Repercussions

by Jessica L. Webb

  “We just need to get him there,” Skye said. “We just need him to believe he has the opportunity.” She blinked rapidly. “You will tell him I’ll be there. That I’m hired help to ensure nothing happens. He already knows about me, knows where I live, knows I’m protecting Edie. Let him think we’re three women acting on our own. Let him believe you are scared.”

  “Exactly,” Faina said, and the fervor was back in her voice again. She and Skye were nearly on the same page, figuring out how to manipulate Alex Rada, use his own ego against him.

  “Okay,” JC said, clapping her hands together, breaking the spell of victory before they were even off the roof. “I’m taking this down to the team. I need to spin this plan so that it targets their goal and ours. I think we might have something. Maybe we can start today.”

  The word “today” hung in the air. It stood for urgency, completion. There was movement and progress. Edie liked the word. It felt good. Even the thrill of fear made her feel alive and present in her own body. She looked at Faina and JC, felt their resolve and support. And she made herself look at Skye’s tension and focus.

  This is what we are, Edie said to herself. No matter what JC said, they were security guard and client. They were connected only by circumstance and Skye’s abilities and sense of duty. She was suddenly embarrassed by the way she’d been pushing Skye to be something they weren’t. To make this about more than the stress of their situation. But whatever they may have had was gone, snuffed out by the twisted plans of a criminal. And as Skye followed her from a respectful distance off the roof of the building, Edie swallowed the idea of what could have been.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The message was delivered to the laundromat an hour ago.”

  JC turned away from the window in Skye’s loft, still tapping in a frenzy on her phone. She was coordinating from afar, and her stress was obvious. Or at least it was to Edie, who sat next to Faina on the couch. Two boxes of pizza, napkins, and beer dominated the table.

  “I still think I should have gone,” Faina said, delicately wiping her fingers on a take-out napkin.

  “High risk with low reward,” Skye said from across the table. She’d continued to be relatively quiet the rest of the day, adding her opinion and offering advice in her clear, direct way then retreating to her back corner of comfort. As if she really was just the hired help, as she’d referred to herself earlier. Edie was not comfortable with their distance, but she wasn’t comfortable with their proximity, either. “You and Edie easily could have found a messenger. It supports our story and keeps you away from the Russians.”

  “Until tomorrow,” Faina said quietly.

  “Until tomorrow,” JC confirmed, dropping her phone on the table and grabbing her first slice of pizza. “Skye’s going to hook us up so we can virtually attend the team meeting early tomorrow morning. We’ve got a team mobilizing at the massage therapy clinic right now, so we’ll know entry and exit and who’s covering.”

  “We’re assuming we’re being watched right now, aren’t we?” Faina said.

  “We know we’re being watched,” Skye said. “And we’re using that to our advantage.”

  “How?” Edie said.

  Skye was remote. Present but not. Soldier Skye.

  “We’re going to corroborate our own story. They know we’re here, they know JC has been staying here. So around two in the morning, they’ll see JC leave. And a couple hours later, they’ll see you and Faina and I look like we’re sneaking past the two sets of cops staked out around my apartment. They’ll report back to Alex Rada that we’re on the move and heading toward our four o’clock meet.”

  “And they’ll follow us to the clinic,” Faina said.

  “That’s right,” JC said, reaching for more pizza. “Where we’ll already be set up.”

  Faina looked at Edie. “We can do this.”

  Edie wasn’t so sure. But if Faina could take this on, so could she.

  Edie tuned out as the conversation continued. The pizza was sitting like a stone in her stomach. She was tired and she was nervous. She’d been questioned and manipulated and talked down to all day. She’d been under hypnosis with someone else guiding her through her own memory. She’d had Skye in her chest, perilously close to her heart. Edie looked at Skye, who was focused on the conversation, her eyes bright with excitement over a plan that needed to be executed. This was where Skye belonged. This was where Skye wanted to be. Not finding her way into Edie’s every thought. Not extricating herself from Edie’s heart when Edie could not tell the difference between love and loyalty.

