Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Any man who wants to be president is either an egomaniac or crazy.” Dwight D. Eisenhower

With Auspex silent, Kate had no clue what was happening in the outside world. She’d connected her tablet to the limited internet and tried to contact him. Either he wasn’t there, or he was ignoring her. Either way there was nothing she could do from here. Probably nothing she could do from anywhere. She had no control over Auspex any longer.

She’d spent a sleepless night huddled in her sister’s bed, expecting boots on the stairs and knocks on the door. But dawn had come with no interruptions.

She didn’t dare call anyone. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t; her phone was fucked and the phone in the apartment had been cut off days ago. Anyway, who would she call?

Luckily, the power hadn’t been cut off. She got up feeling achy, as though she was coming down with something. Her stomach rumbled. She’d have to venture out at some point as she’d cleared all the food out last time she’d been here. She drank a glass of water, then forced herself to switch on the TV.

There was some crappy morning show on, but it was interrupted after about ten minutes by a Party alert.

She sat up, sickness churning in her stomach. She needed to know what was happening, though part of her just wanted to switch it off. It would only be propaganda anyway. But maybe she’d get a glimpse of Gideon.

Harry climbed onto his podium.

America for Americans.

Get on with it.

“Yesterday, a major player in the rebellion against this country’s future was arrested while trying to enter the city.”

A picture of Aaron flashed up on the screen.

She forced herself to concentrate, but it was just a lot of words saying nothing, rehashing the past. She bolted upright as the screen changed to show a picture of Gideon. She shifted closer, let her finger trail over the scar on his cheek. He was in uniform, and he looked so handsome and so brave. It broke her to think of what he might be going through right now.

“It is with great sadness,” Harry said, “that I have to tell you, my people, that Gideon Frome has been implicated in the rebellion and has been confirmed as working with his brother. He was arrested this morning. We welcomed Captain Frome back as a hero of the people, and he has betrayed us. He and his brother will be dealt with as traitors.”

She couldn’t watch anymore. She got up, switched off the TV.

She picked up her tablet.

Auspex?

There was no response.

Tomorrow, one way or another, everything would be over.

…

It had been a long, long day and Gideon had a suspicion that there was more to come.

Everything hurt, but he’d pushed the pain back into the corner of his mind. He’d learned to do that.

He was in a small, square room, with a mirror on one wall. He knew it was two-way. The other walls were plain white, the floor concrete with a drain in the center. He didn’t want to think what that was for.

The only furniture was his chair and a small cart, which he was trying not to look at, but which drew his attention like a magnet. They’d beaten him up a bit when they’d arrested him. He’d fought—mainly because he’d wanted to hit something—and he had a couple of broken ribs, but they hadn’t actually questioned him yet. When he couldn’t avoid looking at the cart, he’d noticed several vials of noxious yellow liquid. He remembered it from last time, and the memories were not pleasant.

He shifted in the chair. He was strapped at the ankles and forearms, and movement was almost impossible. His mouth was dry, and his throat hurt where one of Boyd’s goons had gotten him in a neck lock. Boyd had stood by, a small smile on his face, while they’d beaten him up.

He seemed to have been here forever, though it was probably only a few hours. He could wait a while longer.

Where was Kate?

She hadn’t told him where she planned to go, just in case. He figured he could take any amount of pain they could dish out, but the drugs messed with your head. Hopefully, they wouldn’t question him about her. If they’d believed her story last night, there was no reason to. She only had to stay at large until tomorrow. Then she had to assassinate the president. He held out no hope that she would succeed. Maybe he should have taken her away by force. But it had already been too late. The city was locked up tight and they had nowhere to go.

The door opened.

A couple of Secret Service agents entered. They wore the uniform of the president’s personal bodyguard, giving more than a hint of who was following close behind.

Harry was dressed in beige slacks and a yellow polo shirt. Boyd entered behind him, smart in his usual black suit. The agents took up positions on either side of the door as Harry approached him.

“Gideon, I am so disappointed in you.”

“This is a mistake, sir. I have no clue why I’m here.”

“Perhaps this will make things a little clearer.”

A light went on beyond the two-way mirror, and he could see into the room next door. He kept his expression blank but couldn’t prevent the instinctive flexing of his fingers.

The room beyond was bigger than the one he was in. Otherwise it was similar, bare, with white walls and no furniture.

A man knelt in the middle of the room, head bowed, hands tied behind his back. He still wore the black jeans and sweater from their meeting. Aaron had been beaten; his face was a mass of blood and bruises and his expression was dazed. His eyes were dull, no doubt from the drugs.

“You can save his life,” Harry said. “All you have to do is tell us what he planned to do here in D.C.”

“I haven’t seen or spoken with my brother in over ten years,” Gideon replied. “I have no clue what he’s been doing in that time any more than I knew what he planned all those years ago.”

“Well, you see, we know that’s a lie,” Boyd said. “Your little girlfriend called me—said you’d received a call about your brother last night.”

“Kate? Kate called you?” He put as much shock as possible in his voice.

“Yes. You really don’t have much luck with women. She seemed to think you were a traitor. That you might be in league with your brother and the rebels.”

“She wouldn’t.”

Boyd gave an exaggerated sigh. “She did. So talk.”

At least it sounded as though they had no doubts about Kate. She’d proved her loyalty. “I’m telling the truth. I haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron. Last night I received an anonymous call telling me that my brother had been arrested. That’s what Kate overheard.”

“You know, I almost believe you. Your brother said the same thing. But you do understand we need to be sure. I think what you’re about to see will persuade you to cooperate fully.” He turned away and spoke into his phone. As he watched through the mirror, Gideon saw a man appear. He must have been standing at the edge of the room out of sight. Every muscle tensed as Gideon saw the pistol in his hand. He wanted to scream, to shout…to beg.

He was aware that nothing would do any good, and he kept his lips clamped closed. Maybe Aaron had been living on borrowed time all these years.

He forced himself to keep watching. Aaron stared at the mirror as though he could see Gideon on the other side. He straightened his shoulders as the man stepped up behind him, raised the pistol. There was no sound from the other room, which lent the scene an air of unreality. This wasn’t happening.

The top of Aaron’s head exploded, blood splattering over the mirror.

Gideon released the breath he’d been holding, closed his eyes for a moment. Aaron had been the last of his family. Now he was alone. No one to care what happened to him. Except Kate.

“Your mother will be devastated,” Harry murmured. “That hurts me. We were friends once.”

Bastard.

“My mother is dead,” Gideon replied. “Someone called her, as well. Told her about Aaron’s arrest. When I got home, she’d overdosed on sleeping pills.”

“You didn’t report it.”

“I was going to this morning. I was expecting this. I’ve been here before, remember? And I’m as innocent as I was last time.”

“We’ll see,” Harry said. He nodded to Boyd and moved back to stand in front of the blood-splattered mirror. Boyd crossed the room to the cart and picked up one of the syringes.

He didn’t bother to ask a question, and Gideon didn’t bother trying to plead his innocence again.

He tried to pretend this wasn’t happening, but his whole body tensed up.

A rough hand pushed his head to the side, exposing his neck. A second later, he felt the sting of the needle.

Fire flooded his body, dragged the air from his lungs. He threw back his head and screamed.