by Robyn Nyx
No blinkers had flashed as Delaney left so she couldn’t have locked the van, and why would she have, with Simson in there? Brooke slowly reached out and took hold of the rear door handle. She took one last look behind her to make sure she hadn’t missed Delaney returning, leveled her gun at what she guessed would be Simson’s head height sitting down, and yanked the door open.
* * *
Delaney stopped dead. Sledge? Her slight form disappeared into the back of their van, and the door was closed as quickly as she’d pulled it open. She chewed the last bite of the magnificent burger she couldn’t wait to eat and looked around for somewhere to leave the food and drinks she’d just collected. A skinny guy in his mid-twenties sat a few yards to her right, reading and taking in the sun. He wouldn’t have seen which direction she’d come from. Delaney dropped her bag beside him and pulled a fifty-dollar bill from her pocket.
“I’ve left something in my van. Would you mind if I left these here while I went back?”
He looked up at her and smiled broadly when he saw the money in her hand. “For fifty dollars, I’ll even talk to them while you’re gone.”
Delaney returned his smile, handed him the money, and placed the Starbucks tray beside her bag. “I’m sure the drinks in particular would appreciate that.”
“Take your time,” he said and pulled Delaney’s victuals a little closer.
Delaney turned and refocused her attention on the van, ready to attack. Wait. What would Landry do? Sledge had the upper hand. She had a gun, and Delaney was unarmed. She had no idea if Sledge was a nervous shooter or a Cool Hand Luke. Jumping in on them could result in her pulling the trigger on Simson. Delaney had no choice but to get in the van as if she didn’t know Sledge was in there.
She turned back to the guy and picked up her stuff. “Change of plan. Thanks anyway.”
He tilted his head and looked to be studying her. “You want your money back?”
Delaney shook her head. “Keep it.” She looked back to the van and began a slow walk over to it. You don’t get to fuck us over twice, Sledge.
* * *
Brooke settled onto the side bench with her gun trained on Simson. Muniz was on the floor under her feet, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey wrapped in explosive tin foil. His wide eyes indicated his level of terror, in direct contrast to the calm nonchalance Simson exuded by her lack of movement or reaction to Brooke busting in on her. She sat with her back to the driver’s seat on the opposite side bench.
“You seriously followed us all the way out here? Isn’t that kind of stalker-ish?”
Brooke laughed. “I’m doing my job.”
Simson scrunched up her nose. “Are you though? Wasn’t your job the Cagle Gang? Shouldn’t you still be in Chicago trying to pin something on Frankie?”
“Sorry for the delay, Sims. The lines were horrendous.”
Delaney. Shit. Brooke put her finger to her mouth to indicate Simson should be silent. The driver’s side door opened, and Delaney got in.
“Surprise.” Brooke waved with her non-gun hand. “Did you bring me something?”
Delaney placed her bag and drinks tray on the dashboard. “I would have—if you’d dropped in before I went for the order.”
She began to lower her hands out of sight.
“Keep ’em up, where I can see them. Put your hands on the back of the seat.” Brooke pointed to where she wanted them. “Simson. Tape her wrists together with that.” She motioned at the duct tape on the bench beside her.
Simson didn’t move until Delaney nodded to her, as if giving her permission to do what Brooke was ordering her to do.
“You don’t need her approval. I’m the one with the gun.” Brooke waved her Sig a little but kept it directed between the two of them. This is not what I had in mind. Brooke had envisaged disabling Simson before Delaney returned. Now she was here, grinning like she knew something Brooke didn’t, like this was all some cosmic joke, and Brooke was its target.
Delaney smiled. “It doesn’t matter who’s got the gun. Simson is my soldier.”
Simson nodded as she wound the tape around Delaney’s wrists. “True. If she didn’t want me to do this, you waving your gun around like an epileptic bank robber wouldn’t make me do it.”
“Sledge…or whoever the hell who are. What is your name? I think we’ve earned the right to know that, don’t you?”
“My name’s Jackson. Brooke Jackson.”
