Seeds

by Chris Mandeville

  “Linus, I want to teach you something,” he said. “As a leader, it’s important to know how to deal with different types of enemies. For example, a gut wound is what you want if you need someone to suffer. With a gut wound, if she doesn’t die of the immediate injury, she’ll almost always die later from infection. Don’t aim for the gut as a rule, though. Too risky if the person is armed.”

  “Yes, father.”

  “Are you armed, Ellianna?”

  “Pascal?” Ellianna’s voice quavered.

  “I didn’t think so. Okay, Linus, pay attention. This is important.” Pascal opened a drawer and pulled out the Ruger revolver that had belonged to his mother, the one he’d killed her with.

  He heard a sharp intake of breath from Ellianna.

  “The way to deal with traitors . . .” He shot Ellianna in the foot.

  She screamed and fell to the ground. Her shoe was gone, and there was a lot of blood, though none spurting.

  “For traitors,” Pascal continued, raising his voice to be heard over Ellianna’s screams. “You want to inflict pain, but not a mortal wound right away. This serves you two-fold. Revenge for the betrayal, plus it allows you to extract information. Because before they die, you need to find out the extent to which you’ve been betrayed.”

  “I didn’t betray you! I swear it,” Ellianna sobbed.

  “For some, it takes more convincing than others.” Pascal grabbed Ellianna’s injured foot and she screamed. “I can apply pressure to staunch the flow of blood if I want to prolong her life. Or I can make it hurt worse. A lot worse.” He pressed his thumb into the wound.

  Ellianna shrieked and kicked.

  Her pain and suffering meant nothing. She was no one to him now. He looked at Linus, and the boy seemed unaffected, too. Excellent. This was an important lesson, and emotional detachment was essential.

  “Be careful not to inflict too much pain, though,” he said, letting her foot drop. “If she passes out, she can’t talk. Are you ready to talk, Elli?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “You helped Brandt escape.”

  “No! I was trying to help you. I don’t know anything about an escape. I swear.”

  Pascal shot Ellianna in the stomach. She went quiet. He thought he might feel some measure of loss, but he didn’t. He had his son. That was all he needed.

  “Is she dead?” Linus asked.

  Linus was asking out of curiosity, not concern. The boy was truly a paragon. And now, with Ellianna and Maybelline gone, it would be just the two of them—father and son—conquering the world.

  “It doesn’t matter, son. I have no use for her anymore.”

  Eighty-One

  Lost Angeles

  Reid put every ounce of strength into getting Mia safely to the train. Finally, he saw it. He followed Brandt into the first car and collapsed onto a seat, hugging Mia to his chest.

  “Let’s go,” Brandt shouted at the man he’d talked to earlier.

  “I can’t,” the man said, holding his hands in the air. “I don’t know how.”

  “Where’s the driver?” Brandt demanded.

  “Taking a leak. Over by that building.”

  “Find him,” Will told his men.

  Alfonse and Vlad went, guns pointed.

  In the distance, a siren blared.

  “Damn it, we don’t have time for this,” Brandt said. “We have to figure out how to work this thing. Reid, put Mia down and get over here.”

  “Mia?” the man said. “God, what have you done to her?”

  “We’re trying to save her.” Reid laid Mia across the seats.

  “The poor thing,” the man said. “I thought she was such a nice girl. I didn’t want to believe what I’d heard.”

  Reid scoured the instrument panel alongside Will and Brandt, but nothing was familiar.

  “Try that button,” the man said. “I think the driver presses it to make it start.”

  Reid scrutinized his face, trying to figure if they should trust him. Will pushed the button. The engine started.

  “Men, get back here,” Will shouted.

  “What next?” Brandt asked. “How do we make it go?”

  The man shrugged.

  “Think,” Brandt urged.

  “I don’t know,” the man said. “I swear, I would tell you.”

  “Fine,” Brandt said. “Get out of here.”

  The man jumped off the train as Will’s men returned.

