I chew my lower lip, watching him through my eyelids.
“I messed up, I know that. I just want to make it right.”
Doc drums his fingers on his thigh as he watches me. I stand in the cage doorway, watching him right back, barely daring to breathe. Eventually, he nods.
“Very well. We’ve been following a young man, an absa. He is… resistant to our assistance. I had planned to dispatch a team to bring him in, so we can discuss his future. You will go in their stead.”
My heart flutters and I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. I force them to still, and keep my face serious.
“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“See that you don’t. I’ll have Flynn bring you some photos. You leave in three hours.”
*
I’m wearing casual clothes – trainers, jeans and a t-shirt – because I don’t need to lure the target anywhere. Getting close to him will be easy. Every Saturday at one p.m. he goes to the gym. At two thirty he leaves and walks home. His route will take him through two side streets and a back alley. The doc’s men are nothing if not thorough. The alley is narrow, and not overlooked. I’ll walk down it from the other side, grab him and shift back to one of AbGen’s containment units. Easy. It’s a waste of my skills, but I get the feeling I’m not going to be given any challenging assignments until I’ve proven myself trustworthy again.
The doc has sent Flynn with me – proof he doesn’t quite trust me yet – and we’re sitting in the car in silence, parked up near to the alley. The collar is still active around my neck, its subtle pulse disrupting my EM field just enough that I won’t be able to shift until Flynn deactivates it. I hate anyone other than Doc Pearce having control of it, but I’m in no position to complain. I check the watch the doc has loaned me: the target will be approaching in a little over four minutes. Time to go. I can’t afford to miss my opportunity if he happens to be walking faster today for some reason. People are unpredictable and illogical, even creatures of habit.
I reach the alley in just over a minute, and loiter at the top, leaning against the wall and pretending to check my phone. It has no battery in it – Doc doesn’t want me exposed to unnecessary temptations – but it’s a useful prop. A person standing still is suspicious, but a person standing around looking at their phone doesn’t draw a second glance.
The pulsing from my collar stops, and the near-constant tension eases from the base of my spine. It’s like being able to move freely again, after being anchored down by a stack of weights. I revel in the release, the feeling of being whole again.
The minutes stretch out and tick slowly past as I lean against the wall under the uncomfortably bright sun. He’s late. I’m too experienced to panic. I never panic. But I’m not happy. I take a deep breath and let it out, hoping Flynn doesn’t mistake the target’s tardiness for me deviating from the plan, and reactivate my collar. Failure isn’t an option – Doctor Pearce would never trust me again.
There’s movement at the other end of the alley, a shadow crossing over the entrance. I lean back against the wall, pretending to be looking down at the phone, and watch carefully from the corner of my eye. A figure appears and turns into the alley. He’s talking to someone – a second figure. I frown. The intel says he always walks home alone. I can’t let anyone see me use my talent. I could knock the second figure out, but the doc didn’t want me hurting anyone. Well, he didn’t want the target hurt, he didn’t say anything about anyone else getting in the way. Still…
I could follow them and wait for them to go their separate ways. If they go their separate ways. They might just as easily go back to his flat together. The target has already broken his pattern, there’s no telling what he might do. I glance at the other figure again. I could–
I pause, staring down at the blank screen of the phone, my heart racing as I process what I just saw. I swallow, my mouth painfully dry. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. This changes nothing. He changes nothing. I was bound to run into him eventually. After all, the traitor hunts the same people we do.
Scott. His name sends a lance of pain through me. And anger. Disgust. Hatred. Confusion. I never want to see him again. I want to touch him. I want to kill him. I want to run away.
I do none of those things. The mission comes first. The mission always comes first.
They haven’t noticed me yet, they’re too busy talking. Scott – I wince as I think his name again – is no doubt trying to convince the target to go with him and join forces with the rebels. That must not be allowed. Exposure is no longer a problem. Sc– The traitor already knows about my talent. He’s not a civilian.
I push away from the wall and start walking towards them. The movement catches the traitor’s eye and he glances up, then falls silent mid-sentence as he sees me. The target frowns, following the direction of his eye.
“Anna.”
The way he says it is like a drowning man who’s just seen a life raft as his head is about to dip below the water for the last time. The voice of a man who’d almost given up hope, and then discovered he had a whole lifetime ahead of him. No-one’s ever spoken my name that way before. He’s a good actor. I’m not. Not today. I can’t say his name with reverence and then shove a knife between his ribs. And of the two of them, I’d like to do the latter. Unfortunately, I don’t have a knife to hand. Or any other sort of weapon. Part of Doc Pearce’s ‘no killing’ policy. No matter. I am a weapon.
“You’re okay! I searched everywhere for you, I never stopped looking, you–”
He stops mid-stride, halfway between me and my target, close enough that I can see the frown on his clean-shaven face and the hurt in his bright blue eyes. Impressive. It almost looks genuine.
“Anna, what’s wrong? What– What did he do to you?”
I blink and he’s right on top of me, raising a hand like he’s about to stroke my face. I flinch away – me, flinch! – and his hand drops back to his side.
“Anna, you’re safe now. You can come home.”
