| |
Tempest had flown away, and I missed her already, the ache sharpened by the knowledge tomorrow we’d say our final goodbyes. I’d wrap up the situation at the crash site as quickly as I could and then haul ass to Città. I couldn’t imagine what could have gone wrong. I’d planned and executed the explosion perfectly. When it came to making people disappear, this wasn’t my first rodeo.
Maybe Tempest was right. Maybe I was a cowboy at heart, a throwback to the Old West. Cowboys were legend now; they didn’t exist anymore.
Where the hell is that RTC?
I pinged Quint to get an ETA and more info on the situation. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stomped into the compound.
A bot shoved a load of sand out of the gate. Adjusting to their environment, robotic sweepers could vacuum, blow, or bulldoze. I’m sorry, I apologized to the sand. Hopefully Tempest’s background on colonization would bolster Geo-Tech’s progress on getting people off the planet.
Quint pinged me back. Yes?
What’s gone wrong at the crash site? I asked.
What do you mean?
What’s happening that requires my attention? I tried again.
You tell me, he replied. You staged it.
Huh? Should be nothing. Everything went according to plan. The RTC crashed and blew up. I ensured there would be enough evidence remaining to tie the crash site to Tempest. I placed the bomb where it would destroy the passenger cab but leave intact the rear marked with the vehicle’s ID number. I cloned her comm device, transferring the data to a new handheld secured in a bomb-proof woman’s handbag. I included some “personal” effects like a brush planted with a few strands of her hair, a filter mask, and goggles.
Sounds like you’ve got it under control.
Then why are local authorities suspicious?
That an RTC blew up when it shouldn’t? he asked, still speaking in riddles.
As long as they suspected the right kind of foul play, all was good. Deeming the crash not an accident but a homicide—acceptable. Suspecting the explosion had been staged and no one had crashed and died—bad.
I was getting nowhere with my commander. Quint—why did you order me to go to the crash site?
I didn’t order you to the crash site.
Yes, you did.
No, I didn’t.
A sweeper bot plowed a load of sand out of the compound. Only a tiny section had been cleared. The bots weren’t achieving much progress, and neither was I. When Stephanie delivered the RTC, she told me you wanted me to go to the crash site because local authorities had become suspicious.
Whoa, whoa, wait. Stephanie Milner is with you?
She was. She left with Tempest to return to Città.
Stephanie went AWOL. She didn’t report to work this morning.
My blood froze. The noise from the sweeper bots faded away. A cyborg would never abandon his or her post. You didn’t send Stephanie to escort Tempest to Città? This couldn’t be happening. Stephanie couldn’t have kidnapped her right under my nose.
No.
There’s not another RTC coming for me? Stephanie had taken Tempest and left me stranded so I couldn’t go after her.
Quint swore. No. I’ll send one now.
A few seconds later: ETA is two hours forty-two minutes.
She doesn’t have two hours and forty-two minutes!
First of all, we don’t know for certain Tempest is in danger, but, erring on the side of caution, I’m dispatching a team to intercept Stephanie. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Her record has been exemplary. There haven’t been any red flags to indicate she’s been compromised.
Unless one counted going AWOL, hijacking an RTC, lying about orders from the commander, and abducting a presidential aide.
Stephanie works for Kathryn Jodane, I said. I was sure of it. I’d been embedded in the White House, posing as an enforcer, and Jodane had planted her own mole in C-Force. Her other cyborg assassins had been C-Force washouts. This one had gotten through the program. Could there be others?
We will proceed as if that’s true, while recognizing that it may not be.
I paced, unable to stand still. Somewhere out there, Tempest was alone with a ruthless enforcer. Quint, this isn’t a kidnapping-for-ransom. The intention is assassination. Stephanie was ordered to do the job I didn’t do. Somehow Jodane learned the explosion was staged, and Tempest didn’t die.
If I hadn’t been here when Stephanie arrived, she would have blasted Tempest on the spot and then vanished without a trace. But my presence had forced a change in plans. We have to find that RTC. You should be able to pick up its electronic signature.
The brief pause before Quint’s reply revealed the gravity of the situation. The tracking signature has been blocked.
Child’s play for a cyborg.
I’ve been pinging Stephanie; she is not responding, he added. Quint never did sugarcoat anything.
So we had no idea where the hell she was headed. Would she take Tempest to a settler’s cabin in the middle of nowhere for interrogation before executing her? Or would she kill her and dump her body in the dunes?
They had left only fifteen minutes ago. The sky was clear; the visuals were excellent. If I’d had an RTC, I might have had a chance of catching up with them. Instead, I was fucking stranded while Stephanie carried out Jodane’s orders.
Trust me, I’d told Tempest time and again. Trust me, and I can help you.
And when she did. I let her down in the worst possible way.
