Daughter of Ra

by M. Sasinowski

  The woman moved to the table. “Now, shall we put your freshly acquired knowledge into practice?” She faced Clay. “Mr. Obono?”

  Clay looked up from the laptop and sat up straighter in the chair at the head of the table.

  “Would you care for lunch now, sir?” she asked him.

  “Would I ever!” Clay exclaimed. “I’m starved like a —”

  Ms. Brandenthorpe raised another eyebrow, and Clay cleared his throat. “I mean… Yes, ma’am. Indeed, I would.”

  “Miss Morgan, Mr. Matthews, if you would be so kind.” She pointed to the table.

  If there was a Hell, Alyssa spent the next hour in it, having Mrs. Brandenthorpe draw attention to every single misstep while she and Paul served lunch for Clay and his six imaginary VIP friends.

  Alyssa shot an envious glance at Paul, who seemed to move around with ease and grace.

  How is he so good at it?

  By the time it came to clear the plates, her brain felt like it was going to explode, and she was slowly losing the struggle with the pounding inside her temples.

  “Miss Morgan!” Mrs. Brandenthorpe exclaimed.

  Alyssa jolted, almost dropping the stack of plates.

  “We do not stack the tableware! That may cause undesired clinking. Please watch Mr. Matthews.”

  Alyssa’s nostrils flared. I’ll clink— She bit her lip and kept her mouth shut.

  “And what is the final step before dessert is served?” the woman asked.

  Alyssa stared at her cluelessly. Paul shrugged.

  “Crumbling the table, of course,” Mrs. Brandenthorpe exclaimed, her voice ringing out enthusiastically. “It is the key to freshening up before serving pudding.” She handed Alyssa a thin brush and put her hand on Alyssa’s wrist. “We use small movements of the wrist to remove the crumbs, like so, while—”

  Alyssa snatched her wrist away from the woman’s hand. “Enough!” she threw her hands up in exasperation. “I can’t take this anymore!” She flung the brush across the room.

  Mrs. Brandenthorpe recoiled, gasping. “Miss Morgan!” she said, her face a mirror of indignation. “Such an outburst is not becoming of a silver service stewardess.”

  “The Society may be planning an epidemic, and I’m learning about crumbling the table!” Alyssa shrieked. “We don’t even know if Lord Renley will be able to get us on board that friggin’ boat!”

  The woman stared at her as if Alyssa had just stepped on the Queen’s corgi.

  “It’s more of a ship,” Renley’s voice rang from the door, “and the answer to that particular question appears to be yes.”

  Alyssa whirled. “I’m sorry…” she started, heat flushing her cheeks.

  “Fortunately, as I had hoped, my word still appears to carry some influence within certain circles of the Society,” Renley continued, seemingly unperturbed. “I was able to recommend you both for positions as junior stewards. You will start tomorrow.”

  Paul’s plate hit the table with a loud clang. “Wha-what?” he stammered. “Tomorrow?”

  “There is a helicopter in Tenerife that is scheduled to leave for the Valediction in eight hours,” Renley said. “I suggest we do our best to ensure you are both aboard that flight.”

  Paul stared at him, swallowing hard. “But we don’t have a plan yet. And there’s so much more to learn!”

  “The jet will take you to Tenerife. We can discuss the plan en route,” Renley replied.

  Alyssa’s eyes lit up. “Then we’d better start getting ready!” She ripped off her serving apron with a flare and handed it to Mrs. Brandenthorpe with her best imitation of a deep curtsy then spun and raced out of the room.

  Paul’s eyes ping-ponged between Mrs. Brandenthorpe and Alyssa’s back. “But we haven’t even finished our crumbling lesson!” he called after her, his voice cracking.

  6 West of Tenerife

  The Atlantic Ocean stretched in all directions beneath her, the fading sunlight scattering diamonds across its surface. Despite the heavy sound-dampening headset that covered Alyssa’s ears, the hour-long pounding of the propeller blades had begun to rattle her brain as the helicopter swept through the air, a thousand feet above the whitecaps.

  She turned from the window and glanced across the cramped, four-passenger cabin at Paul—

  James. Not Paul, she reminded herself. James Truman. From Chester.

