After we’d put enough distance between us and the gang members, I stopped the vehicle again. I jumped out and went around to the back, where I was surprised to see that Owen and Ms. Dale had already gotten out and were waiting for me, holding several pairs of handcuffs. “Looks like they came prepared,” said Ms. Dale, tossing one at me. I caught it and examined the mechanism—I could see that she had already modified it by sticking a thin piece of metal in the lock.
“Will these work?” I asked, slipping one around my wrist. It clicked, and I tugged it, but it wouldn’t open until I manipulated the little piece of metal with my thumb. Tim leaned out of the tarp covering the back, and I could see him examining the setup as well.
“It won’t pass a close inspection, but it’ll have to do,” Ms. Dale replied.
I tossed them back to her and nodded. “All right—Jay, Owen, Violet, and Ms. Dale—you are the terrorist cell. Tim, you’re with me.”
Tim nodded and carefully climbed out of the back of the truck. Violet moved past me, to climb into the truck, and I grabbed her, pulling her tight against me. “Once we’re in there, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I whispered. “I’m… I’m beginning to hate this plan, Violet.”
She gave me a little smile and rose to her tiptoes to kiss me. “We’ll get through it,” she whispered. “I trust you. And… I think it’s a good plan.”
I let her go, watching her climb into the truck and sit down, cramming herself next to Ms. Dale, Jay, and Owen. She slipped into a pair of handcuffs, and I waited to make sure she could open them if she needed to. The rest of the mock terrorists were performing similar tests. Violet wasn’t able to use her damaged hand to unlock the cuffs, but, slowly, painstakingly, she was able to do it with her left.
This was it. I had to trust her. With one last look, I went back to the front of the truck and climbed into the cab. Tim was already there, Samuel by his side.
“Hey, buddy, you going to be okay with this?” I asked, and Tim gave me a flat, gray stare that reminded me of his sister with its sheer stubbornness.
“Don’t like it. But… will do,” he grumbled, and I nodded.
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to your sister,” I said.
“Better not,” replied Tim, turning to stare out the window.
I paused, wondering if the boy realized he was threatening me. And then I realized that he was well within his rights to—she was his sister, after all. He was the only man allowed to be as protective of Violet as I was. I threw the truck into gear and started driving.
It took another five minutes to reach a real road, and from there it was another half-hour before I could see the glowing lights of the checkpoint illuminating the night around them. Our checkpoints were carefully guarded, and I was not surprised to see a contingent of wardens waiting at the station. I was surprised, however, to see my former second-in-command standing with them.
Stepping out of the cab, I held up my hands. “Hey, Mark,” I greeted as I slowly approached. “Long time no see.”
Mark Travers was a good man, and by that I meant he was a good man by Patrian standards. He did his job, never questioned the status quo, and was married.
“Viggo?” he said in disbelief, a smile lighting up his face. “Woah! I thought you were dead! Nobody has seen or heard from you in months!” He stepped forward, his hand extended. It was a good sign—if I were wanted in Patrus, then, long work history or not, he would have drawn a gun on me.
I gave a little shrug as I shook his hand, lowering my other arm. “Yeah, well… I got sent on a mission. They sent me all the way into The Green, if you can believe that.”
Mark gave an appalled look as he eyed me up and down. “And you survived? For how long?”
“I… honestly couldn’t tell you. Over a month.”
Mark whistled, clearly impressed. “That’s seriously amazing, man. I’ve never heard of anyone surviving that long.”
I gave another shrug. “Well… I like being alive, so yeah. Anyway… can you send an encrypted message to the palace? I have someone in the car that the king really wants to meet. Several someones, in fact.”
Mark gestured to one of his men, who ran off to the small outbuilding next to the road, presumably to fulfill my request. “Who’ve you got back there?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Sorry. You aren’t cleared to know. This is all top secret stuff.”
He paused for a moment, but then said, “All right, I can respect that. Can I… Can I take a look?”
