by Karen Healey
“Do you think he’s likely to give in that easily?” Lat asked.
“I’ve been a political reporter for two decades, Agent. Not a chance. We’ve got to make a sizable impact on public opinion before his own people give him the shove, hoping to salvage what they can. We’re in for a long, dirty struggle.”
And Tegan would be his symbol of resistance, for as long as it took.
I glanced at her. From the fury in her eyes, I didn’t give much for Hurfest’s chances of getting her to cooperate.
“I don’t know if Tegan will be willing,” Lat was saying doubtfully, and I hated that he knew her that well, that he was thinking my thoughts.
“She’ll have to be,” Hurfest said bluntly, and my hands clenched. “We don’t have a chance without her.”
“And if she says no?” Washington asked.
“Then we’ll need to persuade her,” Hurfest said, his voice heavy.
I felt his words like a blow to my chest, an impact that nearly knocked the breath out of me. Beside me, Tegan was clenching and unclenching her fists, her mobile face alive with fury and fear.
“You can’t be serious,” Lat said. “She’s just spent months being persuaded to speak.”
“We won’t hurt her,” Hurfest promised. “It won’t come to that. But speaking up really is in Tegan’s best interests, and if she can’t see that, we need to make her do it anyway. Do you honestly think she’ll be safe with this government in power?”
“No,” Lat said, sounding more convinced.
“And we unfortunately don’t have time for the trauma to fade. We need to take advantage of this confusion as soon as possible. I don’t take any pleasure in it, believe me.”
I did believe him. Hurfest wasn’t someone who enjoyed making others suffer. But he’d clearly do it, if he thought it was for the right reasons.
Someone else came in then to report on flier movement, and the meeting broke up. Bethari turned off the transmission with trembling fingers.
Tegan pulled herself off the bed, moving with deliberate calm. I wasn’t fooled. The muscles in her bare arms were tight, her pupils blown out so that her brown eyes looked almost black.
I was so relieved to see her come alive with passion again that I really didn’t want to do what would have to come next. But I had to stop her, or she’d endanger herself, and us with her.
“Where are you going?” I asked, pitching my voice at reasonable.
“I am going to hammer on that trapdoor, and then I am telling Hurfest exactly what I think of his plan to use me as a puppet.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’m leaving.”
“By yourself?”
She squared her shoulders. “You guys can come with me.”
“Definitely,” Bethari said.
“And Marie? Will you take her, too?”
“Of course.”
“Well, there’s a problem, because she’s not awake right now, and even if she were, I doubt she can walk. She probably needs surgery, or some kind of assistive technology, before she can even hope to bear her own weight.”
Joph nodded. “Hurfest has the medical setup, Tegan.”
“You can look after her,” Tegan told her.
Joph looked doubtful. “I could try. But I’m a chemist, not a doctor.”
“And you’re assuming that if you confront him, Hurfest will just let us leave,” I pressed. “You heard him; he needs you. If he’ll force you to speak, I don’t think he’ll hesitate to restrain us. Do you want to be locked up again?”
Tegan flinched, and internally, I did, too. But my mother’s training wouldn’t let that show on my face. “Don’t forget all those people with guns; they might look to you as a symbol, but he’s the one who commands them. We need to keep our heads down and wait for our chance. And in the meantime, prepare for a quiet escape.”
Tegan glared at me. “I can’t believe this! You’re acting like a robot. Aren’t you angry?”
“I want to kill Hurfest for even thinking he could do this to you,” I said, with absolute honesty. With the rage subsided, I could see clearly again. “But I can’t do that, so I need a Plan B.”
“And Plan B is waiting?” Bethari asked. “For how long?”
“For as long as it takes us to be sure we’ve got everything we need,” I said steadily. “Which is going to take at least a couple of days. I don’t want to walk out of here and get picked up by SADU an hour later. When we’re ready, when the opportunity comes, then we move. But before that, we have to be patient and pretend we’re fine with their plan. We need supplies, and we need transport, so that we can move Dr Carmen. We need whatever medicines and equipment she’ll have to use.”
