The concrete block walls made the stairwell an echo chamber. Jacey heard his shoes scraping the cement steps as he ran up and up. A boom shuddered down at them.
The scuffing of footsteps returned. Dante leaned over the railing a few floors up and waved for them to go. He was coming back down.
“That was quick,” Jacey said.
“Too quick,” Meow Meow said. “His room was right next to mine on the nineteenth floor. No way he got all the way up there so fast.”
The reason for Dante’s quick return became apparent when voices tumbled down from far above them. Siggy’s men were in the stairwell. Jacey didn’t need any more encouragement.
Her knees bobbed as she shuffle-stepped down the stairs as fast as she could. Meow Meow managed to stay ahead of her. For such a waif, she was hardy.
Dante was catching up. Like a drumbeat, a thump came every five seconds as he leapt the last four stairs to each landing, then made the turn to go down the next flight.
The bottom of the stairwell caught Jacey by surprise. She turned the corner and ran into Meow Meow, who was pressed against a metal door with the number 1 painted on it.
Dante arrived a few seconds later. “Go!”
“It’s the lobby,” Meow Meow hissed. “Cameras, remember?”
Dante jabbed a thumb back toward the stairs. “Guys with guns, remember?”
Uttering a curse through her teeth, Meow Meow pushed through. Jacey followed.
And again bumped into Meow Meow’s back.
“What the—” Jacey’s mouth clamped shut at the sight of two men, both in black suits, barring the way. Behind them stood Captain Wilcox.
“There is no need to cause a scene,” Wilcox said. “Please proceed to the lobby.”
None of the men were visibly armed, but Jacey knew they could have weapons in their hands in a fraction of a second if they wanted to.
“Um,” Meow Meow said, glancing back at Jacey. That was all she said, for once at a complete loss. Her right hand crept toward the gun tucked in her jeans. But then she reconsidered and let her hand fall loose at her side.
Dante stepped around Jacey and held his hands out in the universal I’m-not-armed gesture. Wilcox’s thugs did not appreciate this. The one on the left, bald and blunt-nosed, took Dante’s arm. In a blur, the thug slipped behind Dante and pressed a pistol to his spine.
A drunk couple ambled by but didn’t seem to notice the tension. Dante licked his lips. “The, uh, lobby you said?”
The man pushed Dante ahead, not too hard. But Dante intentionally fell on his face. “Ow.”
The timing was perfect. The stairwell door behind Jacey burst open, and two of Siggy’s men emerged, silver guns brandished before them.
Instinct took command of Jacey’s body. She shoved Meow Meow to the floor, diving after. Siggy’s lackeys shouted at the girls, still not recognizing the threat posed by Wilcox and his men.
Jacey was counting on the assumption that neither side wanted her shot. She bear-crawled to Dante, who was already getting to his feet. “Come on, Meows.”
Jacey didn’t look back. Meow Meow would take care of herself. Jacey rose and sprinted, followed by shouts.
Five gunshots sounded, followed by shrill cries. A glance showed her both Siggy’s and Wilcox’s men writhing on the floor. Wilcox had his hands in his pocket and was feigning shock, as if he was just a bystander to the sudden violence. It seemed like very odd behavior until Jacey remembered the surveillance cameras.
Her spine chilled. “I left my veil in the room.”
Meow Meow closed her eyes and cursed, realizing she had left hers behind, too. Jacey started toward a clothing store. An array of pastel-colored scarves hung on a display at the back wall.
Meow Meow grabbed her. “No. Steal that, and you won’t get out of the store.” She jerked her thumb up. Jacey looked. A sort of portcullis gate hung above the doorway.
“They can drop that thing in two seconds if you so much as walk toward the door holding un-paid-for merch.” Meow Meow scratched the back of her neck. “Believe me.”
“Ladies,” Dante said. “Wilcox is coming.”
“So, what do we do now?” Jacey said. “Do we just go through the lobby with our heads held high?”
“No,” Meow Meow said, “we need to get down to the garage and—”
The stairwell door slammed open. Siggy barged onto the scene, face red with fury and blackening from Dante’s kick.
