by Karen Hayes
Even though I like her, I can see she's not very popular with other duals. It's probably because she likes to keep herself to herself. Or maybe it's because she's Adam's left hand, as opposed to his right-hand assistants: the sarcastic Greene and the fiery-haired Heaven.
Today Emma appears anxious. She keeps checking her phone, frowning, as if expecting a message or working up the courage to make a call.
"Something happened?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "It's all right," she says and continues to fumble with the phone, biting her lip.
Oh well. "Come on, tell me."
"I think I have a problem," she says.
I stare at her. A problem. Our quiet mousy Emma has a problem? What might that be? Has she lost a library book?
"You see," she says, "Adam asked me to meet a few people today at lunchtime," she checks her phone and sighs. "They're bringing some paperwork. They can't come here. They don't want to entrust the papers to couriers, either."
"So where are you gonna meet them?"
"In Central Park."
I chuckle. "It's not as if it's very far. Are you afraid of going out alone?"
"Actually, yes. I will miss Sam, if you know what I mean."
I look at Chris, pale and silent on the hospital bed. Oh yes. I know very well what it means. "Why would Adam send you? He knows Sam can't come with you."
She shakes her head. "It's an old arrangement. It had been scheduled before all this happened. Before Sam and Chris got-" she casts a sideways look at Chris. She seems to have a serious crush on him. "I completely forgot. I only remembered it this morning when I saw it marked down in my diary. I can't get through to them," she stares sadly on the phone. "And Adam is away on business."
"Can't you ask Greene and Heaven to come along?"
Sarah nearly jumps, appalled by the idea. "No way! You don't know them, do you? They'll just laugh. And even if they agree, they'll be forever making fun of me. Honestly, I don't want to ask anyone. It's my job and I’m going to do it."
It breaks my heart to watch her sigh and fumble with her phone. "Would you like me to come with you?"
"You can't leave Chris, can you?"
"I've been with him for what, seventy-two hours? Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is this room. I could use a walk. You've been a great help to me. Now it's my turn."
Honestly, I just need a break before I snap.
She still tries to talk me out of it. "You know, don't you, that Adam doesn't want you to leave the building?"
She doesn't sound too sure though. She's probably happy I offered. I finish my coffee and get up. A bit of stray coffee bean is caught in my teeth. "I'll see you in the lobby in half an hour."
I go back to my room, thinking. Adam is right in a way: I can't leave the building empty-handed. He did say that his surveillance teams monitor the area; according to them, the Agency has been lying low just lately. And I really can't stay here for much longer. The ceiling seems to bear down on me. Emma's predicament is in fact extremely convenient for me. Had it not been for her, I might have sneaked out on my own just to stretch my legs.
Still, that doesn't mean I should rush out unprepared. I need some kind of weapon on me for self-defense. Not that something might happen but just to feel more secure. Problem is, I have nothing. A kitchen knife, maybe? Not exactly a weapon, is it?
Still, I know someone who owes me.
I find Greene in the farthest corner of the gym. His practice zone is separated by fireproof screens. A large extractor is mounted on the ceiling. The wall is lined with target dummies, making the place look a bit like a firing range.
Heaven is standing by the opposite wall, hurling handfuls of tiny green and blue pellets at the targets. Greene sets the blue ones on fire in flight, allowing the green ones to drop to the ground unharmed.
"Ah, Sarah, the terrorist slayer!" Greene yells.
The few other people practicing in the gym turn to have a look at me. It's a new joke, apparently. Not exactly new even: it's been three days he's been repeating it every time he's seen me.
Greene has a weird sense of humor. He loves playing all sorts of stupid pranks. The other day, he set the gym punch bag on fire. Just like that. One moment it was hanging there nice and quiet, the next moment it burst into flames. And I don't even think he had problems with Adam because of it. The local staff seem to be a bit wary of him... either that, or they just let him get away with things.
"Hi yourself," I walk over to him. "What's this for?" I nod at the burnt pellets.
