by Meli Raine
And to make the kids untouchable by Stateless.
“Can you tell me why we aren't going straight to the president's house?” I ask Callum, re-igniting a conversation we already had on the plane.
“He won't be there until morning. We want you relatively rested and we need more debriefing. According to Duff, there's a lot to untangle about Stateless and its history. We only know our experience from the inside. They know more. Piecing it together will give everyone the best possible picture so we can plan for contingencies.”
“And I need to be briefed on everything about Glen’s work life,” I add. “It’s not enough to look like her.”
“No,” he says, suddenly uncomfortable. I know he’s thinking about me, at the compound, pretending to be Glen. My interactions with Dr. Svetnu and Marshall Josephs.
And, of course, what I did to him in his room as “Glen.”
“I hate leaving Philippa right now with all those children,” I blurt out, needing to change the subject.
“I think she could use the distraction.”
“We're trained not to need distractions, Callum.”
“We have a lot to unlearn.” He kisses the back of my hand, soulful eyes meeting mine.
I don't know what to say.
So I don't.
I snuggle into him and try to find a new way to center myself.
At the same time, I have to embody Glen.
The car makes a sharp right turn and begins climbing a steep road, passing closely spaced homes that seem impossibly built into the hills. The architecture is so different from anything I've seen before. I wonder how we can be going to a beachfront property when we're driving up and away from the ocean.
My ears begin to pop, just a bit. That happened on the plane, too, and in the helicopter.
I don't like the sensation.
The road corkscrews, my sense of direction a tangled ball of yarn in my mind. Finally, we turn left, into a narrow driveway with trees bracketing it. After a long drive, we pull up before a cottage.
It's nothing fancy. About the size of the nursery building back at the compound, it’s two stories high and has a tall fence around it. I squint.
There are thin wires at the top of the fence.
Just like at the compound.
We move quickly from the car to the front door, the warm glow of lights inside making me feel less jumpy. Callum's hand is on the small of my back as I ascend the stairs to the front porch, and suddenly I'm inside, where it's warm, well lit, and occupied.
By a bunch of people I do and do not know.
Lindsay Bosworth Foster is here, holding a baby that gnaws on one of her fingers. “Baby” isn't the right word, though. Toddler, but tiny. Somewhere between fifteen and eighteen months, I'd guess. Lindsay is standing next to Jane Borokov, who talks intensely with Silas Gentian. Next to him is a sandy-haired man I do not know, talking to another man who must be his brother.
They both look enough like Lindsay to make me note the resemblance.
“Hi!” Lily Thornton appears, offering me an awkward hug. I accept. “How's Duff?” she asks, then frowns. “OMIGOD, that sounds really selfish, like all I care about is Duff! I mean–how are you? How are all the children? I'm so sorry for what happened to you guys.”
I stare at her, mute.
“I did it, didn't I? Said the wrong thing.”
“It's fine.”
“I just–I know how hard it is to be stuck and in danger and you can't do anything to help yourself. I'm so glad you were able to do what you did to get out,” she says quickly.
“Thank you.”
“And now you're really going to do this?”
“You know what we're about to do?”
“It's why I'm here. Why we're all here. Even Carrie and Mark and Chase and Allie. Drew said that there are so many different pieces that fit together into this mess. We have to understand them all to make sure you're as safe as possible when you go to The Grove tomorrow.”
“Mama!” Emma says, pulling on Lindsay's hair. “Wan mik.”
Her teeny voice is adorable. “Milk?” I ask, loving the diversion.
Emma frowns at me, lips pouting in a bow. “No!”
Lindsay chuckles, shifting Emma's weight on her hip. Drew's eyes cut over to them, ever vigilant.
“I don't think there's any way to be safe in this situation,” I whisper to Lindsay as we walk to the kitchen.
“Maybe not. But we can make you safer, at least.”
“Your husband doesn't seem happy that you and your child are here.”
“That's because he's Drew. Once I explained we're safer with him, in a secured beach house protected by his own guys, he saw reason.”