“Through the lobby it is,” Meow Meow said. They ran down the hall, ignoring the amazed looks of the people they passed.
“Hey!” one stout man shouted. He had a cigar between his fingers. He pointed it at them. “Isn’t that what’s-her-name?”
His companion, a tiny woman in a pink wig, cried out, “It is! And it’s the other one, too!”
“Dammit. I left my tablet in the room.”
“Oh, you’re useless, Wayne.”
Jacey mimicked Meow Meow’s head-down posture as they approached the lobby. The throngs that had been there when Siggy wheeled her through earlier had grown.
“Walk swiftly, but not too swiftly,” Meow Meow coached. “Look casual, but not slouchy. This is too nice a place to jaunt like a pud.”
“That’s very helpful,” Jacey said, not having the slightest idea what Meow Meow meant.
It became irrelevant when Dante charged up behind them. “Let’s go, ladies. No time to tarry.” He grabbed each of them by the hand and dragged them to a huge revolving door, where they immediately had to slow down and wait while it turned to allow them in. Then they went around with the turning door until they came out under an awning.
The air was warm and windy. Two women in uniforms smiled at them. In half a second their smiles turned to awe, and then to something Jacey recognized. The same look Siggy had been flashing at her the past couple hours. Greed.
Dante shoved her forward. “Run.”
Strobing light cast their shadows ahead of them as the crowd flashed photos. Dante bulled straight into traffic, hands out to stop screeching cars. Drivers leaned from their windows and swore. Driverless cars chirped and flashed their headlights. Recorded voices admonished Jacey to STAY SAFE. LOOK LEFT, RIGHT, THEN LEFT AGAIN.
Dante flipped his middle finger at several of the cars as he dashed to the opposite sidewalk. The racket of car horns and giant trucks straining to slow their momentum alerted a deep fear in Jacey’s body. Adrenaline spiked with every new sound. She tried to look everywhere at once, certain that something monstrous was about to knock her down and tear her apart.
Buildings of glass, steel, and concrete soared to incredible heights, blocking the sky. She craned her neck, seeking something green or blue.
People approached from both directions. More spilled out from the hotel. They pointed, mouths open. More strobes flashed.
“Smile for the cameras, Jacey,” Dante said. “Where to, Meows?”
The slim girl stood frozen on the sidewalk, head snapping one way, then another. “I—uh—I don’t really . . . Wait! I do know. Follow me.”
Instead of running down the sidewalk, she headed into an alley between two towering buildings. The roar of the city followed on their heels.
13
Stem to Stern
If Dr. Carlhagen had needed a reminder that Maxine was a superb actress, her display at the holodesk right now served well. All pretense of submissiveness had vanished like a hazy dream.
But this temporary shift in attitude was necessary, for she was now speaking with the commander of her ground forces on St. Vitus.
The 15-centimeter-tall holo of Colonel Vikisky stood at attention atop the desk. He wore his military fatigues with the sleeves rolled above the elbows, exposing muscular forearms. Even his face was muscular. Dr. Carlhagen had met a lot of powerful men in his life, but he was always impressed with soldiers.
“We found several bodies in the freezer room of the medical ward,” Vikisky was saying to Maxine.
“Dispose of them. All o
f them,” Maxine said.
“Of course, Senator. But there are several we cannot identify.”
Dr. Carlhagen stepped into view of the cameras. “There should be four of the original Progenitors. Silvio, Elizabeth, Han, and Janicka. The others should be the senator’s body and mine. Oh, and a Scion, too. Sarah. She was Janicka’s Scion. There was a glitch in the transfer.”
“The others will be some of my people,” Maxine said.
Dr. Carlhagen had forgotten. Senator Bentilius had arrived on St. Vitus with a contingent of her own security. The huge captain of her guard named Alice, and a number of other men. Many of them had been killed by Scions. Two of them had died by Senator Bentilius’s own hand. Remembering the scene chilled Dr. Carlhagen’s blood.