“Ha. My name’s Bond, James Bond,” Simson mimicked with a poor British accent that sounded more like an Australian.
Delaney laughed. “Are you FBI or DEA?”
She’s trying to take control of the situation. Don’t let her. “I don’t think you’re in the position to be asking questions, do you?” Brooke glanced at Muniz, and his pleading eyes begged her to get him out of there. I’m working on it.
“I don’t know what position you’d called this, Brooke.” Delaney lifted her bound hands in the air. “Other than fucked. What’s your plan?”
“I’m stopping you from taking over Pulsus.” Lame. Both of them laughed at her, but she didn’t rise. They want me to lose control.
“FBI then.” Delaney looked smug. “But you’re here alone, aren’t you, Brooke? Is this you trying to make up for blowing your cover with the Cagle operation? Are you trying to salvage your career? Here’s the thing, Brooke, what are you going to arrest us for? Possession of explosives? Kidnapping maybe?”
“Sure. And we can add murder and assault and battery. There’s plenty to run with, Delaney.” Brooke straightened in her seat. If she was going to join Donovan and her organization, she needed to pull this off not just competently, but with style. She needed to impress Donovan.
Delaney didn’t look convinced.
“Then where’s your team? If this is an authorized mission, an FBI priority, where’s the rest of your Feeb buddies?”
Brooke smiled. “I wanted all the glory for myself, Delaney.” That part was true. Though she had no intention of handing them into the FBI. Elena and Jenkin could decide what they wanted to do with them when Brooke delivered them and Muniz to their doorstep. They’d record her single-handedly stopping their takeover, and Donovan could come back in time to take her forward to the future. Simple.
“Have you thought about what happens when they take our prints and can’t match them to any living soul?”
Brooke shrugged. “That’s not my problem. There’s enough on you both to go down until you’re old and too decrepit to plan world domination, and I’ll move on to bigger and better adventures.” Twenty years in the future. The prospect was making every excitable nerve in her body tingle with anticipation, and sitting still was an effort. She could practically lick the lollipop of her future life. These two thugs were all that stood in the way.
Simson was halfway across the van before Brooke realized she was coming at her. She clenched her teeth and pulled the trigger, aiming at her shoulder. Brooke saw the bullet rip through her flesh, but it barely slowed Simson down. Brooke landed painfully on her back, with who knows what sticking in the base of her spine and the wind knocked out of her. She held tight to her gun as Simson wrapped her meaty hands around Brooke’s wrists and slammed them against the edge of the bench to make her loose her grip. A plastic block slipped out of Simson’s pocket, smacked Brooke between the eyes, and fell to the floor. She couldn’t decipher the look on Simson’s face. Panic? Whatever it was, her clasp around Brooke relaxed slightly, and Brooke hefted all her weight forward and to the side in an attempt to get Simson off her. As she lifted her body up and then fell back with the sheer bulk of Simson, she slammed down on the block and heard something click at the same time that Simson yelled.
Chapter Thirteen
June 28, 2076—San Francisco
Landry closed the door behind Caitlin, but before she settled back into her chair to focus on her research, she needed to call her mom.
“Hey, Pumpkin. What’s up?”
“Are you free tomorr
ow? I was thinking you could come over to my place for brunch.” Landry expected the pause that followed. Despite her mom’s hints that she’d like to venture from the island occasionally, Landry had never extended an invite to her place.
“I’d love to. I’ll come alone, of course.”
“That’s up to you, Mom.” Jenkin would have to sign off on helping Priscilla anyway, so Landry may as well put the case to both of them at the same time.
“That’s okay. I want to talk to you about things with Jay anyway.”
Landry didn’t particularly want to be the one her mom discussed Jenkin with. Wherever their relationship was right now, Landry didn’t want to be her mom’s sounding board. Don’t you have a best friend for that sort of thing? She gritted her teeth when her mind ran to Delaney. She pulled a blanket over them and put the nagging thoughts to sleep for the moment. Priscilla had to be her focus for now. “Sure. One more thing, Mom. Where were you and Jenkin back in 2055?”
