Fractured Futures

by SY Thompson

  Ronan showed her badge to the slot in the metal door at detective headquarters and a few seconds later the guard inside pulled it open. It was a good thing she’d left the badge in her apartment when she’d gone back to Sidney’s time.

  This guard wasn’t very friendly. He let her in without a word and then turned back to a crumpled magazine. That was fine since she’d started to sweat nervously. She never thought she would be inside this place again and wondered if somehow her perfidy was visible. She almost expected someone to point at her and shout “Traitor!” but no one did. Everyone she passed ignored her completely as they went about their normal routine.

  She took the elevator up to the third floor and to her office. Ronan stepped into the lobby, greeted by the sight of secretaries and beat cops as they poured cups of coffee. A few raised their hand in greeting, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  She noticed that her partner, Boris Kinsky, wasn’t in his office. She wondered at that, but tried to look casual as she walked toward her own. As she passed by Lieutenant Sloan’s closed door, she heard a low voice. It didn’t sound like the lieutenant, but she couldn’t listen at the door without attracting attention. Instead, Ronan went into her office and closed the door firmly. Her office was next to the lieutenant’s and she might be able to hear them through the wall.

  The buildings were old and not well insulated. Ronan considered that it was a possibility so she pressed her ear to the wall and listened. The voice belonged to Kinsky. She hadn’t killed him after all. She couldn’t hear everything, but what she did hear gave her an insight that chilled her. Kinsky was definitely one of the pawns working for the government, but more than that, from what she could make out he was in charge of things. He gave commands to an unknown individual that Ronan could only assume was Sloan. Why else would they be in his office?

  Things began to heat up in the other room and her partner raised his voice. His passion made it easier for Ronan to hear what he said.

  “I told you not to trust Lee. Our spies tell us she was at the professor’s home last night. He hasn’t been converted yet and who knows what she has learned from him?”

  “Who cares what she knows?” Sloan asked. “Even if she does know of our true mission, he’ll convince her that we are harmless. By the time they learn otherwise it will be too late.”

  There was a pause while Boris seemed to consider this viewpoint. Then he asked, “Is the execution still on schedule?”

  “Yes. We’ll move the rebels from the warehouse on Sixth Street at two thirty. Guard members will take them by van to Konamin Square where they will be executed at three o’clock. Any other resistors will see that their actions have serious consequences.”

  “It won’t matter after today, anyway,” Kinsky said. “I will contact the fleet this evening, and they will be on the ground by morning. Our people are in place to round up the undesirables of this country and they’ll all be dead by the end of the week. Did you recall our agents from the past? We can’t afford to have anyone else revealed as long as the actress and Lee are unaccounted for.”

  “Just as you ordered, sir. All operatives are standing by on the space station, along with the Delegator and the other party leaders. Our plans will be realized and all those who oppose our destiny will be crushed.”

  Both men chuckled nastily for a moment. “I think you’re right. No one knows about our ships in orbit and once we launch the main prong of our assault, the shields will go up. No one can get inside or even around the barrier unless they know about the transport matrix.”

  “What about Lee?” Sloan asked. “No one’s seen her yet. Until we find her, she’ll continue to be a threat.”

  “Lee’s an idealist. She’s never really embraced the superiority of the Neue Konservative Regime. After today, we won’t have to worry about her. Have your men gone to her apartment, yet? If she goes anywhere it will be there and it would be better to have her out of the way before the executions.”

  “Yes, Dutrov should be there by now. He’ll call as soon as he has her in custody.”

  Blood thundered in Ronan’s ears and she pulled away quickly from the wall. Dutrov was one of the nastier men that hung around the Black Guard. Ronan had never really understood exactly what his job was, but now it seemed clear. He took care of loose ends and they considered her one, but Sidney was alone in the apartment, without Ronan to protect her.

  Ronan had to get back out of the building without Kinsky or Sloan seeing her. She hoped they had more to talk about and made for the office door. Ronan eased it quietly shut and walked as fast as she could out of the lobby and down the stairs. The elevator would be too slow and she had to make tracks. Once outside, Ronan considered running for the subway but gave it up when she saw a police car idling near the entrance.

  When she was safely on the roadway, she flipped on the lights and siren to clear what little traffic there was from her path. Sloan said that Dutrov should already be at the apartment. She was so glad she had pulled on the laser pistol before she’d left. Once they found Sidney alone, they would probably lay a trap for Ronan.

  She parked near the curb a block from the apartment so that if Dutrov’s thugs were still there they wouldn’t see her. Ronan pocketed the keys, prepared for the eventuality that she would continue to need the car, and then jogged down the street toward her building. At the alleyway, she slipped around the corner to take the back entrance and the emergency stairs up to her own floor.

  The whole scene reminded her of Sidney’s rescue at the Rock Hall estate when a serial killer was already inside. A chill swept up her spine that had nothing to do with the weather and Ronan tried to ignore the sensation. At the top of the stairs, she stopped at the fire door to peer through the glass onto the landing. No one was in the hallway and all seemed quiet. Carefully, Ronan opened the door, glanced right and left, and then slipped noiselessly toward her apartment.

