Provenance I - Flee The Bonds (23 page)

Tears scalded Kacee’s flushed face, landing as spots of blood on the red dust. ‘What has he done to you?’ She removed the heavy chain and nuzzled wet cheeks into Belle’s matted golden-brown hair. Through her sobs, she heard the rattled breathing and irregular heartbeat. Then she felt the broken ribs.

She wrapped her arms around Belle’s neck and waited. The heartbeat slowed, but the irregular rhythm and pneumonic breathing remained. With eyes squeezed shut, she scissored her arms in an invisible motion, Belle’s neck dislocated instantaneously.

Kacee lowered the limp body to the ground, ‘Sleep Belle, sleep.’ Happy memories drifted away, sinking into a tempestuous sea of hatred.

A man’s gruff voice bellowed. ‘Hey, whatta you doing with my dog?’

Kacee smoothed her only true friend one last time, stood up, and turned to face the voice.

Jackson Miller, the estate manager, glowered in the shade of the rear porch. A thin bony man with rolled up sleeves and a permanent frown that creased his leather face.

She brushed her hands and sniffed. ‘Just saying hello.’

Miller stepped down and sauntered towards her. ‘Sorry, Miss Kacee, didn’t recognise you.’

He looked past her. ‘That dog sleeping again? No offence, but I ain’t ever met a dog that lazy.’

She flashed a smile. ‘None taken. Got a soda in the cooler?’

Miller’s scuffed boots spun around in the dry dirt, ‘Sure do, you back visit—’

The hardened fifth metacarpus of Kacee’s right hand connected with C4 and C5 in Miller’s cervical vertebrae. She knew from previous experience what happened next. The interposed spinal disc ruptured, C4 and C5 shattered, and their dislocated fragments severed the spinal cord. Miller’s legs buckled and he folded into an untidy heap.

An hour later, Kacee stood head bowed under the parasol of a pecan tree. At her feet lay a patted mound of freshly dug earth, a single snow-white rose rested on the rich brown soil. Belle had liked it here, especially in fall, foraging for forbidden treats.

* * * *
 

Rolling tears flowed into beads of perspiration. Kacee’s stare sprang from the petals to the ornate cream door. ‘Yes?’

‘Madame, it is nineteen hours.’

Tension slid off her shoulders, ‘Thanks, Martine. I’ll be up soon.’

* * * *
 

Dinner at Francois’s was never less than a banquet. Kacee found the lifestyle bewitching, an escape from reality. Which she now realised was why she liked it so much.

They retired to the red room and settled in front of the mammoth stone fireplace. Logs creaked in fiery waves, washing over her with glowing satisfaction.

Her head lolled right. ‘Have you heard from Colette, how’s her mom?’

‘It is not good news. I do not think we will see Colette again.’

‘That’s a shame. I liked her.’

Francois’s hand touched her arm. ‘Steve arrives tomorrow.’

‘Uh uh.’ Dark eyes roamed her face, but he would find only what she wanted him to find.

‘I would like him to stay here, is that acceptable to you?’

‘Sure.’ Her neutral tone hid a twinge of anxiety. She hoped Steve wasn’t a willing player in Francois’s subterfuge.

‘Excellent.’

‘What’s he coming here for?’

‘It is work.’ Francois eyebrows sprang up. ‘Ah! I am reminded. I have a little task for you.’

‘I can’t cook.’

He reacted with a smile. ‘I would never ask that of you.’

She accepted the proffered MCD. An attractive woman in her late twenties stared back through hazel eyes. Sleek auburn hair in a short geometric cut outlined elfin features and complemented a soft peach complexion.

Kacee zoomed out. Judging by the height of the canal bridge parapet, the woman was no more than 160 centimetres tall, and definitely a Drone. Her lime puffer jacket had been out of fashion for at least three years.

‘Who is she?’

‘Resistance.’

A blurred figure stood next to the woman, much taller and definitely masculine. ‘And the man?’

‘His allegiance is not a concern.’

‘What’s the task?’

Francois leaned towards her. The warm orange glow sparkled in cool brown eyes. ‘No secrets, remember. I am an Advocate; I know you have been given a special licence by PSYOPS to terminate.’

Yes, you.

His revelation didn’t concern her. Her handler had told her that if someone dug into her file certain
secrets
would escape. A layer of gold to mask the diamonds.

‘Is this certified?’

‘Of course.’

