Double Down (Lois Lane)

by Gwenda Bond

  For a second I was frozen, an icy chill fixing me in place. I hadn’t expected James’s dad to do something this risky. Or this soon. Way to surprise a girl, Mayor Worthington.

  Then I was in motion, texting back: Be right there.

  I typed a quick message to SmallvilleGuy, to excuse the abrupt ending to our evening. A quick, surreal message.

  SkepticGirl1: Mobster and company heading to James’s. Going there now.

  He didn’t even question me.

  SmallvilleGuy: Keep the app open. And be careful.

  At least he hadn’t told me not to go.

  Although, the going—aka getting out of the house—was going to be complicated enough. Mom and Lucy were still awake.

  It was well after ten p.m. So I couldn’t ask permission to leave, not even with Mom the sole parent in residence. Not even with a truthful-ish cover explanation about it being related to the tough story I’d mentioned before. (Related to the story, yes. Something safe enough that she’d let me leave this late, not so much.)

  Think, Lois, think.

  I scrolled through my recent texts to the name Taxi Jack and tapped a quick message to him. I need a ride fast. Big story.

  I gave him the cross street address at the end of the block. While I traded my pajama bottoms for jeans and threw a leather jacket on over the top, I worried that he wasn’t working. When I was adding my boots, and making a plan B to walk up the block and hail a random taxi, two texts came in quick succession.

  Taxi Jack’s said, Confirmed.

  James’s text gave a different address than the one Devin and I had used. This is our garden’s back gate. Meet you there.

  No surprise James’s family home was fancy enough to have a garden with its own back gate, probably one of the few non-public gardens in Metropolis that wasn’t on a rooftop or off the island of New Troy.

  Creeping from my room, placing one shoe softly in front of another, I heard the shuffle of Lucy coming out of Mom’s room and I went faster, motivated by the knowledge I might get caught. I made it down the stairs and to the door, where I forced myself to slow down and shut it as quietly as I could to avoid a telltale slam or click.

  In the still-warm night air, I did not linger to see if anyone had detected my exit. I could deal with that fallout later, if it existed. No one was chasing me yet, which could mean I’d made a clean getaway. I jogged the rest of the way up the block, and I ducked into the taxi the moment it showed.

  “A little late for you, isn’t it, chickadee?” Jack asked.

  “Thanks for coming,” I told him, then read off the address James had given.

  “Fancy neighborhood,” he said, but that was all. Not so chatty this late, and I didn’t blame him. This felt dangerous, even to me.

  He’d been there when I’d raced from the Ismenios building. I wondered if Dabney Donovan, creepy mad scientist, would be at James’s. I didn’t know whether to approach him directly or not, even if he was. We needed more information about how to cure Melody, but I wasn’t convinced it was possible to make Donovan help us out.

  More danger was unavoidable. All this was necessary to play the situation out and reach an endgame where I had a story to tell.

  A story where James had his father back, for real. Where Maddy had her sister back, fear-free. Where we helped scrub the city clean of the kind of corruption that allowed a neighborhood to become both hideout and real estate pawn for the likes of Boss Moxie.

  I steeled myself for whatever the night held, and made sure my pajamas didn’t show around the edges of my coat. It had already been a night of surprises. TheInventor hadn’t been what I expected him to be either—and I hadn’t figured out if I meant that in a good or bad way. At least we had a plan, assuming he delivered.

  “This is the place, but is this a good idea?” Jack asked a few minutes later, braking as we neared the back of James’s building via a small alley.

  “Positive,” I said, climbing out of the car. “Can you wait?”

  He killed both the growling engine and bright headlights. “I’ll be here.”

  A stone fence bordered the sidewalk. It reminded me of our tower at Devin’s castle in the game. As promised, in the center of this looming castle-like protective wall was a tall iron gate, twisted into shapes that resisted interpretation under moonlight and sans streetlights.

  “Lois?” James whispered. I couldn’t see him yet.

  I pushed down the instinct to jump and walked closer. I spoke low, “Scare a girl, why don’t you, James? Am I climbing this, or…”

  The wrought iron swung open a fraction, then wide enough to admit me. “Come on,” he said. “They got here five minutes before you.”

  I quickened my step. He pulled the iron gate nearly shut behind me, leaving a crack for my escape. The no-longer-so-manicured shapes of shrubs and flowers were recognizable along the narrow garden in front of us, and off to one side, a narrow walkway that seemed to lead to the front of the building. James put a light hand on my elbow to guide us, and we moved onto a smooth stone path that went directly toward the back of the manse.

  Metropolis air wasn’t that smoggy, but it smelled like a city. James’s back garden, in contrast, carried the sweetly pungent bouquet of night-blooming flowers.

  “There’s a place we can listen unobserved?” I asked.

  “That’s why I had you come in this way.”

  We stopped a few feet away from the looming shape of the house. The door in front of us could have been made of gingerbread, crossed with pale, pretty panes. It felt like it belonged in a midnight fairy tale. “Through here,” he said, and pressed the door. He’d left it open.

