As far as he knew, that plan had worked. Zira was relatively safe in the fact that Ryku thought she was dead, but that might not last. She would never really be free until he was gone. Neither would Tripp, and Zira wanted to do this as much for him as for herself. He’d been a captive of his fear for far too long.
“Well,” said Tripp as he stuck his hands in his pockets, “you’re the expert. If you think this is worth a shot, I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Let’s see if we can get inside some of these buildings, then,” said Zira. “We can call Chase with a plan later tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jared closed the mission report on Ryku’s desk, sighed, and spun his chair around to face the window. The chairman had left before dawn that morning to go to San Antonio for the Project’s anniversary celebration, leaving Jared in charge of the compound’s day-to-day operations. It was a lot of work, and tedious—a job that had previously been given to five different people for good reason.
The workload wouldn’t be so bad if Ryku would just pick four new chairmen, but that seemed unlikely, if it had ever even been a real possibility. And why should he? Things were going well and would continue to improve as long as everyone stayed in line and did as they were told.
Crime rates were lower than they’d ever been before, which meant people were safer than ever before. Unit C had increased rations for the first time in almost a decade as a result of Ryku’s systematic reworking of labor camps and prisons. It was a little extreme, maybe, and if he was honest with himself, Jared was still a bit uneasy about the whole thing. He could also see the logic in it, though. The Project only executed those who’d committed a violent crime and would realistically never be released back into the general population. Ryku was ruthless, but he was efficient, and his methods benefited those who most deserved it.
Jared had to believe that.
His CL emitted a low beep, alerting him to an incoming message. He glanced down. It was from Ray, probably related to the Judah case. After weeks without a fresh lead, maybe they’d finally stumbled across something. He opened the message.
Please come as soon as you can. I think we found him.
Jared was halfway out of his seat before he even finished reading. He crossed the compound at a near sprint and willed the elevator in the research facility to move faster as it took him up to the rest of his team. Revolver had gone to San Antonio with Ryku, but the rest of them were all gathered around Rochelle’s workstation when he burst through the door. “What have you got?”
“It’s the facial recognition surveillance, sir,” Rochelle answered. “We have a match.”
If he hadn’t been so eager to find out what they’d discovered, Jared might have taken a moment to discourage the unnecessary formality. Not that she would have remembered; she’d been calling him “sir” since their first day together in spite of all the times he’d asked her not to.
Rochelle had come up with the idea to use unit A’s facial recognition program to search for Judah through any one of the millions of surveillance cameras scattered across the country. It was a massive undertaking akin to looking for a needle in a haystack, and an enormous investment of both time and money, which was probably why it hadn’t been done before. Jared had been doubtful at first, and even Ryku hadn’t signed off right away. As Rochelle had put it, however, Judah couldn’t avoid cameras forever. His involvement in Trinity’s escape marked the first time he’d come out into the open in years, an uncharacteristically bold move. If they were going to attempt anything like this, now was the best time to do it. It seemed she’d been right about that.
“Show me,” said Jared, moving into the space the others had made for him.
Rochelle tapped the corner of the projection and pulled up the surveillance footage. The timestamp on the bottom read 12:17 PM, less than an hour ago. She zoomed in on a car driving through an alley. The car stopped, and the man inside got out, turned away from the camera, and walked out of its view. Rochelle backed the video up, pausing it at the split-second view of the man’s face just before he turned around. The image was fuzzy. It could have been Judah, or it could have been someone who only vaguely resembled him. “Facial recognition is giving us a sixty-eight percent match,” said Rochelle.
“That’s not very high,” said Jared. They’d had matches as high as fifty-three percent before now, all false alarms. “Where did this come from?”
“San Antonio,” said Ray from beside him.
“He has to know there will be cameras everywhere there today. What would he be doing there?”
“Maybe he thought he could just blend in with everyone else,” Lucas said.
Jared shook his head. “He’s too smart for that.”
“I don’t know why he’s there,” said Ray, “but that’s him, no matter what numbers that fancy program gives us. It’s not just his face—it’s his body language. I can see it in the way he walks.”
Jared knew better than to disagree with Ray’s years of experience. This was exactly why he’d chosen the older man for this task force in the first place; he was the resident expert on Judah. “If you say it’s him,” said Jared, “then it’s probably him. Cecilia, Lucas, Owen, Misty, and Ray—come with me. Rochelle, keep that program running, but narrow the search to just San Antonio. Then see what you can find on the car. I want to know where it came from and how he got it. The rest of you, start looking through the security footage near the city. If you find Judah, use a drone to keep an eye on him, but don’t let him know we’re watching. Call me immediately if anything changes.”
Ray and the four E-2 operatives Jared had named detached themselves from the rest of the group. He led them out the door to the elevator. “I assume we’re going there?” Ray said. “To San Antonio?”
Jared nodded as he looked through the contacts on his CL. “Call the airport and arrange for a helicopter to take us there.”
He found the name he was looking for and tapped to connect the call, then transferred the audio to his earpiece. Revolver answered after a few seconds. “Hello?”