  He rested in the tight seat across from her, eyes closed, his head drooping onto his chest.

  How can he sleep through all this noise and shaking?

  She studied his face, still trying to get used to his freshly cropped short hair and cleanly shaved chin. Renley said that, as junior stewards, they would be unlikely to run into any Society members during their short stay, much less any who might actually recognize them. Still, they weren’t taking any chances. Her own transformation had been no less dramatic than Paul’s. She scrutinized the reflection of her made-up face and blonde curls twisted into a French braid. She pushed the red-rimmed glasses over the bridge of her nose. In addition to aiding in her disguise, the glasses contained a miniature camera in the left temple. Their only links to the outside were two sets of military-spec communication units disguised as Bluetooth earbuds. Once they hooked their phones into the ship’s Wi-Fi, the earbuds should allow them to piggyback an encrypted signal over the yacht’s satellite uplink and communicate with Clay. At least, that’s the plan. Alyssa hoped he was right, or they’d be completely on their own.

  Her throat tightened at the thought of falling into the Society’s hands. It was that possibility that convinced her to leave the crystal behind with Clay. She was reluctant to part with it, but knew it was the safest thing to do. She hadn’t even told Paul about the crystal. The fewer people knew about it, the better.

  “There she is, boys and girls,” the pilot’s voice rang in her headset, interrupting her thoughts. “Starboard side, two o’clock.”

  Paul jerked awake and glanced out the window. Alyssa twisted in her seat and followed his eyes. She gasped. Despite Renley’s description, seeing the ship in real life was every bit as striking as he had predicted it would be.

  The Valediction was the largest superyacht in the world. Even though it was privately owned, the details of its design and functions were as tightly guarded as the specifications of a top secret military vessel. At over six hundred feet long it was almost twice the length of a football field, with a complement of over a hundred crew, all highly screened and sworn to secrecy. The hull was painted a deep metallic silver that shimmered in the fading sunlight. The superstructure above the hull was completely enclosed by a sleek arrow-shaped glass dome that hid the deck and made the yacht appear more like a spaceship than a boat. Rising from the top of the glass, four Doppler radar domes and an array of antennas completed the unearthly look.

  The young man sitting next to Paul craned his neck across the narrow isle to steal a glance out of Paul’s window.

  “Crickey, that’s one mother of a ship,” he blurted out, his thick accent ringing through her headset. Dan Malone, the lanky Aussie with a craggy nose and eyebrows that could have passed for a pair of bushy caterpillars, gave Alyssa a boyish grin and a shameless wink when he spotted her glance. He was as talkative as he seemed eager to start his twelve-week rotation as the kitchen porter and only stopped running his mouth after the pilot told him to cut the chatter.

  “It is impressive,” the fourth and final occupant of their cabin said. Lisa’s pinched-lipped expression and tight ponytail matched the rigid posture she’d held throughout the entire flight. A twenty-year-old from Switzerland, she spent the last two years serving as a hofdame, or court lady, for a Danish noblewoman.

  Alyssa turned her attention back to the ship, its structure rising out of the water, reflecting the fading sunlight like an island.

  Without warning, a cascade of images blinded her, frozen snapshots of another life, popping like camera flashes in her head.

  A tall spire rising high above the water… T
he wind whips into me as I plunge to it, the tower growing larger and larger in my vision—

  Alyssa gasped.

  “Jane!” Paul’s voice snapped her back. “Are you okay?”

  Alyssa’s breath caught in her chest. She swallowed to gain her voice. “I… I’m fine,” she said. Dan and Lisa eyed her with concern.

  “Everything okay back there?” the pilot asked.

  “I’m good,” she mumbled. “Just… feeling a bit motion sick, that’s all.”

  “Hold it together,” the pilot said. “We’ll be wheels down in two minutes.”

  Paul frowned, looking entirely unconvinced, as Lisa slipped her hand into the side pocket of the seat. She fished out a paper bag.

  “Here,” she said, giving Alyssa a small smile. “Just in case.”