“Get out of my way.” I mean the words to be cold and sharp, like me, but they don’t quite come out that way. I reach for the weapon I don’t have, and settle for squaring my shoulders. I’m getting past him, one way or another.
“This isn’t you. Let me help you.”
“Help?” I snarl, fury churning up my stomach, leaving me somewhere between nauseous and murderous. How could he possibly think I’m going to fall for this charade again, as if I’m the same naïve little girl I used to be? I’m not. Doc fixed me. “You only ever helped yourself. Move. Now. Before I shift you into the middle of the Atlantic.”
He glances over his shoulder – a rookie mistake, taking your eyes from your opponent – at my target, and then back to me. My conflicting standing orders are the only reason he’s alive long enough to look back.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I can’t do that. I’m not going to give you any more reasons to hate yourself when you get free from Pearce’s hold. And you will get free, Anna, I promise, I’ll find a way to–”
I tune him out. His words are meaningless, a mere distraction. And an insult. The doc is the only one who’s ever cared about me, why would I want to be ‘free’ from him? I should go straight through the traitor, use my training to take him down and make sure he stays down, but I don’t trust myself to touch him. BTD memories bounce around inside my head each time he opens his mouth. None of them stick around long enough for me to get a proper look, but they make me feel vulnerable. I don’t do vulnerable. It makes me angry. Might take it too far and kill him, and the doc hasn’t given his consent for that. Instead, I lock down the target’s location, and shift.
I grab hold of his shoulder before he can react, and shift again. Or at least, try to. I’m still standing in the alley, hand on the target’s shoulder, staring at Scott. I try again. Nothing. I’m grounded, in the absolute last place I want to be.
The traitor has turned around and is watching me.
“Y
ou don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” I grind out, trying to shift again. Still nothing. What the hell is going on with my talent? It’s not Flynn. The lack of pressure inside my head means the collar isn’t active yet. The target breaks out of his shocked stupor and starts to struggle, trying to get loose from my grip. If I don’t manage to shift soon, I’ll have to choose between subduing him and losing him, and either way the doc will be furious.
“It’s not too late. I know you’re in there somewhere. It will never be too late, you hear me? I lo–”
I don’t hear the rest. My talent finally kicks in, shifting the pair of us back to AbGen. I gasp with relief as I see the familiar grey walls of the containment unit, and let the target twist out of my grip. He doubles over like he’s about to puke. I feel the same way.
“You’re late.”
Two armed guards are watching us from the door. I don’t know which one spoke, and frankly I don’t care. I level a stare in their direction.
“I need to see the doc. Now.”
Chapter Five
Scott
“She was right there, Nate! She’s alive. He has her… I don’t know, brainwashed, or confused, or– We’ve got to get back out there.”
“Scott.”
“We need to get a team together, now. We–”
“Scott.”
“Ephraim owes us a favour, you know he does. We’ll go to him and–”
“Scott!”
Nate’s raised voice cut through Scott’s thoughts and he froze mid-step, halfway between the bench press and the punchbag in the weights room of the Ishmaelian base – Nate’s usual haunt. He’d come straight here after the aborted mission. He’d tried calling, but the new base was deep enough underground that mobile signals were sketchy at best. The silence hung heavy between them before Nate spoke again.
“I’m sorry. That was over an hour ago, and we have no way of knowing how far out she shifted from. She could be anywhere by now.”
“But that’s just it, we know where she is. Duncan was right – Pearce has brainwashed her into thinking she’s one of them. She’s going to go right back to him and tell him I was there. And who do you think he’s going to send her after? He knows I’ll go back looking for her, so he’ll send her right back. We just have to set a trap, and he’ll send Anna right into it.”
Nate shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“Look, I want her back as much as you do–” Scott’s glare disputed that assertion, and he amended, “I miss her almost as much as you, and I care about her. But we need to be careful. If you’re right and Pearce has her brainwashed, then she’s going to be a risk to everyone on this base.”
“So, what, we just leave her there to rot, is that what you’re saying?”
“Of course not. I’m saying we need a solid plan. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”
Scott slumped against the wall, leaning his head back as the weight eased from his shoulders. Nate was on board. And he was right. If they rushed in, they were going to make mistakes, and they couldn’t afford to. Not when the stakes were this high.
“Okay. What do we do?”
Nate seemed to think about it for a moment.
“Brainwashed?” he asked. Scott nodded.
“Then we’re going to need some way of keeping her here while we deprogram her.”
“A cage? Come on, Nate, that was the one thing that scared her most. How are we going to convince her we’re on her side if we lock her up?”
“We’re not going to convince her of anything if she shifts out before we can speak to her. It doesn’t have to be a cage, though. We can use one of the new sleeping quarters here – fit a lock to the door and make sure she has everything she needs.”
“A gilded cage.”
“Just until she knows she can trust us.”
Scott hung his head. Much as he hated to admit it, his ex-handler was right. Right now, Anna would take off first chance she got. Right back to Pearce. His hands curled into fists at his side.
“That bastard put a collar on her.”