  A small kitchen waited inside—not big enough to be the main one, so maybe it was some sort of garden kitchen? Hard to say. We didn’t have a room like this in Chez Lane. Just past the kitchen, a small fountain burbled quietly in the center of a high-ceilinged alcove, a watering can beside it. Beyond the water, though, I heard voices, not so far away. Men were talking. They weren’t shouting, but their voices were raised.

  “Nice,” I whispered to James, and went toward the voices, like a moth who loved to play with fire too much to stay away from it. No matter how it might burn to the touch.

  There was an arched opening with nothing to block our access to the sounds in the room beyond. A short passage hid the people inside it from view. But we’d still have to be careful not to be seen or heard.

  James took my elbow again and guided me along the wall, past the fountain. When we reached the side of the arch, he slid down to sit on the floor. I did the same.

  The sound was better down here. I pictured a younger James, eavesdropping on family conversations or his dad’s business meetings. I listened.

  “You seem to be under the impression you have leverage,” said a man’s rough voice. It didn’t belong to either mayor, current or former, so I thought he must be Boss Moxie. “I might have let you get away with not playing ball on the waterfront, but then you decided to try to bring me down. I hope you’ve learned that lesson. I own you. I own this man here, who looks just like you. I own this city. Forgetting that is what got you in trouble in the first place.”

  Oh no, Boss Moxie, that’s where you’re wrong. This city doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to all of us. And that means it’s my city too.

  You won’t take it without a fight.

  After a loaded silence, James’s dad countered him, silky smooth. “You may have that… imposter. But I do have leverage. I kept the evidence.”

  Boss Moxie laughed. “I’ll find it,” he said.

  But James’s dad responded, “It’s not on a computer, where you could easily hack into it. It’s somewhere you’ll never think to look, never find it. Your threats against my family worked back then. I need you to know that their safety is paramount, and I will not go back to jail. You control my peace of m
ind, but I could take yours too.”

  So he does have evidence. Just as I’d suspected.

  He’d better not offer it to them.

  Mayor Ellis spoke next. “It’d be a shame for something else to happen to your precious family. They’ve been through so much. But we can always force you to tell us where it is.” He was as slick as he had been in front of the courthouse, but way more menacing.

  “No, you can’t,” James’s dad returned, but there was a hint of weakness in it. “Get rid of this… person, and leave us alone. In return, I promise any evidence in my possession will stay buried.”

  No, no, no. That wasn’t going to work for me. No way they were getting away with this.

  I subtly checked out James’s reaction and saw him shaking his head no, in the same reflexive disagreement.

  “I don’t like loose ends,” said Boss Moxie’s rough voice. Then, “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Of course,” said a voice with a flatness of tone, but otherwise identical to that of James’s father. That must be the clone.

  A few moments later, we heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Only when the double was outside did the men begin to speak again.

  “You drive a hard bargain, Jimmy,” said Boss Moxie. “I don’t like leaving things out there that could hurt me.”

  “I don’t like sitting here, pretending we have to listen to him,” said Mayor Ellis.

  “Take it or leave it,” James’s dad said. “But that… thing… whoever, whatever it is, is a threat to my family. To me. Do we have a deal?”

  “Not as such,” Boss Moxie said. “Here’s the thing about our friend…”

  There was a soft click from the direction of the back door we’d come through, and I looked at the doorway—and straight into the face of the clone. Immediately, I lost track of what was happening in the next room.

  He gave every appearance of being James’s father, of course. Tonight, he wore a plain suit and one hand touched his bracelet tracking device, just as Melody had described. He released the device to raise his hand, beckoning me.

  James had stilled beside me. “Stay here,” I whispered. “Keep listening. I’ll be fine.”

  I rose before James could protest. And I truly didn’t think the clone would hurt me, not here and now. He’d snuck around the back of the house. I had no idea how he knew we were here and eavesdropping, and yet he must have. That also meant he hadn’t raised an alarm and given us away.

  I wanted to know why.

  The clone retreated into the darkness as soon as he saw I was walking toward him. I met him on the stone porch, and we walked into the garden together. We went far enough to talk without danger of alerting the men inside. But not so far that James would freak out because he couldn’t see where we were. The glow from the door was a beacon in the dark.

  “What’s your name?” I asked. He’d been referred to mostly as the duplicate or a creation in the documents I’d stolen.

  “I’m nobody,” he said, blithe, like it didn’t matter. “Who are you? You were at the courthouse, and the lab, and you know her.”

  Her. Melody. I wasn’t ready to ask him about her. I needed to circle, make him feel comfortable first. Even though I felt the furthest thing from it.

  “Why did they send you out of the room?” I asked.

  His eyes glittered black in the darkness of the yard. “They are talking about me, about deactivating me. Permanently. That will be the offer they make the man whose face I was given.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “Deactivation?”

  “You know what it means. You have seen a lesser form of it.” He shuddered, shoulders and face shaking. “It means the tank, indefinitely. It is what they did last time, when they were done with me.”

  He gazed out into the night.

  “They put you to sleep,” I said.

