The Alliance (19 page)

 

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Chapter
50

The satellite station at the Florida coast was attacked. I thought the grand commander was overreacting when he sent men to guard the coasts. I was proved wrong. It seems my hopes for foreign diplomacy were in vain. Countries don't want to offer us aid, they want to take us over.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

“This is an international nightmare,” Ian said.

“Walk me through what happened again,” Grant said.

“The prime minister of France is dead,” Ian said. “Her whole group died in a fire at one of the youth homes. For the first time in years we open our borders and this is what happens. I should have listened to you.”

“Was it really a fire?”

“Too early to tell,” Ian said. “The bodies were burned beyond recognition.”

“How do you know she was there then?”

“Some of her jewelry was flame resistant,” Ian said.

He looked down at the pin of the American flag on his coat, as if that piece of information made him admire the pendant all the more.

“How many bodies were there?”

“Still digging through the wreckage,” Ian said. “There were eighteen ­people in the building.”

“Any word on what caused it?” Grant asked.

“How will any of these questions help you with the press conference?” Ian asked. “I don't want any cause for foreign concern.”

“Do they know she is dead?”

“No,” Ian said. “We forbade contact with the home countries while the leaders were under our care.”

Grant let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He hated being on this side of Ian's desk. Grant belonged in the grand commander's seat. This was the break Grant had been waiting for. Now, if he was given permission, he could chase Mia without the grand commander's suspicion following him.

“If it were me, sir,” Grant said, “I would start by talking to our highest-­ranking officers stationed in France. Find out which politicians overseas are supportive of America and then finance those campaigns. Normally the candidate who spends the most money will win. Who is set to take over in the interim?”

“I've already taken those steps,” Ian said. “Our best bet is the second-­in-­command anyway. Another female, but likely to follow in her predecessor's footsteps.”

The wrinkles in his forehead increased as he glared at Grant. Then he relaxed.

“I suppose that's another reason I know you're a good fit as my successor. We think alike.”

Grant smiled and nodded. “Since we think so much alike, I volunteer to visit the site of the explosion. Maybe then I can tell you what you need to hear and not what you want to.”

“I take it you have reason to believe this was not a tragic accident?” Ian asked.

“National security is of utmost importance to you,” Grant said. “When we first met you cautioned me against surrounding myself with ‘yes-­men.' Do you really believe you're getting all the facts?”

“I have other confidants besides yourself,” Ian said. “I am sending General Camp out this afternoon. As soon as he debriefs me on the situation we will inform the French government and give our press conference, where I want you at my side. Nobody inside the country is to know about this.”

Grant frowned.

“Do you have another suggestion?” Ian asked.

“Pre-­wedding jitters, I suppose,” Grant said. “I was just looking forward to a distraction is all.”

It was not difficult for Grant to press his lips with fake worry. He even forced his hand to twitch.

“Does this have anything to do with greeting the president of Taiwan yesterday?” Ian asked.

“I already told you I am baffled by his suggestions,” Grant said. “I suppose foreign customs are a mystery to me.”

“Well, his escorts do say he has been quite difficult,” Ian said. “You can go in General Camp's place. It's a six-­hour flight and you leave in an hour.”

“If you allow me the courtesy of using my personal plane, it will only be a four-­hour trip,” Grant said.

“You are much too humble for a man of your means,” Ian said. “I always forget. Whatever you are more comfortable with. Use my pilot though.”

Grant tugged the wrinkles out of his khaki pants as he stood up. His pale yellow and white striped shirt did the job of sending the message he wanted. Grant knew he looked unassuming, but humble was not something he shot for. Either way he was pleased with Ian's decision. He knew there was something amiss about this so-­called tragedy and planned on spending the entire plane ride studying his files on the French and their passengers.

 

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Chapter
51

I inquired how the repopulation plans were going and regret asking. The response was that the remaining female population of our once-­great country is being kept under lock and key as they are our national treasure now.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

The wheels of the plane touched down near the site of the explosion. Grant had memorized the file, and while he appreciated some time, the four-­hour trip wasn't necessary. Once he was grand commander RAG agents would be allowed some technological advances and Grant would be able to accomplish things like this without leaving the comfort of his own home.

Within minutes Grant was walking up to the site. He saw some agents standing around the smoldering building while other government workers were still spraying parts of the area. He counted thirteen body bags. That meant five were missing. In that moment he knew in his gut Amelia was one of them.

