Fingers disappeared. Razor slammed it again. Slid the bolt in place.
Pierce stopped the footage again. He frowned. An outside bolt.
Pierce ran the footage to the end for the audio.
“Your arm,” Razor said.
The drumlike pounding. Pierce guessed it came from the outside door.
“Melvin’s men?” Razor asked.
“No,” Caitlyn said. “Suits. Like last night. Three of them.”
Pierce’s men. Outside, getting the video feed and responding.
“Crap. They’ve probably got the building surrounded. No place to run outside. And that will give them a trail to follow.”
But Pierce didn’t need a blood trail to finish this. They were in the building. He’d get them.
But Wilson’s strict orders had been DOA.
Not dead on arrival, but the agency term.
Dead or alive.
TWENTY-ONE
Who are you?” Caitlyn kept Razor’s folded shirt wrapped against the wound on her arm. “You walk in like you own this place. The elevator key…”
Down below, at the end of the hallway, away from the agents banging on the door, there’d been an elevator. He’d used a special key to the penthouse floor. A key he’d presented by pretending to pull it from Caitlyn’s ear.
Now he and Caitlyn were in the penthouse office, thirty-five stories above the spartan closet where she’d spent the night. Looking out the window, she recognized the Pavilion, where, until the day before, she’d worked as a maid. Gray sky, with clouds of darker gray sliding past the other buildings. If Caitlyn stared without focusing, it seemed like the buildings themselves were moving and the clouds were stationary. It gave her a brief sense of vertigo.
“Who am I?” He turned to her. “More importantly, who are you?”
Caitlyn looked down at her arm. Razor waited for her answer. When none came, he turned back to the window.
Caitlyn thought about the unmarked vials and the hypodermic needles she’d found in Razor’s hideout. Maybe drugs made Razor so difficult to talk to.
“I don’t go anywhere unless I have at least two ways out. Three is better. I know this building better than the engineers who designed it.”
“What about whoever works here? How can you know they won’t walk in any second?”
“Gone. I keep track of his schedule. Besides, I think the NI has likely locked the place down by now.”
Caitlyn sat back against the armrest of a couch that was part of a sitting area of a formal office, part of the layout of a luxury apartment suite, with hallways leading away from the main area. By the window was a spotting scope on a tripod.
Razor had moved to it and placed his hand on the dark steel. Half turned away from her, he explained. “Remember the couple of minutes I left you alone down there?”
Just before they’d entered the elevator, he had disappeared into a utility room off the hallway in the depths of the building.
Caitlyn nodded.
“I went to the control room and recoded some security cameras to cover our moves in the hallway. I gave us a couple hours. After that, they’ll give up the search.”
“So you’re going to pretend like you own this place until then? How do you know all this? Are you some kind of flashy thief?”
“I may be a lot of things, but I’m not stupid.”
“No, maybe not stupid. But dishonest. And wrong.”
“What does wrong have to do with this?” He cast her a look of scorn. “Influentials live in a perfect world. They have money and security. They own the Industrials, like domesticated dogs. Cattle or sheep to be used and abused. And the Illegals are like wild animals, surviving by sneaking around and taking what we can. You think we’d survive if we were obvious? We’re foxes, and the Influentials are the farmers. Stealing their chickens would be stupid. They can count those. And they’d set the hounds on us if one was gone. But if we can find a way into the chicken house, we can take eggs now and then. So I leave this coop the way it is.”
“Unsecured,” Caitlyn said.
“In and out when I want. No traces I was here.”
Suddenly, a helicopter appeared and hovered at the giant windows.
Caitlyn dropped to the floor.
“Well, that’s not good,” Razor said.
“Then move away from the window.”
“That’s not the problem. These are mirrored windows. The bigger problem is that they’ve brought in a chopper. How big is this search?”
He leaned in to the spotting scope and pointed it at the streets. He studied in silence for nearly a minute before he spoke again. “Enforcers. They’ve got cruisers set up as roadblocks. We’re trapped. All they have to do is flood the building with Enforcers and start from the bottom up…”
A few seconds of silence as he studied the situation longer. “And they’re carrying thermal radar guns. We’re dead.”
“Thermal radar kills?”
“What world did you come from?” Again, half scorn. “Thermal radar can scan heat signatures through walls and doors. Not too difficult to tell what’s human. Which would include us. Only thing we have in our favor is time. They’ll move slow, but eventually they’ll flush us out.”
“What happened to fast and sharp and dangerous and at least two ways out of every situation?”
“You say that like you’re happy to see me in trouble.”
“I’m angry. I didn’t need you to step into my life. I’m here because you got Enforcers involved. I’m here because I was stupid enough to trust that you would take me to a safe place.”
“How about you focus on how we get out of here?” Razor snapped. “Worry later about how the entire world has betrayed you.”
Razor paced back and forth, staring at the chopper. It hadn’t moved from rooftop level. That put it almost directly across from them in the sky, a couple hundred yards away.
“Or better yet,” he said. “Let me take you straight outside—up to the roof so the guys on the chopper can wrap you up and take you away. With Melvin out of the loop, I can keep all the money for myself. I mean, you’re going to get caught anyway. It might as well do me some good.”