  “Being in stasis is not like sleeping. There are no dreams. I am awake but not exactly alive. Not exactly dead, either. For two years, I had no promise that I would ever be allowed to walk freely again. I was like a small child, trusting. But I am not free. I see that now.”

  He said it almost philosophically. Which threw me. I wasn’t even convinced he was precisely human.

  “Is that why you stopped taking the medication?” I asked carefully. “You feel it too? The connection to Melody, I mean. It’s because you stopped taking the pills.”

  “I can speak to you because you saw me at the laboratory. You know the truth.”

  Well, some of it. “Yes. But answer the question. Do you feel the connection?”

  “Why do you think I refuse the treatment?” His eyes closed. “I feel her out there right now, sleeping peacefully.” His eyelids fluttered, then finally opened. Reluctantly. “The only time I feel anything much at all is through her. I am not alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, deciding to be blunt. “It must suck to feel that way. But she has a life of her own. And this… connection between you is siphoning that away. She needs her life back. It’s not enough to just accept the treatment. Do you know how to break the bond? For good.”

  “Why would I tell you? Why would I let go of her willingly?”

  I hadn’t prepared for the possibility he liked their connection. Oh, this was bad.

  While I was still searching for a response, his head dropped to one side. He straightened it and walked away, back toward the path to the front of the house. “They’re leaving now. I have to go.”

  So he heard them. I strained to pick up whatever he had heard, but my own ears detected nothing. He had heightened senses.

  “But you know how to break it.” I followed him. “There’s a way. Why would you want to put someone else in a metaphorical tank? Why would you take Melody’s freedom away?” I fired the questions off quick, before he was too far away to pretend he didn’t hear. I added, “You have to let her go.”

  His step faltered, but then he hurried on into the night without answering. I stood, trying to decide whether to keep tailing him and force the issue or let him go. For the moment.

  James made the choice for me, bursting out of the back door to find me. “They just left. My dad is trying to make a deal,” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.

  “I gathered,” I said and hefted my messenger bag. “Take me to the idiot. The only deal he’s making is with us.”

  CHAPTER 23

  I removed my notepad and pen from my bag on the way through the garden kitchen and into the living room. The room was all leather and wood, with one wall dominated by a fully stocked bar. James’s dad stood at it, pouring himself a drink. As I rushed toward him, I was busy scrawling my first question.

  I held it up a foot from James’s dad, right in his face: ARE YOU STUPID?

  He scowled and set down his drink. “What are you doing?” But he caught himself, in case anyone was listening. “…awake, James? Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

  “I just wanted to see what in the world you thought you were… doing down here,” James said, catching himself too. “If you, um, needed anything.”

  I was writing again. I hefted the pad: What did you agree to?

  “Nothing that’s your business,” James’s dad said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  The gesture only irritated me more. What was wrong with him?

  Stop being stupid, I wrote. You need to work with us. We can fix this. All of it. We can get your life back.

  I put the pad down next to his drink and tossed the pen at him. He unfolded his arms to catch it and leaned over to read the message on the notebook. He shook his head disdainfully. But I saw a flicker of something else.

  Longing.

  He wanted it to be true. He wanted to be able to have his life back. He hid it, but too late.

  I grabbed the pad back again, a
nd held out a hand for him to give me the pen.

  I’m serious, I wrote. I know you think we’re just kids, but we can do this. We can make it right. Send those jerks to jail. Why didn’t you reveal what you had on them in the first place?

  I passed it back.

  He looked at it for a long time, thoughtfully, while James and I exchanged semi-hopeful glances. Staying quiet and not convincing him out loud was beyond hard. The silent waiting made me want to jump out of my skin.

  Finally, ex-Mayor Worthington started to write a response. He shielded it with his forearm, so I had to wait until he was done to see the words. I have to be realistic. I’m not ever going to be that man again.

  I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. Hopefully, the fact Boss Moxie was on the way home from here meant he or his goons weren’t paying attention. I whispered, “What’s realistic is you need help. From us. The city deserves to know the truth about you. Your family deserves more. Don’t be a coward.”

  The word—coward—hit its mark like an arrow. His face pinched in, angry.

  He reached down to write a note, but James blocked him and took the notebook himself. He wrote his own message. His handwriting was blockier than mine.

  Dad, please. You can’t give it to them like you said. She’s right. Be brave.

  My jaw dropped open. He’d promised the evidence to them. I whispered, “You did what?”

  James’s dad lifted his finger to his lips, shushing me. He waved for the notepad and started to write again.

  But my mind was racing, and I grabbed it, flipped the page, not even bothering to look at what he’d written.

  Why give it up now?

  Stone-faced, he refused to answer. But his eyes flicked to James.

  I pointed to a stereo in the corner, and James took my meaning. He turned on a suite of classical music. I kept my voice low. “You think you’re protecting your family, but you’re not. How will they feel knowing you changed who you are into something worse, for them?”

  “You have no right,” the ex-mayor said, choking out the words. “I’m not that man anymore. The idealist.”

  “You are,” I said. “You’re pretending not to be.”