A rectangle appeared over Colonel Vikisky’s shoulder. A very familiar—but obviously dead—face appeared. “We also found this man. Do you recognize him?”
“I’ll be damned,” Dr. Carlhagen said. “They killed Mr. Justin.”
“I don’t think so, sir,” Colonel Vikisky said. “There were no marks on his body. In fact, it seems more likely he has transferred, like the other Progenitors.”
Maxine looked around sharply. “Your butler had a Scion?”
“I needed his loyalty. And there was no way I could keep the Scion School secret from him.”
“Loyalty?” Maxine said wryly. “Promising someone a Scion does not guarantee their loyalty.”
Dr. Carlhagen couldn’t argue with that. But now there was a new question. Who had Mr. Justin transferred into? The man’s Scion was still too young, by far. The boy wasn’t even a Dolphin. But of course Mr. Justin knew he didn’t have to transfer into his own Scion. He’d helped Dr. Carlhagen transfer into Vaughan, after all.
Dr. Carlhagen said, “Colonel, since you haven’t already said so, I assume you have not found that small freighter the Scions used for their escape. I’m having difficulty understanding how the world’s most capable military cannot find a slow, rusty ship with a school bus on its top deck.”
Colonel Vikisky listened, then returned his gaze to Maxine. A gesture intended to remind Dr. Carlhagen that the colonel reported to the senator. “The search is under way for the freighter Aphrodite. But I must repeat, there were no Scions aboard that ship. We searched it stem to stern.”
Dr. Carlhagen didn’t know much about boats, but he knew a lot about the Scions. “They may look like children, colonel. But by age 13 their education exceeds that of most college graduates. They are clever, they are desperate, and relative to your soldiers, they’re very small. The Scions were on that ship, and you missed them.”
Maxine understood her position. Without hesitation she waved a finger at Vikisky. “Dr. Carlhagen is right, Colonel. Find that ship. This time, search it yourself.”
The colonel saluted and his holo disappeared.
“Impertinent man.” Maxine tapped her teeth with her fingernails. “Perhaps we should have made a Scion for his wife after all.”
Dr. Carlhagen smirked. “You said yourself, Maxine. Promising a Scion hasn’t assured anyone’s loyalty. Except for maybe Captain Wilcox’s.”
“And what about that mercenary captain of yours? Has he found your beloved Jacey?”
Dr. Carlhagen prepared a retort to put Maxine in her place, but she seemed to realize her mistake. She placed a hand on Dr. Carlhagen’s chest. “I’m sorry, Christof. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Lazarus’s face came up on a pixel wall. “A priority call, Dr. Carlhagen.”
“Who is it?”
“The representative of someone claiming to be President Annabelle Rochelle. She wants to speak with you.”
He couldn’t help but meet Maxine’s gaze. Her eyes narrowed, revealing the disdain she felt for the current President of the North American Union. In truth, Maxine should have been made president over a decade before.
But if Annabelle Rochelle had one skill, it was currying favor. And she was more ruthless at punishing betrayal than Maxine Bentilius.
“Thank you, Lazarus. I will receive the President’s holo momentarily.” He ushered Maxine to the door.
At the last moment, she resisted. He shoved. The door shut.
He spun, gritting his teeth. He’d known this moment was coming, but events were proceeding so quickly he hadn’t had time to think through his strategy for this conversation. This one would be tricky.
And dangerous.
14
A Thought Experiment
With her nose this close to Dr. Carlhagen’s office door, Senator Bentilius could see the minute patterns in the wood grain. Mahogany, she thought.
Her jaw ached, and the pain was creeping up the sides of her head to her temples. She waggled her jaw side to side, achieving a satisfying pop just below her right ear. She was accustomed to rage, a sort of jet fuel she had relied upon her entire career in politics. Many thought she was cold, ruthless. All true. Outwardly.
But the rage that fueled her was always in there, deep down in her gut. Men like Dr. Carlhagen tended to set it alight.
She backed a step from the door, but kept her eyes locked on it, as if she could see through the wood. She clasped her hands behind her back and took two deep breaths, letting them go and imagining the physical symptoms of her rage flowing out of her body. At this moment, control was more important than instant retribution.