“Good morning, sir,” a RAG agent said.

“Where are the other five bodies?” Grant asked.

“Excuse me?”

“There were eighteen ­people in this building,” Grant said. “I count thirteen bags and I hope you understand the concept of basic math.”

“These ­people were toward the door,” the RAG agent said. “The generator and gas line were near the rear. That is where the building suffered the most damage. We assume they were back there.”

“This was a tour of a fake building designed to give the French prime minister a positive opinion of our orphanages,” Grant said.

“Youth homes,” the agent said.

“Call them what you want,” Grant said. “If the tour were still going on, wouldn't the prime minister have been in the back? Yet her body was toward the front.”

“We're not certain,” the agent said.

Grant turned around and looked at the landscape.

“And the cars?” Grant asked.

“What cars?”

“This group was traveling in a caravan of three SUVs,” Grant said. “Where were the vehicles when you arrived?”

The agent was quiet.

“If you lie to me I will rip your spine out,” Grant said. “Don't worry about whatever lie your boss told you to give.”

“They were missing,” the agent said. “No vehicles were on the scene.”

“So that means at least three survivors?” Grant asked.

“Or they were stolen after the explosion,” the agent said.

“Because that makes so much more sense?” Grant asked. “A phony building in the middle of nowhere bursts into flames and at least three random onlookers stole the cars instead of calling your offices?”

The agent struggled to speak.

“I don't suppose the cars have trackers?”

“No, sir,” the agent said.

Grant knew that already, or else he would have chased after Amelia two nights ago. Another thing the technology ban made difficult for him.

“Please tell me your theory,” Grant said. “Honestly.”

“This does not look good for our organization,” the agent said.

“I didn't ask for you to cover for your superiors' ineptitude,” Grant said. “I asked for your honest opinion.”

“It looks like five ­people survived the fire and ran off with the cars,” the agent said.

“Do you believe the survivors were fellow RAG agents?” Grant asked.

“I think they were the soldiers escorting the French lady,” the agent said. “Probably didn't want to return to their overseas duty and chose the coward's way out.”

“That is a fine theory,” Grant said. “What other information do you have to back this up?”

“None of the bodies have identification or phones,” he said. “No RAG agent would leave these items behind. Also, there were shell casings. I believe the fire was set afterward to cover the bodies up. There were five soldiers escorting the French woman.”

Grant was pleased. The agent's theory was sound. Of course the agent was not aware a woman matching Amelia's description was with the group.

“Do you have any other suggestions for how this played out?” Grant asked.

“Sir, in the spirit of honesty,” the agent said, “there is reason to believe at least one of the survivors was the French woman's guest. It's just a theory, but the woman's body was identified because her jewelry withstood the flames. Then we sorted the remains by height and what other factors we could tell with the damage. It's too early to say for sure, but wouldn't a young female companion have the same amount of expensive jewelry? I think the rogue soldiers are holding her hostage.”

The small hairs on the inside of Grant's ear rose. This man was clever. Now Grant had all the information he needed to hunt Mia down under the pretense of finding the deserters. Not even Ian would question his actions.

He turned to head toward the plane. As soon as he landed Grant would assemble his team. Then it hit him: Rex was a traitor and his team was defunct. Grant spun around. He looked the RAG agent up and down. The man wore the standard suit and tie. He was dark skinned with short hair, and sunglasses took up most of his face. Grant could tell the man was more than capable.

“You're coming with me,” Grant said.

“I have orders to stay,” he said.

“Are you married?” Grant asked.

“No,” the agent said.

“What is your name?”

“Agent Gen Hansen.”

“Well, Agent Hansen, you just got yourself a promotion,” Grant said. “Your new orders are to follow me.”

Grant spun around and started walking toward the plane. He was pleased to hear Hansen's footsteps behind him.

The missing woman was Amelia, and the soldiers were likely Carter and Andrew. Grant had underestimated her. She had executed thirteen ­people to get into the country. The game was back on, and this time he would win.

 

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Chapter
52

My vision of the eight women living peacefully among the abandoned states disappeared today. I was shown pictures of their mutilated corpses, after having been “rescued” by less than desirable parties.

—­The diary of Megan Jean

Laughter came from upstairs. Mia was not surprised her mother and sister were getting along with Alex. She wished she could join in their fun, but she and Frank were busy bringing each other up to speed.