  Edie stood and quietly began gathering the plates and pizza boxes and napkins. She needed out, some time on her own. Maybe she could find a book, get lost in someone else’s world for a little while. She cleaned up their take-out meal, washed her hands in the sink, and found her way back to Skye’s extensive bookcase.

  It was lit with spotlights, and the darkness of the back of the vaulted loft made Edie feel closed in and protected. Even the murmuring of the continued conversation in the living room seemed muted. Edie couldn’t see any order to Skye’s collection. Fiction and nonfiction, worn paperbacks and stiffly bound academic texts. Coding tomes and Can Lit. A series of science-fiction novels with jewel-toned spines next to a textbook on superstructures in major US cities. Autobiography of a para-Olympian, Jurassic Park, The Art of War, The Lord of the Rings. Edie found herself smiling at the number and breadth of books, the sheer magnitude of Skye’s intellect and interest. She could get lost here.

  Edie was putting a book back on the shelf when she heard a sound behind her. Faina joined her at the bookcase.

  “I’m worried about you,” Faina said.

  Edie snorted. “Join the club.” She wanted humour to dull the edges of what she was feeling. Sleight of hand is what Dr. Wallace called it. An illusion of coping, not an actual strategy. Edie wished she could see Dr. Wallace. She’d welcome an hour of dismantling the ragged, cobbled-together shell of her self-protection right now.

  “I’d like to ask about you and Skye,” Faina said, ignoring Edie’s sad attempt at deflecting.

  Edie rubbed at her eyes. “What would you like to know?”

  “You like her.”

  “That’s not a question.”

  Faina raised an eyebrow. Edie sighed. “Yes. We had a date, before all this blew up. Then she made it clear nothing else was going to happen. And now it’s too late, even when all this is over. If it’s ever over. I can’t see how we’re supposed to get past knowing each other through this.”

  Edie and Faina both flinched as security alarms blared their warnings and monitors suddenly came to life next to them in Skye’s office. Alerts and signals mixed with JC’s yelling and the sound of rapid footsteps through the loft. Skye appeared suddenly out of the dark, tapping at her watch, her expression stony.

  “Multiple security alerts,” Skye said, her tone clipped. “Could be a breach. Follow me.”

  Fear spiked adrenaline through Edie’s body, but she quickly obeyed the command. Skye brought them to the very back of the loft, up against the climbing wall. Part of the wall was built out, creating an overhang for free-climbing. Skye moved them in and behind this jut-out to a tiny, dark alcove. Light from the rest of the loft was cut off, and the only real illumination came from Skye’s watch face, which still pulsed with alerts.

  “I need you both to stay here until JC or I come to get you. Only us. I don’t care who’s in a uniform.” Faina and Edie stood silently as Skye looked between them. “This might be nothing. Stay here. Stay quiet.”

  Then she left without another command or another glance. The package had been placed and secured, and the rest of the mission had to be executed. Skye was efficient and utterly in control. And now gone. Edie could not swallow the fear. The darkness pressed on her, worse once the other lights in the loft were dimmed until darkness and silence permeated the entire, massive space. The silence was more oppressive than the darkness.

  Faina
slipped her hand into Edie’s and squeezed. Edie closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Faina breathing beside her and the steady, slow thrum of the fans overhead.

  Edie barely swallowed a curse of panic at the crash above them. She pressed against Faina’s shoulder as they listened to the sound of running through the loft, boots on metal stairs, another crash followed by a thud, then shouting and a gunshot that cracked so loud Edie couldn’t hold back a gasp. She ducked and cowered and swore, gripping Faina’s hand tighter.

  Shouting above, thuds, and then beams of light that arced over the loft, yells Edie could not distinguish though she strained to hear the familiarity of a voice, a tone, a word. Soon sirens blared outside, more arced lights, more boots on the floor. But no more crashing or thuds, no more gunshots. Radios talked along with the sirens, the presence of a cavalry of officers Edie so desperately wanted to believe meant that they were safe.

