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RAJESH LOOKED DOWN AT THE BROKEN cords in front of Imara and then looked back at the doorway. He knitted his eyebrows together, clearly straining in thought.
“I think Takara wants you to pick me up and follow her,” she said. “I can’t walk.”
He bounced his head with a nod while wrapping one arm under her knees and one around her shoulders. Her ribs jarred as he lifted her from the ground, causing a gasp to escape her. Each step felt like another pummel to her side. Rajesh took careful steps at first, but the farther ahead Takara got, the more hurried and pain-inducing his steps became. When they started down a flight of stairs, she groaned each time his foot touched down. When they reached the bottom, a mixture of sweat and tears caked her face with saltwater.
At last, Takara had stopped in front of a door. She set her palm on a bioscanner, and the door opened. After pointing to a padded chair with restraints, she headed for the large hologram covering one wall.
Rajesh dropped Imara onto the chair in a move that was probably meant to be gentle. He quickly glanced back at Takara. While she scrolled through the wall hologram, he snuck a chunk of bread into Imara’s hand. She stuffed it into her mouth and swallowed it in one gulp to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible.
When Takara turned away from the hologram, she scowled at Rajesh. “Leave now. Stand outside the door, and I’ll tell you when I need you again.”
As he plodded away, Imara searched around the room. A short cart hovered next to her padded chair. On top of the cart sat two plastic trays: one empty and one littered with syringes. She tried to ignore the shiver that thrummed through her as she looked along the back wall. On a short shelf sat a small collection of knives. Next to that was a box of magnets. The longer she stared, the more sinister they looked.
How could Takara use magnets? And for what?
When the door shut behind Rajesh, a corner of Takara’s eye seemed to glisten. She had gotten distracted earlier when confronted with a topic she cared about, and now might be a good time to use that. It took a moment to recall the name, but when she did, Imara said, “Tell me about Riku. Were you married before the flood?”
Takara’s face fell. Whatever had been on her mind seemed to be erased completely. She swallowed, and the glistening in her eye grew. Looking down, she said, “Our wedding was less than a week away. Even though we were from Japan, we were getting married in Alexandria because Riku always wanted to live there.” She looked down, and her breath trembled as she tried to swallow. “We both drowned in the catacombs.”
Imara’s lips parted in surprise.
“Riku held my hand while the water filled our lungs. He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘I love you. In life and in death.’ Well, he only mouthed it because we were underwater, but I knew what he was trying to say. He said it to me a lot.”
She turned away and let out a little sniffle. “I remember exactly what it felt like to drown. The blackness that surrounded me. The dark taking over. I was scared but at peace because I knew Riku would be there in death.” A long puff of hair escaped her nose. “But then, suddenly, I was waking up. The water had been removed from my lungs, and I lived; but Riku was nowhere to be found.”
She turned around, and her cheeks flushed with heat. “We had drifted away from each other after I blacked out. It was too late for Riku by the time they got to him.” Her fist reeled through the air until it crashed down on the corner of the empty plastic tray, sending it flying. “Marco stole away the love of my life less than a week before our wedding. On that day, I vowed I would get revenge if it was the last thing I ever did.”
Before Imara could react, Takara stuck a syringe into the skin under Imara’s ear. A tight pain contracted every muscle in her body. As her muscles seized, she started shaking. Shards of glass seemed to scrape through her veins. She heard a voice screaming for at least four seconds before she realized it was her own. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she screamed even harder.
A small pillow got stuffed into her mouth. In a split-second glance, she could see Takara standing by with perfect indifference, neither taking delight in her pain nor being bothered by it.
Ten seconds later, the seizing stopped, and Imara sucked in gulp after gulp of air. While she gasped, Takara removed the pillow and shoved something new into her mouth.
After the disorienting pain, it took a moment to realize what sat on her tongue. She noted the soft texture and delighted in the taste. Food. Stuffed squash seasoned with curry. Not just food, but delicious food. She chewed ravenously, and savored the taste as it slid down her throat. After she swallowed, Takara placed another chunk of the squash into her mouth. She chewed without question, enjoying every moment.
After ten delectable bites, she wanted to sing Takara’s praises. But that thought made her pause.
