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CONNOR TAPPED HIS FOOT in a nervous rhythm, but betrayed no other sign of his unease. He affected a bored expression, watching as the floor numbers crept upward on the elevator’s display pad.
The elevators are the eyes and ears of the Givers. The bombing at the protest will be all over the Infomedia by now. Darcy needs to know about the Trackers who were behind it.
Connor felt a growing excitement as he imagined how they might enlist the protesters to join their cause. Failing that, perhaps Darcy could devise a way of using the protests to stir up further unrest in the Enclave. Anything to buy additional time before the Anodyne Initiative went into full implementation.
The doors parted at the twentieth floor, and Connor strode down the hall, his expression carefully neutral. Just another Citizen heading home after another typical day in the Enclave. University classes resume tomorrow. That’ll give me a legitimate alibi.
He fidgeted outside the door of the villa, resenting even the few seconds it took to key in his personal entry code. The door opened, and he stepped inside, eager to share his news.
He halted just inside the entrance. The door hissed shut behind him and he could only stand there, staring, his mouth hanging open.
To his left, Darcy sat in front of the hearth with Implant Twenty-seven and Mateo, the Givers’ traitorous pawn. To his right, Tony sat in a stiff armchair, leaning one arm on the decorative table beside him. The chauffeur toyed with the barrel of a rifle resting on the table, a smug, self-important look on his face which Connor was beginning to despise.
Before he could say anything, Implant Twenty-eight appeared out of the kitchen, crossing in front of him without acknowledging his presence. She paused to place a serving tray on the table between Darcy and his improbable guests, and then continued down the hall, disappearing without a word around the corner.
“Connor.” Darcy smiled, raising his whiskey glass in salute, as if nothing unusual was happening. “How good of you to join us. I trust you recognize Mateo, and also our esteemed guest, Colonel Rucker.”
Connor recovered, shutting his mouth and swallowing hard before he dared to reply. He’s coaching me. From now on, we refer to Implant Twenty-seven by name, not number.
He ground his teeth with resentment, wanting more than anything to pounce on Garr and force him to confess what he’d done to Megan. Then, he remembered the decision he’d made in the aftermath of the protest.
“Have you seen the Infomedia?” Connor managed to keep his voice even. “Do you know what happened during the protest at the Arts and Culture Gallery?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed in consternation. “What protest?”
He has no idea. Connor hesitated, unsure how much to divulge in front of the savages. “Sir? Could I have a moment with you, alone?”
He saw the look of instant suspicion on Implant Twenty . . . Garr’s face. Mateo raised his chin, gazing at Connor from an odd angle.
“I know we promised to share information,” Connor added for their sake. “But I’d like to talk to Darcy first.”
Darcy stood to his feet, leaning over to place his whiskey on the glass-topped table with a firm clink.
“Gentlemen.” He addressed the traitor called Mateo and the savages’ leader with surprising civility. “My son and I would like a moment, if you don’t mind. We will, of course, share any pertinent information with you.”
Connor caught the motion in his peripheral vision. Another savage entered the gathering room, accompanied by Implant Twenty-eight. I’ll need Darcy to remind me what her name is.
The savages were dressed, as was Garr, in the proper garments for a Citizen of the Enclave. Connor had trouble believing his eyes. We’ll have to burn those clothes once the savages are done with them.
Darcy barely acknowledged their presence, addressing his comments to Garr alone. “Colonel, why don’t you and your team wait on our balcony? The view of the Enclave from this height is quite inspiring.”
Garr didn’t reply at once, favoring Connor with a shrewd and appraising look. Not used to people telling you what to do? Connor fumed at the savage’s presumption. Well, get used to it, ‘Colonel.’
Mateo broke the brief stalemate, rising to his feet and heading for the balcony. “Very good, Councilor. We anticipate hearing your news. Your foster son appears barely capable of restraining himself.”
I’m restraining myself right now. Connor sneered behind Mateo’s back. Tony’s rifle. Your arrogance. Do the math, Tracker.
One by one, the savages filed out after Mateo. Tony locked the door with an exaggerated flourish. He hefted his rifle, pointing it to the ceiling, clearly enjoying the sensation of power he thought the weapon gave him. Connor ignored him.
Darcy sprang into action, changing the window’s opacity setting to filter. The floor-to-ceiling panes darkened in response, throwing the room into semi-dusk and thwarting the savages’ view of gathering the room or its occupants.
Darcy activated the large viewing screen above the hearth, tuning it to the Infomedia. As Connor suspected, the leading story on every channel was the protest at the Gallery.
The surveillance footage repeated in an endless loop of smoke, screams, and fleeing Citizens, narrated by a dramatic voice-over, describing the scene in precise and graphic detail. The video was then supplanted for a few moments by a panel of talking heads.
Connor was not surprised to hear them taking advantage of the opportunity to promote the Anodyne Initiative. The sooner it was implemented, the panel agreed, the better. For the good of the Enclave.
And then the whole sequence would begin again.
Darcy watched the report in silence, his eyes darting back and forth, absorbing everything he could from the footage. He made no comment on the talking heads’ insistence on accelerating the Anodyne Initiative, obviously not deeming it worthy of discussion.
Connor understood his restraint. This was the Givers’ doing, aided and abetted by the traitors on the Council.
After watching the report cycle three times, Darcy shut the Infomedia off, staring at the blank screen for a long moment. At last, he tilted his head in Connor’s direction, his gaze on the polished floor at his feet.
“You were there.” It was not a question.
Connor took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Stick to the facts, no wild guesses. “Yes, sir. There was an anti-Initiative protest in front of the Art Gallery. I was curious, so I went to see what might happen. Two Trackers showed up and detonated in the middle of the crowd. I escaped when everyone else ran.”
Now Darcy did turn to face him, his eyes demanding a truthful accounting. “I saw only one explosion, from multiple camera angles.” His challenge was clear.
Connor gulped, his pulse quickening. “Two explosions, sir. That’s why I didn’t want the savages to hear about it. Not yet, anyway. There were two Trackers, and they were hunting each other. One tried to run away, but the other caught up. When it knew it couldn’t escape, it grabbed the other Tracker and blew itself up. The other one exploded a split-second later. It only looks like a single detonation on the Infomedia.”
“Trackers hunting each other?” Tony sounded skeptical, sauntering next to Connor and lowering his weapon. “That doesn’t sound like something the Givers would authorize, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you.” Darcy dismissed him with a wave of his hand, turning to face the balcony windows. They remained opaque. The savages couldn’t be seen, but neither could they see inside.
“Trackers divided against one another,” he mused aloud. “What are the Givers up to?”
“What do we tell the savages?” Tony seemed unfazed by Darcy’s earlier rebuke. “The less, the better, in my opinion.”
Darcy whirled to glare at him. Tony cowered away, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“We’ll tell our allies everything, do you hear?” Darcy took a menacing step forward. “For the sake of our cause, we must risk a dangerous level of cooperation. Their names are Garr, Sheila, and Amos. They’re the key to bringing more of their kind into the Enclave. We need more Implants.”
Connor nodded. Darcy always saw the big picture. The alien Givers, and the collaborators, were their first priority.
Avenging his sister would be his victory celebration.