Legacy: The Girl in the Box #8 (27 page)

“In my official capacity as someone whose sole focus is beating the holy hell out of every member of Century. Preferably with their own limbs after I’ve ripped them from their bodies.” I let a little heat sizzle through the line. It wasn’t feigned.

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You’ve got my attention.”

“I’m calling you because I was under the impression you might be a person who’s of a similar mindset,” I said. “Someone who’d like to put Sovereign’s back against the wall and nail him tight to it.”

I heard her breathe on the other end of the line, and I could almost hear her contemplating my words. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but if you think you’re going to beat Sovereign, I’m going to go ahead and say you’re either crazy, naïve, or you don’t know what you’re up against.”

I waited to see if she would say anything else. She didn’t, so I spoke. “But you’re not hanging up.” I paused for a second. “And you’ve gone and stuck a splinter in Century’s paw yourself.”

She was thinking it over, I was sure of it. “What have you got in mind? Since I assume you’re not calling me to let me know what you’re going to do just so I can write it up in a declaration of intent and frame it for you.”

“I don’t know what your penmanship looks like, but I would definitely be looking to outsource that work,” I said. I looked at my mom, who stared back at me with a look of annoyance that was all too familiar. I shrugged. Cracking wise was not something I was going to give up at this late stage in my life. “No, I’m calling you because I figured that as two people who have a common goal, i.e. kicking Century in the dangly parts, I figured we might be able to accomplish more together than individually.”

There was a long pause after that, and only her light breathing every few seconds convinced me that she hadn’t hung up out of hand. I wanted to give her time to think, but at the same time, I was wondering what was going on in her thought process. It felt like forever, but was probably only a few seconds before she came back with, “What did you have in mind? Specifically?”

“I’m planning to put a severe hurting on Century,” I said. “Soon. I could use a few more metas in my camp. Any chance you’d like to visit us here in Minnesota?”

She didn’t hesitate much this time around. “I was planning on heading south, but it’s just too damned hot in California. Going east sounds like a real good idea.” There was a hoarse amusement in the way she said it. “Strength in numbers, right?”

“Seems less intimidating when it’s not a hundred versus one, doesn’t it?” I asked.

There was a stark, humorless laugh. “Only marginally. Is this a number I can reach you on?”

“Yeah,” I said, and clutched the phone a little tighter. “It’s my direct line; it’ll find me, day or night, unless I’m in the middle of punching someone in the face at the time.”

“Then, from what I’ve heard about you, it’ll barely ever catch you at all?” Her voice was laced with irony.

“I’ve slowed down a lot lately,” I said. “Saving all my face punching for Sovereign and his crew, and they’ve yet to do much to present their chins for a solid hit.”

I heard her click her tongue. “True enough. We’ll be there in a few days, and maybe together we can find a way to change that up a little bit.” There was a clicking noise, and the line cut off. I set the phone gently back down in the cradle, running through everything I’d just heard. I looked around at my team, and found them staring back at me. Reed in particularly looked jaded about the whole exchange. “She came around pretty fast.”

“Not to sound cliché,” Reed said, “but anyone else think it was a little too fast? Especially considering she knows she’s killed government agents and that you’re working for said government.”

I chewed my lower lip. “Could be she’s just anxious because she feels the heat of Century’s breath coming down her neck. The enemy you know ...”

“Versus the one you don’t?” My mother spoke from behind me. “She might prefer the possibility of jail to the certainty of Century eventually killing her. It allows her to abdicate responsibility for keeping her group on the run.”

“Let’s not plan on her good graces,” I said, tapping my fingers on the desk. “J.J., any luck tracking her?”

“That’s a negatory,” J.J. said, shaking his head, still staring at his laptop screen. “I’ll dig a little deeper, but based on what I’m seeing here, I’m not even hopeful about giving you a location based on what tower she was using on the network. Which would be cheerfully vague, in any case, and several hours out of date by the time I ran it down.” He picked up his laptop and stood, heading toward the door. He paused next to Karthik, just as he was about to reach for the handle. “By the way, about that other thing I sent you ...” His voice trailed off. “I ... um ... sorry I couldn’t be more specific.”

