He looked away. He’d done plenty wrong, and she of all people should know that best.
“You got us into the compound,” Tripp said. “I helped build the device that was supposed to open that gate. It didn’t work. Without you, we never would have gotten inside, and the whole operation would have been a disaster.”
Zira nodded. “Tripp’s right. Chase has to say yes. He owes you a favor, whether he likes it or not.”
She may have been right about Bradshaw owing him a favor, but Jared seriously doubted he was going to like it. And he was even less certain the president would be willing to look past all his previous misdeeds for the sake of returning that favor.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Over the next week, Jared remained in a state of perpetual apprehension as Zira exchanged multiple calls and messages with Alma regarding the terms of his potential agreement with the Republic. He listened in on calls whenever possible, and Zira always let him read the messages she received. He’d been concerned about not being able to advocate for himself at first, but all in all, she handled the negotiations better than he ever could have.
She initially asked for all charges against him to be dropped, but Alma refused to even present that idea to President Bradshaw. Even Jared knew it was a lofty request, but Zira put up a fight for days before agreeing to a compromise in which his charges would be significantly reduced. He would plead guilty to all of them, and rather than serving out his sentence in prison, he’d do it under the supervision of the National Security Department as an expert consultant for the Special Investigations and Operations division, or SIO, as it was more commonly referred to. He still thought it might be asking too much, but Alma agreed to at least take the plan to Bradshaw. After that, there was nothing to do but wait for an answer.
A few days later, Zira received a message from Alma saying Bradshaw had signed off on the terms of the arrangement. She opened the attached paperwork and stood between Jared and Tripp so they could read through the dense text together, carefully searching for anything that didn’t match what had been negotiated. It seemed Zira’s trust for Alma, Bradshaw, and the Republic didn’t extend quite far enough to simply take them at their word, but a healthy sense of skepticism wasn’t a bad thing.
When they’d all finished reading, Jared nodded. “Looks good. I’ll sign it.”
Zira sent a copy of the document to his CL, which he signed and returned to her so she could forward it on to Alma. She included a brief message with the file. Let me know when you want to finalize everything. Tripp and I are still in the same place, and I can tell Jared to be here whenever you’re ready.
Alma responded a few moments later. Great. I’ll come up the day after tomorrow, then.
It was sooner than Jared had expected, but that was probably for the best. Less time to worry about what could go wrong or how this might all be a trap. Whether he ended up working for SIO as planned or somehow found himself in a prison cell, his days as a fugitive were numbered.
* * *
Two days later, Jared sat on the couch with his hands clasped together and the heel of his foot tapping against the floor, trying to resist the temptation to run out the door and keep running until he was miles away from here. Beside him, Tripp gleefully devoured the sandwich Jared had given him after realizing he didn’t have much of an appetite. Zira paced the floor with her arms crossed like she was trying to physically hold in her impatience—the same nervous impatience that now threatened to burst out of Jared. Alma would arrive at any moment, and he still wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t show up with a whole squad of police officers ready to arrest him.
At the sound of tires outside, Zira stopped pacing and turned to the window. “She’s here.”
She went to answer the door, and Jared stood up and rubbed his clammy palms across his jeans. He’d put on his best outfit for this meeting, which wasn’t saying much since it only consisted of a pair of jeans and a fairly-new shirt. But at least they were clean. He’d also shaved his beard, cut his hair, and stowed away the hat he’d taken to wearing since he’d been on the run. The disguise had never been much of a deception, but he felt exposed without it all the same.
Alma’s gaze zeroed in on him as soon as she came inside, and Zira stepped forward to introduce them. “Alma, this is Jared.”
“Yes, so I’m aware.” After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out to him.
He shook her hand but couldn’t resist glancing past her out the window. Part of him still wondered when her back-up was going to arrive. “Thank you for doing all of this.”
“Thank Zira. This was her idea. Or her evil scheme, diabolical plot, whatever you want to call it.”
Zira smirked. “Don’t pretend it wasn’t a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“You don’t have to convince me. But Chase still has his doubts.”
Tripp polished off the last of his sandwich and stood up to give Alma a hug. “Chase always was a little too uptight about these kinds of things. Someone should really talk to him about having that stick removed from—”
Alma’s laugh cut him off mid-sentence. “You’re back to bad jokes and smart-ass comments, I see.”
“It’s how I get through the day. And it made you laugh, didn’t it?”
She shoved his arm. “I’m just happy to see you doing so well.”
“Thanks. I’d love to catch up, but maybe we could get out of this dump first?” He looked at Jared. “No offense, but I don’t have a lot of happy memories here.”
“None taken.”
Alma turned to Zira with narrowed eyes. “When you said you knew how to contact him, it’s because he’s been here the whole time.”
“Maybe.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Yes, we can leave soon. We just need to take care of a few things first.” She turned back to Jared. “You’ve already gone over the terms of our agreement?”
“Yes.”