He must have noticed my frown deepening, because he held up his hands. “You know I need to at least see what you’re carrying behind that tarp. Things have been kind of crazy since that lab was bombed, and anything could be back there. You’re a good guy, Viggo. I know you’re not lying—I’m just doing my job.”
I nodded, realizing that showing him was unavoidable. “Okay, fair enough.”
I led him to the back of the truck and pulled aside one of the flaps made by a long slit in the tarp. The four people inside glared back, their eyes glinting against his flashlight in slits of absolute hatred. Mark laughed at that, and then looked at me.
“Wow… is that…?”
“I really can’t say,” I said, stopping him. Most likely he’d recognized Violet from the public news announcements. It didn’t matter very much now. If the king believed us, he could clear her name without a doubt. And if he didn’t… I didn’t even want to think about that. The king had to believe us.
“I can’t imagine what they could’ve done, but judging by that look, they are about to get what’s coming to them. So uh… what’s with the kid in the front seat?” Mark asked.
I dropped the tarp and shook my head, manifesting an exasperated look. “You do not want to know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m not even sure I can tell you what’s going on with that. But he’s harmless—after all this is over, I’m going to look into getting him his paperwork and Patrian citizenship. And get his dog proper registration. You know.”
“All right, then… Far be it from me to jeopardize your mission.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’m not even sure I believe everything that happened out there myself. All I know is, I’m glad to be home.”
“I hear you. I can’t even imagine trying to rough it out there.”
Just then, the warden Mark had sent off to radio the palace returned, panting. “Mr. Croft is ordered to remain here. An escort is twenty minutes out. When they come, he is to follow them to a secure location away from the palace, where one of the king’s personal guards will be assisting him with the prisoners.”
Mark thanked him and turned to me. “All right, Viggo—I can imagine you don’t want to leave that boy alone too long in the cab, whoever he is. My men will be out here, so if anything happens, we’ll be ready to assist.”
I shook hands with him. “Thanks, Mark.”
“Just doing my job.”
Nodding, I turned back and climbed into the truck.
“Now what?” asked Tim.
Clearing my throat, I settled back in my seat. “Now we wait.”
10
Violet
After the truck began to move again, I leaned against the tailgate and gazed through the flapping tarp slit. I watched as we passed through the streets of the city, the orange streetlights chasing the shadows away. The view from the back of the truck was limited, and we were all too tense to talk. Truthfully, if anybody had wanted to talk, I wouldn’t have known what to say. We were heading into the lion’s den without any idea of what was going to happen. My hand throbbed at every bump the truck went over, and my eyelids felt like drooping, but my brain kept tumbling through scenarios one after the other, unable to stop.
I heard the high-pitched whine of the brakes as we slowly rumbled to a halt, and I held my breath, waiting to see whether this would be another brief stop, or if we had finally reached our destination. According to my watch, we’d been driving for twenty minutes after
our wait.
The familiar shiver of the truck abruptly died as Viggo killed the engine. I heard his door open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps walking toward the back. After a few moments, the tarp was peeled back to reveal three wardens and Viggo. The three wardens had their guns drawn, and I found myself flinching away in alarm.
“Prisoners,” Viggo said loudly, giving me a worried look. Luckily, his back was to the wardens, so they didn’t notice. “Step out of the vehicle. One at a time. You first.” He pointed at me, and I slowly stood, my legs stretching after the bumpy ride. I walked over to him, my boots echoing loudly. As I approached the opening, I could see that the truck had stopped inside a long tunnel eerily lit by yellow running lights.
I squatted down and set one foot on the bumper, and Viggo grabbed my arm, helping me down. He staged it well—from the wardens’ perspective, it would look like he had gotten impatient and hauled me down. But he was careful not to hurt me, or irritate my hand, which was definitely beginning to feel swollen under my makeshift bandage.
“You three, take one prisoner each. There’s no need to keep your weapons pointed like that—they’re restrained,” Viggo ordered.