Takara narrowed her eyes and leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “Remember,” she said. “I can help you or I can hurt you. If you give me the information I want, I’ll give you more food. If you give me anything else, I’ll use you to practice torture techniques.”
Imara gripped the sides of her padded chair as she gulped. “What if I can’t help you find the liar? You said you might trade Sef’s list to the Egyptian Council for information, right? Do you have it already?”
“You have a lot of nerve asking a question like that since the only reason you’re here is because you lied about having the list. Why would I capture you if I had it already?”
Imara ignored the question. She needed Takara to go off on a tangent again. She needed to keep her talking, and a good ego stroking might do it. “Keiko says you’re the best hacker in the world. Is that how you plan to get the list?”
The woman let out a soft chuckle. Rolling her shoulders back, she said, “It did take some of my most brilliant hacking, but yes, I already have something in place. I put a virus on Sef’s ring that already located his infamous list. The file is still un-shareable, but if he accesses the list from a wall hologram, my virus will create a copy of it, and the copy will download to the wall hologram. I just have to trick him into accessing the list from a wall hologram, and then the list is mine.”
“The Egyptian Council might not give you Marco’s location even if you have the list. Despite the corruption in Egypt, they’re still morally strong.”
Takara raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side. “How do you know so much about Egyptian politics?”
“Because of my...” Imara stopped before she said anymore. If Takara knew about Abe, she could use it against either of them.
Takara waved a hand through the air. “Yes, yes,” she said. “Itafe Nazari’s son. I’ve had both of you followed for weeks. You seem to like him, but I still don’t understand why you’re here all the time. Carlotta was so sure you wanted to save Kenya.”
“What I want is to be a good person.”
The woman pushed her silky black hair over her shoulder in a movement so familiar, Imara could practically see Keiko staring back at her. “You’re not a good person now?” Takara asked.
“I’m trying to be.” Imara shifted on the chair, which only sent a burning sensation through her rib cage. She grimaced, and only part of it was caused by the pain. “I used to be cynical and hurtful, especially to my sister. All I want is to make things right with her.”
Takara let out a short laugh. “I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“All you want is to make things right with your sister?” Takara asked.
“Yes,” she said bobbing her head up and down.
This only caused Takara to roll her eyes. “If that’s all you want, then why are always in Egypt? If you want to make things right with your sister, then shouldn’t you go home and make things right with her instead of spending all your time here?”
“You don’t understand,” Imara said as she clenched her jaw. Things are crazy right now because of Sef and because of you. But it won’t be like this forever. Soon I’ll have time for my sister.”
“Stop,” Takara said, holding her palm up. “I don’t care. I want to know which Egyptian Council member knows where Marco is. That’s it.”
Imara folded her arms over her chest and forced her eyebrows as low as they could go. “Then I can’t help you.”
Without a word, Takara lifted another syringe and stabbed it into Imara’s neck. Within seconds, she was screaming.
And screaming.
Pain washed through her, even greater than before. Fire burned through her ribs and through her arms. When the worst effect of the syringe had worn off, her shoulders shook with sobs.
Takara plucked another syringe from the tray, but Imara cried out, “Don’t. Please don’t. I can’t take it again.”
“Then give me what I want,” Takara said simply.
Tears streamed down Imara’s cheeks as her chest bounced with hiccups. Each one felt like a cricket bat to her ribs. “I don’t know any more than you, please just let me go.” She never intended to resort to begging, but the pain had become too much.
Another syringe punctured through her skin, and the shooting pain seized her muscles yet again. Her heart fluttered when the pain finally stopped. Gasping for breath, she begged for a second time. “Please. Please don’t do it again.”
Takara lifted another needle, and it was too much. She had to give in.
“I have...” Imara hiccupped as more tears poured down her cheeks, “I have an idea.”
Takara paused, pulling the syringe back. “Go on,” she said.
Her breath shuddered as she tried to take in air without jarring her ribs. Finally, she said, “You want information from the Egyptian Council, and Sef wants to be a member of the Egyptian Council. You both have control over half the city. Instead of fighting each other, why don’t you just work together?”
Takara brought a hand to her chin as she thought. “Interesting. The taggers wouldn’t like it because we’re supposed to hate criminals, but if I found a way to get the taggers to agree...” She tapped her chin. “How could I get the taggers to agree?”