“I don’t need your help,” she said. “Do what you should have done last night. Leave me alone.”
“It’s a little late for that. If anybody has a way past thermal radar, I haven’t heard about it. Short of jumping off the building and—”
He cut himself off, spun, and stared at her. He spoke slowly. “They know you can fly.” He nodded emphatically, talking more to himself than to her. “They’re watching the roof because they know you can fly.”
Silence as he processed his own conclusion. “But we don’t hear the chopper. It’s a stealth chopper. Not many around. Why would they have that in operation instead of a regular—”
He moved back to the spotting scope and trained it on the chopper. After thirty seconds, he spoke to her. Now disbelief was written across his face.
“Sniper,” he said. “They’ve got a sniper in there.”
He walked closer to her, repeating it. “Sniper. And a stealth chopper. They want you on the roof. Where they can get a clear shot. What have you done?”
“Nothing,” Caitlyn said. She thought of who she used to be. A girl living securely in the love and protection of a daddy she once adored. That Caitlyn—the old Caitlyn—would have been bewildered here. Close to breaking down. Who she was now had learned that if a daddy could betray and hurt, then there was no one in the world to trust. So you got cold and learned to believe in no one but yourself. Or you let self-pity overwhelm you and you gave up. With a cold smile, she drew upon her anger. She was not going to quit, no matter what. If she quit, there was no one to help her find the willpower to continue.
Razor must have misinterpreted her cold smile.
“If you haven’t done anything, then what do they want from you?” His face was intense. “Tell me. I’m now part of this.”
“Don’t be a
part of this. Walk away.”
“They want you bad. They’ve got me on police video rescuing you from agents last night. Melvin’s going to let them know we’re on the run together. If I walk out there, you think they’re going to give me a pat on the shoulder and send me on my way? Not if they’re willing to shoot you on sight. You and me are stuck together. I need to know what you know.”
Caitlyn could not answer. She mutely held the folded shirt across her arm.
He began pacing again. “It’s because you can fly.” He laughed. “What is it? Some military secret you stole? I mean, flying soldiers? Surely that’s pretty valuable.” Suddenly he froze, cocked his head as he looked at her. “That’s not as stupid as it sounds. How do you fly? It’s some kind of trick. Right?”
Caitlyn bit off each word. “Just. Go. Away.”
“Not an option.”
“Then stop asking questions.” Caitlyn should have felt fear. Instead, she was defiant and cold inside. She was a freak. Alone against the world. No choice in how she existed the way she did. No choice even in the fact of her existence. Aloneness was all she knew and understood now. And it would be how she died.
Razor studied her face. “When they step into the room in a few minutes, you plan to just stand and face them and wait for them to start shooting?”
“No. If they make it to that door, that chair is going through a window. With me following it. Remember, one of us can fly.”
He walked away, beyond the office area.
Caitlyn didn’t bother to turn her head to watch. Maybe he was leaving her. Maybe she should just go to the roof and stand and wait for a sniper’s bullet. But no. If this was the end, defiance was all she had left. She would not allow herself to be broken. A race to the roof’s edge to beat the sniper, then out into the sky. Free. If only until the first bullets hit her.
She would never give up.
TWENTY-TWO
She’s going to be there next time, right?” Theo asked Billy. “Right?” Billy said, “Maybe we need tattoos.”
“Huh?” Theo asked. He stopped, and his shadow appeared on the ground to his right. Billy was big enough to put Theo in shade. Literally. The sun was to the left of Theo, left of Billy. Theo had been playing a game, concentrating on stepping in concert with Billy, making sure none of his own shadow ever showed. “What are you saying? That she won’t show up? Ever? That we need to become Industrials?”
Billy stopped too. He ran the top of his forearm across his face, wiping away sweat. “It’s not good for you, working the smelter. We could find other things if we were Industrials.”
“So that’s what you’re saying. She won’t show up. Ever.”
“How many times we been to the meeting place?” Billy asked. “Right time. Right place. How many times?”
“I don’t keep track,” Theo said. He’d pulled the bandages from his face. Already, dark bruises had given him raccoon eyes. “Not many. Not enough to give up. She said she didn’t know how long it would take to get to the surgeon. Or how long she needed to heal before she could travel.”
“Theo, tell me how many flies you’ve killed in the last week. Out of how many tries.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Think I don’t notice? A fly lands on you, and you do your best to catch it then throw it down on the ground so that it’s stunned and you can stomp it.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How many steps you manage to stay in my shadow in the last half hour?”
“Huh? You noticed that too?”
“You know numbers and you watch details. Pretending you don’t know how many times we’ve been to the meeting place tells me you know it’s too many but you don’t want to admit it.”
“She’ll be there,” Theo said. “She promised.”
“So why did you ask me?”