Francois reached across and tapped an icon. The SIS symbol hung over the top of the document, a black clawed hand gripping a silver Earth. Everyone had had their own ideas about its symbolism. Now they knew.

‘She’s a nurse?’

‘Yes, the Resistance have infiltrated everywhere.’

‘Why me? Why not you?’

As expected, Francois had the answer. ‘She is in a relationship with a member of Continuity; it would be difficult for a man to gain her trust.’

‘So I’m supposed to question her first?’ Kacee glanced down. ‘This order’s for a complete memory wipe.’

She wondered if she should contact her handler. No, they’d told her to follow SIS orders, there had to be reason for that.

‘Any information of the Resistance will be useful, especially about their plans to attack Provenance.’

Kacee didn’t look up. During Francois’s evaluation, she’d detected a secret buried deep beneath layers of half-truths. Perhaps he talked in his sleep; she’d find out soon enough.

09:58 WED 01:11:2119

Intra Zone, Wiltshire, England, Sector 2

Steve squinted and turned his head away from the downdraft. The mulberry and gold jet-hover flattened the meadow’s tall dry grass and settled in a swirl of throbbing dust. From behind the bulbous canopy, Francois and Dee smiled.

An hour later, as they descended through an azure sky, the palatial
Chateau Castiglione
came into view.

Dee turned in his seat. ‘Whadda ya think?’

Steve continued to stare down at the gleaming quadrilateral, ‘I thought all the aristocracy had their heads chopped off.’

Francois banked the jet-hover into a sharp turn. ‘They did.’

After a slow pass around, they landed on a paved road leading to the esplanade. While Francois remained occupied in the cockpit, Steve strolled with Dee towards the chateau, ‘How’s the family?’

‘They’re all fine, they’re over there.’

Steve followed Dee’s finger to the grandiose Orangery, the cream stone of its single storey reflecting the chateau’s architectural style. A line of privet trees partially obscured the garden; trimmed into balls, they resembled a row of giant evergreen lollipops.

‘Isn’t there enough room in the chateau?’

Dee shrugged. ‘I ain’t bothered, man, as long as the family’s together.’

As they climbed the steps, Francois bounded up next to Steve. ‘Do you like it?’ His smile exuded the confidence of someone who’d always trodden the royal road.

‘Very impressive.’

‘We will not be disturbed here.’

Francois hurried off across the fine gravelled esplanade towards the main entrance.

Dee tugged on Steve’s arm, ‘Kacee’s here.’

Steve reacted with an involuntary sigh; he didn’t need any distractions.

Dee chuckled. ‘Don’t look so worried. I think Francois and her have been getting to know each other.’

They passed through the columnar porch into the imposing foyer. Francois stood waiting, and with the exuberance of an opening-night impresario, his hand swept the capacious grandeur, ‘Welcome to my home.’

‘Thank you.’ Steve glanced around. The neoclassical architecture was obvious, the men lurking in the shadows less so.

Francois led them halfway along a statue-lined corridor to a ceremonious pair of oyster coloured doors with intricately carved patterns overlaid with gold.

The opulence of the office matched its size. An imperial mahogany table formed the centrepiece, its two sides supporting ten chairs apiece, plus one at each end. Their gilt frames and royal-blue upholstery blending with the similarly coloured wall coverings. The sparkling crystal hanging from the ecclesiastical brass chandelier reflected in the tabletop’s polished depths. At the far end of the room, a gilded mirror, festooned with gold laurel, filled the space between the ceiling and the mantelpiece of a white marble fireplace. Steve sniffed; a faint tang, like the damp morning embers of a bonfire.

Francois extended an open hand. ‘Please.’

Steve eased out a chair over the diamond parquet floor and watched Dee close the door and take a seat next to Francois.
Smart move.
Perhaps he knows Francois’s SIS.

Francois rested his clasped hands on the polished wood and his earnest gaze on Steve. ‘We know that it is not your fault Bo died. I will ensure that you return to special operations.’

‘I’m not sure that’s possible. Command sent an Advocate to terminate me.’

‘It was a mistake, the order has been cancelled.’ Francois glanced at Dee, ‘Whatever happens we must be careful, the Resistance grow stronger every day. We must protect Continuity.’

Dee nodded. ‘Too right.’

Steve retrieved the white cube he’d taken from Lacusta and placed it in the centre of the table. ‘The Council are building these into Prefects.’

Dee picked it up. ‘What’s the light for?’

Steve shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but why put a CPU that large in a Prefect?’