“I don’t know,” she said as she panted. “Please, I can’t think with all this pain.”
Takara jabbed another needle into her neck, and finally Imara understood. The woman didn’t care whether she lived or died. She would to squeeze as much information out of her as possible and then discard her like some broken drone.
The searing pain seized through her again. The world swirled around like whips and jerks. Her body shook so hard, she worried it would break another rib. Her vision went white. Prickles scratched under her skin while fire seemed to erupt from every pore. Sweat poured down her neck, and all she could think was that she finally understood how a person could want to die.
And that’s when she felt it.
A choice.
Each thump of her heart was more labored than the last. If her head stopped fighting, her heart might stop too. If she wanted to end this, she could.
But... Naki.
She couldn’t leave before they fixed things. Not yet. Not when they were so close.
And Abe.
He had believed in her when no one else did. If she could fight for anything, she could fight for him.
And her parents too. And maybe even Kenya. She couldn’t give up now.
With that thought, the pain inside her changed. It still hurt more than anything she had ever experienced, but it was no longer a death wish. Now it was a triumph.
She squeezed her fists and screamed out. Not a strangled cry, but a war cry. Nothing could stop her now. She would leave this place and fix things with Naki.
This wasn’t over yet.
It was hard to tell how long the pain lasted after that, but when it finally subsided, a smile tugged at her lips. She sat up in the chair and took in deep gulps of air, ready for anything.
Takara stared at her without blinking. Her face showed awe, but she wasn’t necessarily inspired by it. Mostly curious.
“What happened?” Takara asked.
The smile on Imara’s lips grew, and, somehow, her muscles seemed stronger than they had in days. “I’m not helping you,” she said.
For awhile, Takara did nothing but stare. Again, she asked. “What happened to you?” She pulled Imara’s shirt down to reveal a monitor button attached to her chest. Tapping it, Takara said, “Your vitals dropped. You almost had a heart attack, but then something changed. Did you have a thought? Or remember something?”
Before either of them had a chance to speak, a man with drooping earlobes entered the room. He tugged at one of his earlobes and reluctantly said, “Your daughter is here.”
Takara flashed her teeth and threw one of her syringes at the man. “What are you talking about?”
He threw his hands in front of his face and gasped. When the syringe clattered to the ground without puncturing him, he straightened. Now, he seemed to fear Takara’s anger over his silence. He tapped his hologram ring, and a security video displayed. Keiko stood in front of a mansion, probably the one they were all inside of. Her face burned red, and her mouth opened and closed with wide movements, making it clear she was yelling.
The sound must have been directed straight to Takara’s earphones because the room stayed silent, but she seemed to be reacting to the words. A moment later, Takara slapped a third tray which caused a knife to soar through the air and slice through her hand on the way down. She screamed and batted the knife away, causing a splatter of blood to burst from her hand. She shoved the man out of her way and clenched her fists as she ran from the room. He winced and reached again for his earlobe.
“Help me,” Imara said before he could leave.
He dropped his hand and gave her a look that almost looked liked sympathy. Almost. But then he turned toward the door.
“Do you agree with Takara’s actions? The drone attack, the murders?” she asked.
The man paused, but only for a moment. His hand hovered over the door opener, not quite ready to close it. “Do you?” Imara asked. “Is this what you wanted to accomplish when you came to Cairo? Did you want taggers to be known as murderers?”
Dropping his arm to the side, he let out a long breath. “Taggers are not murderers. We want to protect the world from villains.” He looked down. “We weren’t supposed to become the villains.”
She sat up in the chair, doing everything she could to ignore the fire in her side. “Please help me,” she said. “I am not your enemy.”
His face twisted up into a grimace as cold as ice. “You killed Carlotta. You are the enemy.” Without a word, he left the room and locked the door behind him.
With a deep breath, she pushed herself off the chair to stand. The pain dropped her to her knees at once. He was right. She was partially responsible for Professor Santini’s death. The guilt of it might never fade completely. Her ribs rattled as she sucked in a breath.
But, she hadn’t survived torture just to give up now. She tore the monitor button off her chest and eyed the door. Pain or not, she was going to escape.