Like a dog that might stray. Like a damned pet. The Anna he knew would have fought tooth and nail against that, not worn it like a piece of jewellery. And he couldn’t fool himself into thinking that was the worst thing Pearce had done. Nate made a sound of disgust, and his face was something like Scott imagined his own must look. A mix of horror, and grim determination. Anna was coming home.
“Let’s go and speak to Ephraim,” Nate said after a long moment of heavy silence.
Nate was right again. Much as Scott was loathe to admit it, they’d need the rebel leader’s help. It was his base they were living in, and they’d need Ephraim’s people to pull it off. Not to mention they’d need his intel to track down Anna’s potential targets. Or did they? He turned the thought over in his head as he opened the door, and almost walked straight into Helen.
“I wondered where you two were lurking,” the tall blonde said, then frowned, looking from Scott to Nate. “What’s going on?”
“I saw her.”
It took Helen only a second to catch up. She looked at Nate, her eyes widening and then setting in determination, and cocked an elegantly styled brow.
“Ephraim’s office?”
Nate nodded.
“We’re heading there now.”
She fell into step beside them as they hurried through the base’s narrow corridors, straight to Ephraim’s office. Scott barged through the door, and Nate, following behind, gave a belated tap on the oak panel.
Ephraim looked up from his desk, carefully setting his pen aside. In his late fifties, with dark hair and a body that was just starting to go to seed, nothing about Ephraim’s appearance fitted the profile of someone running a rebel organisation. Except his eyes.
“Scott,” he said stiffly, inclining his head in greeting. “Helen, Nathan. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Some part of Scott’s mind registered the fact that Ephraim would have been hard pushed to sound less pleased to see them, but the rest of his mind was tied up trying to think of a way to sell the rescue mission to the Ishmaelian leader.
“We’ve found Anna,” he said.
“Oh?”
That was it? Oh? Scott gritted his teeth, and then forced his face to relax. Ephraim tended not to respond well to displays of emotion, and Scott knew better than to lose his cool.
“I’d like to organise a team to bring her in. And we’ll need a secure room to hold her in.”
“Oh?” Ephraim said again. Scott took a slow breath and rolled out his shoulders, debating whether thumping Ephraim would speed up the process. He didn’t have time to play games. Anna was out there, and if they didn’t move quickly, they’d miss their chance to bring her home.
“We think she’s been brainwashed,” Nate said quickly, before Scott could make a decision on the punch. It was probably for the best. “But we can deprogram her.”
“And until then,” Ephraim said, leaning forward onto his elbows, “she would be a threat to everyone on this base.”
“She’s not a threat!” Scott snapped. Helen placed a hand on his arm, but he shook it off. “No. She’s in Pearce’s hands because of him, because he sent me into a trap, and Anna traded herself to save my life!”
“I remember,” Helen said softly. “I was there.”
“Yeah, you were, and you didn’t do a damned thing to stop her.” He turned to glare at Ephraim and Nate. “None of you.”
“Anna is in the hands of AbGen because she made a poor decision,” Ephraim said. “Against my advice.”
“Oh, a poor decision? The better decision being to let me die.”
“Yes.”
Scott stared at him, silenced.
“No one person is more important than this resistance, Mr Logan. We are all aware that we risk our lives every day we choose to resist AbGen’s influence. And Anna was perfectly aware of what awaited her should she accept Pearce’s offer.
I will not risk Ishmaelian lives to save her from the consequences of a choice she made.”
Ishmaelians lives. That’s what it came down to. After everything they’d done for the Ishmaelian leader, he still considered them to be outsiders.
“That’s your final decision?” Scott asked, his voice cool.
“It is.”
Without another word, Scott turned on his heel and left the room, dimly aware of Helen and Nate following him. He made it halfway down the hall before he pounded his fist into the wall with a shout. He pulled back, his knuckles glowing red, and slammed it into the wall again. Pain splintered through his hand, and he swung again. Something caught his arm before his hand made contact.
“Scott, stop!”
He turned round to glare at Nate and tried to shake the man off, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Snap out of it! You’re no use to her like this.”
The air rushed out of him and he stopped fighting Nate’s grip. His friend watched him carefully for a moment, then let go of him. Scott’s arm dropped to his side, his knuckles throbbing uncomfortably.
“We’re going to get her back,” Nate said. “Just the three of us, if it comes to it.”
“We’ve got friends round here,” Helen said. “Enough to help us bring Anna back in.”
“Bring her in where?” Scott asked. “We’ve outstayed our welcome here.”
“No, you’re right,” Nate said with a shrug. “Guess we should just give up on her.”
“Funny.” Scott thrust his hands in his pockets and glanced around the corridor. “Maybe we should take this chat somewhere more private?”
They walked in silence to one of the old storage rooms, filled wall to ceiling with bleaches and cleaning agents, spare clothing and blankets, and it wasn’t until the door was shut that they started talking again.
“Ephraim’s got dozens of derelict buildings across the country,” Nate said, dumping a box of soap on the floor and perching on the edge of the table it had occupied. “In case they need to evac in a hurry. I reckon we could use one of them without him ever knowing.”
“We’d need to get into his records to find the addresses,” Helen said. “He keeps them locked in his office. It won’t be easy.”
Unleashed (TalentBorn Book 4) Page 4