  The door was ajar, the molding hanging askew from where someone had kicked it in. She instinctively crouched down to make herself a smaller target . She pulled the laser pistol from the shoulder holster and kept the muzzle pointed at the sky so the tip wouldn’t poke through the doorway and give her away. She reached up with her free hand and pushed on the door. It opened smoothly with no squeaks. There were no sounds from inside.

  Ronan frowned and wondered if the apartment was empty. She felt slighted that Dutrov hadn’t considered her enough of a threat to lay a trap, but appearances could deceive. Leaning forward quickly, Ronan scanned the room before she pulled back. When there was no reaction, she poked her head into the room again and took a long look around. No one waited inside.

  Quietly she stood and walked into the apartment with her pistol held ready in front of her, both hands on the grip although some instinct prompted her to remain quiet. There was no obvious sign of a struggle in the outer living area and she wandered into the kitchen. A shattered coffee pot lay on the tiles. Ronan checked the area carefully, but didn’t see any bloodstains that might indicate any injuries.

  She hoped that meant Sidney was alive and unharmed. Ronan thought of the flashing grey eyes and quirky smile and her heart seized. Sidney was alive. She had to be. Ronan just needed to figure out where they would take her. The only place she could think of was the warehouse she’d heard mentioned between Kinsky and Sloan. It was where they held the rebels until the scheduled execution. With this form of government so comfortable with executions, they might kill Sidney too. She would be seen as one more obstacle the government should eliminate.

  It seemed the most likely answer and Ronan felt her blood run cold as she stalked into her bedroom. Ronan had dressed for a casual day at the office, now she needed to choose an outfit for stealth. Nothing would happen to the woman that had stolen her heart.

  The bedroom was dark, but she saw no need to adjust the illumination. The bathroom light burned and it lit the area well enough. Sidney’s scent as well as heavy humidity hung in the air. She must have just finishe
d a shower before they broke in.

  Ronan hoped she’d had time to dress, and couldn’t imagine how much worse things could get if they’d dragged Sidney out in a robe. She knew Sidney would fight back with every ounce of strength at her disposal, but it would be hard to do unarmed and dressed only in a robe.

  Kicking off her dress shoes, she threw her jacket and shoulder holster on the foot of the bed. She lay the pistol down on top of the holster before she opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a long-sleeved, black turtleneck. She had just pulled it on and pushed her arms through the sleeves when a sound made her freeze.

  Ronan started to turn but a thin metal wire suddenly dropped over her head. The assassin hauled her back against his chest as he drew the wire taught. The garrote rested against her throat just under her jaw, biting cruelly into her skin. The man tightened his hold and Ronan felt her mind start to numb from lack of oxygen.

  Desperate, Ronan surprised the assassin when she suddenly dropped to her knees. His grip loosened for just a second, but before he could tighten it again Ronan drove her elbow into his crotch. He yelped, but didn’t go down as she had hoped.

  “Bitch, I’m going to kill you for that.”

  You were going to kill me before, Ronan thought insanely while she gulped in air. What’s changed?

  He hauled back on the wire and cut off her air again, but since Ronan was now on her knees, she could launch her own attack. She reached back and hooked an arm around his knee. She yanked his leg out from under him and felt the killer fall backward. One of his hands released the wire and Ronan lurched forward toward the bed where she had dropped the pistol.

  Her attacker didn’t waste time by trying to stand. Instead, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her away from the weapon. Ronan barely grasped the strap of the shoulder harness with her fingertips. The whole contraption thudded to the floor in front of her and the pistol bounced down within easy reach. She grabbed the handle of the laser even as she felt the man move up to straddle her back. In another second he would have the garrote around her throat again. Pinned to the ground, he would kill her in seconds.

  Ronan pulled the laser up and managed to turn on her side before he could slip the wire back into place. Her breath wheezed as she gagged and choked. Darkness clouded her vision, but she finally had the laser aimed in his general direction. It was difficult to see with an oxygen-starved brain and she hoped she wouldn’t shoot herself. She pulled the trigger and the killer cursed and tightened his hold. She pulled it again and he silently fell off her. For a few seconds no one moved. Ronan took in great gulps of air and her vision finally began to clear. Slowly, she crawled away from the stranger until she could sit with her back against the bed and look at him.

  Ronan didn’t know if he was dead, but he didn’t move in the minutes it took for her to catch her breath. She coughed and winced at the burn that stung along her throat while she tried to figure out where he’d come from. She thought she was alone in the apartment, but apparently he just waited until he had a clean move. He must have hid in the closet and tiptoed out after she took off her shirt.

  “Pervert,” she spat, shocked at how raw her voice sounded.

  He still didn’t move and she wondered if he was playing dead. It didn’t matter; perhaps he could still be useful. Since he’d probably been one of Dutrov’s team, he should know where they’d taken Sidney. Ronan would get that information out of him if she had to torture him to do it. Fury seethed into her veins and she stood up over the man.

  “Where’s Sidney?”