  “Let him go,” Reid shouted. “Don’t shoot, let him go.”

  The men climbed aboard.

  “We didn’t find anyone,” Vlad said. “If there was a driver, he’s long gone.”

  “Somebody figure out how to work this thing.” Brandt pushed and pulled the levers and knobs.

  Shouts came from the parking lot. It sounded like dozens of people heading for them.

  “Figure it out fast,” Reid said.

  A moment later the first shot rang out. Reid dove over Mia, shielding her.

  Will’s men took cover and returned fire through the glassless windows of the train, while Brandt kept at the controls.

  Soldiers were everywhere, shooting, running for cover.

  “Brandt, behind you!” Reid yelled.

  Brandt turned and fired. There was a volley of return fire. At least one soldier fell.

  “Cover me.” Will handed his weapon to Reid and went to the controls. He stood stock-still at the panel while bullets flew by him.

  Reid pointed the gun out of the train. A soldier ran toward him.

  “Stop!” Reid called.

  The soldier pointed his gun at Reid.

  Reid froze, knowing he should shoot before he was shot at, but he couldn’t. The gun felt foreign, evil in his hand, and he tossed it on the floor of the train and covered Mia with his body as the soldier fired, the shots so close Reid was sure he could feel them whizzing by.

  Finally, the engine engaged and the train inched forward. The soldiers tried to jump aboard, and Brandt shot them, one by one, until the train gained enough speed the soldiers couldn’t catch it.

  “What was that about, Reid?” Will said, picking his gun up from the floor. “Jesus.”

  Reid turned away from the accusing glare and cradled Mia’s head in his lap. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t take a life, even to save his own.

  Eighty-Two

  The Grand Hotel, Pascal’s private suite

  Two soldiers stormed into the room, guns drawn. “We heard shots!”

  “Took you long enough,” Pascal said. “What if I’d been shot? Or my son?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Pascal said. “Ms. Ford, on the other hand . . .”

  “Should we get medical?”

  “No, she was involved in the escape. Have the fugitives been recaptured?”

  “Not yet. Men are in pursuit.”

  “I’m going after them myself,” Pascal said. “Have everyone assemble downstairs. I want current intel, and skates for me and my son. Go. We’ll be there momentarily.”

  Linus turned to him, face aglow. “What are we waiting for?”

  “I need to get socks.” Pascal took a pair from the bureau. “And finish this.” Pascal crossed to Ellianna and nudged her with his toe. She moaned and opened her eyes. “No one betrays me and lives. Not even you.” He pointed the muzzle at her face and fired.

  He turned to Linus. “She wouldn’t have survived that gut wound, but I wanted my face to be the last thing she saw.”

  “I think the bitch got what she deserved.”

  Eighty-Three

  Newport Harbor, aboard the Belle Jewel

  The sky showed only the first hint of morning. The chancellor’s men weren’t due for another hour, but Nikolai believed in being prepared.

  Markoff lay sprawled on the deck in a mixed sea of pirates and guards.

  “Wake up, friend.” Nikolai nudged him with his boot.
/>   “My head.” Markoff rolled over, waving him off. “Go away. It’s still dark, fool.”

  “Not for long.” Nikolai poked him again. “What would the chancellor say if he found us in bed with our guards?”

  Markoff opened one eye. “Eh, I guess you’re right.” He grunted as he hefted himself up.

  “Let’s get our men ready before we wake the others.”

  Markoff stretched and rubbed his face. “Holy—” He dropped to the deck, and Nikolai followed suit. “They’re here already.”

  “Already?” Was their ruse blown? Had something given them away? “The men on the Majestic—will they be alert to this? Will they be ready?” Nikolai asked.

  “They’re competent, but not early risers. I’ll send a swimmer to rouse them.” Markoff shook a young pirate awake.

  Nikolai crab-crawled to the rail and looked out. The parking lot was filling with the dark forms of heavily armed men. This didn’t look like a prisoner exchange. It looked like a war.