“In 2055 you were fourteen, and we moved to DC in July for you to start your freshman year at SWW. Before July, we were in New York. Why?”
“I’ve got a hunch about Delaney’s plans after I escaped. I should have more to tell you tomorrow. See you around eleven.”
Landry hung up and returned to her tablet. She pulled up the FBI site and searched for Brooke Jackson. Sure enough, she appeared on their Hall of Honor page under the header “FBI agent killed the direct result of an adversarial action.” Seven lines of emotionless text followed describing a bomb in a parking complex in Washington, DC, on July 6, just two days after Landry had left 2055. Three other unidentified people were also killed in the blast. Three? The FBI found a suicide vest and wasn’t certain if the incident was linked to the Cagle Gang or whether it was a terrorist attack their agent had stumbled upon. Landry surmised otherwise. She accessed the FBI files and downloaded the DNA information pulled from the scene. The system took seconds to match the three bodies to Delaney, Simson, and Muniz. It made sense that they were unable to identify the Pulsus operatives, but how did Muniz pass anonymously? Had he sliced off his fingerprints? Was he so off-grid that no law enforcement agency had any trace of him?
Landry pressed her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes. Think. She’d left Sledge—Jackson—by the side of the road probably contemplating her future. Had she really gone back to the warehouse, somehow figured out what Delaney was up to, and stopped her before she got to her mom? And what the fuck was with the suicide vest? Surely that had to be a mistake. Simson was an explosives expert. Was it possible that Jackson had detonated a bomb and sacrificed herself to stop them from advancing their plan? If Landry’s suppositions were true, Jackson was the potential extractor Landry thought she could be. And she’d had nothing to lose. She’d said she wanted a big adventure. Leaving her whole life behind and starting a new career as a time traveler stretched beyond that dream. The past Landry had left her behind in had ended. Jackson had no future because of Pulsus. So maybe they owed her a new one…
* * *
Landry completed the tour of her apartment with her mom. “Take a seat,” she said and motioned toward the breakfast bar. “We can talk while I cook.”
Her mom smiled and looked amused. “You’re cooking?”
Landry shrugged. “Well…I’m warming the coffee.”
With perfect timing, Lizbeth came in carrying two covered plates. Priscilla was three steps in front of her clutching a single white rose. She was dressed in her Warriors uniform and still managed to look completely charming despite her pallid skin and weight loss.
“Are you Lan Lan’s mommy?”
Landry watched a variety of expressions cross over her mom’s face before she settled predictably into gentle adoration.
“I am. And who might you be, you beautiful creature?”
Priscilla skipped forward, and her sneakers squeaked her progress along the wooden floor like a mouse on steroids.
“I’m Priscilla.” She stood on her tiptoes and thrust the rose toward Landry’s mom. “This is for you.”
Landry’s mom accepted Priscilla’s offering. “What have I done to deserve this?” she asked, in the soft musical tone that almost all adults seemed to adopt when addressing small children.
She pointed at Lizbeth. “My mommy, Lizbeth, says Lan Lan’s been mean to you, so I wanted to give you something pretty to make you happy.”
Landry coughed theatrically. “Your mommy said what now?” It didn’t matter. Priscilla and Lizbeth couldn’t have played it any better if they knew why she had invited her mom over. Landry could see she was already smitten with that special brand of Priscilla magic that had also captivated her three years ago.
Lizbeth arched her eyebrow and gave Landry the look that meant she’d brook no nonsense. “Don’t even try to deny it, Landry Donovan.”
“I like you already,” her mom said to Lizbeth as she put the plates on the breakfast bar.
“Great. All of you bully me and make me cry.”
Priscilla ran around Landry’s mom and threw her arms around Landry’s legs. “No one can make my Lan Lan cry.”
Priscilla grinned, and Landry could feel the sunshine radiate from the little girl. No matter her illness, she was still the brightest light in their universe.
