Corruption

by Jessica Shirvington

  I bit my lip. It was Wednesday morning and there was a lot of organising left to do. ‘We hit the tunnels tomorrow night,’ I said.

  Everyone nodded slowly.

  ‘I need to get some sleep,’ Travis said, standing with a grimace before limping towards his room.

  ‘Travis?’ I called out.

  He paused and looked over his shoulder.

  ‘You don’t leave the apartment. Got it?’

  He nodded, unsurprised.

  ‘And Travis?’

  He tilted his head to the side.

  ‘About that big money?’ I asked.

  He looked to the ceiling and shook his head. ‘I’ve got you covered, Maggie. But the tally is getting heavy on my side. When we get this done, you’re going to owe me one. Or two.’

  Gus shot me a warning glance. Favours in our line of work were never nice.

  ‘If we get through this alive and you hold up your end, you’re right, I’ll owe you one,’ I said. ‘Or two.’

  I knew Travis would hold me to my word.

  I didn’t care.

  As soon as Travis was in his room – with his windows nailed shut and his M-Band along with all other means of communication confiscated, much to his wry amusement – Quentin grabbed one of the handheld phones.

  ‘Who do you think you’re calling? I asked.

  ‘Morris,’ he replied, barely looking up.

  ‘Wait!’ I screeched, panicked.

  He glanced up at me. ‘He has some of my stuff.’ When I put my hands on my hips, he sighed. ‘Maggie, do you think I hadn’t prepared for this? I’ve been slowly downloading codes from my father’s computer when no one was around. I don’t have a lot because I was scared I’d trigger some kind of hidden alarm, but what I did get might be of use.’

  I bit my lip. Codes, especially if they got us access to underground security doors, would definitely be useful. Gus still hadn’t found a direct route into the tunnels that would cater to our needs. Still … I shook my head. ‘We don’t know for sure if the codes will be useful, and the risk is too high. Your family might already be looking for you.’

  ‘They won’t have hit the panic button yet. It’s worth the risk.’ Quentin clenched his jaw. ‘Besides, intel isn’t all that Morris has. And he’s expecting my call.’

  I stared at him.

  He gave as good as he got.

  ‘Money, Maggie.’ Quentin checked his M-Band. ‘Morris is running a big event for Georgetown University tonight. I need to get this call in before he leaves his house so he’ll be ready to meet me later on.’

  My jaw dropped. ‘You must be kidding. You can’t go back there!’

  ‘We’re going to need money and I have it. Gus has already disabled my M-Band, and as soon as it’s ready he’ll transfer me over to a black-market one. Once that’s done, I’m no longer a Mercer. I’ll no longer have access to all the things I’ve taken for granted my whole life. Things that could keep us safe. But I was at least smart enough to have one thing that none of them knew about.’

  ‘Money zips,’ Gus said, joining us. Frankly I was still stuck on the part where he’d talked about keeping us safe.

  Quentin nodded. ‘I’m Morris’s silent partner in the gambling ring.’

  That got my attention. How the hell had I never figured that out?

  ‘It’s not enough that we won’t have to make some money eventually. But enough to get us out of here and keep us hidden if we’re smart,’ he explained.

  Damn. Damn. Damn!

  He was right. It was one thing to get Travis to pay off his guys, but after that we’d still need money and currently had none. If there was a stash, we absolutely needed it – especially if I had any hope of keeping my mom and Sam safe too. I’d already given them everything I’d stockpiled and it was bound to run out soon.

  I quickly considered the dangers. Apart from not wanting to be out on the streets, knowing we were already being hunted by M-Corp, the main risk was Quentin being recognised.

  ‘Fine. Set it up and I’ll go and meet Morris. You stay here.’

  Quentin smiled as he shook his head. ‘Never gonna happen. Even if I was pathetic enough to let you go and do my legwork, Morris won’t hand over the money zip to anyone until he lays eyes on me.’

  I gritted my teeth – he was clearly enjoying this. Didn’t he know what was at stake?