  There was no answer so she pushed against his ribs with her bare toes. The body shifted, but there was no other movement. Not dissuaded, Ronan reached down and grabbed a beefy arm to roll the guy over. Sightless eyes stared back at her. The laser had caught him center-mass and killed him instantly.

  “Shit.” She couldn’t exactly torture a dead guy for information.

  Ronan sat on the foot of the bed and wondered if she had ever seen this man before, perhaps even worked on a case with him. His blonde hair was short, but not crew cut. He was well muscled and Ronan thought it was only her own good physical condition that had kept her alive. As much as she stared at him, his features remained unfamiliar. She didn’t remember him, but the only relief in that was she hadn’t killed someone she might have considered a friend.

  Ronan decided she had pulled herself together as much as she could for now. She finished dressing and tried to ignore the dead man on the floor. Then she put her shoulder holster on and tucked the laser into it. She finished by strapping a backup pistol onto her ankle. With no other ideas, she chose to start with the obvious. The warehouse should be easy enough to spot even though she’d never been there. Ronan knew it was on Sixth Street and there would probably be guards posted all around.

  She stepped casually over the dead assassin and walked out of the apartment, carefully closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  SIDNEY WOKE UP and groaned, raising a hand to touch the back of her head. Her fingers came away sticky and she reminded herself that the next time she was kidnapped to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. Dutrov hadn’t appreciated it when she had questioned his parentage. She hadn’t even registered his slight nod to one of his henchmen until movement from behind warned her an instant before the blow was delivered.

  “Oh,” she groaned again and tried to sit up.

  “Easy.”

  Sidney opened her eyes and saw a slight young man crouched in front of her. He rested a hand cautiously on her forearm and offered a smile. The brown eyes were equally friendly and Sidney detected no threat in them.

  “What happened? The last thing I remember was being stuffed into the back of a car by a mafia hit man.”

  “Not mafia. That was Dutrov. He works for the Black Guard and does all of the dirty jobs no one else can be relied on to do.”

  Sidney nodded and winced. “Except that I get the feeling that he enjoys his work a little too much.”

  “There’s no question of that. He’s famous for his bloodthirsty approach.”

  The young man offered her a hand that Sidney gratefully accepted. As he helped her to her feet, Sidney glanced around and noticed they seemed to be in a large open building.

  “I’m Franz, by the way. Franz Johan.”

  For the first time, Sidney took a good look at the young man. He wasn’t overly tall, standing only a couple of inches taller than she was. He had dark hair and brown eyes and his skin was a beautiful golden bronze. Counter to his youthful features, his clothes were slightly tattered and he had a hungry air about him.

  “You’re not German,” she said absently.

  Sidney glanced around saw three others scattered nearby. The building resembled a metal warehouse, large and open with a concrete floor. Huge windows allowed in vast amounts of gray daylight. She assumed all the exits were locked since these people would hardly stand around if there were a viable way out.

  “No, I’m French.” The young man indicated his companions who all nodded back as he made introductions. “This is Olga, Heinrich, and Ben Crowder.”

  “You guys are the rebels that were caught trying to blow up the Konservative headquarters.”

  Sidney still felt a little groggy from the blow to the back of her head and tried to shake it off as she moved around a little. To her surprise, Franz flushed slightly and she had to wonder about his age. She would have to guess he was in his early twenties. None of the others looked much older.

  He nodded. “We had a man inside who was supposed to open the door for us. I assume the Guard captured him. Someone else opened the door and the next thing we knew they had us surrounded. I still don’t know what happened to Boris.”

  “Boris?” Sidney recognized the name. “Boris Kinsky?”

  “You know him?”

  Franz sounded excited at the possibility and Sidney hated to dash his hopes, but that paled in comparison to the perfidy of someone Ronan had trusted at one time. She wasn’t su
re how much the young rebels knew about the government’s goals and hesitated to tell him the truth. If she claimed time-traveling involvement to stop a neo-fascist order coming to power, they were liable to decide she had hit her head too hard.

  “I know that he is no sympathizer. From what I understand, he’s one of the top men in the Konservative government.”

  Franz frowned at her. “Are you sure? He seemed so...fervent. In fact he approached us.”

  “It was a setup. Somehow he learned about your group and decided to use you to set an example.”

  His shoulders slumped as he turned quietly away from her. After a moment, he picked up his head and looked back at her. “He told us that if anything happened he would see that we were rescued. Was that a lie as well?”

  There was only one thing she could think of to say. “I’m sorry.”

  Franz dropped his head and walked away toward his friends. Left with few options, Sidney started to look for a way out. She was damned if she was going to go down without a fight. Ronan had to know that she was missing by now. She was resourceful and would find out where the Guard was holding them. Sidney had to make sure that when the time came they were ready to make their own move. On the off chance that Ronan couldn’t find them in time, they would have to prepare for that, too. As much as she would like to give Franz time to commiserate with his friends, there just wasn’t any to spare. The execution was set for three o’clock. She doubted if they knew that since they seemed to think Boris Kinsky, white knight, was going to ride to their rescue.

  “Franz, do you know how many guards are around this place?” she asked in a sharp tone that immediately got his attention.