  But where was Skye? Who discharged the weapon they’d heard? Edie could spin and rework the story so many times in her head. So many ways her heart could break.

  Lights came on in the loft, their glow barely lighting the alcove. They were still gripping each other’s hands when they heard officers calling to each other, then calling to Edie and Faina. Faina shook her head. They would wait for JC or Skye.

  Edie heard footsteps approaching.

  “They’re back here.” JC’s voice. “We’ll bring them out.”

  Faina let out a ragged breath. In a moment the climbing area was lit up, then Skye appeared at the entrance to their hiding spot.

  “It’s clear. We’re clear,” Skye said. Edie didn’t understand. Why didn’t she say “safe”?

  Skye didn’t move, still blocking the entrance. Her eyes were wild. Edie had expected a steely calm from soldier Skye, but Skye looked barely under control, as if something raged inside her.

  JC appeared over Skye’s shoulder. She touched Skye lightly. Skye flinched, then blinked.

  “Let them out, Thrush. Danger’s passed.”

  “We need to get them out of the city.”

  “That’s not—”

  “It’s not safe here.” Skye bit off each word.

  “Yes, it is,” JC said carefully. “We’ll see to that.”

  Skye still stood in the entry, looking back and forth between Edie and Faina.

  “You need to let them out. Now.” JC’s voice seemed to cut through whatever haze had overtaken Skye.

  Skye hesitated for another second, then moved to the side. Faina ducked out first, then Edie. Skye was stone, utterly untouchable. Edie had never been afraid of her, but she understood how others might be.

  Edie followed Faina’s back blindly until she heard Skye call out behind her. “Kitchen. I want them away from the windows.”

  Edie heard JC sigh and change course, taking them into the now brightly lit kitchen.

  “What happened?” Edie asked JC.

  JC was about to answer when a uniformed cop came in from the living room.

  “Caldwell, we’re looking for an ID on the Russian asshole upstairs, and we hear you might know someone who knows him.”

  Faina stiffened beside Edie.

  “Take five seconds to read this scene, you piddling shit for brains, and try that again,” JC said to the young cop.

  “Sorry, Constable Caldwell. I didn’t know the civilians…sorry.”

  “Try again.”

  “When you have a moment, the guys upstairs need you.”

  “Better. Two minutes.”

  The cop shifted his weight, looking uneasily at Skye’s furious expression. “And we need the homeowner’s help. We need to check all the access points, and there are a million in this old building.”

  JC looked at Skye, who gave a short, sharp shake of her head. JC looked annoyed but answered the cop.

  “Two minutes,” she repeated, dismissing him with a gesture.

  “Who is it?” Faina said when they were alone.

  “We don’t know. Two people attempted to enter the building through the ceiling in the second story of the building next door. Skye’s security alerted us in time to catch one of them as he attempted to access the upstairs apartment. He fired on us as soon as we entered the corridor. Shot went into the wall, no one was hurt. The second assailant got away, and neither of the street crews were able to pick him up.”

  Edie processed it all in small chunks. JC’s retelling sanitized the event somehow. As if the facts could erase the image of Skye running full out toward a man with a gun. Because she knew, even without JC’s account, that’s exactly what had happened. Edie gripped the stainless steel countertop with both hands, staring at the brushed pattern in the metal. She forced herself to breathe and be present for this.

  “Faina, I’m going to ask you to come down to the station and identify the man we have in custody.” JC’s voice was no longer commanding or neutral. She was careful and calm and soothing. “We need to know what you know. If you can identify the second man from the security camera image as well, that would be helpful.”

  “Yes, of course,” Faina said immediately. “I’m ready. But does this affect the plan for tomorrow in any way?”

  JC tilted her head back and forth. “It’s too early to tell. One thing at a time, okay?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. Okay.”

  JC gave a tired smile. “Nothing to apologize for. Let me check with the guys upstairs, and I’ll come and get you.” JC turned her attention to Skye, who stood stiffly still in the area between the kitchen and living room. “I need you to check in with Sergeant Tremblay about securing the building.”

