When I exit into the alley, Lin’s already waiting. “What took you so long?” she says. “I’ve already lost ten minutes of my break.”
“I got fired,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Shh, I don’t want to make a big deal about it.”
As we walk to lunch, I tell her what happened.
“You got that close to Lecter on your first attempt? You are on a mission!” Lin says.
“Shh,” I say, “keep your voice down. I’ve lost my best chance—the chance that I was lucky enough to stumble upon—to get close to him. I messed up, Lin, went for too much, too soon.”
We stop talking for a few minutes as we scan our wrists at a different eatery than yesterday. Inside, it looks the same. The same food, the same guards in the corners, the same bored, expressionless citizens sitting and eating, barely talking. It’s really starting to creep me out. These people have lost the will to live.
“So what’s your next move?” Lin whispers when we sit down. A purple rectangle stares up at me from my plate. I mash it with my fork, mix it in with the yellow and green ones on either side. Maybe together they’ll taste better than apart. I take a bite.
Blech. Maybe not.
I ponder Lin’s question. It’s just a setback, not failure. I’ve still got options and my identity is still secure, which is the most important thing. But clearly I’m running out of time. The soldiers I left in the electrical room will be found soon, and then I’ll be presidentially screwed. I’m still convinced the fastest way to end all of this is to get to Lecter.
“Where does Lecter live?” I ask.
~~~
Lin insists on sharing her dinner with me, because, no matter how many times I try scanning my wrist, the food dispenser just looks back at me with a single red eye. She also wants to come with me to Lecter’s place.
“No,” Avery and I say at the exact same time.
“Why not?” Lin says. “I’ve been helpful so far, haven’t I?”
“You have,” I say. “But there’s a curfew?”
She nods.
“And they check that everyone’s where they’re supposed to be using their chips?”
Another nod. Avery’s nodding along with his niece, apparently in complete agreement with where I’m going with this.
“So you’ll be caught before you get half a block. The Enforcers will Taser you and haul you away.”
“What about you?” Lin asks. “You have the same problem.”
I take a deep breath, roll up my sleeve, and peel away the bandage.
“Yuck, what died in there?” Lin says, covering her mouth with the top of her shirt.
“What in God’s name?” Avery says.
I almost want to throw up, too. My arm’s a mess, the wound Tristan inflicted jagged and torn, filmed with black-red-brown dried blood, oozing with cream-colored scabbing, still moist. Beneath it is the small welt from the fresh chip injection I received on my first day.
“You want to help me, Lin? Dig out my chip.”
“You can’t be serious,” Avery says, still staring at my mangled skin.
“I’ll do it,” Lin says.
“Wait just a minute,” Avery says, “there has to be another way.”
“I’m listening,” I say. “If you know another way to trick the system, I’m all ears.”
He bites his lip, cringes, says, “I know someone who might be able to help. I could talk to him tomorrow.”
“I don’t have time for tomorrow,” I say. “I’ve got to do this tonight, keep things moving. The sooner I figure out whether killing Lecter is a possibility, the sooner I’ll be able to either end this or move on to the next option.”
“And what’s the next option, Adele?” Avery’s hands are in the air. “You going to smash through the Dome, destroy the city, throw grenades into the army barracks?”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” I say.
“Even if it means dying?” I’m surprised because the question comes from Lin, not Avery. She’s looking at me intently, watching for my reaction.
Meeting her gaze, I say, “Yes. Even if it means dying.”
Avery groans. “Don’t go filling her head with that suicidal nonsense.”
“It’s not suicide, Avery. My mother, my sister, my boyfriend, my best friend…they’re out there, counting on me to do this. They believe I can do this.”
“You’re one crazy girl, you know that?” Avery says, breaking the tension with a grim smile.
“So I’ve been told,” I say, quirking up the side of my lip. “Now will you let your niece dig out my chip?”
“No,” he says, and I’m about to protest, but then he adds, “I’ll do it.”
~~~
My arm hurts like hell, but at least the bleeding finally stopped. A thick bandage and a long-sleeved shirt hide any evidence of the ad hoc procedure. Avery had to use the tines of my fork to get the chip out, and the only thing that stopped me from screaming like a banshee was Lin stuffing a towel in my mouth.
Not my brightest moment.
But it’s done now, and we scanned the removed chip into my bed, laying down chairs on the mattress to try to trick it into thinking I’m sleeping.
Time to go.
“Be careful,” Avery says. “No unnecessary risks.”
“They’re all necessary at this point,” I say wryly.
“You know what I mean.”
I give him a quick hug, because it just feels right after everything they’re doing for me. Lin goes down with me, because the exit door won’t open without someone scanning their chip, and my chip needs to stay in my bed with the chairs.
When we reach the bottom, I give her a hug too. “Knock when you get back,” she says, but I get the feeling she’s just saying it to make us both feel better. It’s not likely that I’ll be coming back. “And kick some presidential ass.”
“I will,” I say. She scans her wrist on the door, which will raise some alarms, but then they’ll assume she just poked her head out for some fresh air the moment she scans it upstairs and gets into bed.