“We have a new lead on Judah. He might be in San Antonio.”
“Why?”
“We’re not sure, but I’m headed there now with some of the others. It should only take us a few hours to get there. Be on the lookout. Let me know if you see anything.”
“Yes,” said Revolver.
Jared disconnected the call as the elevator doors opened. “Grab whatever gear you need and meet me at the front gate in ten,” he said to his team. “Let’s figure out what this guy is up to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Zira made her way through the crowd, clutching the straps of the bag at her side as she looked for the alley Tripp had told her about. He’d gone ahead to find a suitable empty room in the hotel they’d chosen as a vantage point before Zira followed. Not for the first time in her life, her youthful, non-threatening appearance worked in her favor here, as patrolling security officers weren’t likely to stop her or even pay her any attention. The building stood just far enough from the distribution center that she wouldn’t be required to pass through any checkpoints on her way there. Still, she remained on high alert. The bag contained the sniper rifle the rebels had managed to smuggle to her a few days before, and she didn’t want to get caught with something like that. It was old and battered—definitely not of the same quality as the rifles she’d had access to back at the compound—but the few practice shots she’d taken since then had assured her it was reliable enough to get the job done.
She found the narrow alleyway and darted through. As promised, Tripp had left a door at the far end of the hotel propped open with a rock. Zira slipped inside and eased the door closed behind her. She found herself in a kitchen and paused a moment to listened for anyone else who might be nearby, but the only sound came from the slow drip of a sink on the other side of the room.
She opened a side pocket in the bag to find her black ski mask, then pulled it
over her head and tucked away every strand of loose hair. She hadn’t been able to wear it outside without raising suspicion, but she’d taken care to avoid the cameras and blend into the crowd as much as possible. In here, though, there were bound to be cameras in every hallway. Once she took her shot, everyone would start looking for the source, and it wouldn’t take the authorities long to figure out where it had come from. When they did, they could use surveillance cameras and drone footage to backtrack the shooter’s path in an attempt to figure out who was responsible. She and Tripp couldn’t avoid being seen entirely, but at least this way they might remain anonymous. Even if this all went exactly according to plan, it wouldn’t look good for Chase and the others if someone managed to identify Ryku’s killers and connect them to the rebellion.
She hoisted the bag over her shoulder and peered out into the hallway, then made her way to the stairs. The noise of the crowd outside was almost unnoticeable in here, and the stress and tension of walking among all those people began to subside a little. She paused on the third floor to listen again, then continued on her way. On the sixth floor, she left the stairs and found the room number Tripp had given her. She knocked their secret pattern softly and stood in front of the peephole so he could see her. The door opened, and she stepped inside.
“Did anyone see you?” Tripp asked. Only his eyes were visible through the two round holes in his mask.
“I don’t think so. It’s such a mess out there security can’t possibly monitor everyone.”
Tripp nodded as he put the chain back on the door. “They’re only screening the ones who want to get into the main area now. They have drones covering the outer perimeter. One’s been flying past here every fifteen minutes or so, but as long as we keep an eye out and stay away from the window when it comes by, we should be fine.”
Zira nodded and glanced out the window, which provided an unobstructed view of the stage Ryku would be speaking from in about twenty minutes. She took a seat to one side of it so she could pull back quickly if the drone passed by, then opened the bag and pulled out the rifle. She pushed the magazine into the weapon, pulled the bolt open and shut, and watched a cartridge slide into the chamber. Then she took her pistol from the bag and handed it to Tripp. “Here.”
He hesitated. “I barely know how to use that thing.”
“But you might need to. As soon as I fire, people will be swarming the building trying to find the person responsible. We may need to fight our way out of here.”
“What about you?”
She tapped the stock of the rifle. “I’ve got this. And I don’t need a gun to defend myself against anyone who tries to stop us.”
Tripp took the pistol from her like it was an armed mousetrap, taking care to keep it pointed at the ground. “It’s loaded?”
“Safety’s on,” Zira said. “But there’s a round in the chamber, so it’s ready to go.”
She laid the rifle on the floor and walked over to a nightstand in the corner. “Help me move this over there,” she said. Together, they dragged it in front of the window and Zira took up the rifle again. She tested her position and readjusted the nightstand until she was satisfied, then sat back down.
Neither of them said anything to each other for a while. Zira began to tap her foot in nervous anticipation. The feeling was one she’d always had as an E-2 operative right before a mission, but multiplied tenfold now. Tripp gave her a reassuring nod, and her anxiety subsided a little. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Sure, kid. You and I are family now. I’ve got your back—always.” He glanced at a clock on the wall behind them. “He should be here soon.”
As if in answer to his comment, the crowd below them started to cheer. Zira leaned over to glance outside. A woman—presumably someone important—took the stage. Her voice boomed out across the crowd with the aid of some unseen microphone. “It is my great honor and privilege as the custodian of the city of San Antonio to welcome our revered Chairman Ryku to this historic celebration.”
The crowd cheered again, and the woman waited for the noise to subside before continuing. Zira took a breath and looked over at Tripp. “Ready?”
