Project Northwoods (91 page)

Lips pursed in annoyance, Arthur shut his eyes and inhaled. Finally, he released the air in his lungs in an exhausted gust. “It’s in her best interest, Mollie. Move. Now.” He yanked out the earpiece and brought his fingers up to his head.

“Whose best interest?” Stair asked as a status bar popped up on the screen, filled up, and disappeared. Arthur gave a sideways glance toward the girl. “Oh. Of course,” she said with a huff. Stair rolled her eyes as she leaned over the keyboard and attached Mollie, hidden inside a program pretending to be billing information, to the e-mail. After the transfer was made, she scrolled the pointer to the ‘send’ button. She waited, biting her lip. She looked at Arthur. “Do you think she’s ready?”

“As ready as she’ll ever be,” he responded, standing up. He yanked the USB drive out of the computer and leaned, one hand on the table and the other behind Stair.

“It just feels so… final,” the girl lamented. “You know?”

Arthur nodded. The hand on the table brushed hers off the mouse, retrained the pointer on the send button, and clicked it.

Arbiter stood in his office, hands behind his back. He could hear the movements of the SERAPHIM milling through the corridors, but otherwise, silence reigned. The halls would be bustling with activity soon enough, as re-licensed heroes resumed the work which had abruptly ended decades ago. He was not so foolish as to expect the villains’ surrender. Even undeserved freedom is something that those left in the city would fight for, if the cowards even showed up at all.

Asking a sacrifice of this nature, for a few to give up for the needs of the many, is something no true hero would pass up. Any would give up their life for one of their own, especially for the opportunity to save thousands in their stead. Villains, however, would not rally. Selfishness was endemic to their kind.

Freedom’s Sword would most certainly be used again… but the blood would not be on any hero’s hands.

His earpiece made a pleasant ding. “High Consul,” the voice of Overseer chimed.

“Yes?”

“We have received an e-mail on the secured account, a.severson,” it articulated. Arbiter imagined the green iris swirling in place. “It appears the traitor is making plans to leave the country.”

Arbiter raised his eyebrow and chuffed incredulously. “After all this silence, she missteps,” he mulled. “Broken tail lights, tax evasion, and now this.” He turned toward his desk. “It is a rare villain who evades punishment for long.” His jaw worked silently. “Why would she make this mistake?”

Overseer was silent for a fraction of a second. “Her account with the airline may have previously used this address for her transactions.” Another moment. “A costly oversight, but not outside the realm of possibility.”

Arbiter nodded. “Has she accessed her account remotely before?”

“Yes, High Consul. It appears to be her primary e-mail address.”

“Any mention of this airline before?”

“No,” Overseer sighed. “But she may delete older receipts.”

“Would you be able to check for evidence of that?”

“No, High Consul.” A pause. “The e-mail appears valid and consistent with others of its kind.”

Arbiter leaned on his desk, ideas rolling through his head. It could be a trap, a diversion. But it may also be the only clue as to the whereabouts of the turncoat. His lip curled upwards into a sneer. “Overseer,” he called.

“Yes, High Consul?”

“Keep the e-mail for evaluation after tonight.”

“As you wish.” Arbiter once more imagined the whorling eye, somewhere in the abyss of the network. “The e-mail also has the itinerary and billing information awaiting a deep scan and archiving.” A pause. “Do you deem this information relevant, or shall I delete the files?”

Arbiter thought about the question, mulling it over carefully. “Keep them,” he ordered. “We may be able to track her down and find out if someone’s financing her in one swoop.”

Waiting for some sign of Mollie was turning out to be the longest half hour of Arthur’s life. The moment the e-mail had been sent, Mollie deleted herself from the library’s computer, preserving her individuality but dooming her should she fail. Both Arthur and Stair watched the screen intently, trying in vain not to show the other how worried they were. They couldn’t take their eyes away from the monitor for a moment, as e-mails and billing information poured in at a shocking rate. As quickly as they entered, they’d be copied and rerouted to another location, filling the screen with even more junk to look at.

Then, finally, an e-mail back from [email protected]: “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

“That’s it!” Stair practically shouted.

“That’s it,” Arthur echoed, less enthused.

Immediately, Stair turned and hugged him, pressing him tightly to her and squeezing the air out of him in one gesture of kindness. She released him and gave out a squeak of triumph. “We did it! We’re in!” Arthur didn’t say a word as he passed in front of Stair and knelt down by the backpack on the floor. “I didn’t doubt it for a second, of course, but it’s like a load off my mind, right?” Arthur fought back a tear as he removed the weapons from his pack and set them on the floor. “Now, what’s the plan, Art? We cut it pretty close on time, but… you wanna get coffee or something?” He looked over his shoulder at Stair. Her jubilant face slackened, then shifted toward concern. “What?” He swallowed, turning back. Tears threatened once more to escape his eyes, but he somehow managed to suppress them. He stood, hefting the backpack with one hand while pulling the chair closer with the other. Silently, he collapsed on the seat and faced Stair. “You’re scaring me, Arthur.”

He felt his chin tremble. “I need you to take this,” he said quietly as he handed her the backpack. “Keep it on so Mollie has a place to return to.”

She gingerly took the bag. “I don’t know…”

“Stair,” he cut her off. “You’re sitting this one out.”

Her eyes snapped up to him, furious. “What?” she asked, her voice wounded. “No, Arthur,” she said, shaking her head as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I can’t have you getting hurt,” Arthur said, his eyes rolling to the floor. His jaw quaked and threatened to start chattering his teeth. “You mean… too much.”