The three wardens didn’t question him, but they remained cautious as they ordered Ms. Dale, Owen, and Jay out one by one. Viggo looked impatient, and it was hard to tell whether it was genuine or just for show. Maybe a little of both. While the rest of the crew filed out, Viggo waved his free hand at Tim, who slowly got out, leaving Samuel in the cab.
Then, at some unheard command, we were moving forward, crossing the road—heading for some steps on the side of the tunnel leading to a single door. I looked around, trying to form an impression of this place in case we had to escape in a hurry. The two lanes in the center seemed to be clear, but construction signs, piles of lumber, and sand barrels loomed out of the yellow twilight in the other lanes closer to the sides of the tunnel. I looked back to see that we’d parked along the farthest edge, behind a low concrete barrier of the kind that I’d seen used to separate larger highways, when Viggo and I had been on patrol back during my mission in Patrus. It seemed like ages ago. Years ago.
The door in the tunnel, which looked like no more than a maintenance door and wasn’t visibly guarded, swung open as we approached, revealing a man waiting for us just inside.
“Mr. Croft,” he greeted Viggo, his hands behind his back. “I don’t believe we’ve met personally. I’m Guard Kellen—one of the king’s personal security force. Your prisoners will be searched before King Maxen will meet with them. Not that we doubt you, but we can’t take any chances.”
“I understand,” Viggo said, hauling me up by my elbow and thrusting me over toward Kellen.
Kellen was the very model of efficiency as he patted me down. It wasn’t my first pat-down, so I did what I had always done—stared at the wall just over Kellen’s shoulder. After he had checked me, he handed me back to Viggo, and then proceeded to pat down the others.
I held my breath when Kellen got to my brother. I wasn’t sure how Tim would react to the pat-down—it was clear he wasn’t happy. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he stared down at the floor, his eyes sullen. When Kellen moved away from him, I exhaled silently in relief.
After we were declared free of weapons, Kellen led us down a narrow gray hallway with only three doors that I could count. Two guards were standing just outside the second door, as innocuous as the others. They pushed it open as we approached, letting us into a small room with four chairs set out in a semi-circle, facing a large mirror. Looking closer at it, I realized that it was the same kind of glass they had used in the facility Viggo and I had discovered in The Green: mirror on one side, window on the other.
“They are to be cuffed through the chairs,” Kellen said, and Viggo pulled a key out of his pocket, making a big show of unlocking one of my cuffs before sitting me down and running the cuff through the bars of the chair. I hissed in pain when he inadvertently hit my hand, and couldn’t help but wince when he didn’t even act apologetic—even though I knew that would blow our cover.
Once we had all been cuffed in a similar fashion, with Kellen surveying us impassively, the man pulled the door shut behind him.
Though I had been sleepy before, adrenaline now pulsed through my veins, making the moments tick by like hours. We were only left sitting in tense silence for a few minutes, however. Then a light came on behind the mirror, turning it brightly translucent. Behind the glass, two guards flanked a middle-aged man with broad shoulders, sandy brown hair that ran precisely to his jaw, and a goatee framing his mouth.
I had only seen King Maxen once in person, and even through the glass, he commanded attention.
“Mr. Croft,” came his smooth, rich voice, somewhat dampened by the crackle of the speakers that transmitted it from room to room. “Imagine my surprise to hear that not only are you alive, but you have brought me what I asked for and more.”
“Your Majesty,” Viggo said, offering a shallow bow. “I’m pleased you agreed to meet with me so quickly. I have a lot to tell you… and I understand it may not be very believable. Please, I beg you, try to keep an open mind.”
The king’s eyebrow twitched slightly. “Go on.”
Viggo straightened, and a pulse of nervousness shot through me.
It was the moment of truth.
“First and foremost,” Viggo said, his voice clear, “Violet Bates may not be the villain you thought her to be. I’ve uncovered a plot, one that leads directly to Queen Elena of Matrus. She’s conspiring to have you assassinated, sir.”