“So Grant buried Alex alive,” Frank said. “He gave him a straw to breathe through and I had to dig him up.”

“I am so sorry,” Mia said.

“It was not your fault,” Frank said.

Mia was getting tired of hearing that.

“You're lucky you showed up here when you did,” Frank said. “Grant promised he was a man of his word and would leave us be, but we've never felt safe. These are our final days here.”

The small farmhouse with the beautifully decorated interior Mia remembered was bare now. Almost all the furniture and decorations were missing.

“We have a new place farther west,” Frank said. “Alex doesn't want anyone to know where we're heading so we've been moving the furniture bit by bit the last few months.”

“He thinks if someone helps you move Grant could find you easier?” Mia asked.

“It's more deserted than this place, if you can believe it. Making it harder for Grant to find us isn't the idea; Alex wants to make it impossible.”

Mia understood and nodded her head. When she looked down she glanced at the phone in her hand. It still hadn't rung and every time she tried Andrew, Carter, or Zack it went straight to voice mail. The GPS wasn't working either.

“Andrew is in an out-­of-­ser­vice area,” Frank said. “He's fine. I think it would take an army to stop that kid.”

“I shouldn't have left him,” Mia said. “I was angry and I ran away. I'm supposed to meet him near the capital tomorrow.”

“You did what you had to,” Frank said. “There is no way your family would have lived through the winter if you didn't show up at their door.”

“So when is the big moving day?” Mia asked.

“The next trip is the last,” Frank said. “I need to fill my van with the last of the furniture. Alex already left his car there. We're leaving this place to the elements.”

“Do you have room for a few more passengers?”

“You know there is no need to ask,” Frank said. “Alex and I were already talking about getting back in the smuggling game. Grant thinks he might have scared us into submission, but all he did was increase our desire to help the ­people of this country.”

“Thank you,” Mia said.

She stood up from her folding chair.

“Do you have any fuel I can borrow?”

“What for?” Frank asked.

“I need to leave,” Mia said. “Make sure my mother and sister are safe.”

“Why not you?”

“Andrew would come find me,” Mia said. “I owe him the same.”

“Andrew isn't stupid,” Frank said.

“Neither am I,” Mia said.

“If you leave by yourself to chase after a man, you are,” Frank said. “Mia, you are in no condition to drive. When was the last time you slept? You're covered in bruises and you look like an eighteen-­year-­old girl. You won't make it one hundred miles.

“You told him one more day, right?” Frank asked. “Well, wait until tomorrow; if you still can't reach him then we will talk again.”

Mia nodded.

“He has ­people he can depend on,” Frank said. “You have the same support system right here. Keep trying to call him and check his location. That is the best way to keep both of you safe.”

“I feel so helpless,” Mia said. “Abandoning him was my fault; don't you dare tell me it wasn't.”

“Some bad decisions still have good outcomes,” Corinna said.

Mia turned around to see her sister. Corinna's short blond hair was spiked up and she wore one of Alex's dress shirts with a belt tied around her waist. It was hard to take her seriously.

“Were you three playing dress-­up?”

Corinna came closer and grabbed Mia's hands.

“I heard you say that to Laura,” Corinna said. “Maybe leaving Andrew was one of those bad decisions.”

“He needs me,” Mia said.

“He will be fine,” Corinna said. “You know that. What about stopping the Registry? Isn't that your main goal?”

Mia closed her eyes and let out a breath. She was being selfish again. Andrew had trusted her enough to give her space; maybe he needed some as well.

“I'm scared it won't be possible without him,” Mia said. “I can't accomplish anything by myself.”

“You don't have to,” Corinna said. “We will find Andrew together. Once he is ready to be found. Until then, keep your focus on the big picture.”

“Mia?” Mia's mother said as she rounded the stairs.

The dress shirt she was in was more ridiculous than Corinna's. It was a mix of neon orange and silver swirls that went below her knees. Mia burst out laughing.

“Don't laugh at my designs,” Alex said. “You're next, by the way. Get in the shower and I'll see what I can do with you.”

Corinna pulled Mia into a hug.

“You're the glue,” Corinna said.

Mia closed her eyes and leaned into her sister's shoulder. Whether or not Mia was willing to admit it, a small part of her knew Frank and Corinna were right. Mia would do her best to wait until tomorrow. If Andrew still wasn't answering his phone then, she'd need to think about stopping the Registry more than finding him, however impossible that might be.