A fly landed on Theo’s right forearm. He studied its position. The trick was to try not to smash it flat. Theo knew that when you did that, the hand also pushed a small wall of air out in front of your open palm. The air helped propel the fly away. So to catch a fly, you needed to cup your palm and draw the fly up into the wall of air. A better trick was to sweep your hand just above the fly. But you needed to sweep toward its eyes. It would have no choice but to fly forward, and that closed the gap to your hand. If you swept about three inches above the fly, it would reach your hand in the span between detecting the threat and zooming straight into it.
“Theo?”
Theo ignored Billy. He swept his hand forward, anticipating the fly’s movement. He caught it in a swift motion. He closed his fist and shook it, feeling it bounce around. He threw it down violently, releasing it only a foot from the ground. The fly hit the ground and spun in a dazed circle.
Theo stepped on it. “Eighty-nine out of one hundred two. Just under ninety percent.”
“Uh-huh,” Billy said. “How many times we been to the meeting place?”
They went every second day.
“Twenty-four,” Theo said, sadly. “She’ll be there. I know it.”
“If we get tattoos, that won’t stop us from going there, same place, same time, every time, until she shows up.”
“If we get tattoos, we’ll be stuck with them forever. Then what about our dream? West. No cities with walls.”
“The smelter is going to kill you, Theo.”
“So will living here with tattoos.”
“She could have changed her mind. Something could have happened to her. Maybe she got surgery and decided to live normal, the way Jordan wants it. Instead of joining us.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Theo said. “She’s going to be there. Someday. And if we never stop going, she’ll never wonder what happened to us.”
TWENTY-THREE
You dropped these,” Razor said, stepping out of the kitchen area. “In the elevator.”
Caitlyn recognized the folded papers he held in his hand. Letters that she’d kept close to her body, beneath the cloak.
Silently, she took them away, refusing to ask if he’d read them. She was so angry, she didn’t care.
He smiled at her obvious anger. “Those flowers that Melvin took from me? I had really gotten them to give to you. Just so you know. Not poisoned. As a peace offering.”
He went back into the kitchen.
She heard water running. Razor came back with two glasses of water and a household first-aid kit. He had a couple of small towels tucked under his right arm.
He handed her a glass of water. She took it but did not drink.
He offered her a couple of aspirin. She declined. He popped a few into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Then sucked back half a glass of water. He poured the remainder of the water on the corner of one of the towels.
He pulled up a chair and sat facing her, wet towel in his hand.
Caitlyn stared out the window at the chopper outlined against the dark gray clouds, ignoring the water in her hand. Men. In the chopper. Waiting to execute her. This was what Papa had set her free to find? Proof again that she could not trust anybody. Ever.
Razor handed her the clean towel and motioned for her to give him the bloodied shirt. Caitlyn traded shirt for towel, barely registering the act in her conscious thoughts.
“Thermal radar,” Razor said. “Last night, regular Enforcers pick you up. Within minutes of sending a video, agents appear. Like they’re monitoring communications and waiting for you. Here’s what’s stranger. Those agents Tasered the Enforcers and didn’t even bother to shut off the monitor in the car, like they wanted whoever sent them to know they’d taken you. So I’ll ask again. What is it about you that brings on that kind of heat so fast? Who are you? Where’d you come from?”
“You’ve got your secrets,” Caitlyn said. She saw needle tracks on the inside of his elbow. “I’ve got mine.”
“Not ones that have the Influentials sending all their dogs after me. Even if by some miracle the thermal radar misses
us, how far are you going to have to run until they stop looking for you?”
When she didn’t answer, he opened the first-aid kit and pulled out gauze and a roll of tape.
“Give me your arm,” he said. “You can stay and wait for them to knock on the door, but I’m going to patch up these cuts like I actually have a plan to get us out of here.”
He didn’t give her the option of refusing. He pulled away the towel from her arm before she could react.
He squinted. “A cut like that should still be bleeding. How did—”
He pulled up his shirt and used the towel moistened by her blood to dab at the cut on his belly.
“I’m not bleeding either,” he said. Now his face was unreadable. “This can’t be coincidence.”
TWENTY-FOUR
He sat on a curb by a Dumpster near the loading dock, behind a hotel called the Pavilion. In the shadows, and glad not to be squinting, Mason felt the satisfaction of accomplishment. Only one day Outside, and look at the progress he’d made. From Lynchburg to DC on a high-speed train at a rate that made it seem like only minutes through the countryside. Off the train and a short walk to a hotel where Caitlyn worked. He knew the information had been correct; he’d taken Abe and the woman in the last minutes of their lives to a point where they would utter nothing but truth.
Now all he had to do was wait.
The dock had a surveillance camera trained on the loading area. Mason’s theory was simple. The longer it took someone to show up, the sloppier the security.
He’d been prepared to sit idly until that happened. Until he spotted a small rectangular container on the ground against the wall.
Pest control. A rattrap.
He hoped it was a simple trap, not one armed with poison bait.
Mason left the curb and discovered just another portent of good fortune to go with the wad of cash that Abe had conveniently withdrawn just before Mason’s own form of withdrawal from Abe. Here, the good fortune was the fact that when Mason squatted, lifted the box, and shook it gently, he felt and heard the light thumping sound inside. He smiled. The rat was alive.
Flight of Shadows: A Novel Page 10