I waited with bated breath for the reply. King Maxen’s face was impassive for just a moment. Then he gave Viggo a curious look. “This can’t be over that silly bombing thing in their little temple. I’ve already assured Elena that I had nothing to do—”
“She staged it,” I cut in, unable to bear the tension. “She’s trying to set herself up as the victim of a Patrian attack so she can justify going to war with you.”
The king’s face had turned red the moment I interrupted him, deepening to a shade of purple as I continued to speak. “Mr. Croft,” he hissed. “Please tell that woman that it is improper for her to address the king directly.”
I laughed then, shaking my head at him, anger rising inside of me. “Are you joking? Your life may be in danger. I’m trying to warn you!”
“I will not tolerate being spoken to like that,” the king spat. “Open your mouth again, and I will have Mr. Croft execute you.”
I clamped my teeth together and smiled at the king, secure in the knowledge that Viggo would never, ever obey that order.
“Sir,” Viggo said after pausing to stare between me and the king. “As much as you may be resistant to the idea, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s true. Queen Elena has been working toward this for years.”
The king’s ire faded and was replaced by amusement. “My son… It’s clear you have been spending far too much time with women. What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. Women lack the foresight to plan such things. It’s not their fault; it’s merely a fact of their biology. Besides, those Matrians couldn’t stand against our far superior forces. See reason, and hand over the prisoners for interrogation by my investigators.”
I found myself blinking in shock, trying to find a starting place to explain to the king exactly how wrong he was. There wasn’t enough time to even begin the list. I went another route instead. “Listen to us, King Maxen. It’s not your militia they’re after—it’s you.”
The king shook his head, raising his fingers to his temples as if he had a headache. “For the last time, women should be seen and not heard. Do shut up, or else I will have Mr. Croft put a bullet in your skull.”
At that moment, the jarringly clear sound of automatic gunfire came ricocheting from outside the hall, making me duck in spite of the fact that none of it could come through the walls. I whipped my head around, automatically checking to make sure everyone was all right, e
ven while my stiff, swollen fingers began fiddling with my cuff. “They’re here!”
Viggo was by my side immediately, his fingers pushing mine away. Within seconds I was free of the cuffs. The rest of the group was throwing their cuffs off as well, exposing our ruse.
King Maxen recoiled in horror. “TRAITOR!” he screamed, pointing at Viggo. “GUARDS! SHOOT THEM!”
There was a metal snap, followed by a chair hurtling through the glass. King Maxen ducked, his arms going over his head, and his guards were forced to leap to the side as shards of heavy glass showered down on them. Then Jay leapt through the remaining glass and slammed into one of the king’s guards while his eyes were still shielded. He picked the man up and simply flung him at the other guard, leaping after them as they both went down in a tangle of limbs. He hauled back his arm, and I could hear the impact of flesh on flesh.
King Maxen was back on his feet, dropping into the worst fighting stance I’d ever seen. “HELP!” he screamed, looking back and forth. He then prepared, apparently, to attack—clumsily throwing himself onto Jay’s back.
The king’s face morphed into an expression of confusion as Jay stood up and turned around. He reached back and dragged the man over his shoulder, easily holding him up by the neck. The king gagged, his feet kicking, and I saw his face turning red.
“We need him alive, Jay,” I shouted, and then Ms. Dale was moving, scrambling through the window after them. She ducked down for a second and came back up with a pair of handcuffs, which she slapped on the king. As soon as they were on, Jay dropped him, and the king gasped, collapsing to the floor.
A moment later, Ms. Dale tossed Viggo a guard’s gun through the shattered window, then picked up the other one, pointing it at the door in their room. “We need to see if we’re pinned down,” she shouted.
I nodded to her. The sound of gunfire in the corridor outside had stopped, and that was ominous. “Everybody, get away from the doors! Somebody grab the king and get him over here.”
The Gender Game 4: The Gender War Page 8