“He strikes me as an extremely unreasonable, but highly competent, commander.”
“He is. Which makes him a terrible husband.”
My own laughter surprises me.
Lindsay manages Emma, who plays quietly with a necklace around her mother's neck. I've never spent time around a child and their mother. The bond pulls me in, making it impossible to tear my eyes away from them. I look away, simply to avoid embarrassing myself. I don't want Lindsay to think I'm being weird.
Even if I am.
“Hi.” The older man with dark blond hair approaches me as Lindsay hands Emma a sippy cup from the refrigerator. He reaches to shake my hand. “I'm Mark. Mark Paulson.”
“I'm Kina.” His hand is dry in mine. We shake. I remember from training how to do it, but it feels waxy and foreign.
“Carrie.” A young woman with long brown hair and wise eyes reaches to shake my hand, too. We complete the social gesture and I stand there, uncertain.
“This is Chase,” Mark says, introducing him. He just waves, thank goodness, his arm wrapped around the waist of a striking woman about my age, with tight skin around the edges of her forehead and long, straight black hair.
“I'm Allie.” She waves at me, sympathy in her eyes.
“Who all is here?” Callum asks Lindsay as she sets Emma on the granite kitchen counter, one arm guarding her from falling.
“Cold!” Emma says, shaking her sippy cup.
“I know, baby. It's cold. But it's good.”
“COLD!” But Emma drinks it anyway, a lock of light brown hair escaping her ponytail. Lindsay looks at Callum.
“Me. Drew. Emma.” She kisses the baby's head. “You and Kina. Chase and Allie. Mark and Carrie. Jane and Silas. Lily.”
“I'm the odd one out until Duff shows up,” Lily cracks.
“Why so many people?” Callum persists.
Drew moves forward, finishing a bite of something. He swallows and says, “I hate having everyone in one location like this, but it's as secure as it can get. Plus, no way for us to be monitored. I don't want anyone–Stateless or someone else–using what we say to sabotage us.”
“And Daddy wanted an excuse to get a big old party tray of sushi,” Lindsay says in baby talk to her daughter.
Drew glares at her.
Emma laughs.
“She's not wrong,” Silas calls out from across the room, gesturing at the giant platter. Jane elbows him.
These names, attached to faces, feel surreal. Yes, I've met Jane, Lindsay, Lily, Silas, and Drew before. Duff is coming later. But Mark Paulson? The Mark Paulson? Senator Thornberg's grandson and the man who was implicated in handing Lindsay off to her kidnappers a few years ago? He was exonerated, but...
“You're piecing it together, aren't you?” Callum says in a low voice.
“How can you tell?”
“I'm a well-trained operative who senses these things.”
My turn to elbow him. He grins.
My skin feels like tiny bugs are crawling over it, and every moment of levity swings back to make me feel tremendous guilt. This would be so much easier if I elevated.
But I need to be fully present for this. I'm not sure why, but I know it's crucial.
There is no beer or wine here. No alcohol. The absence sends th
e clear message that we must be at peak functioning at all times. My stomach is too sour to eat, but I take a glass of flavored seltzer and sit on a sofa with Callum.
There are no charts. No PowerPoint presentations. Not even a laptop. We are eleven people–twelve, including the adorable Emma–all gathered to share information.
And to make a cohesive whole out of fragmented parts.
“As you were saying,” Callum starts, looking at Drew, “we're trained never to have so many critical people in an operation in one place at the same time. And you know Stateless operatives are well aware of our–and your–every move. Why are we all here? You’re jeopardizing yourself and everyone else.”
“Got that covered. We told Harry and Josephs we're gathering counter-intelligence. That we're lying to you to get you to talk. Bringing the baby here was meant to get you to let your guard down.”
“It's not working,” Callum replies.
“Ah, but it is. On them.” He shoves a piece of sashimi in his mouth and chews.
“Nice twist. I like how you think you can manipulate them that way,” I add. “We thought we could do the same with Stateless, the first time we left with Duff. We were clearly wrong.”