I frowned. “What other thing?” I tried to remember if I’d gotten some email of consequence from him, but nothing was standing out.

“The tracking notice,” he said, looking at me blankly. “I sent it to Ariadne. I figured she would have forwarded it to you by now.” He pursed his lips, and looked very uncomfortable. “She probably hasn’t gotten to it yet. I just sent it an hour or so ago. Never mind.” He started to turn, but a look from me to Karthik caused a hand to be placed in front of the door, shutting it tight.

“J.J ...” I said, trying not to be too menacing but probably failing. “Why don’t you save Ariadne the trouble and just tell me what you found?”

“Um, right,” he said, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses as he turned back to me. He kept his head down, staring at the carpet. “I, uh, was combing airline reservation computers along with some NSA PRISM intercepts, and I caught a little bit of a pattern.”

I wanted to thump him on the head or throw a stapler at him, but I refrained. “And?”

“And, well, I found some receipts for a credit card,” he said. “And a couple plane tickets under different aliases.” He still wasn’t looking up.

“Lots of people travel every day,” I said. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Right,” he said, and looked up at me furtively, just for a second. “The names were Richard Snow and Edgar Stark.”

“So, other than both being from Winterfell, what do these names have in common?” I asked with blunted irritation. I looked over at Reed, but he already looked stricken, a sick look engulfing his face.

“They’re aliases generated by our travel department at the Directorate,” J.J. said. “Well, not really the travel department. They were generated by me, when I was doing work for the travel department—”

“J.J.,” I said, catching his attention, “if you don’t cut right to the point with your next sentence, I am going to stick you in a heavy bag and beat the living snot out of you to work out my frustration. I may or may not take your glasses off first.” I slapped my hand against the table hard enough to make him jump at the sound. “So. Speak now.”

He adjusted his glasses with shaking hands. “These are vintage.”

“J.J.!”

“Um, sorry. Uh.” His hand left his glasses and fell to his side, leaving him supporting the laptop with one hand. “I generated the IDs myself, for a specific person, and the names were, um ... well, they were kind of an in-joke,” he laughed a little then swallowed heavily. “I tracked them from Los Angeles to Denver, and the next leg brought him here, to Minneapolis, yesterday.” He licked his lips. “So he’s here, in town. And, uh ... it’s, uh ... well, you know, it’s ...”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t need to. I just stared coldly into the distance, feeling the wild, heart-pounding sense of rage, the desire for revenge that hadn’t left me in the last six months. It hadn’t left at all; it had just faded slightly into the background.

Winter was here.

Are you going to kill him?
Zack’s soft voice asked later that night when I was alone in my room. I hadn’t really paid much attention to anything said after J.J.’s little revelation, because nothing else needed to be said. We were in a holding pattern and would remain there until something broke loose and gave us a sign of the direction we needed to head in. It was not my chosen method of conducting business, being reactive instead of proactive, but waiting for someone to screw up was all I was left with. I just hoped when the time came it wouldn’t be me.

“I don’t know,” I answered Zack quietly. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, a lit candle filling the room with the faint aroma of vanilla. I wasn’t really a candle type of person, but Kat had bought it for me as a peace offering or a friendship gift or something along those lines, and I had accepted it without gnashing my teeth too much. Now it was burning silently in the corner, filling the room with something that was supposed to help soothe me. It was an open question whether it was actually working. I could almost taste the vanilla, heavy, waxy, filling the air.

