Chapter Forty-One
“I have always done my duty. I am ready to die. My only regret is for the friends I leave behind me.” Zachary Taylor
It couldn’t be that easy.
A screen on the wall opposite where she lay was blasting out morning prayers. That must be what had woken her. She screwed her eyes up tight and pressed her hands over her ears as if she could shut out the noise. Finally the praying stopped, and she pried open her lids. They felt glued together.
She was lying on a platform in a windowless cell. She presumed it was a cell, although she’d never been in one before, so it was pure supposition.
The walls were painted gray, as were the ceiling and the floor. A little gray box. There was a steel toilet in the corner and a small washbasin matching it. So she could wash her hands, she assumed. It wouldn’t do for her to get an infection and die before they got the chance to torture her. The only other object in the room was the solid platform she was lying on. No pillows or blankets in this hotel.
She shivered, though she wasn’t cold, then tried to push herself up, collapsing back as a blinding pain seared through her head and jabbed viciously at her brain.
Don’t be a wuss.
This time she got as far as her elbows when the pain struck again and she crashed back down into darkness.
When she came round the second time, she knew the worst was over. Well, as far as the effects of the gas were concerned, although she was sure that something worse than gas was just around the corner. She was going to do her best to ignore that.
Thinking about what was going to happen would only cause her to panic, and that wouldn’t help or stop it happening.
She pushed herself up without mishap and sat, head hanging, legs dangling over the side of her ‘bed’. Her clothes were gone. Someone had undressed her and redressed her in gray sweats and a gray tank top. Even her underwear was missing, which made her skin crawl. She tried not to think about it too much.
Other than the clothes, she was pretty sure she hadn’t been touched.
She was guessing that wouldn’t last.
Was Gideon somewhere close?
Was he even alive? Surely she’d be able to feel it if he was dead.
The screen flickered to life on the wall opposite. Christ, even here she had to watch this crap.
America for Americans.
“America for lying scum bastards, more like,” she muttered.
She gritted her teeth as Harry stepped up onto the podium and raised his arms. “Good morning, America. May God be with you.”
He lowered his arms, his face settling into a serious expression.
“It is with great sadness that I bring you the following news. Two of our own people, Party members, have betrayed us in the worst possible way.”
“As you already know, Gideon Frome has betrayed his country. Portrayed as a hero, Frome was in reality working with the rebels, awaiting the moment when he could infiltrate his way back into our midst and tear down what we have fought so hard to build. We brought him back into the fold, we gave him our trust, and he betrayed us.”
“Not only that, but he also subverted a Party member, Katherine Buchanan. A lonely spinster, easily coerced. Frome convinced her to help him with his traitorous endeavors.”
Two pictures flashed up on the screen. Gideon looking totally beautiful in his uniform, and one of herself. Not her best photo—not even close. She looked pale and skinny, the sort of woman who might easily fall prey to a handsome rebel.
A lonely spinster! Ugh!
While it really shouldn’t matter at a time like this, somehow it did. If she’d had anything to throw, she would have thrown it at the screen. She had nothing.
Harry was talking again.
“These traitors threaten our very way of life. They would tear down the walls that keep us safe. Allow the terrorists and the Antichrists to overrun us. Take the food from our children’s mouths, the jobs from our men and women.”
She rolled her eyes. How could anyone even take this crap seriously? Maybe they’d all heard it for so long that they’d stopped listening.
“So,” Harry continued, “I see no alternative for the safety of our country. Gideon Frome and Katherine Buchanan will be publicly executed this evening at seven p.m. May God take their souls.”
The screen went dead.
Just as dead as she was going to be.
She didn’t have a watch, so she had no clue what time it was and how long she had to live. That was a really weird thought at a moment like this, but her brain was struggling to make sense of everything.
On the bright side, at least they weren’t going to torture her for days and days. At the most for a few hours.
On another bright side, somewhere Gideon was still alive. If not for long.
Christ, she wished she could see him again. Just once more.
Maybe she would at the execution.
Nothing seemed real.
There was no change in temperature, but she shivered as cold seeped into her bones. She scooted back on the platform and leaned against the concrete wall, hugging her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, resting her cheek. Closing her eyes, she remembered the feel of being in Gideon’s arms, of him being deep inside her. Being part of her. At least she’d had that. They could never take it away from her.