  They were losing the cover of darkness. He had to make a decision. His gut said if they continued their ruse, they’d be executed on the dock. But fighting it out looked like suicide too. There had to be another way. He couldn’t leave his son to rot—or worse—in the Tank.

  Markoff appeared beside him, remarkably stealthy for a man of his size, especially with what must be a brutal hangover. “We need to rethink our plan, old friend.”

  “I just reached that conclusion myself.” Nikolai surveyed the men still asleep on the deck, and an idea coalesced. “How about a ruse of a different nature . . . ?”

  Eighty-Four

  Lost Angeles

  The train plowed forward as the sky grew lighter, and Reid tried to figure out how this journey could possibly come to a good end.

  “Brandt.” Reid motioned him closer. “I know Will wants his ship back,” he said quietly. “But we don’t have to go with him. It sounds like suicide.”

  Brandt shook his head. “If we can take the ship, we’ll have a much better chance of getting out alive than if we go on foot, especially carrying Mia.”

  “What about my car?”

  “No way,” Brandt said. “Pascal will have a whole platoon guarding it, maybe more. We wouldn’t be able to get near it.”

  That’s what Reid feared. “But we don’t know Will. How can you be sure about this?”

  “I know Pascal. Trust me, the ship’s our best chance. It may be slim, but it’s the only chance we’ve got.”

  “Everyone, come here.” Will motioned them to the front of the train.

  Reid wasn’t feeling reassured as their small group gathered. It seemed like there should be some other option. But if Brandt was committed to Will’s plan, he and Mia had no choice but to go along. They’d never make it on their own. A slim chance was better than no chance at all.

  “We’ll be out-manned and out-gunned, but no one knows the Belle like we do. If we can get aboard, we can out-maneuver them.”

  “The question is, how do we get aboard?” Brandt asked. “They’re expecting us.”

  “No, the question is where,” Will said, leaning in. “Where will they be expecting us?”

  “They know we’re on the train,” Brandt said. “Even though we’ll get off before the station, they still know the general direction we’re coming from.”

  “But they’re expecting us on land.” Will grinned. “We’ll take the Belle where she’s most vulnerable—from the water. That’s our advantage.”

  “That could work,” Brandt said. “Some soldiers will be on the ship, but the vast majority should be on the dock and surrounding area.”

  “Wait—” Reid tried to interject but they talked over him. Were they forgetting about Mia?

  “Add in a diversion,” Gordo said.

  “Yeah, a diversion.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I think we have a fighting chance.”

  “Then we’re agreed,” Will said. “We board the Belle from the water.”

  “Hold on,” Reid said. “Mia’s unconscious and I don’t know how to swim.”

  “Trust me, Reid,” Will said. “I’ve got this. I won’t let you down.”

  Reid had no basis for trusting Will, but he also had no choice. He nodded.

  “Good man,” Will said. “Now, where should we get off the train?”

  “Here is good,” Brandt said. “Who knows how to stop this thing?”

  Reid hoped Brandt wasn’t wrong, because so far this plan wasn’t inspiring any confidence.

  Eighty-Five

  Newport Harbor

  Pascal skidded to a stop at the end of the road. Linus stopped beside him, followed by a dozen Blades. Close to a hundred others were already assembled in the harbor parking lot.

  “Get me my boots,” Pascal bellowed. “Gather the platoon commanders so I can brief them. Who’s got the latest intel? It’s getting light, people. Snap to it.”

  “Sir.” Minou skated forward. “The train will be here within minutes.”

  “Get to the station and position our men out of sight. Let the fugitives head for the dock. Follow, but don’t let them see you. Only engage if they turn tail. We want them to think they can take the ship. Understood?”

  “Yes sir.” Minou skated toward the train station at top speed.