Francois’s interest remained fixed on the cube, ‘Maybe it is a new model.’

Steve held up his MCD. ‘Do you have a viewer?’

‘Of course.’ Francois pointed his MCD at the mirror. ‘You can upload now.’

The lights dimmed and an image shimmered into focus. A square-shouldered protector suit stood in a transformer vault.

The silent recording lasted thirty-five minutes.

As the ambient light normalised, Dee leant back and whistled. ‘You’re one lucky guy. Who’s the other suit?’

‘A friend.’

Francois tapped his MCD. A male voice answered. ‘
Oui, Monsieur?
’

‘
Café
.’

‘
Oui, Monsieur
.’

Francois stared at the cube. ‘If Jannae is correct, what must we do?’

Dee raised his palms. ‘Whoa. This doesn’t prove she’s right. Prefects get upgraded.’

Steve’s eyes honed in on Dee’s. ‘Why make them autonomous?’

‘You don’t know it was autonomous. You busted into a cat one plant, the Controller reacted how they should.’

Steve sighed and turned to Francois, ‘Why weren’t Advocates consulted?’

Before Francois could answer, the door emitted two dull taps. ‘
Entrée.
’

The dark suited man placed the silver tray on the half-moon side table, nodded and left.

Francois waited for the door to close. ‘I will contact a friend in the Council. He will tell me the truth.’

‘Not if he’s been compromised.’

Dee shook his head. ‘Always the pessimist.’

‘It can be useful.’

‘Well it ain’t done you much good so far has it?’

You are annoying, Dee, but I think he’s fallen for it.

Francois stood, walked over to the side table, and poured the coffee, ‘No, Steve is right. It is important that we know our enemies.’

He has.

Steve sipped his coffee. Francois had made a grave error of judgement. Dee’s principal loyalty was to his family, then CONSEC.

* * * *
 

‘Who is it?’

‘Kacee.’

Steve opened the double-height door and after exchanging smiles, gestured in the direction of the window and three ostentatious bedroom chairs. ‘Please, come in.’

The air stirred, long blonde hair flowed around her neck, and over the shoulders of the short russet dress. Steve followed the sweet vanilla scent towards the window. Kacee chose the sunlit chair.

He sat opposite. ‘How have you been?’

Her long bronzed legs crossed. Black stilettos coordinated with the row of square buttons on her low neckline.

‘I’m fine, but you look tired.’ She drew a finger across her eyebrow. ‘How’d you get that?’

His fingers found the tender bruise. ‘Lost a fight with a Prefect. Anyway, what are you doing here?’

Her soft brown eyes captured his, ‘Francois’s concerned about you.’

Steve folded his arms, ‘Me? Why?’

‘Don’t be defensive, we care. We know you weren’t to blame for Bo, and we don’t want you destroying yourself finding out who was.’

‘And what does
we
think I should do?’

She sighed. ‘This isn’t the playground Steve.’

‘Sorry. Did Francois tell you about Jannae?’

‘Who’s she?’

‘A level twelve Profiler who says SIS have plans to take control of Provenance.’ The fact that Francois hadn’t mentioned it reinforced Steve’s conviction.
He knows it’s true.

Kacee shifted in her seat. ‘It could be an SIS analysis. You do have a watch order on you.’

‘I don’t think so. She knew her brother was alive.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning she can’t be SIS.’

A lustrous pink-lipped smile formed. ‘Fine. Just don’t do anything foolish.’ Kacee’s attentiveness left him and wandered around, ‘These rooms are all pretty impressive.’

‘You not in the Orangery with Dee then?’

Her smile broadened. ‘No. I haven’t been a naughty girl.’

Steve remained reticent; at least he thought he had.

Kacee’s gaze locked with his. ‘Relax, Steve. I’m not interested in Dee’s sister. I hope she finds happiness, I really do.’

He slapped the armrests. ‘So, what’s your room like.’

‘Pink, definitely pink.’ Her head tilted. ‘I can show you if you like?’

‘That’s okay; I’ll take your word for it.’

‘Oh Steve, lighten up.’ She took her MCD from her clutch bag, tapped the screen, and handed it across. ‘Here. Francois said I could shoot the whole place, except his precious garage. What is it with boys and their cars?’

Steve stared and remained absolutely still. ‘Who’s the woman?’

‘Pretty little thing ain’t she? That’s Colette, she had to leave soon after I arrived, her mom’s sick. I’ve got Martine now, she’s okay, but her nose is a bit of a distraction.’