories spilled past me inside her sand stream, and I saw everything as she described it and more. Her getting ready, her worry about Patrick, the sleep dart she tucked into her purse. I saw the kiss she and Patrick had shared that evening before the party. Their first, which for Noah had been long in coming but for Patrick had been a surprise.
I searched further up the stream, not wanting to intrude on their moment, even if they’d never know I’d seen it. I found Noah walking into an extravagant reception hall, greeted by lavishly dressed people dripping with expensive jewelry and reeking of perfume purchased with money that might have saved dozens of children from starvation. At least in Noah’s view.
I experienced her nodding and talking and eventually being asked to sing. How she and Mari and Keene stayed close to Patrick because everyone wanted to be near him, knowing he was both Unbounded and the son of the US president. I spotted a man wearing the Hunter symbol—a silhouette of a man holding a rifle—who scowled at Patrick but didn’t threaten him. Hunters would sooner kill any Unbounded than talk to them, but for the most part they were mortal and weak when not in a group. Another man watched Patrick from a distance, a sword pendant hanging from the heavy necklace around his neck. The hilt of the three-inch sword was prominent, reminiscent of a cross, the logo of Unbounde
d worshippers. They believed we had come to save them. I hoped they were right.
Finally there was Ropte. I saw him approach Patrick, but Noah was too far away to hear what they said. Ropte noticed her, however, his eyes catching hers and holding, but Noah dismissed him as a horny politician who looked for sexual favors when his wife wasn’t looking. Knowing that Noah was Unbounded, I thought it more likely that Ropte had simply been drawn by the beauty and confidence she exuded. The rest of the evening rolled to an end without incident.
“I got it,” I said, leaving her mind. “Thank you, Noah. I think Ropte likes your singing. He noticed you.”
Noah shrugged. “It’s hard to keep track of everyone who notices me.” This she said without guile, and I knew what she meant. Every Unbounded was the focus of mortal attention, and her status as a singing sensation would emphasize that.
Mari took Ritter’s vacated seat next to me. “Guess it’s my turn. I talked to Ropte that night. Maybe you’ll find something I missed.”
“I’m willing too,” Patrick said.
I took Mari’s hand, aware of Patrick reseating himself nearby, while Ritter and Cort crossed the room to study the device Cort had been working on when we’d come in. Keene remained sitting on the couch where he’d been throughout our meeting, but his eyes were locked on Mari.
I was glad to see that Mari’s mental shield was stronger than before her stint guarding Patrick. Because of her trouble and Jace’s initial shielding challenges, I’d developed a way to extend my own impenetrable barrier to protect those I was with—mostly from Delia Vesey. Delia had also been able to punch through shields well enough that she’d exercised a reign of terror over even those who were loyal to her.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, noting that Mari was far more careful with where she began her memories than Noah had been. They started only as she walked into the house where the party was being held, clinging to Patrick’s arm and smiling like a proper politician’s woman. She saw everyone around her as a color that coordinated with a number that was uniquely theirs. This number was how she could find a certain person and shift to them even when she hadn’t previously visited the location.
Keene followed a step behind her, and she introduced him as her brother. He still looked foreign to Mari with his red-dyed hair and very short beard, but she knew every inch of his face. Indeed, her lips had traced every . . .
The thoughts changed directions with a jolt as Mari reminded herself to focus on the task at hand instead of on Keene. She had to remain alert to anyone who might want to hurt Patrick. Jace and Cort were outside as backup and Secret Service agents watched from nearby, but she was his first and best protection. She was ready at a second’s notice to whisk Patrick into the gray and back to the safe house.
Multiple people came over to chat with the man who couldn’t die, the face of the Unbounded. I felt Mari’s impatience at their obsequiousness and also her fury at those who treated Patrick like a monster. The Unbounded issue was still dividing America, in spite of Patrick’s efforts to show everyone we were more like mortals than unlike them. People either hated us or loved us, and that only played into the Emporium’s plan. Weakening America made us that much easier to conquer.
“Good evening,” came a commanding voice that brought Mari away from her dark thoughts. She stared at the attractive man before her. He was in his fifties, at least, but his light brown hair was barely graying on the temples, and his suited figure could have been that of a much younger man. His eyes were a compelling hazel that glowed with intelligence and ambition. His color number was a dark shade of red. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he added. “I’m David Ropte.”
“Ah, yes, Senator Ropte,” Patrick said. Knowing him as well as she did, Mari heard the reservation in his voice. Must be a jerk, she thought. Pity when he was so attractive.
“And you are, of course, Patrick Mann,” Ropte said to Patrick, “which makes this your lovely fiancée.” He smiled at Mari, and despite her own reservations, she felt her mouth curve in a real smile.
“Nice to meet you, Senator Ropte,” she said.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Ropte gave her another killer smile, which to Mari’s disgust made her stomach flop nervously. They talked about nothing for a few moments, and then he drew Patrick aside to talk privately. Mari let them move away but kept her eye on him. She felt relief as Keene circled around Patrick’s other side and gave her a nod.