His ginger eyebrows climb up. "What, you've never seen it?"
"Nope."
He gestures to Heaven. She reaches behind the weights stand and produces a handful of pellets, red this time.
Greene puts on some earmuffs and offers me another pair. Heaven doesn't seem to give a damn about safety. She's just standing there waiting for his signal.
The other duals step back. They can't be afraid, surely? They're perfectly safe behind the fireproof screens.
Greene nods. Heaven takes a swing and hurls the pellets horizontally in a wide arc over the dummies' heads.
Greene slams his fist into the palm of his other hand. The pellets explode.
The heat singes my face. I shrink back.
When the smoke thins out somewhat, I can see the dummies' steel skeletons stripped of their fireproof covers. Only the central one seems intact albeit slightly gray from the fumes.
"We're learning to direct the shock waves," Greene explains once I peel off the earmuffs. "Imagine a situation when the Agency kidnaps one of our guys. This thing can reduce them to ashes while our guy will stay intact."
"Cool," I admit. I mean it, too.
Greene bows theatrically to the sound of applause coming from the gym's opposite end. "I know. Shame we couldn't use it in Times Square. The suicide bomber had too many explosives on him. Still, I managed to deflect the fire away from you, didn't I?"
He reaches in his pocket and offers me an opened pack of gum. I pull out three and start munching on them. The gym goes back to normal.
"What brings you here?" Greene asks. "Did you decide to finally get in some practice?"
"No," I say. "You don't happen to have anything for self-defense, do you?"
He opens his eyes wide. "Sarah baby, why would you need something like that? This place is as safe as you can get. No one's gonna rape you in the elevator."
"I know. I'm talking about the city in general."
Greene looks totally dumbfounded. He waves to Heaven, motioning her to stop. She walks off with her stiff gait. What I have to say seems to interest her less than the buzzing of a dung fly.
Something touches my head. I run my hand over my hair. It's a burnt piece of fabric that used to serve as a dummy's "face". A guy at the other end of the room gives me a wink.
I know him. His name is Fred. Our telekinesist.
I give him a finger. What can be worse than psychokinesis pranks? Only those played by a pyromaniac.
"The city in general, you say?" Greene leans against a steel bar, flashing me his foxy smile. "Mind telling me where you think you're going?"
Yeah, right. This is Emma's secret, not mine. "I just want to go for a walk."
"Not good timing, is it? The city is still talking about the explosion."
"So what? I'm not going on my own, anyway."
"Oh really? Who's going with you?"
"Emma. Listen, we just want to go for a quick walk around the block. This place is driving me nuts."
He nods with a toothy, marten-like grin. He doesn't look as if he believes me. It probably wasn't such a good idea turning to him for help. For sure, they won't let me go anywhere. They might even lock me up.
"Does Adam know?" he asks.
"Adam's away on business."
"Is he really?"
"He is," I snap. "Never mind. Just forget it."
I swing round, about to leave, when he grabs hold of my sleeve.
"Hey, hey,
no need to be so harsh, babe," he swaggers toward the exit, motioning me to follow.
We go back to our living area and into his room. Its walls are plastered with action-flick posters. Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Chuck Norris... Oh, well.
Greene proudly swings the wardrobe doors open to demonstrate his collection.
Oh wow. He's got a whole arsenal here! The only item missing seems to be a heavy machine gun. He probably keeps that under his bed.
He hands me a small Taser. I slip it under my belt and cover it up with my sweatshirt. He also offers me a gas gun which looks very much like the real thing. I decline, though. It's too heavy. Also, I wouldn't know how to use it.
I glance at the clock. I'm late already. "Thanks," I mumble and rush out of the room.
Emma's waiting for me behind the turnstiles. She has the same washed-out look. This time she's wearing a pair of blue jeans and a lightweight jacket, with a matching blue purse hanging off her shoulder.
I swipe my card through the turnstile and join her. We walk out.