“If they aren't buying it, we'll find out.” Drew has a slight defensive edge to his voice.
“But you have plausible deniability,” I confirm.
“Yes. And that's what matters most. Harry can wonder what we're talking about but even he wouldn't attack Lindsay, Jane, and Emma all in one place. They're the only family he has left,” Drew says, eating more.
“Daddy wouldn’t dare kill me and Emma,” Lindsay says in an acid tone. “The optics would be terrible.”
“Wouldn't that increase sympathy for him? If someone bombed all his relatives in one shot?” I ask.
Drew, Lindsay, and Jane freeze, Drew’s eyes bulging as it looks like he might choke on his food.
“He wouldn't,” Callum says calmly as Drew chews and swallows. “It would be too suspicious. Lindsay is considered a hero for taking that bullet of her mother’s to save her father. Even disgraced by the gang rape, she's considerably more politically useful alive than dead because of her heroic act.”
“You say that like you're a fucking robot,” Drew says between clenched teeth.
“When it comes to strategy and analysis, I am. So are you.”
The stare off between them makes me feel safer for some reason.
“Lindsay and Emma are leaving in a few hours. Same with Chase, Allie, Carrie, and Lily. It's these few hours that we need,” Jane says, Silas' arm around her.
“Why?”
“We could share the information on encrypted communications channels, but we are doing this for two reasons: to fool Harry, but also to show anyone monitoring us that we know the different threads are connected. El Brujo was as much a part of Stateless as Svetnu.”
Allie shivers for no apparent reason, triggering Chase to hold her closer. What do they have to do with all this? Who are they?
“Then let's get this going,” Chase says, his voice gravelly and low, as if he's unhappy. “I want to get home.”
“You start,” Mark says to him. “It all begins with you.”
“I think it started with Carrie,” he argues back.
“Or with my stepfather, Jeff,” Allie says.
“Can someone just start?” Lily says, exasperated. “Or I'm going to eat this entire tray of cookies by myself.”
Jane plucks one away. “Or not.”
“I'll start,” Carrie says wearily. “Here's what I know. Years ago, my dad worked in facilities management at Yates University. He caught a smuggling ring being run out of the chemistry department. The chair of the chemistry department, Ignatio Landau, set him up and he was sent to prison for crimes he didn't commit. Landau turned out to be El Brujo. He was smuggling drugs and humans in a sex-trafficking ring from Mexico across the Southern California border.”
“And my stepfather, Jeff, was dealing some of those drugs. Not sure if he was helping with the sex trafficking, but he was such a jerk, I wouldn't be surprised,” Allie adds.
“My dad, Galt, was the head of Atlas, a motorcycle club that was smuggling and dealing, too,” Chase contributes. “But he’s really an undercover government agent. Deep undercover. They were entwined with El Brujo in a major way. I met Allie when her stepfather started dealing more than Atlas wanted him to. Turns out he sold Allie's mom to another motorcycle gang to pay off a debt.”
My head is spinning.
“But he made it look like she died while hiking.”
“Meanwhile,” Lily says, looking around almost shyly. “I'll fill in a little for Duff, who isn't here yet.”
Callum sits up at attention.
“Duff and Callum's grandmother, Mary, was a nanny for Alice Mogrett when she was young,” Lily starts.
“Alice was my painting professor at Yates,” Jane fills in before deferring to Lily.
“After Duff and Callum's parents were killed and Duff was left for dead, Mary turned to Alice for help finding Wyatt, who was only four and missing. Uh–Callum. The private investigator she hired started to discover all kinds of weird pieces of information leading to Harry and Monica Bosworth, and a guy named Paul Ellison.”
“Who is Galt,” Allie adds.
“Who is our father,” Mark explains, pointing to Chase.
“Hey!” Lindsay snaps.
Mark points to her. “And her dad, too.”
“I thought President Bosworth was your father,” I say to her.
“No. He's my father, though,” Jane pipes up.