“Good. And you’ve already signed the plea deal. Four felony counts of accessory to murder for the deaths of the other chairmen, plus a misdemeanor for evading arrest. The Republic waives its right to charge you for anything else you were ordered to do as a member of the PEACE Project.”
Jared nodded. He’d accepted a sentence of fifteen years to be served under the direct supervision of Alma and SIO. If he cooperated and didn’t try to run, work covertly with enemies of the Republic, or otherwise breach the terms of the agreement, he’d be eligible for some version of early release after eight years. All things considered, it was a good deal. Too good, almost. Hence his continued apprehension that this might all be some kind of elaborate set-up.
“I’m also supposed to ask you about Revolver,” Alma said. “Do you know where he is?”
Jared had expected that question at some point, if not quite so soon. “No.”
“Are you sure? We know you helped him escape.”
Beside him, Zira tensed. “You don’t have any proof of that.”
“No, but I thought he might be willing to cooperate. As a show of good faith.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Jared said. It was true enough. He had no idea where Revolver had gone once they’d parted ways.
“No good faith yet, then. I guess that’s understandable. And speaking of trust issues…” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a circular black band the width of Jared’s thumb. An ankle monitor—the other condition of his participation in this arrangement. He didn’t like it, but he understood their reasoning behind making him wear it. They had every reason to mistrust him, the dangerous former assassin who’d been Ryku’s loyal pet for years. If he tried to run, they needed to be able to find him.
He put his foot on the couch, and Alma fitted the device around his ankle. A red band of light in the center blinked on as it clicked into place, then flashed twice before settling on green. “This thing’s not going to blow me up or anything the second I step out of line, is it?” he asked, only half-joking.
Alm
a raised an eyebrow. “Well, we do have to take every precaution, don’t we?”
Jared chuckled nervously and exchanged a look with Zira, who seemed entirely too unconcerned with this whole conversation.
“Relájate, amigo. That’s some made-up science fiction nonsense. We don’t want to kill you. We just want to monitor your every move, twenty-four seven.” She turned to Tripp and said something in Spanish, which he responded to before they both laughed.
Jared turned to Zira, certain that whatever joke they’d just shared had been at his expense. She just shrugged. “Yeah, they do that sometimes.”
“Is that it?” he asked.
Alma shook her head. “Not quite. I was hoping you could take a look at the footage from Zira’s conversation with Ryku before we go. Maybe you’ll be notice something the rest of us didn’t.”
“Sure.”
Alma raised her arm and pulled up the video on her CL, then turned so he could see it properly. He watched intently as guards escorted Ryku into the room. The bruising on the left side of his face looked painful, but otherwise, the former chairman seemed no worse for the wear after spending the better part of a year in a maximum-security prison. Zira came in shortly after and sat at the table across from him.
As the conversation played out, Jared paid special attention to Ryku’s face and voice, his tone, his mannerisms, his reactions—anything that might give him some insight into what his former mentor was thinking or what his real game-plan was. He didn’t see anything especially telling until they got to the heart of the conversation, but he filed it away in the back of his mind for later review and let the rest of the video play out.
“Well?” Alma asked when it was finished.
“Go back to where she’s asking him about Carlson.”
Alma found the right spot and played it back for him again.
“Do you know a man named Shawn Carlson?” the Zira in the video asked.
“Not personally, but I hear he recently tried to assassinate Chase Bradshaw. I suppose your friends think I had something to do with it.”
“He did mention you by name. You’re the most obvious suspect.”
“The most obvious suspect isn’t always the culprit. Sometimes you have to look beyond what’s right in front of you. For example, I never would have suspected your friend Aubreigh was a traitor, but you remember how that turned out.”
“Stop,” said Jared. “Go back just a little. There.”
Video-Zira repeated her last line. “You’re the most obvious suspect.”
Ryku shrugged. The gesture was meant to look casual and apathetic, possibly to distract from what he was actually feeling. For just a moment, his expression shifted from bored disinterest to panicked irritation.
“Do you see that?” Jared asked. “He’s annoyed.”
“I see it,” Tripp said. “I hadn’t noticed before.”
“Me either,” said Zira.
Jared suspected that might have had something to do with the comment Ryku had made about Aubreigh immediately afterward, but he didn’t bring it up.
“Okay, but why is he annoyed?” Alma asked.
“Because we suspected him of trying to assassinate Chase?” Zira suggested. “Maybe it’s just his pride. He thinks the whole thing was beneath him.”
“That might be part of it,” Jared said. “But he shouldn’t even care. Why would it upset him that some random person tried to assassinate the rebel leader who forced him out of power?”
Alma nodded. “If anything, he should be happy about it.”
“But he’s not. Up until that point in the conversation, he was fine. Calm, collected. He even seemed to be enjoying himself.”
“He definitely was,” Zira muttered.
“But then you start talking about how the Republic thinks he was involved with Carlson’s attack. He’s upset because he’s a suspect. He’s annoyed that Carlson’s actions prompted the Republic to send someone to question him.”