“I can work on that,” Joph said, looking thoughtful. “Getting medicines, anyway.”
“And the EMP,” Bethari added. “I’m not leaving it here for Hurfest to use again.” She brightened. “I had to test it away from here, or we’d have fried all the electronics in the complex. We could go on another testing expedition and try to lose our escort.”
“Good,” I said, trying not to sound surprised. Bethari was intelligent, I knew that, but I tended to forget that when she went for her first impulses. “We’ll refine that a little more, but it’s a good starting point.” I looked at Tegan, wishing there was a better way to tell her the next part. But if we were to succeed… “Your role is going to be hard,” I said.
“I get it,” she said. “I’ll pretend that I’d be happy to be everyone’s speaking doll. Again. You know, ever since I woke up, there’s always been someone who wants to use me as a mouthpiece.” She didn’t say it with complaint. It was just a fact of life: The grass is dying. Sunlight causes cancer. Everyone wants to make the Living Dead Girl their personal spokeswoman.
“But if it helps the refugees…” Bethari said tentatively. “I mean, we don’t have to do it with Hurfest, of course, but in your own time, when you’re ready.”
Tegan shook her head hard, almost violently. “I can’t do it anymore, Bethi. Not again. Not for anyone. I start hearing every word I say as if a stranger is talking, as if all the people looking at me are inspecting a statue carved with a permanent happy face. And I’m inside it, trapped under the rock, and I can’t scream, and I’m suffocating.” Tegan looked pale, far too pale, and her skin had the waxy sheen of cheese left on the table to sweat.
I was beside her before I’d even thought of moving, guiding her down to the floor with anxious hands. She was rigid with tension, the lean muscles jumping as I helped her sit with her back against the wall. I was peripherally aware of Bethari’s concerned face, of Joph rummaging through a bag, but my focus was on Tegan and the long breaths she was forcing in and out, at a deliberate, regular pace.
“What do you need?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Just be here.”
I sat cross-legged beside her, my shoulder against hers, the long length of my thigh pressed against her leg. I didn’t touch her with my hands again. She was so tightly coiled I was afraid she’d explode.
I might have been too hasty in thinking that Tegan had had it easier with Lat on her side. After all, he’d only replaced her former handler after a few months. Before that, she’d been as lost as I was. And I’d forgotten to take her stage fright into account—under SADU’s tender care, it seemed that what had been an aversion to public performance had blossomed into a full-blown phobia.
“Do you want me to give you something, Teeg?” Joph asked softly.
“No. I can do this.” She took a couple more deep, even breaths, then looked right at me. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but she wasn’t crying. “Abdi. Whatever I tell them, I can’t actually handle a ’cast. If they put me in front of a camera, I’ll lose it.”
“You won’t have to. Not ever again,” I said, and desperately hoped I could keep my promise. She nodded. “Just pretend that I will. All right. I’ll talk to Zaneisha, too.”
I hesitated. We might be able to trust Washington
, but perhaps she was in double cover, a way for Lat and Hurfest to anticipate any resistance on Tegan’s part and take steps to counter it.
On the other hand, there were all those people with guns. Washington was a warrior, and we could really use her help if we had to fight our way out. Tegan and Bethari were athletes, and I knew how to point and shoot, but none of us had the expertise that seemed natural to almost every adult I’d seen in this place. “Good idea,” I said. “But carefully, all right? Just try to sound her out at first.”
“I can do that. And you?”
“I’m going to go sulk at Lat,” I said, the idea coming with the words. When we’d been kidnapped by zealots, Tegan had managed to get us some supplies by working in the kitchens. “I’ll see if I can guilt him into letting me do something that will give me access to food.”
“You could just ask him if you could help out in the kitchen,” Tegan said. “You don’t need to manipulate everyone, you know.”