Mari scanned the crowd and I with her. If I hadn’t been looking so closely, I might have missed it.
“Stop,” I said to Mari. “Go back to where Ropte and Patrick move off and you’re looking at the crowd.”
Mari did as I requested, and there he was again, the man I’d glimpsed in her mind. No mistake. He was in disguise, but he moved just like Jace, and his eyes . . . it was like looking at an older version of my brother. What’s more, after Ropte finished his brief conversation with Patrick, he went to join the man. Swallowing hard, I released my hold on Mari’s mind and opened my eyes.
“What is it?” Mari asked, taking in my expression. The entire room had fallen silent as everyone waited for what I might say.
“David Ropte is definitely in bed with the Emporium. I mean, if we had any doubts about what Bedřich told us.”
“Why do you say that?” Cort asked.
“Because Stefan Carrington was also at that party.”
“You mean Triad Carrington?” Mari asked, her eyes mirroring my shock. “The horrible man who thinks you’re his biological daughter? That Stefan Carrington? He was there that night?”
I nodded. Yes, Stefan, who’d tried to win me over while his minions attempted to murder my family.
Keene shot out of his seat. “No way. I would have noticed. Or he’d have noticed me.”
“With that red hair and beard and all that makeup?” I said. “Maybe not. Anyway, he seemed to be occupied with a group of men. Ropte went to join them in a room off the main reception area. They shut the door.” I looked at Patrick. “You didn’t see Ropte again after that?”
“No. I didn’t see him, but I didn’t seek him out, either. The man is kind of strong-willed, and talking with him is a little like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat. I kept wanting to agree with him. It was odd.”
Keene paced the length of the room and back again. For the briefest of instants, I recalled Mari’s feelings as she looked at Keene in her memories: the rush of emotion, the thoughts of tracing his face. I knew it was her recollection, her feelings, but everything I experienced became a part of me, and I couldn’t help looking at Keene differently now. “If Carrington was there,” he said, “you have to believe it was about Ropte. Maybe he was making sure the man would fall into line.”
“Maybe they were plotting the Burklap murders and the other kidnappings,” I countered. The shock of seeing Stefan was fading, and now that I thought about it, seeing him with Ropte wasn’t surprising. Of course they would be working together.
Keene gave me a weary smile. “You’re probably right.”
Patrick reached out tentatively to me. “Better look at my memories to see if there’s more.”
I was already tiring because using my ability was like rigorous exercise, and I’d need rest to fully recuperate, but he was right to be careful, especially after this discovery. For all we knew, Stefan might be at Ropte’s tomorrow. I pulled in a deep breath, absorbing what I could from the air. Strength seeped slowly through each of my pores.
Patrick’s shield dropped, and I didn’t even have to ask him to focus. Already, I could see them walking into the party. No glimpse of Stefan. Eventually, I saw Ropte approach, saw him draw Patrick away, his grip on Patrick’s hand lingering as he gave a convincing argument for opposing term limits and for joining a “group” of Unbounded that had a better plan for the world. Patrick was right that the man had something more forceful about him than the customary Unbounded confidence.
“Wait, go back,” I s
aid to Patrick. “What did he say there?”
Patrick’s memories rolled backward. “He said, ‘Remember how you think you are doing America a favor by teaching them to support term limits? Well, I’m telling you that limits for Unbounded are always wrong. Remember, Unbounded are not like mortals. They are superior. The group I represent has better ideas than those currently being discussed in Congress, and we want you to join us.’” Patrick laughed and shook his body as if shaking off Ropte’s influence. “That’s all I can recall him saying. But I’d forgotten about it until now. It was weird. Seriously. For a moment, I wanted . . .” A rush of air left Patrick’s lungs. “I’m not sure what I wanted. It was strange, though.”
Looking in from the outside, Patrick’s fleeting desire was clear. He’d wanted to hear more about Ropte’s mysterious “group.” Even after the year of the torture the Emporium had put him through, Patrick had looked around and wondered, for a brief second, if Ropte was right.
“Hypnosuggestion?” Ritter suggested. “They sometimes use repetition, and Ropte said ‘remember’ several times.”
Patrick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Unless charisma is an ability, I think for the most part, Ropte is like every other politician trying to convince people to back him, except maybe more well-preserved. Anyway, I’m resistant to hypnosuggestion and a lot of other coercion methods after my time in that Emporium prison.”
I discovered nothing else of importance in Patrick’s memories as he greeted or conversed with most of the two hundred people who had been at the event. Though I strained to get a glimpse of the room where Stefan had been, the one other time I managed to see the door, it was closed.
I sank back into the softness of the couch, arching a brow at Keene. “Is there anything you saw that I should know about?”
He shook his head. “I wish. I thought I was careful. However, you’re welcome to look.”
If Keene said he didn’t see anything, I didn’t believe I would get more from him. I’d trusted him with my life and would again. “We’ll look at it tomorrow,” I said. “I’m tired.”
The Takeover Page 9