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable backlash from Zack, the angry reply shouted in my head, the snappish remark about how I didn’t care enough about him to bother killing his murderer even when the man was in town. It didn’t come, and after a moment I opened my eyes again to see the darkness outside my expansive window.
He’s not a threat at this point,
Zack said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I whispered. “We underestimate Erich Winter at our peril. He’s a dangerous man in any environment. Just because the government has impounded most of his assets and he’s had his organization cut out from under him doesn’t mean he’s a toothless, clawless tabby.” I sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to drop back into vengeance mode and forget ... everything that’s really important.” I hesitated. “Not that you’re not important—”

I got it,
he said gently.
Going after Winter to kill him puts you in a sticky position, causes you to lose focus on what’s most important. Makes you divert attention from this impending confrontation with Century. I don’t need you to kill him for me.
He strained, and I could almost see him in the back of my mind.
I don’t
want
you to kill him for me.

“I’ll make sure he faces justice,” I said. “That’s within my power. If he shows himself, he’ll get taken down by us.”

You have bigger fish to fry.

I let myself fall back on my bed, curling up with a pillow in my arms. “Always. I always have something else I need to be doing nowadays. Always another thought for what we’re going to do next, how we’re going to gain advantage.”

You should spare a thought for yourself in there somewhere.

“I’ll think about that tomorrow,” I said then frowned. “Or the next day.” The fatigue was setting in, and I was weary. It was well after midnight, and I needed to be up by six. There was so much planning to do, things to consider and move into place, given what was coming our way. The soft bed against my face was a relief.

Like Zollers used to say,
Zack went on,
you can only do what you can do. After that, maybe it’s time to take a step back and let the rest handle itself?

It wasn’t terrible advice, but I was so tired. “Zollers ...” I murmured. Where was the good doctor, anyway?

I fell into a world of darkness and emerged in the waiting room of his office, the fishtank bubbling in the corner. The chair was hard underneath me, and I wondered for the thousandth time if he’d had any part in selecting them. Then I realized I wasn’t in his actual waiting room, I was in a dream, and everything had a fuzzy, surreal quality. It took me only a second after that to realize it wasn’t actually a dream.

“Ugh,” I said. “Dreamwalking.”

“Sienna Nealon,” came an echoing voice from beyond the door to his office, “Come on in.”

I appeared in the office, not bothering to walk through the door, and found myself on the sofa. Zollers was sitting in his usual chair, a pad of paper across his lap. He looked at me over his glasses, his hair grey around the temples.

“Well, well,” I said, “here we are, not really here.”

He shrugged expansively, and answered in his low, smooth voice, “So it would appear. You summoned me?”

“Not intentionally,” I said. I could feel tension, even in the dream. “I was talking about you before I fell asleep.”

He nodded, as though taking it all in. “So that’s how it works. Simple enough.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m usually better about avoiding it, so ... sorry for the mix-up.”

“So you weren’t actually looking for me?”

I started to roll my eyes again but stopped. “I suppose I should be,” I said, a little reluctantly. “I mean, you do know more about the workings of Century than anyone else.”

“I do,” he agreed, wearing a little halfhearted smile. “And you’ve been in the business of putting a fight in place for them for the last six months. I’ll admit I’m a little ... disappointed you haven’t come to me for help.”

I gave him a cockeyed look. “You really want to come out of hiding for a hopeless fight?”

He shrugged. “Just being asked would mean something.”

I let a breath out through my teeth, making a low, hissing noise that wasn’t frustration so much as a reluctance to admit the truth. “I don’t like to dreamwalk. I hate it, actually.”

“Oh?” He looked at me over his glasses then pulled them off and held them up. “Do I really need these in a dream?”

“No,” I replied. “Or didn’t you catch my teleportation gimmick earlier? You only need them if I think you need them.” I waved a hand at him. “Now you don’t, anymore, so ... enjoy the benefits of clear vision.”

“Much appreciated, at least for as long as it lasts.” He put aside the glasses and stared at the pad on his lap. “Remarkable.”

“Yeah, I’m a real cornucopia of useless talents,” I said, folding my arms.

“I wouldn’t call them useless,” he said, looking back up at me with clear, unimpeded eyes. “But why don’t you like to dreamwalk?”

“God, this is surreal, even for a dream,” I said, looking at him with marked impatience. “Are you really counseling me in your office while I’m sleeping?”

“We fall back into familiar roles,” he said with a smile. “But as always, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”