I slip out, a blind spot on Lecter’s radar; like a ghost, I’m invisible.
“There will be night patrols,” Avery told me before I left. “The city’s broken up into eight quadrants, each with a separate patrol pattern. You’ll have to make your way across three of these to reach your destination. Watch each patrol to get a feel for it, and then make your move.”
I didn’t ask him how he knows of all of this. I’ll just have to take his word for it.
The first patrol is in our quadrant, and I won’t have a chance to observe it because I’m already in the thick of it. My only chance is silent speed. My white clothes flash around me as I race down the street, and, not for the first time, I wish for a darker wardrobe.
Reaching the first cross street, I turn right. I’m halfway down the block when I hear voices and footsteps, just ahead, perhaps around the corner. I slam on the brakes, bolt across the street, duck into an alley. It’s full of shadows that grab me and pull me under, cloaking my presence.
Across the street, two Enforcers stroll by, carrying semi-automatic weapons and talking and laughing. They look completely relaxed. I’m guessing they usually get a pre-warning if someone’s out on the streets who shouldn’t be. Because they won’t get that warning, they’ll think it’s just another boring night on the job.
They pass and I slip behind them, sticking to the route that Avery and Lin mapped out for me. Two more blocks and then left, leaving the first quadrant. I look for a place to hide, to observe.
There are no nearby alleys, but there is a military truck, parked near the corner. It’s not safe enough to prowl behind it, so I dive to the ground, roll underneath, peer out.
Silence.
If the city is strange and sterile and somewhat frightening during the day, at night it’s downright spooky. Not a soul in sight. Utter silence. Dim lighting from lamp posts, sheening everything with a luminescent white
glow.
Voices. Footsteps. The next patrol. Different than the last one. Four Enforcers, two on each side of the road, shining lights in alleyways and at the shadows as they pass. I’m lucky I didn’t try hiding from these ones. My only choice here is to avoid them completely. They’re coming right for me, but Avery promised they wouldn’t cross over into our quadrant, so I’m holding my breath and biting on my thumb and hoping he’s right…
They turn right at the intersection, away from me. I let out a silent breath.
There’s no time to waste. I roll out from hiding, scramble to my feet, and bolt across the road, running hard, secure in my knowledge that the patrol is behind me. Three blocks, make a right—
WHAM!
Something hits me; or rather, I hit it. Not a wall, because it gives way, groaning and collapsing in front of me as I stumble over it. A person. No, an Enforcer. Another patrol in the same quadrant? Avery must’ve forgotten to mention that.
But I’ve hit him from behind and landed on top of him, and though I’m shocked, I’m already recovering, raising my hands like a club, ready to bash his skull in…
When I see the blood.
It’s already pooling around us, escaping from somewhere in the front of his head, which he must’ve hit on the stone-block street when he fell. My head’s on a swivel, looking for his partner, who’s probably right behind me about to—
Nothing. We’re alone. Which really means that I’m alone, because I’m pretty sure this guy is dead.
Crap, crap, crap!
This was not part of the plan. I could try dragging him away to an alley somewhere, but I won’t have time to clean up the blood. Do I go back, find a way to break into Avery and Lin’s building, knock on their door, start over fresh in the morning? Or do I continue on, really turn this into a suicide mission, doing everything in my power to kill Lecter tonight?
I go on, grabbing only the dead guy’s gun, which thankfully clattered away in front of him, several feet out of range of the blood.
I leave the body, dashing into the night, being more careful, peeking around corners before turning them. The second quadrant disappears behind me and I don’t stop to observe the patrols in the third quadrant, because at any second someone might raise the alarm that there’s a dead Enforcer in the streets and a crazed, disgruntled, chipless citizen on the loose.
It might be luck, it might be fate, or it might just be that the entire patrol had to take a bathroom break, but whatever it is, I don’t see a single Enforcer in the third quadrant.
And just like Avery said, there was no chance I’d miss Lecter’s house. House is a loose term—it’s more like a mansion or palace. Not quite as grand as the Nailin Palace—after all, it’s still as sterile and white as everything else in the city—the presidential quarters are surrounded by a head-high brick wall—easily climbable—with a tall, glass sheet above it—impossible to climb.
I creep along the wall, looking for a break, a gate, something.
There’s nothing on the side I’m on, so I turn the corner and head down the next section of wall. Ahead there’s a blank spot in the wall. An entrance?
Tucking my stolen pistol under the waistband in the small of my back, I stride toward the gap, like it’s the most normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night. When I risk a quick glance through the entrance, I see a guard station. There are three guards this time, each toting black weapons.
Things are about to get even messier.
I turn the corner, advancing without caution, like I belong. One of the guard’s shouts and then there are three guns pointed at my head. “Hiya, boys,” I say.
“How the hell did you get onto the streets?” one of them asks, a tall brute with a chest like an iron statue. There’s no way I’ll be able to take him one on one.
“A little gift from Borgie,” I say, rolling the made up pet name for Lecter off my tongue like syrup. “He made it possible so I could pay him a little visit.” Although I know I’m just playing a role, my own words make me want to spew up the half-dinner I ate.