  “Thank you,” Alyssa glanced down, avoiding Paul’s gaze, but could feel his eyes on her. She curled her fingers into tight fists to keep her hands from trembling.

  The helicopter circled the ship once and swung around for a landing. A section of the glass canopy slid open, and a circular platform rose up. The canopy appeared to grow larger beneath them as the pilot lowered the chopper onto the ten-foot H stamped on the white helipad.

  Only now did she get a true sense of the vessel, a glass island in the middle of the ocean. They set down with the slightest of bumps, then the engine noise cut out, and the rotors began spinning down. Alyssa let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

  She flinched as the platform shuddered and descended into the ship, the glass hatch slowly closing above them. As it sealed, her eyes met Paul’s. The expression in his face mirrored her own thoughts.

  We’re in the lion’s den.

  Alyssa glanced into the eyes of the most physically intimidating man she had ever seen. He was tall, fair-haired, big as a bear and twice as mean looking. His gaze rested calmly on her from beneath the visor of his military style patrol cap that matched the fatigues straining to contain his bulk. The smell of burned aircraft fuel stung her eyes, but she kept his gaze unblinking as he sized her up. Several long seconds later he moved past her to Paul, who stood on her right.

  Five minutes ago, the four of them had exited the helicopter and were ordered to line up, keep silent, and await further instructions. A short while later, this mountain of a man entered the small hangar, accompanied by a diminutive woman dressed in a white coat, carrying what looked like a small cooler. Her short auburn hair was combed neatly into a boyish cut.

  The man pointed at the woman. “This is Ms. Agnews, our chief nurse. My name is Sergeant Maxwell Torin. I am head of security on the Valediction.” His voice was measured, his speech surprisingly eloquent. “The safety and well-being of the members and the crew have been placed in my hands. I will protect both from any external—” he swept his gaze over them—“or internal threats.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Any questions?” His eyes rested on Alyssa.

  “No, sir,” she said.

  He moved closer to her until her view was fully obstructed by his chest. She craned her head.

  “You may address me as Sergeant, Sergeant Torin, or even Mr. Torin,” he said, “but please do not call me ‘sir.’ I work for a living.”

  She swallowed hard. “Yes, Sergeant,” she said.

  He let his gaze linger on Alyssa for another heartbeat before nodding to the woman behind him.

  “Ms. Agnews,” he said.

  The woman pointed to the metal bins before them. “Please empty your pockets and place all items into the tray directly in front of you,” she said.

  Alyssa deposited her purse and phone into the tray and glanced to Paul. He pulled out his headset and placed it into his tray along with his phone and wallet. The case of Paul’s phone looked like a standard battery case, but it contained a highly sophisticated digital lockpick. The slim electronic skeleton key was controlled by a decryption software app on the phone that was disguised as a word puzzle game. Fortunately, Renley was able to warn them about the tight security protocols, and Clay assured them that the devices would stand up to even the most rigorous inspection.

  Sergeant Torin waited for them to finish, then reached to his belt and pulled out a metal detector wand. He motioned Lisa to him. She stepped forward and spread out her arms. He tracked the wand across her body while the woman carefully inspected the contents of Lisa’s tray. A few moments later he motioned her back. He waved to Alyssa.

  She approached him and copied Lisa’s posture. She held her breath instinctively as he inspected her. When he finished, he pointed to Paul and then Dan. Ms. Agnews gave a slight nod.

  “You may retrieve your items,” he said.

  Well, that wasn’t so bad, Alyssa thought, reaching for her purse and phone.

  “The final security measure ensures that you stay within the authorized boundaries of the vessel,” Torin said. “Due to some unfortunate events that occurred in the last several days, we have increased our security protocols.”

  Ms. Agnews opened the cooler and lifted a device that looked like a cross between a hypodermic needle and a pistol.

  “This is a hypodermic injector,” she said. “It deposits a micro-tracker under your skin that will allow us to monitor your whereabouts while you’re on board. This measure has been put in place for the safety of the ship and for your own protection.”

  Alyssa froze. Her mind raced as their plan threatened to derail in front of their eyes. Renley had told them about electronically locked tracking bracelets, and Clay had already instructed them on how to crack the locking mechanism. They were not prepared for this.