“I need a flow chart,” I murmur.
“You're not the only one,” Callum whispers back.
“Alice's investigation was put in a drawer, because none of it made sense to her back then. She knew Monica Bosworth was somehow involved with Dean Landau–El Brujo–and Paul Ellison. But she knew nothing else. Meanwhile, El Brujo gained more power, and started to get help from major members of government like Senator Nolan Corning.”
“Corning's the one who ordered the attack on Lindsay, though. With the help of some children of early Stateless leaders,” Drew says.
“Who?” Callum asks.
“Maisri, Asgarth, and Gainsborough. Their sons, Blaine, Stellan, and John.”
“The failed mission,” he says under his breath.
Eyebrows rise.
“Sorry. I know it in one context. It takes time to consider the rest. Stateless viewed those three men as failures. They weren't raised within Stateless – only trained in their late teens – and the attack on Lindsay was a disgrace to the leadership.”
“It was a disgrace, period,” Mark says through clenched teeth.
“I meant that the leaders had to regroup and think through how to continue advancing the cause. The three men who attacked Lindsay were terrible at their mission.”
“They were garbage human beings who got what they deserved,” Lindsay says. Jane reaches for her shoulder, squeezing it.
“Good thing you're a quick study,” Drew snaps at Callum. “Now we have Harry as the connection between El Brujo and Stateless.”
“Or my mother,” Lindsay says sadly.
“Or both,” Jane adds in a prickly voice. “She had no problem setting my mother up as the bad guy in your kidnapping, Lindsay.”
“And me,” Mark adds.
“Monica Bosworth was part of all of this, years and years ago, from El Brujo to the early days of Stateless,” Callum muses.
“Yes. And when she tried to kill Harry, it all went to hell,” Drew grunts.
“For her. Harry came out smelling just fine,” Silas corrects, his voice bitter. “And Monica died.” A hard look at Drew is filled with admiration.
Jane's hand on Lindsay's shoulder freezes. Is that where she took a bullet for the president?
“How did President Bosworth stay so clean?” I ask. “People around him are tainted. They die. They are brought down by scandal or arrested and jaile
d, though mostly they die. Why was he able to ascend? He won the presidency.”
“Alicia Ludame was a major reason for that. Picking her as VP was genius. She carried her state for him, and Texas is one hell of a win. Loads of electoral votes,” Silas explains.
“And the romance. Don't forget that. A widow and a widower. People are desperate to see them get married. It's a fairy-tale romance, a redemption story, and a powerful passion piece all rolled into one.” Jane's words are bitter.
“What about Ludame?” I ask. “We've been taught she's an enemy of Stateless. Is she?”
“She's been part of Texas state politics forever,” Silas continues. “Her record's solid. No ties to military intelligence. No ties to CIA or FBI. She was adopted. Only child in her family. Nothing else of note in her public record,” Silas says.
“Clean, then,” I say with a sigh.
“Or just really good at covering up what she wants to cover,” Callum adds. “I don't trust her. Never have. Romeo couldn't stand her.”
At the mention of his name, both Jane and Lily tense.
“But that's because she calls terrorist attacks on U.S. soil what they are–terrorist attacks. And they were our operations,” I point out. “She wasn't wrong. She just obstructed us.”
“You said your father was the head of a motorcycle gang, but also an operative,” Callum says to Mark, then looking at Chase. “Does he have a role in Stateless?”
Chase snorts. “Who the hell knows? He's Galt.”
“And he's really Paul Ellison,” Jane adds. “He was a DA who was having an affair with Monica Bosworth in the early 1990s and figured out some of the early El Brujo mess.”
“That's how you all share blood,” I note, looking at Chase, Mark and Lindsay. “He's your father. All three of you.”
They nod.
“This is a lot,” Carrie says, leaning forward for a cookie. “When we lay it out like this.”
“But what does this all have to do with my sister? And the president?” I ask. “What did Monica Bosworth and her husband have to do with Stateless?”