She didn’t know how much time passed. The screen remained thankfully silent.
It would be over for her soon.
In a few weeks, everything would be over. Likely the country would be at war. Probably millions dead.
Did it matter?
She’d stopped believing that mankind deserved any sort of future. Maybe this was best. But why was it always the bad guys who managed to rise to the surface?
She accepted that most people were neither good nor bad. They just existed, their lives controlled by whoever was in charge. Only a few saw the chains for what they were and fought against them. And usually they needed a push in the right direction. Even Aaron—he’d been a rebel all his adult life, fighting for freedom, but he’d only done that because of a twist of fate. The girl he loved had been raped by the most powerful man in the world. If that had never happened, would Aaron and Gideon both have accepted their chains, maybe tried to make things a little better, but never actually rebelled?
All it takes for evil to prevail is good men to do nothing.
Trouble was, most of the good men needed to be banged over the head with a blunt instrument before they got around to doing anything.
Where was Auspex?
How was he dealing with his newfound freedom? Would he continue to grow, to develop? Would he survive the nuclear attack? There was a good chance. Many people would die in the aftermath, but a lot of infrastructure would remain. She could imagine him slowly, tentatively spreading out until he embraced the whole world. And then what?
The sound of the door clicking pulled her from her thoughts. She hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching. She sat up straight, her feet on the floor as though she might get up and run.
Two Secret Service agents entered the room. Until that point, it hadn’t seemed that small. Now it seemed tiny. The president followed, then Boyd Winters, who strolled in and leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He wore a black suit and looked faintly ominous.
Her muscles tensed in anticipation of pain to come. Was this it? The torture thing? Would she hold out? Did it really matter now? Though if she could somehow not implicate Gideon, she would try.
For a moment, it occurred to her to tell them about Auspex and the prediction. Appeal to their—if not better natures, then their own sense of self-preservation. After all, they would die along with the rest of America. But she knew she would be wasting her breath. She had no evidence that Auspex even existed, never mind that he was a functioning predictive engine.
Harry came to a halt in front of her, hands in his pockets, a smile on his smug face. “Ms. Buchanan, we meet again under sad circumstances.”
She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to, anyway.
“In view of your family’s support over the years, I thought it only decent to come and explain things to you in person.”
Gloat, more like.
“I felt I had no choice but to follow Mr. Winters’ recommendation and sign your death warrant.”
Her continuing silence appeared to unnerve him a little. His gaze shifted from her, and he shuffled his feet. Perhaps she wasn’t acting as expected. Was she supposed to beg? She had an idea he liked people begging. She also had an idea that it would do absolutely no good, and she had no intention of giving the bastard the satisfaction. So she just stared at him.
“You must see that I have to make an example of you.”
Actually, she didn’t see at all.
“You and Mr. Frome will be executed by hanging tonight, for all the world to see.”
She’d been hoping for a nice quick bullet. Or a lethal injection, where she’d just go to sleep. She really didn’t like the idea of hanging. She could almost feel the noose tightening around her, choking off her breath. Though she’d read that you usually actually died of a broken neck. If you were lucky. What a thing to have to hope for. She swallowed, cleared her throat. “Don’t I get a trial?”
“Under the rules of Martial Law, traitors can be executed without trial. Ms. Buchanan, you were going to try and assassinate me. I think you’re getting away lightly. I could order you questioned.” His tone suggested that it could still be arranged.
There was one thing she wanted to know. “How did you know?”
“We received an anonymous message.”
She frowned. Only she and Gideon had known of the plan. Who the hell could have called? “A phone call?”
“No, an email. Telling us where you were and what you planned.”
Auspex.
He’d emailed them to save her life. Just not for very long.
“You’re not going to torture me, then?”
“We’re not animals, Ms. Buchanan. We see no reason to torture you. You were taken advantage of by a very clever man. I feel sorry for you, actually. I, too, was duped by Gideon.”
She kept her face clear of expression and her hands firmly at her sides. She wanted to punch him so badly it hurt. Actually, she wanted to tear out his throat and watch him wriggle on the floor and bleed out. And then she wanted to jump on his carcass.
“Did he tell you that? That he took advantage of me?” Had he been trying to save her?
“You’re the daughter of a supreme court justice, the perfect aide to a man determined to take down his government.”