He nodded. “Ready.”
Zira pulled her chair behind the nightstand and rested her arms on its surface. She faced the window, making sure to keep the barrel of the rifle several inches inside the building. The woman on stage continued to rattle on about the PEACE Project’s proud history, but Zira tuned her out. She sat with her eye to the scope now, searching for Chairman Ryku through that small circle and allowing everything outside it to fade away.
The woman finally finished speaking, and the roar of the crowd intensified. How many of them truly felt the enthusiasm and loyalty they were displaying? How many cheered simply because they felt like they had to, or because they feared what the consequences might be if they showed even the faintest lack of patriotism? How many had personally suffered the harsh consequences of Ryku’s leadership? If everything went well today, Zira hoped they wouldn’t have to pretend or be afraid anymore.
And then, for the first time in almost a year, she saw him. Chairman Ryku walked across the stage with graceful dignity in a tailored black suit and an air of self-assured power. He raised his hand and gave a thin smile to the crowd as he stepped up to the podium. A young man with a black armband trailed behind him, but his face was unfamiliar. Zira studied him for a few moments through the scope as Ryku began to speak. He stood completely still just behind the chairman and looked out over the crowd with a blank expression. She was about ask Tripp who he might be when the answer came to her. Revolver, the young man Aubreigh had mentioned who was serving as Ryku’s bodyguard. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else.
Tripp tugged on her shoulder. “The drone,” he said. “Get back.”
Zira pulled the back and flattened herself against the wall. Outside, a soft, mechanical buzz was barely audible over Ryku’s amplified voice. “The war left our country in ruins,” he was saying, “but we stood strong. We prevailed, and we must continue to stand strong together. We can make this country great again, and I am fully committed to getting us there with the support of each person standing here in front of me today.”
The crowd broke into applause once more. By the time the noise died down, the buzz of the drone was gone. Tripp leaned towards the window to look out. “I think it’s clear,” he said.
Zira nodded and repositioned herself behind the rifle’s scope. She put her crosshairs on Ryku’s skull, just an inch above his ear. It was a perfect shot. An easy shot. A shot she’d made a hundred times before at the shooting range near the compound. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of a breeze, and her target stood completely still. All she had to do was pull the trigger.
She didn’t second-guess herself, didn’t even have to think about it. She took a breath, let it out slow, and moved her finger to the trigger. Another breath. Held it in. Glanced at Revolver.
He was staring right at her. She could see his eyes through the scope like they were locked onto hers, like he could actually see her from all the way down there. Apparently he was genetically modified to be some kind of superhuman. That’s what Aubreigh had said. But that didn’t mean he could actually see her, did it? That was impossible.
Zira pulled the trigger.
Just before the rifle’s recoil hit her, she saw Revolver move towards Ryku with inhuman speed. She put her eye back to the scope. Both men were on the ground, and the crowd’s panicked cries filled the air with a clamorous roar.
Tripp jumped up and leaned towards the window. “Did you—”
“I don’t know.” Six more E-1s and E-2s had gathered around the chairman now. He remained on the ground, but she couldn’t see clearly past everyone else. Had she hit him?
Revolver stood. He jumped off the stage and darted through the crowd with ease as he made his way to their hiding place. They needed to leave, but first, she had to know.
She turned her attention back to the stage, where a security team had hauled Ryku to his feet and formed a tight perimeter around him. Zira swore and tried to reacquire the shot as the group retreated, but there was always someone else in front of the chairman. “I can’t get a clear shot.”
“Forget it,” Tripp said. “We need to go.”
Zira hesitated. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She’d had him. Everything had been perfect.
Tripp put a hand on her shoulder and wrenched her away from the window. “Now, kid!” She started to put the rifle back in the bag but Tripp grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Leave it. It’ll only slow us down.”
She followed him out of the room and they took off at a dead sprint down the hallway. When they reached the stairwell, Tripp handed Zira’s pistol back to her. “Get us the hell out of here.”
She nodded and led the way down, taking the stairs two or three at a time and leaping over the railings at each landing. With every impact, she thought she could feel the bolts in her prosthetic leg give under the pressure, and she prayed they would hold up.
They burst out the alley door and ran into a street full of chaos and terrified people. An amplified voice urged everyone to remain calm and return to their homes in an orderly fashion, but no one seemed to be paying attention. The ski masks Tripp and Zira wore drew immediate scrutiny, and people stared and pointed as they ran past. Zira reached up to pull hers off, but Tripp grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Don’t. They can’t see our faces.”
Zira nodded and kept running. Just a few more blocks to the car. She looked back as Revolver exited the alley they’d just come from. He glanced around almost lazily.
Zira didn’t wait to see if he saw them. She darted into another alley with Tripp right behind her. The sound of her thundering heart beat against her skull like a drum. Her legs felt like they might collapse underneath her. Tripp passed her, got to the car, and started the engine just as Zira threw herself into the passenger seat.
Renegades of PEACE (Secrets of PEACE Book 2) Page 16