The sun is bright and hot. The air smells of rainwater and rotting leaves. A light whiff of rusty metal reaches me from the sewage manhole cover - the sign that the wind has stopped blowing from the direction of the bay.
The city is bustling around me, speeding past, honking, flashing its traffic lights at me. So many people rushing past, clenching papers, talking on their cells, sipping their Starbucks, munching on their sandwiches. I cast watchful looks around trying to make out the Agency's gorillas but there appear to be none.
A guy shoves a McAllister leaflet into my hand. This makes me think about Adam. He has incredible mind control. How does he do it? The guy is a walking enigma which I'd love to solve.
"Adam is one of the stronger duals, isn't he?" I ask matter-of-factly.
Emma nods. "He's the best."
"Why?" I keep steering her cautiously toward a subject that interests me. "He's a loner, isn't he? I mean, his guardian, isn't he dead?"
"She's dead," Emma says. "You're right."
She shuts down again. It's as if she has some sort of speech dispenser inside, measuring out abrupt terse replies.
"But how does he do it?" I press the issue. "I thought duals could only work together. If you take me, for instance, now that Chris is in a coma I can do jack shit. Same with you and Sam. But Adam doesn't seem to need a guardian."
"He's very strong," she fidgets, searching for an answer. "They used to be very strong, both of them. The strongest, or so I was told. They never left each other's side," her cheeks flush with the memory. "You know what I mean."
Aha. So this "she" wasn't just his guardian but also his lover.
How sad. I feel really sorry for him now.
"So it just happened that when Vicky died, Adam preserved his powers," Emma says.
"How is it possible?"
"We don't know. Our researchers tried to look into it but found nothing. Apparently, the bond between the two was too strong to be severed."
"Oh. So in a way, even death did not them part, is that it?"
Emma heaves a sad sigh. "I don't think there'll ever be another pair as faithful to each other as those two."
"What was she like?" I ask. "Did someone tell you?"
Emma swings round, staring at me fiercely as if I've just stepped on her foot. The woman seems to come with a safety switch inside - and I've just triggered it.
"I suggest we change the subject," she says sternly. "Adam doesn't like it when I discuss his past with anyone. You can ask him yourself if you want."
"Sure."
Oops. I had no idea I was treading on the forbidden territory. I knew better, of course, than to discuss the subject with Adam - but I had no idea Emma would take offence too. She must love him a lot to be so sensitive.
The lights change to green. We cross the street and keep on walking, past all the hot dog and falafel stands (I wouldn't say no to one myself, complete with a bun and pickles), past the police van (I shrink my head into my shoulders and scramble hurriedly along), past a tall monument until finally we enter the thinning autumnal shade of the park. We walk past the fenced-off skate park with its blazing loudspeakers packed with skaters of every possible age and type of track suit.
I just can't believe these people. Winter is almost upon us but they're still here, looking so summery and carefree, clapping their hands to some R&B track as if there wasn't any Times Square explosion at all. They've already moved on... oh well, can't be helped, I suppose.
We approach a cobblestone pedestrian crossing, about to head for a non-functioning fountain on the other side. Here, Sarah slows down and checks her cell phone.
"We're a bit too early," she says. "It's probably better if you wait for me here. They don't expect me to bring anyone. If they see you, they might get suspicious. I'd better go there on my own. They should be waiting for me by the fountain."
She crosses the road and alights some steps, disappearing from sight. I lean against the stone parapet, staring at the street, the taxis and the cyclists.
The breeze is warm on my face. A dog is barking nearby. Teenagers on a park bench are laughing.
A white pickup truck rattles past, followed by a dark-blue Ford car with tinted windows. It pulls up by the roadside almost opposite me, its engine idling.
I stare at it blindly. It reminds me of something... I must have seen one like it recently.
Or... no, it was Chris. Yes, that's right. Chris saw it. He told me about it, didn't he? A dark blue Ford had been parked up by his father's place. Then a pickup van rammed it. According to Chris, there were some Agency men in the car watching him.