  How am I supposed to get into the server room with a tracking device inside me?

  Paul placed a calming hand on her arm, as if sensing her thoughts.

  Ms. Agnews caught the exchange.

  “I know it sounds scary,” she said, misinterpreting Alyssa’s alarmed face. “But please rest assured that this device is completely harmless. It’s only the size of a grain of rice, and the injection isn’t any more painful than getting a flu shot.” She gave a reassuring smile. “Now, who wants to go first?”

  For several seconds nobody moved. Finally, Dan stepped forward. “Ah, hell, let’s just get this over with.”

  An acid churning had begun in Alyssa’s gut. This could not be happening. All of their planning and hard work was going down the drain. The hangar appeared to close in around her. They were trapped, and now the Society was going to be able to track her every move. Their plan—

  “Ow! Fu—” Dan cried out before catching himself. He glared at Ms. Agnews and rubbed his forearm. “Flu shot, my arse!”

  “You big baby,” Ms. Agnews teased. “It’ll stop stinging in a couple of minutes. If it doesn’t, come by the med bay. I’ll get you a Spidey Band-Aid to make it feel better.”

  Dan fell back in line, his face glowing red.

  Paul moved up and rolled up his sleeve. Alyssa tensed, but she knew they didn’t have a choice. Any objections would only cause suspicion.

  Ms. Agnews sterilized Paul’s forearm then reloaded the injector with another cartridge from the cooler and pressed it against his skin. He grimaced when she squeezed the trigger.

  He stepped back. “See, nothing to worry about,” he said to Alyssa, tugging the corners of his mouth into a smile, but she didn’t fail to notice the concern in his eyes.

  Alyssa took a deep breath and approached the woman. The alcohol tingled her skin as Ms. Agnews swiped the antiseptic pad across her forearm. Alyssa read the name on the side of the device. Biojector.

  “Take a deep breath and let it out,” Ms. Agnews said. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

  It took all of Alyssa’s willpower not to tear her hand from the woman’s grasp. The swish of the autoinjector merged with the sensation of a hot needle piercing her flesh. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make a sound it was all over. A dull pain remained that slowly transformed to an ache.

  “All done.” The woman p
laced an adhesive bandage over the injection site and patted her on her back. She waved over to Lisa. “Last but not least.”

  “I… I do not think I can do it,” Lisa said, her Swiss accent exaggerated by her anxiety.

  Alyssa realized that she had been so worried about them noticing her own apprehension that she didn’t even notice Lisa’s.

  “I am very afraid of this,” Lisa said, her face pale. “I… I wish to reconsider this assignment… please.”

  “Are you certain?” Ms. Agnews asked, eyes narrowing for an instant.

  Lisa nodded.

  “Very well,” Ms. Agnews said. She glanced at Sergeant Torin.

  “You will be placed on the next flight out to the mainland,” he added. “However, since you refused the bio-tracker, you will be guarded at all times while on board.”

  Lisa nodded silently, stifling a sob.

  Torin lifted his hand to his earpiece. “The other transmitters are functioning properly,” he said, facing the other three. “You are now free to move about the sanctioned areas of the Valediction. Ms. Agnews will show you to your quarters.”

  He motioned to Lisa and said, “Please come with me.”

  Lisa followed him. Before she disappeared through the door, she turned, catching Alyssa’s eye.

  Ms. Agnews picked up the cooler. “Ready to see your cabins?”

  “What about our bags?” Dan asked.

  “Your bags will be delivered to you shortly,” she replied.

  Alyssa glanced at Paul. No doubt the delivery service was another opportunity to search through their belongings.

  They moved to the far corner of the hangar, stopping in front an elevator. Ms. Agnews pressed a button to summon it.

  Dan pointed to a glass elevator across the hangar. “Can we take that sweet glass one, instead?”

  “That particular elevator is for the exclusive use of our guests,” Ms. Agnews said, “and is off-limits to you. This is the crew elevator.”

  Dan’s face sagged, but he nodded. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside. Alyssa marveled at the polished wood and matte bronze accents inside. If this is the crew elevator, what does the other one look like?