  I went back to running through the possibilities. Unless Quentin’s mother knew he’d overheard her conversation on the phone, all they knew was that he hadn’t come home last night, not that he’d left for good, or that he was planning their downfall. With me.

  I blew out a breath, then looked myself over. Christ. There was dried blood mingled with dirt caked on my hands and all over my clothes. My clothes were ripped and my boots were covered in mud from running around the cemetery – and I didn’t need a mirror to know I was sporting an impressive bruise along my jaw.

  ‘We’ll go together,’ I said.

  Quentin wanted to argue. I could almost see his mind in overdrive trying to decide on the best argument. I rested my hand on his arm. ‘Together, Quin.’

  His arguments fell away as he nodded.

  After Quentin sent some kind of coded message to Morris and made a mysterious, brief call from one of the handheld burn phones, we continued with our preparations – Gus looking for our way in and out of the tunnels, Quentin taking me through a workout session and then studying some of my covert footage of the neg hubs.

  When the handheld beeped, Quentin stared at it as if contemplating an important decision.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, suddenly wary.

  He shook his head at me. ‘We’re on for tonight. We need to dress discreetly – black if you have it.’

  I gave him a sardonic look. Black was all I had.

  He half smiled. ‘I’m going to grab a quick shower. Can you be ready to go in twenty?’

  He looked worried, and that made me worried. But this was something we both knew we had to do. I wished I could go without him and keep him safe. I knew he was thinking the same thing about me. But we were strongest together.

  ‘I’ll be ready.’

  I took a quick shower in the second bathroom near the kitchen. The shower cubicle was tiny and the taps were rusted, but I didn’t care. It was heavenly. Never again would I take for granted such basic necessities as soap and hot water. Not to mention a razor. Or a mirror.

  Back in my small room, I pulled on one of my few pairs of underwear, groaning when I noticed that my dismally small garbage bag of belongings was almost out of wearable clothes. Gus had brought what I had from the apartment, but that only amounted to a few changes of clothes and I’d already ruined most of them the previous night. If I planned on making it back into the tunnels fully clothed, I was going to have to fit in a trip to the shops.

  I sighed, pulling on what I had and yanking my hair back into a ponytail before heading out to the living room.

  Quentin was already there, loitering by the elevator doors as he waited for me. He was in the same outfit from last night – a simple pair of dark grey jeans and a long-sleeved black tee beneath his denim jacket – and yet he looked his usual wayward self, which was also somehow perfect. How the hell did people do that? Was it that their clothes cost so much to start with that it didn’t matter how they were thrown on, they’d still come out looking perfectly styled? Is that what it meant to have money? Why everyone wanted it so much? Because it made a person perfect? The thought had me clenching my jaw and thinking of my father.

  Gus and Travis were in the kitchen discussing pizza toppings. Travis, like me, seemed happy to stick with all things unhealthy, whereas Gus liked to protect his health, arguing that until we didn’t need to worry about ratings, his pheromones would give off nothing but good vibes to the ladies.

  Their discussion was just morphing into an argument when Gus spotted me. He threw his hands in the air dramatically. ‘Great. So you and him …’ he pointed at Quentin who had moved towards
me, ‘get to party the night away, while I’m on babysitting duty with the scary badass criminal you recently nailed in the balls and I accidentally but nonetheless shot with a tranq, and, oh yeah, who we just forced into a certain-death mission which also guarantees that, if we don’t happen to die during it, he will take pleasure in hunting us down for the rest of our days. Is that about right?’

  I bit back a smile.

  Quentin slapped Gus on the back. ‘You forgot the part where Maggie slammed his body with the car door repeatedly just for fun.’

  Gus glared at Quentin. ‘I actually thought I’d hit the highlight with the shot to the balls,’ he mused.

  Quentin laughed. ‘You’re probably right.’

  Eleven

  ‘So where exactly are we meeting Morris?’ I asked as we got into a taxi. I reached forwards before Quentin could say anything and held out a money zip to the driver. ‘No M-Bands,’ I said, holding his gaze.