I winced. I’d hoped she hadn’t caught the way I’d dealt with her first, destructive impulse to rage, but she saw me too clearly. “We should try to be ready to go in forty-eight hours, no more. I think Hurfest’s going to push fast.”
“Where are we going?” Bethari asked, looking doubtful again.
I turned to her in surprise. Wasn’t it obvious? “New Zealand, for a start,” I replied. “And then we’ll consider our next steps. We’re getting out of Australia, and we’re not coming back.”
CHAPTER TEN
Andante
“Leave Australia,” Bethari said. From her tone, you’d think I’d suggested she do something impossible, not take the best possible escape route.
“Yes. New Zealand still takes immigrants, and we can certainly make a case for political asylum.”
“We’re all criminals,” Tegan pointed out.
“Activists,” I corrected. “Fighting the illegal and immoral actions of a government at war with its people. Don’t worry, there’ll be lawyers throwing themselves at the chance to represent us. And while they’re preventing immediate extradition, we can work out our next steps.” I slid a glance at Tegan. “My mother might have some ideas. If we can just get to Djibouti, we’ll be safe.”
“I’m not yet convinced that we should leave the country,” Tegan said, chin raised.
Bethari nodded firmly. “I’ve lived here my whole life; my family’s lived here for eight generations. Do you think I’m going to just run away? We have to stay and make things better, not take off and never come back.”
My temper flared again. I couldn’t shout at Tegan, but Bethari was a far easier target. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to make things better, but so far your efforts haven’t done much except—” I bit back on what I wanted to say, but Joph’s warning look hadn’t been fast enough. Bethari’s cheeks flamed.
“I’m sorry about the EMP,” she said. “You don’t know how sorry. But we could get in touch with the other Save Tegan people, the ones who are about awareness, not guns and violence.”
“Do they have a secure network and a fully-prepared hideout?” I demanded. “Because the one thing I can say about Hurfest is that the guy knows how to organize a revolution. That’s why you went to him for help, remember?”
“And that was my biggest mistake!” Bethari said, folding her arms. “We need to stay here and help the refugees.”
Tegan nodded. “Bethi’s right.”
“It’s not a zero-sum situation,” Joph said, her voice unusually firm. “We can return, when it’s safe to do so. And we can talk about government abuse of refugees and the No Migrant policy from anywhere. Right now, I think Abdi’s right. If the headquarters of Save Tegan isn’t safe for us, nowhere in Australia is.”
Bethari snorted, and Joph turned to her, hand held out. “I’m no happier than you are about leaving the country. And I don’t want it to be a permanent change. But for now, we have to go.”
“So we get to the coast,” I said. “And steal or hire a boat that’s seaworthy enough to cross the Tasman.”
“The Coast Guard—” Bethari began.
“Don’t care about people leaving.” My lip curled. “It’s people trying to get into the country they have a problem with.”
“They might care if it’s us,” Joph said gently. “But it’s a good plan. I can’t come up with a better alternative. And we don’t have a lot of time to discuss our options. Are we agreed?”
Tegan gritted her teeth. “All right. We’ll leave, for now.”
There was a pointed silence, while Bethari’s mouth stayed stubbornly shut. I was so frustrated I could have screamed. Didn’t she understand how much trouble we were in? Would it take someone like Diane to make it clear to her how dangerous this country was for us?
But screaming wouldn’t help, and logic hadn’t been useful. I cast around for something that might motivate Bethari and came up short. I just didn’t know enough about her to hit those soft spots.
“I’ve been praying,” Tegan said abruptly. “Quite a lot. Maybe God is guiding us this way, Bethi.”
It was all I could do not to gape at her.
Faith was the only thing I’d ever fought with my mother about. She was a tolerant Muslimah, but she still believed, as did my siblings, and she wanted me to believe, too. At the very least, she wanted me to pretend; a nonbeliever would have a much harder time getting elected to any post in Djibouti. My father was an atheist, and he supported me. Sometimes it felt like we were the only two people in the country who didn’t waste worship on a myth.