“Because he doesn’t want us paying any extra attention to him,” Alma said.
“Right. But there’s no reason for him to care about that unless he’s actually involved in something.”
“Like Frazier’s murder,” Tripp said.
Jared shook his head. “Even if they managed to prove he killed Frazier, it wouldn’t change anything for him. He already has life without parole. Whatever this is, it’s bigger than that, and he doesn’t want the Republic anywhere near it.”
“Do you think it’s the PRM?” Zira asked.
“Maybe.”
“All the more reason for us to figure out exactly what he’s up to,” said Alma. “Come on. It looks like we’ve got work to do.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Once they’d checked out of their motel rooms, Zira, Jared, and Tripp got into Alma’s car to head for the airport. Alma began making calls as soon as they were in motion, presumably to her coworkers at the SIO office. She barked orders with all the authority of an experienced military general as she directed her subordinates to one task or another. She seemed well suited to the responsibility—something that was unsurprising to Zira, who had appreciated the woman’s leadership capabilities when she’d been part of her squad during the rebels’ attack on the compound.
The man Alma now spoke to had just dropped a subtle complaint about the difficulties involved in acquiring footage from the area where Frazier was found murdered. Apparently, the local authorities were unconcerned with fulfilling the request in a timely manner. “I don’t care if you have to light a fire under the whole department to get them to do something,” Alma said. “I want that footage ready to go first thing tomorrow morning when I bring in the experts.”
“I’ll get it done,” he replied.
Alma disconnected the call and looked up at the others. “That was Salim. He’s one of the people I’ve assigned to the team you’ll all be a part of.”
In that case, Zira wished she had paid a little more attention to the man, but she’d meet him and the rest of her new teammates soon enough.
Jared cleared his throat. “Ms. Rosales?”
“Just Alma, por favor.”
“Alma. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“How did you convince President Bradshaw to agree to this?”
“It wasn’t easy, but he’s a reasonable man. He saw the value in putting your skills to good use. It helped that Zira, Tripp, and Seth all vouched for you.”
Zira looked at Tripp questioningly. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her about talking to Alma or Chase regarding Jared’s arrangement.
“I made a call,” he said. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“But Seth, too?” she asked.
Alma nodded. “He reminded Chase that Ryku and the PRM are the bigger threat here and we should use whatever advantage is offered to us.” She looked at Jared. “He also said you have good intentions, even if you haven’t always done the best job of demonstrating that.”
“That’s…accurate,” Jared muttered.
Zira shook her head, still mildly surprised Seth had backed up her proposal. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but she had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that he wasn’t quite as big a jerk as he seemed sometimes.
“Oh!” said Alma. “I almost forgot about the other thing I wanted to show you. Tripp’s seen it already, and Jared, you’ve probably at least heard about it. The PEACE Reunification Project?”
Jared and Tripp both nodded, but Zira remained confused. “What is it?”
“After we sorted through the Project’s old files, we compiled a database of everyone who was removed from their family as a child and placed in the Project. Parents or siblings can provide identification to log in, see where their family member ended up, and put their own information into the database. If the former Project member and the family member both express an interest in reconnecting, the system provides each person with the other’s contact information. Hundreds of former Project members have been reu
nited with their families already. Mostly the younger kids, but some adults, too. I can show you, if you want.”
Zira’s stomach lurched in a dipping motion unrelated to the movement of the car. She’d never really entertained the idea of meeting her biological family, and now it might be a real possibility. Was it something she even wanted, though?
She looked at Jared, who wore an expression that appeared just as conflicted as she felt. “I haven’t done it,” he said. “Giving my information to the government seemed like a bad idea before now.”
She turned to Tripp. “What would you do?”
“I knew my family, kid. It’s not the same.”
“But if it was?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Doesn’t hurt to look, I guess.”
A good point, and she was curious. She turned back to Alma. “Okay, why not?”
Alma typed a few things into her CL and a projection popped up over her wrist. The words PEACE Reunification Project hovered there in plain white letters against a soothing teal background. After a few seconds, two options faded in to replace the words. Alma tapped the first option labeled, “For former PEACE Project members,” and passed her CL to Zira.
Zira entered her information when prompted and verified her identity with a series of questions and a fingerprint scan. A tiny pyramid rotated in the center of the projection as the system processed her request and searched for her family. She sucked in a breath in an effort to still the fluttering in her stomach.
The pyramid disappeared, and two words faded into view. No match.
Zira looked up at Alma. “What does that mean?”
“Could mean a couple of things. Either your family hasn’t logged into the system yet, or they did and decided they didn’t want to make contact.”
The anxious fluttering in Zira’s stomach turned to a dull, hollow discouragement, which she quickly buried. It wasn’t like she was missing out on anything. She had a family already—Tripp and Aubreigh, even Jared, Alma, and maybe Seth. It wasn’t a traditional family, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She didn’t need a traditional family.
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