  Pascal cinched his boots. “Listen up, commanders.” Linus stepped forward with the others, standing tall and confident. Pascal was glad to see him take his place, but he couldn’t help feeling some trepidation. This would be a real battle, not as simple as bringing in a thief or surveilling a doctor. “The escapees are going to try to take the Belle, and we want them to think it’s possible. Our men must be out of sight to lure them into the open. Then we attack and obliterate. We’ve got five minutes, so look sharp. Delta commander, you’ve got the best sharpshooters?”

  “Yes sir.” A thin man saluted.

  “Get your men on the roofs. Charlie commander, your men ready the Vesuvius, even though we shouldn’t need her. Alpha and Bravo, you’re on the ground floors, out of sight. Hold fire until I sound the attack. Go.”

  “Where do you want Echo, sir?” A burly, bearded commander stepped forward.

  “Cover the pirate ship,” Pascal said. “Position your men as close as possible. When the shooting starts, if the pirates choose the wrong side, take care of them.”

  “Understood.”

  “What about Foxtrot?” Linus asked. His was the only platoon left.

  “I need someone to alert our guards on the Belle,” Pascal said. “Who’s your fastest?”

  “Halsey.” Linus pointed at a soldier, no hesitation.

  “Good,” Pascal said. “Halsey, warn our men that the escapees will to try to board. They should be ready, but out of sight. We want the ship to look easy to take.”

  Halsey saluted and zipped toward the Belle, wheels thudding across the splintered boards of the dock. Pascal had considered sending Linus to keep him out of harm’s way, but decided it would be safer to keep him close.

  “The rest of you,” Pascal said to Linus and his men, “come with—”

  An explosion rocked the ground.

  Pascal dropped, pulling Linus down with him.

  Windows shattered, spewing glass. Smoke and dust billowed into the sky.

  “Report! Report!” Pascal shouted. “Linus, are you okay?” He looked his son over for injuries while trying to shield him in case there was a second blast.

  “I’m fine,” Linus said, pushing Pascal’s arm aside. “Report! Someone tell the Chancellor what the hell’s going on!”

  “The train,” someone called. “It was the train!”

  Eighty-Six

  Newport Harbor

  From the deck of the Belle, Nikolai watched the soldiers gathering and dispersing on the dock. Only one soldier headed toward the Belle. Nikolai straightened his “borrowed” uniform, hoping that there were so many soldiers, his unfamiliar face wouldn’t be cause for alarm.

  “Private Ha
lsey with orders from the chancellor,” the soldier called from the dock.

  “Come aboard,” Nikolai said.

  Halsey stepped onto the deck and saluted, still in his skates. “Some prisoners escaped from the Tank and are coming for this ship. We want them to think they can take it, so all your men need to get out of sight.”

  Will. Nikolai was careful not to reveal his excitement.

  An explosion threw them to the deck.

  “Get below,” Nikolai told the boy, knowing Markoff would strip him of his weapons and tie him up. He staggered to his feet as the ship bobbed violently.

  Will, what are you doing? If it were me . . .

  “Olexi,” he called. “It’s a diversion. Will’s coming. Spread the word, make sure everyone knows—don’t shoot. I’m going below to check a hunch.”

  Nikolai slid down the ladder, nearly colliding with Markoff at the bottom.

  “What the hell was that explosion?” Markoff bellowed, rubbing his head.

  “I’d bet ten barrels of cider it was my son, and that he and his men will be trying to board us. They’ll think we’re the enemy. Tell your men not to shoot.”

  Nikolai rushed to the tender garage and opened the door. A face gazed out of the shadows.

  “Dad?”

  “Slava bogu.” Nikolai grabbed his son, and hugged him fiercely but quickly. “How many with you?”

  “Seven, one unconscious.”

  “Have the injured stay below,” Nikolai said. “Those able to help sail, come with me.”

  “I’ve never been so glad to see you in all my life,” Will said.

  “I know the feeling.” Nikolai kissed the top of his head. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  Eighty-Seven

  Newport Harbor

  “It’s a diversion,” Pascal yelled. “They’re sailing! Get to the ship.”