I double-check the car. How many blue Fords are there in NYC? Quite a few, I would think. No need to panic. Nobody is jumping out, trying to kidnap me or anything. They're probably just waiting for someone.
I peer at the fountain. Where the heck is Emma now?
A jogger stops nearby. He bends down to tie his laces. A light khaki jacket, matching shorts, white socks, a fanny pack and a water bottle dangling from his belt. Tons of guys like him around Central Park. Had the weather been a bit better, I could have given it a try too.
The guy is fit, with long, lanky limbs. Beads of sweat cover his neck.
My gaze wanders aimlessly over the guy's neck and his hair dripping with sweat.
And what's that? Something small and skin-colored is stuck in his ear. You can barely notice it but it's there.
An earpiece?
My back erupts in goosebumps. This isn't a regular earbud. It looks more like one of those things used by undercover cops in movies when they need to contact the assault group.
He's about seven paces away from me. Seven of my paces, that is. He can probably get to me in a couple of easy lunges.
While he's fumbling with his laces, I ease off back, away from the crossing. Then I turn round and walk fast but not so fast as to attract attention. Once I'd put some distance between us, I stole a look back.
Dammit! He's standing right there staring after me. His lips are moving: he's mouthing something. Then he starts walking toward me.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
I fasten my pace and take a sharp turn. Where's Emma? Have they kidnapped her?
I ram my way into the crowd lining up in front of the food stalls, worming my way between a big fat lady and two Chinese tourists with cameras dangling from their necks. The fat lady starts screaming, threatening to report me to the police, but I'm already safely through the crowd, lurking behind a vendor's van. Cautiously I take a peek at the alley I just left.
At first I can't see anyone behind the heaving sea of people. Then I notice the khaki jacket. The Agency gorilla is conspicuous by his height.
I shrink back. He walks past without noticing me. Good. Now I need to run back to Hermetis and get help. I should tell everything to Greene and Heaven. They'll know what to do. We need to get Emma back. As Adam's assistant and a carrier like myself, she must be very valu
able to the Agency.
I turn my head.
Diana is standing a mere ten feet away from me. A few unsuspecting tourists munch on their hot dogs between the two of us.
Our eyes meet.
Oh, no.
I dart across the lawn. Behind me, the air is blue with screaming and cussing which means that Diana is following me, trampling the crowd out of her way.
I run as fast as my legs can carry me. Into another alley and all the way around the lake, overtaking all the joggers and even a couple of cyclists.
The wind is harsh on my face but I don't care. I speed up even more. I could trip and fall any moment. Or they might grab me from behind.
The fake jogger is running along a nearby alley. I take another turn and start climbing uphill onto an uneven footpath, tripping over gnarly old roots.
This is the most overgrown part of the park. There's nobody around.
I glance over my shoulder. Diana is far behind, trailing in the wake of some enormous guy I've never seen with her before. The "jogger" is nowhere to be seen. He's probably lurking in waiting somewhere in front of me.
Very clever, Sarah. You've allowed them to herd you into this secluded area like an idiot. How about next time you think before you run?
What am I supposed to do now? I look around me. Big guys like those might find it difficult struggling through the undergrowth, that's for sure. With this thought, I leave the trail and duck into the bush.
Tree branches lash my face. They catch on my clothes, slowing me down. I finally barge through the undergrowth and roll down a wet grassy slope, hearing screams and the snapping of branches behind me.
I grab at a tree trunk to stop my fall and dart aside, struggling through some bushes until I come to another trail. I rush headlong down it, praying for some people - anyone! Somebody, call the cops, please!
There's no one around. I'm alone here. That's no good. The gorillas can see me easily.
I duck back into the undergrowth, trying to move as noiselessly as I can. I have to hurry though. I cast a quick glance behind me and notice a black shadow moving amid the greenery.