She turned away and paused in the quiet hallway here at the new Scion facility in Mt. Lazarus.
Dr. Carlhagen’s trick with the ATR pills had caught her wrong-footed. The play was so obvious she wanted to kick herself for not seeing it. For not thinking of it first.
“It is what it is,” she said. It was always wise to remind oneself that any given situation had to first be accepted before it could be changed. Otherwise, one would be paralyzed by fighting reality. And there was no point in that.
Life was a chess match, and every other person on the planet was the enemy. Even so-called win-win arrangements were merely positioning for the next move, or the next, or the next. But the aim was always victory.
Hands still clasped behind her, she ambled down the hallway, chin up, face expressionless. She knew Dr. Carlhagen’s AI—the wishy-washy Lazarus—was watching her. She had lured the AI to her side, had gotten his cooperation in putting Livy into the cryopod. That was before the revelation regarding the ATR. The cowardly AI had switched sides as soon as it understood Dr. Carlhagen’s leverage over her.
She found herself at the doorway to her own quarters. There was no point in going in. Dr. Carlhagen had forced her to kill her only remaining bodyguard. The man still lay on the bed, his throat parted by the stroke of a knife.
Maxine continued to Livy’s room. It was clean and available.
She went to the restroom, splashed water on her face, straightened her hair, admired her flawless skin. In the midst of all the drama and danger, it was easy to forget how good it felt to be young.
Dr. Carlhagen had given her an ATR pill five hours before. Based on previous experience, she could go two or three days without a dose before debilitating symptoms set in. If Dr. Carlhagen caught her plotting against him again, she knew he would make her go longer, deeper into that suffering. But she doubted he would let her die. She was too powerful, too important. So the question became: how much suffering was she willing to risk? It seemed she had one more chance, one more last gambit, before Dr. Carlhagen gave up and just killed her.
Her first thought was to drug Dr. Carlhagen. He was overfond of his andleprixen. But he kept his supply in his quarters.
She considered stabbing him. The problem there was his relative size and quickness, and his suspicion of her. She doubted he would fall for the old trick she had played on her guard, luring him into her bed and then striking when he was most vulnerable. Christof watched her do that, so he’d be on the lookout for such a trick.
She could try to hit him over the head with a heavy object. But what? Anything heavy enough to knock him out would be impossibl
e to conceal. He wasn’t stupid enough to turn his back on her. Besides, Lazarus was watching.
It always came back to Lazarus.
She went into the lush living area and sat on an overstuffed sofa. She folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes.
She breathed for a while, letting her thoughts wander, trying to make room in her mind for the breakthrough idea she needed.
What did she have in her arsenal? A small naval fleet at her command. Mostly. There were limits to what Vikisky could do, and how long he could keep the fleet deployed looking for the lost freighter. But he had a lot of firepower at his command, special operations forces who no doubt could break into this facility and rescue her. If she could get word to him.
But that was impossible. Lazarus controlled all outgoing and incoming communications.
There was Livy. Dr. Carlhagen didn’t seem too attached to the girl. But he’d been loath to put her into cryo. It had something to do with that horrid girl Jacey. Maybe that was why he had been somewhat protective of the child. He wanted to preserve the girl for the day that Jacey arrived.
Dr. Carlhagen was truly masterful with leverage.
“That’s it,” Maxine said, excitement and hope blossoming. The elements in play were the fleet, Lazarus, and Livy. She thought she saw a path—albeit slender and treacherous—for survival.
Now all she needed to do was talk some sense into Lazarus.
She had one thing going for her, though. She had flipped the AI’s loyalty once before. That told her a very important thing about how the AI was programmed. Dr. Carlhagen limited the activities of the AI—and ensured its loyalty—through the use of leverage rather than purely programmatic restrictions. He constantly bragged to her about how advanced Lazarus was.
Maxine suspected Lazarus was too clever, or simply too fast, to be constrained by mere programmatic barriers. So Dr. Carlhagen held the threat of deletion over his virtual head.
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