She didn’t think anything she said could save either herself or Gideon, but she had to try. “Actually, it was the other way around.”
He’d been about to turn away, the audience over. Now his eyes narrowed on her face. Boyd straightened from his position against the wall and took a step closer.
A shiver ran through her. The man gave her the serious creeps.
“Explain that comment,” he said.
She ignored him and spoke to the president. “Gideon is innocent. He’s totally loyal to the Party. He loves you and would never betray you. All he wanted was to get his life back.”
He tugged on his lower lip as he considered his words. “Why are you telling us this?”
“Because I used him and then lied to you about him. But I never really meant him to come to any harm.”
“Why?” Boyd asked.
Again she ignored him, keeping her focus on Harry. “Because I wanted to kill you. And I needed information to help me. When I met Gideon again, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. As soon as I got the chance, I drugged him and got a retinal scan to give me access to the Secret Service files. So I would know where you were.”
Boyd took another step closer, and she had to hold herself still so she didn’t back away. “Why did you want to kill the president? Are you working with the rebels?”
“Of course not.”
“Then…?”
She allowed all the hatred she felt to fill her voice. “Because he’s a slimy, narcissistic, evil bastard who raped my sister when she was only fifteen, and then had her murdered for no reason other than that she knew what a fucking bastard he really is.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed on her. “You knew about that?”
“My mother told me after Stella was killed. And I wanted you dead. But Gideon knew nothing about it.”
“Your phone call to me?” Boyd asked.
“Gideon was getting too close. He wouldn’t leave me alone. How was I supposed to kill you with him dogging my every move? I picked up on the chatter that his brother had been arrested, so it seemed the perfect opportunity to get him out of the way. I thought you’d realize he had nothing to do with Aaron and you’d release him.”
“Instead he’s going to die beside you.” Harry smiled. “Well, you did make a mess of things. Oh dear.”
“But he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Actually, I believe you. Unfortunately, the thing is, I’ve told my people that he’s a rebel. I can hardly go back now and say I made a mistake. I don’t make mistakes, Ms. Buchanan.”
“You don’t have to say you made a mistake. You could give him a pardon. He’s a hero; the people would love you for it.”
“They would love him more.”
She saw it now, remembered that night, the party at the White House. The look on Harry’s face when the crowd had cheered Gideon. Had that been the end right there?
“So you’ll kill an innocent man?”
“Boyd had already decided he had to go. He just didn’t fit in. Would never fit in. Unfortunately, Gideon is the real thing. An honorable man.”
Who would never have gone along with the decisions made by the inner circle: the organ donors, the slave towns… The nuclear attack on their own countrymen.
The rage and despair overtook her then. She didn’t even think about it. She leaped for him, arms outstretched. Her hands clawed down his face, but almost immediately she was grabbed from behind. She kicked out, frantic, furious, hopeless. It was a pointless fight, and seconds later she hung from the grip of one of the Secret Service agents, her breath coming in short sharp pants.
Harry stood against the door, the second agent in front of him. Blood trickled down his cheek from a line of scratches. Pity she hadn’t clawed his eyes out.
As she watched, he raised a hand to his face, then stared at the blood staining his fingers. Something flared in his eyes. Disbelief—she doubted anyone had raised a hand to him before—followed by fury.
He stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, then turned to Boyd and gave a small nod. “Just don’t mark her face. We want her all pretty for the execution.”
She didn’t see the first punch coming. A fist slammed into her stomach and pain blossomed through her, the air leaving her lungs in a whoosh. She didn’t have time to process the pain as she was hit again. Agony shot through her, and she was sure she heard the crack of her ribs. She tried to fold in on herself, but hard hands held her upright. The next hit forced a scream from her throat.
The hands gripping her released their hold, and she collapsed to the floor, curled into a ball. Pain exploded in her back as someone kicked her. Then the pain was a continuous thing, and she lost the ability to even scream, her throat raw as the kicks kept coming. She could feel consciousness slipping away, the pain almost distant.
“Stop. We need her walking to her execution, not being carried.”
She recognized Boyd’s voice.
The attack stopped, but the pain was a constant burning through her whole body. She was unaware of them leaving, but she heard Harry’s voice as if from a distance.
“It was a pleasure talking with you again, Ms. Buchanan. I’ll see you this evening.”
She was alone. She tried to push herself up but collapsed. Darkness enveloped her.