  “Fuck that,” Skye spit out. “They can secure the building when we’re gone. You follow your protocols, I’m getting Edie the hell out of here.”

  Edie looked closer at Skye, whose eyes never seemed to stop scanning and assessing for danger before moving on. She seemed deep into a kind of hypervigilance, different than any other protective mode Edie had seen her in before. JC seemed to clue in as well that something was very wrong with Skye.

  “Thrush, I need you to break this down for me. Break down the security here for me, assuming you get everything online. Assuming you stay with two, no, three sets of patrols outside. Go.”

  It was a command, from one tactical officer to another. And it worked. Skye barked out a list of access points, security measures and potential upgrades, identifying weaknesses in the plan, grading the strength of the overall security. When she was done, she seemed to look to JC for confirmation.

  “Yes, I agree. Now, can you identify any location with a reasonable distance that would meet or exceed the standards you just described?”

  Skye opened her mouth and closed it. “No,” she said. Her body sagged slightly before she straightened again. But it was enough for Edie, who consciously tried to relax also. It was obviously enough for JC.

  “Good. Okay. So Edie stays. We’ve got two officers in here with her. Go find Tremblay.”

  Skye gave a curt nod but made no move. She searched out Edie’s gaze first, and Edie was sure Skye was going to say something. But Skye simply glared at Edie with a dangerous look in her eyes before spinning on her heel and storming away.

  Edie felt drained, as if Skye’s energy had been holding her up. But she didn’t want to sit, she didn’t want to spin with her thoughts. Faina touched her hand lightly, but even that was too much. Her skin was oversensitized, electrified, and uncomfortable. She gently moved her hand away.

  “Edie, are you going to be okay if I take Faina down to the station?”

  “Yes,” Edie answered, not quite able to look up at JC. “You’ll be back later?”

  “Probably much later, but yes. We may need you to look through some photos, but that can wait until tomorrow.” JC ran a hand through her hair, a rare gesture of impatience. “I need Kenny to go through the lineup as well, but I’m not getting her even half a block away from you tonight.”

  Edie didn’t know what to say. The thought of Skye half a block aw
ay made her sick.

  “Edie?” Faina sounded concerned.

  “I’m okay. Shaken up. You go with JC, and I’ll see you back here. It’s okay.”

  All the right words, every one. Faina looked unconvinced, but she stood and followed JC out when it was time to go. The kitchen was empty but the loft was not. Voices crowded down around her, most of them unseen. The sound of boots on the stairs was constant, as was the faint beeping of Skye’s security system as they opened and closed the doors.

  She could hear cops commenting on the loft, speculating on who Skye was, discussing the price of Ottawa real estate, griping about their need for coffee and the shitty task they’d been assigned. Oddly, this everyday work chatter calmed Edie the most. This recent, terrifying event was simply a series of dropped clues and evidence to be gathered. Since she could not form the conclusion to this story, Edie began making coffee. Her movements were automatic, requiring no effort. Her thoughts were on Skye, a still shot of Skye helping her make coffee in the church kitchen, a self-conscious half smile on her face.

  Coffee made, Edie sat back at the island. A uniformed cop hovered just outside the light of the kitchen, occasionally calling out to someone or thumbing through his phone. Edie stared at her hands resting on the surface of the counter. The light reflecting off the shiny surface made her think of the sun in Kandahar. She heard street sounds and voices, she could smell diesel and cooking fires. A man smoking, friends laughing, the honk of a horn and tires on sand. Edie immersed herself in it, letting herself drift away from the present, escaping the way she had so many times as a child.

  Eventually, Edie became aware that the loft was nearly quiet. Subdued voices now, fewer lights, and no more clanging metal of the stairs. She’d been peripherally aware of cops coming in and out of the kitchen for the last hour, some asking her questions, giving a nod of thanks for the coffee. Mostly they just let her be.

  When she heard Skye’s voice, still in full command, she felt her muscles tighten, a line of tension that started at the base of her spine and travelled up each vertebra until the sensation erupted as a sound wave in her skull. The sound was music, though.