Stair wasn’t able to rein in her emotions as well. “Bullshit,” she said, voice still more hurt than angry. “Arthur, whatever this is about…”

“It’s about saving your life,” he snapped. He looked at her, dead on. Her gaze faltered and she looked away, biting her lip. He leaned forward to touch her hand. “Stair, I…”

She immediately pulled away from him. Her eyes squeezed shut. “No, no, no, no…” she chanted, starting to shake her head. Her eyes flitted open, fresh tears welling in the corners. “Why?” she asked.

“I need you, Stair,” Arthur said. “I need you to live,” he immediately clarified. “I can’t guarantee your survival if you stay with me.”

She shook her head. “I can protect you.” He shook his head. “I can protect us, Arthur, you know I can.”

Arthur, surprising himself, was resolute. “It’s not up for debate.”

Stair’s eyes squeezed shut again as she buried her face in her hands. He wanted to reach over to her, grab her shoulder, show her that he did care about her. That he cared about her so much that he was willing to let her go to prove it. But he thought better of it. Such a gesture might give her hope that he could be persuaded to let her go with him. It was better to leave her broken than build her up only to wreck her again.

As the girl’s sobs turned to wet heaves of air, Arthur’s eyes quickly darted around the library before returning to her. “Stair,” he called. She responded by shaking her head. “Stair, please.” She pulled her hands apart, drying her face while still holding her head aloft. “In the backpack are the papers you’ll need if things go wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. She released her head and opened the bag before yanking out the papers. She scanned the birth certificate and resume at the top of the pile, her face twitching as she leafed between them. She looked at him, eyes questioning. “What is this?”

“You can start a new life, free of all this bullshit,” he said, swallowing dryly.

She shook her head. “No.” As he nodded, she shook her head more fiercely. “No, Arthur!”

“Please, Stair…” he pleaded.

“I am not going anywhere without you!” she shouted, rising from her chair. The bag slid off of her lap, Arthur barely catching it as he rose to meet her. His eyes flicked across to the other denizens of the library, all listlessly typing or reading. “I can’t do this without you!”

His eyes went from her to the others again. “Settle down, please…”

Disbelief spread on her face. She looked out over the others. One casually looked at Arthur, made a face, then went back to work. “You lied to me.” Arthur didn’t say a word, opting instead to regard the floor. “You fucking asshole!” she shouted, shoving him, forcing him to look at her again. Her hand covered her mouth as she convulsed, crying as fresh wounds opened. Between gasps, she coughed, “You …wanted to do this…
here
… so I wouldn’t make… a fucking scene?”

Arthur looked away. “Stair…”

“I have been with you since this mess started, Arthur.” Her voice regained a weak softness, her oscillating moods upsetting him more than he hoped he let on. “I thought… you’d at least…” Green eyes, shimmering with tears, looked at him. She waited for him to look at her, regard her with some manner of equality. When he finally did make eye contact, she took a shallow breath and held it. “You’ll never love me, will you?”

Arthur felt every muscle in his body fight against itself to subdue the desire to make her stop crying, to tell her that he did love her in the way she felt toward him, even if it was a lie. His mouth opened, and he considered the lie, felt it bubble in his throat before he said, simply, “No.” He blinked. “I’ll never love you.”

He had chosen the truth.

She staggered, like he had just punched her in the stomach. Her hand went to her lips as she stumbled backward, tripping against the leg of the chair and collapsing. Stair’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She gasped in a raspy breath and fell forward onto her hands, mouth still open, but soundless. And then, he heard it. She finally started to cry in earnest, heaving breaths between wails that made his entire body hurt.

Arthur finally knelt by her, setting the backpack on the floor before grabbing hold of her arms to bring her upright. She fought him every inch of the way, shaking her head and crying. “Please, no, no, don’t do this to me,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done wrong, just don’t leave me.”

“Stair, you did nothing wrong,” he tried to say, but she continued above him.

“We can do this, we can do this and be together, Arthur,” she said. Her eyes were focused on him, pleading. “Don’t…”

“Stair, I need you to be strong,” he shouted. He hoped that she was phasing him out of history at the moment. Otherwise he would appear like he was arguing with a chair. “Please, Stair, be strong.”

Stair sniffed and broke out of his hold. “This is because of her, isn’t it?” she asked. “Because of that bitch who always treats you like shit, isn’t it?” She shoved him, knocking herself more off balance than him. “Why? Why do you love her and not me?”

Arthur closed his eyes as he felt his heart being ripped out of his chest. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong about everything. That he didn’t love either of them. That she didn’t love him, but it was how she interpreted their relationship. That in a few years’ time, she’d realize these emotions were all a part of the teenage experience. But it wouldn’t work. She’d still feel like her one shot at happiness was walking out on her.

He had felt the same way once, another time, another place, another person. And there was no way he could tell her any of it in a way that she would believe. Hindsight had to be earned, never learned.

His will to keep hurting someone he cared about was waning. In all his years of hurting people accidentally, he had barely minded. And now, when confronted with this, all he wanted to do was hold the girl and tell her he’d love her forever.

He lost it. His eyes opened. “Stair…” He trailed off. Arthur was alone in the computer aisle of the library. His eyes flitted in the area around him. His backpack was gone. Panicked, he stood up and scanned the library. Bookshelves blocked much of his view, but the exit didn’t have the familiar redhead running toward it. How could she have run off without him knowing?