Tegan had been religious. I knew that, but how was she still able to have faith? After all the terrible things people had tried to do to her in the name of their gods, how could she think religion was a way for reasonable people to live their lives? If she believed in a god that could leave her in the hands of SADU, tortured and desperate, how could she be anything but furious at him? She was a smart, ethical person, and she still believed in this stupid, evil fairy tale. It was beyond belief.
And worst of all, Bethari was nodding along with her.
My logic hadn’t persuaded Bethari, but Tegan’s appeal to faith was going to do it.
Joph caught my eye, a glint of humor in her face, combined with a very real warning. Yes, no matter what I thought of Tegan and Bethari believing in supernatural guidance, now wasn’t the time to express my opinions on the subjects of faith, fiction, and the many ways the unscrupulous took advantage of the gullible. Not if it meant they’d agree to take the best course of action.
I felt bad about the manipulation, but if it kept them safe…
“Fine,” Bethari said at last. “We’ll work on getting out of here, and then see about getting out of the country. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Great,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a torturer to trick.”
The Save Tegan people at the house were quite happy to point me in Lat’s direction. I didn’t try to get any more information out of them—though I did make sure I had the layout of the underground part of the base firmly in my head before I ventured back upstairs. Lat was in a small room that had probably once been a bedroom, sitting at a map-covered table that took up most of the room.
The rest of the room was dominated by a huge fireplace that would have been outdated a hundred years ago and now assumed the fascination of a museum piece, complete with a heavy poker and brush set. Burning fuel was common enough in my homeland, but the mere suggestion gave eco-righteous Australians the screaming horrors. Even if it was handy for getting rid of incriminating paper evidence.
In a low voice, Lat was discussing something with a white-haired woman. They both shut up as I came in.
I’d neglected to knock.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked.
Lat looked wary, but not alarmed. “Sure. What’s wrong, Abdi?”
The older woman slipped discreetly out, murmuring something about vehicle maintenance. I ignored her, though it reminded me of another item on my checklist. F
ind vehicle that we could steal—at least Bethari ought to be useful for slipping through the car’s antitheft codes; find best route to coast; kidnap injured woman. And secure supplies.
“When can I talk to my parents?” I asked.
Lat blinked. “Oh,” he said, his face suddenly sympathetic. It was a struggle to keep my own expression from reflecting my distaste. I didn’t want his sympathy. “I’m sorry, Abdi. We won’t be able to do that yet. Our communication networks are locked down to essential messages only, and anything connecting to Djibouti is going to raise red flags with the people looking for us. If it helps, your parents will know from the news ’casts that you’ve escaped SADU.”
I tamped down the disappointment. I’d known it was a long shot, and, after all, I wanted him to feel like he owed me. “Really. They think I’m safe?”
“Well, SADU is saying that you and Tegan were kidnapped by a terrorist faction,” he admitted. “But they looked like sensible people, your mum and dad. They’ll work it out, surely.”
I glared at him, not bothering to moderate the bite in my voice. “So they’re really worried about me, and I can’t get in touch?”
He winced. “As soon as I can safely place a call, I’ll let you know,” he promised. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
The warm glow of satisfaction ignited in my stomach. Excellent. Now he was feeling guilty and ready to offer me something in exchange for alleviating that guilt.
Tegan was right—I shouldn’t try to emotionally manipulate my friends. But Lat was no friend of mine, and I was glad that I was able to twist him so easily.
“Actually, there is. I want something to do, so I can help out.”
“Why don’t you just relax?” he said. “Get some downtime.”
“I got lots of downtime, between torture sessions and being made to perform on cue.”
His fingers drummed a tattoo on the maps. Hard copy, which was unusual. But impossible to hack remotely. I wondered if I could steal one of those and decided I probably couldn’t. I injected a note of pleading into my voice. “Give me a gun and let me stand a watch, or put me on monitoring communications channels, or… I don’t know. Something!”