“You’re so damned cute,” Landry said and scooped her aloft. She gave her a light squeeze and was rewarded with a firm kiss on her cheek.
“I am, huh.”
Her grin widened, and Landry hugged her a little harder. I can’t let you die.
Lizbeth held her arms out for Priscilla, and she stretched into them lazily. Landry could see from the pained look hiding in Lizbeth’s eyes that she was desperate for every moment with her daughter. Landry smiled, but their shared knowledge of Priscilla’s delicately balanced fate was held in the fragile silence between them.
“Enjoy your food.” Lizbeth kissed Landry on the cheek. “It was lovely to meet you, Landry Mom. I hope we see more of you.”
“Bye-bye, Lan Lan and Lan Lan Mommy.”
Priscilla waved as Lizbeth left with her held tightly to her body, and Landry’s heart ached with the dreadful possibility of not seeing her grow into a smart, independent woman.
“What is she dying of?”
Her mom’s words shattered her melancholy musing, and the quiet matter-of-fact way she put it made Landry’s nerves tingle uncomfortably. “They’re still trying to figure that out…How could you tell?”
Her mom smiled with a knowing sadness. “Death has a signature scent. And its inevitability weighs heavy on those it’s going to leave behind. Lizbeth may as well be wearing a T-shirt.”
Landry put two fresh cups of coffee on the bar, took the serving lids from the food, and sat beside her mom. “She can’t die.” There was little point in being subtle and working her way up to this conversation.
“Is that why you invited me here? To see Priscilla and do something for her?”
It made Landry sound particularly manipulative, but there was no arguing with the truth. “Jenkin said you were almost ready for test subjects. They’ve tried everything and no one knows what’s wrong with her. She was recovering well from Kawasaki Syndrome, and then this hit her.” Landry placed her hand over her mom’s and squeezed. “I know I’ve already pushed my luck with what you did for Jade and the position I put you in with Jenkin, but Priscilla…she’s so full of light. I had to ask you.”
Landry’s mom put down her fork and pressed her other hand over Landry’s. “I told Jenkin that I didn’t perform the mind wipe on Jade. Our separation put some things into perspective for both of us and refocused us on why we started Pulsus. Fixing Jade reminded us both of the vast potential of our tech, and we’re making plans to open up our doors to the wider world.”
This is unexpected. “Really? How’d she take it?” Not well, I’m willing to bet.
“It didn’t come as a surprise. She suspected I hadn’t done it because you were so willing to come back on board…she knows h
ow hard you hold on to a grudge.”
Landry smiled. Forgiving anyone for anything was hard for her. She was hoping Jade might lighten her up some. “And you’re going to tell the world about our missions?” What would that even mean to Pulsus? Landry imagined the island crawling with government agents and possibly even shutting them down to get their hands on the proprietary tech before any other country did.
“Not at first. Baby steps, Landry. What we’ve developed is so superior to existing healthcare that it’s going to seem almost alien-made to the average person. We’ll need to keep our time travel tech under wraps for now.”
It can’t be this easy. “You’ll consider taking Priscilla to the island?”
“Yes, but Lizbeth can’t know. Not yet. Does she trust you enough to take Priscilla away without explanation?”
Landry took a sip of coffee while she considered where Lizbeth’s head would be right now. “I don’t know, Mom. Caitlin asked for my help, but with such uncertainty around how long Priscilla might have left, I don’t know that they’d let her out of their sight.”
Landry’s mom shook her head. “They have to. The board hasn’t agreed on a marketing or launch plan, and that might easily take a year…Priscilla doesn’t have that much time.”
Landry shivered at her mom’s last words. She didn’t want to contemplate ever coming home and not seeing Priscilla’s smiling face there to greet her. She couldn’t begin to imagine how Lizbeth and Caitlin were handling the notion. How much do they trust me? Landry got people to trust her on every mission, but letting someone take your dying child away from you without knowing where they were taking her was another level of trust that bordered on faith. And that was something Landry didn’t have. I don’t need it. I just need Lizbeth to believe.