  The driver didn’t hesitate, taking the money zip, which would earn him much more than any ordinary cab fare. Fortunately, sideline revenue was common practice for anyone who wanted to earn some untraceable cash on the side.

  ‘Where you going?’ the driver asked.

  Quentin sat back. ‘The Mellon, in DC.’

  The driver nodded and turned his attention to the road while I spun towards Quentin.

  ‘DC?’ I asked, my voice suddenly high-pitched.

  He nodded.

  ‘The Mellon is basically Capitol Hill. Are you insane?’ God, I was going to be sick. Suddenly Gus’s warnings about Quentin’s intentions came flooding back. Was I being a complete fool? Was he leading me back to them? I shut my eyes briefly, confused by all the possibilities.

  ‘Breathe, Maggie. It will be fine. It’s the annual Diplomatic Ball for Georgetown. They run it every year, and in the past few years they’ve made it a masquerade ball. It’s supposed to be a symbol of the way forwards – they invite some of the most powerful men and women in society and also some of the least privileged. Everyone’s dressed to the same standard – if they can’t afford an outfit, they’re given one. And on arrival each guest is fitted with a jewelled mask. Some are fake, but others are the real deal – diamonds and precious gems. People leave their Phera-tech active, so they can see what kind of ratings they get. It’s a last attempt at stripping back social structures and age barriers – the ratings do all the talking. It’s the perfect advertisement for Phera-tech,’ he explained, sounding increasingly ashamed. He looked at me sadly. ‘It was always one of my favourite events.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked, again cautious of his behaviour. Was he leading me into a trap?

  ‘Five charities are chosen to be represented on the night. At the end of the night, each guest has the chance to place their mask on the table of the charity of their choice.’

  I caught on. ‘Not knowing if their mask is worth nothing or a small fortune.’

  Quentin nodded.

  ‘I like that part,’ I said, somewhat soothed by his explanation. ‘But why are we meeting Morris there?’

  He shrugged. ‘It was always on our radar as a backup. With everyone watching out for you – and possibly me by now – it will be my last chance.’

  ‘But they’ll have scanners everywhere. It won’t matter if they can’t pick up our identities from our forged M-Bands – their scanners go directly to the M-Chip, Quin. We’ll be in handcuffs before we get anywhere near Morris. I can’t believe you were even contemplating this. We can figure out another way to get to Morris.’ I leaned forwards to tell the taxi driver to turn around, but Quentin grabbed my arm, halting me.

  ‘You mean you’ll be in handcuffs.’

  I flinched. His words were cold, his eyes guarded. Was this it? The moment I’d been waiting for? The moment Gus had warned me about? Had Quentin changed sides after my betrayal?

  I swallowed in an attempt to kickstart my breathing.

  ‘That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?’ he went on, remaining calm and yet not at the same time. It was like watching a storm brew.

  I managed to draw in a little oxygen and opened my mouth to speak, but when nothing came out, he let out a man-huff.

  ‘I knew you’d consider it. The way your mind works, I knew you’d have to go there at some point, so I’m not surprised. But strangely it doesn’t stop me from feeling incredibly angry now that I can actually see it.’

  ‘W-what …?’ I stumbled over my words, trying to catch up.

  ‘You think I turned.’

  Silence.

  ‘You think I’m one of them. That at any moment, I’ll hand you over.’

  I wanted to scream, No! That was what my heart was telling me. But my mind … all the wariness and suspicion I’d had to develop over the past two years caused me to believe his betrayal was definitely a possibility. ‘I wouldn’t blame you,’ I said softly.

  He reared back, as if burned by my words.

  ‘You wouldn’t … blame me?’

  I shook my head, avoiding his livid gaze. ‘They’re your family. And I’ve done nothing but let you down.’

  Suddenly he had my chin in his grasp, forcing my eyes to his. ‘Just because they’re my family, doesn’t make it okay, Maggie.’ The words were hissed with so much venom, if he hadn’t been holding my face so close to his, I would have shied away. ‘What you’re talking about, what you are contemplating that I’m capable of –’ His voice caught. ‘It’s genocide.’