“No one told us,” the second guard says, a guy with a face so wide it almost looks stretched.
“He doesn’t always tell us,” the third guard says, his dark skin like chocolate, his white teeth flashing with each word. It’s music to my ears, not that I’m surprised. I’d expect a man like Lecter to take advantage of every last bit of his power. Maybe he likes the young ones the best. The only question left: Will they buy it?
“Lecter’s not even here,” Iron-Chest says. “Something happened. He rushed off with his guards.”
My heart sinks. Now I’ve got myself a real problem. How to talk my way out of here, away from these guys, who are still pointing their guns at me, although they’ve dropped them a little, more toward my legs. But should I talk my way out?
“We’ll send someone to escort you home, ma’am,” Wide-Jaw says, the polite one in the group.
I make a decision. Screw getting away from here. I’m only going to have so many chances. “Maybe I could wait inside,” I say. “Borgie won’t like it if he doesn’t get a chance to see me tonight.”
White-Teeth’s mouth flashes open to speak, but I hurry on. “I could even keep you boys company. We could take turns.” Vomit, vomit, spew, vomit. I let my thoughts hurl—no pun intended—through my head, but my face is relaxed, my lips pouted out slightly, as I look at them through lowered lashes.
“Ma’am, I think we’d better get you home,” Wide-Jaw says.
I close my eyes. Either I have zero sex appeal, or Lecter’s chosen, trained, and paid his guards well, because these guys aren’t falling for it. Which leaves only one option. Brute force.
The moment Wide-Jaw steps within my circle of reach, I snap a kick hard and high, rocking his monstrous jaw back, his teeth clacking together as his open mouth bites shut. One of the other guards shouts something, but I’m not listening because I’m already drawing my pistol, aiming it at Iron-Chest’s bulging left pec, pulling the trigger…
BOOM!
The gunshot rocks the silence like an explosion, and even as he’s raising his gun he’s falling back, a red hole in his chest, which apparently isn’t made of iron after all.
I dive to the side, because I know—I know—that when you fight three guys, the one to be the most worried about is the third.
Bullets whine through the air around me, ricocheting off of the brick wall and the cement walkway. I scrape against the ground, the impact stinging my arms and legs, feeling a particularly sharp burst of pain where Avery stabbed me with a freaking fork earlier, but I ignore it because it’s nothing.
Turning, I fire three shots, each of them into White-Teeth’s gut. Even as his eyes widen and his mouth opens to reveal his pearly whites, he raises his arm to take a final shot. I’m a sitting duck and it’s all I can do to turn my body, hoping to get hit somewhere that won’t kill me, like an arm or a leg, just not the head…
There’s a thud. No gunshot. Just a thud.
Slowly, I roll over. White-Teeth is down, his fingers still closed around the trigger, even though they didn’t have enough strength left to pull it.
Nearby, Wide-Jaw is groaning and rolling around. Blood’s pouring from his mouth, from his teeth—which are probably broken and shattered—and his tongue—which he might’ve bitten off.
Images of bodies…children and men and women…
Lying dead in the desert…
Grinning soldiers, mugging for the camera…
I shoot Wide-Jaw in the head.
And then, even as voices and lights rain down from the building above me, I run past the guard station and dart along the side of the structure, into a narrow space between the outer wall and Lecter’s house.
In the shadows, I stop, because I’m shaking and breathless and freaking crying uncontrollably, my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. What did I just do? When did I become a cold-blooded killing machine? Is this what my mother and Tristan’s mother were hoping for
when they chose me? Is this what my father intended when he trained me?
Back against the wall, I slide to the ground, trying to get control, trying to justify my actions. There are bad people and good people. Those were bad people, right? Do I know that for sure? Do I know anything for sure? But they were polite and they didn’t even try to take me up on my lewd offer…
Tristan. His name pops into my head and at first I cry harder, but then I grab onto him. He’s something I know for sure, and if he was here, I know he’d trust that what I did to those men was necessary. Anyone carrying guns for Lecter is undeserving of mercy. I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears, grit my teeth and clench my fists and pull every last muscle in my body tight.
I. Get. Control.
There are voices in the front now. Scared shouts and calls for help. They’ve discovered the bodies. They’ll be searching the premises. I have to find somewhere to hide.
And Lecter’s not even here. Where could he possibly be? What could be so urgent that he’d rush off into the night? Did they find the Tri-Tribes? Will we get an announcement about another massacre in the morning?
I have to believe we won’t.
Above me, the building rises three stories. Those searching for me will check the lower floors first; the higher I can get the better. I start to climb, starting with a windowsill and then grabbing onto a pipe, tightening my feet around it and pulling myself up. My muscles are still burning from all the cleaning I did this morning and my arm hurts like Avery is still jabbing it with the fork, but all of that is just pain. I bite it away.
Reaching the second floor, I find a foothold on another sill, and then reach up to grab a third-floor window. I shove upwards with all my might, but the window doesn’t budge, doesn’t move one inch. Locked.