  He leaned so close, his lips were on my ear. ‘If you think I’m capable of that, you should take the knife I know you have strapped to your thigh and run it through my heart right now. Because I guarantee you, if I have turned, you and Gus and everyone else is as good as dead.’

  His words were lethal. Whispered low and strong. My body tingled with the threat.

  He leaned back to catch my eyes and I was sure he could see the myriad emotions and thoughts flickering through my expression.

  But for every alarm bell and warning sign I knew I should acknowledge, another thought would stamp it out.

  This was Quentin.

  I’d followed him for two years. I’d thought I had known who he was, only to be surprised that he was so much more.

  He had never betrayed my trust. He had been the one to find the way to get me out of that prison cell. He had held me through the night, chased away the nightmares. He might not have let me back into his heart, but he had done nothing to hurt me.

  ‘You’re my match,’ I said softly, as though offering a confession.

  ‘What does that have to do with this?’

  I swallowed again, my mouth cotton-dry. ‘I’ve done things … things I can never make amends for. Things that have cost lives. I have become a person I can’t bear to look at in the mirror. And you are my match.’

  Quentin let out a breath, finally grasping what I was saying.

  ‘That’s why you can’t trust me? Because you think I must be like you to be your match? And that you are so terrible that me turning on you is entirely possible?’ With each question he sounded less angry and increasingly sad.

  I nodded.

  He tilted my face again to force my eyes to his. ‘You’re better than you think you are, Maggie. Maybe when you realise that, you’ll be able to stop doubting me.’

  My eyes stung with tears, but I held them back.

  Slowly he released my chin and sat back. He took a deep breath, and when he started talking it was with a new resolve. ‘This is the one night the scanners are shut down. The event is under tight security. Invite only and the invites are unmarked. The entire point is anonymity.’

  I hesitated. But I needed to either move on, or do exactly what Quentin had said and draw my weapon – which, let’s face it, was never going to happen. ‘You can’t believe people won’t recognise a Mercer. And what if they’re looking for you? They’ll find you with me, and then you’ll be exposed.’

  Quentin was ready for this. ‘Yes, being … me makes me more recognisable, but being a Me
rcer also ensures no one would dare make a scene. That’s the last thing my parents would want.’ His eyes bore into mine. ‘You have to decide – you either trust me, or you don’t. Morris’s family are one of the main organisers behind the event. He’ll be ready for us.’ Quentin looked ahead, remaining quiet as if he could sense my internal battle. I suppose there wasn’t much more to say. He had laid out his challenge, and I knew he wouldn’t back down.

  In the end, so much of this came down to one annoying word. Trust. Quentin still hadn’t said how he felt about me – apart from when he’d been high on lust-enhancers. But I knew I didn’t have his trust. Even though he seemed so comfortable demanding mine.

  But could I truly trust him? Trust anyone? My own father had just torn my whole world apart – could I risk giving Quentin the same power?

  I’d chosen this life. This loner way.

  Could I truly be the better person I’d always told myself I would be?

  Was there anything more to me than being a liar and manipulator?

  I felt Quentin’s fingers link through mine. When he squeezed my hand, I stopped the spiral of thoughts and glanced up at him, knowing he could see all of my fears in my wild eyes.

  ‘Stop overthinking. The world you see out there is about to change forever,’ he said, his voice low so only I could hear. ‘We’re going to make sure of it. Right now, our world is the only real world there is. I don’t know about you, but I’d take truth over a lie any day.’ He looked as though he wanted to say more, but didn’t – or couldn’t.

  And it didn’t matter, because those were the words that I had needed to hear. I nodded slowly and breathed deeply. ‘I’m sorry for doubting you, but I can’t let him get away with this, Quin. Those people down there deserve their freedom and the world needs to know the truth. Maybe then I’ll have a chance to finally wash away the stains.’ Yet even as I said it, I doubted its truth. Stains never washed away. Not fully.

  Quentin pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. I sank into the sanctuary of his strong arms, wishing I could stay there forever. ‘You are going to save people, Mags. And your father, along with my family, is going to pay. I promise you that.’