THE FUGITIVE SIX
ENGELBERG, SWITZERLAND, AND POINTS IN BETWEEN
NIGEL’S IPOD BLASTED THE CLASH AS HE PUSHED his shopping cart through the aisles of the grocery store. He bopped his head along with the music, happy to be out from under his mother’s watchful eye, if only for a little while. He’d been cooped up in this little town for weeks now, a prisoner of sorts, though he had free reign to do anything he wanted in the sleepy, windswept hamlet. Mostly, that limited his choices to browsing at the bookstore, gazing at the Alps, or aimlessly wandering the streets with his headphones warming his ears.
There were Blackstone mercenaries stationed throughout the town, keeping an eye on him. Still, he could’ve given them the slip if he really wanted.
His mom had bet that he would stay. And she was right.
Something was going to happen here. He wanted to see how it played out.
Chips, a sausage, cookies, and a couple boxes of the most marshmallow-filled cereal he could find. These things Nigel dumped into his cart.
It was all so utterly mundane. In fact, after those first few days, his entire visit with Bea had been that way. Most of the time, when she wasn’t video-chatting with one of her evil comrades, the two of them just chilled out. They played cards, watched movies, ate frozen pizzas.
His mom wasn’t so bad, if you could forget she was a megalomaniacal killer.
There were times when she conducted Foundation business in front of him, trying to make him feel like a part of it. He’d seen Taylor on video chat. So she’d finally managed to infiltrate after all their setting up. Some proper secret agent shit, that.
He wondered about the story she told Bea. Ran and Kopano, abducted by Earth Garde as punishment for the tiff with the Harvesters. Was that true? A cover story?
Clearly, Bea thought knowing that would sway him to her side. She thought she could wear him down during this protracted vacation.
It wouldn’t work. He would stop Einar from killing her. Couldn’t very well let that prick win, could he?
And once that was done, he would bring his mother and all her cronies to justice.
His cart full, Nigel wheeled his way to the checkout counter. There, he dumped all the groceries on the conveyor belt and bagged them himself. He did a rough tally of how much he’d taken, then took some of his mom’s money out of his wallet and stuck it alongside the unattended cash register.
There wasn’t another soul in the grocery store. In fact, most of Engelberg had been evacuated due to a phony avalanche warning. He still wasn’t sure how old Bea had pulled that one off.
The only people left in town were Nigel, his mom, and a dozen Blackstone mercenaries.
Whatever was going down, it was happening soon.
Taylor snapped awake as their chartered plane hit some turbulence over Romania. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She’d been drooling.
The exhaustion was real. She’d seen herself in the bathroom mirror a couple of hours ago. There were dark circles around her eyes and she swore she could see some strands of gray in her hair. She’d really pushed herself that night at the warship and was still recovering.
It’d been worth it, though. She was getting close. Close to the center of the Foundation.
She was carrying a beacon right to them.
There were dark clouds outside her window. She sat up in her seat, blinking groggily. The XO sat directly across from her, an amused smile on his freckled face.
“Was starting to think you could sleep through anything,” he said. “Been bumpy for the last hour.”
As if on cue, the plane vibrated once again. Taylor’s stomach did a loop, but she kept her face stoic. She flashed the XO a cocky grin.
“Little turbulence is nothing after you’ve fought Mogadorians.”
He laughed. “You’re a piece of work, Cook.”
She really was. God, how had it been less than a year since she first developed her Legacies? What would the Taylor of last winter think of Taylor now? She’d been a farm girl with a simple life that made her happy. Now? She was on a plane flying across Europe with a mercenary captain.
Life came at you fast.
“Speaking of those things, I’ve got a question for you,” Taylor said. Now that she was fully awake, it was time to get back to pumping the XO for information. “When I was hiding inside the warship, I heard a voice . . .”
The XO snorted. “Oh, you heard her, eh? Our nutty Mog lost in outer space.”
“What’s the deal with her?”
“She’s always making those broadcasts,” the XO said. “Doesn’t seem like anyone much cares, so long as she stays behind the moon.”
The XO shifted in his seat and his suitcase banged against his knee. He winced and readjusted himself. The reinforced-steel briefcase was radiation-proofed, but even so Taylor could tell the XO was uncomfortable having it handcuffed to his wrist. Inside were a dozen vials of the viscous Mogadorian ooze, ready for delivery.
Taylor nodded at the briefcase. “Doesn’t that stuff freak you out?”
The XO eyed her. “A job is a job.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “But that crap is like poison and you’re just . . . carrying it around.”
“Kid, has anyone ever told you that it isn’t your place to ask questions?”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Sure. I get that a lot.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not my place either. Young people think that they’re the only ones getting bossed around, living in the dark. Shit, that’s adult life, too, unless you’re further up the food chain than me.” He patted the briefcase. “So, we take this where it’s going. That’s our lot. But hell yeah, Cook, I’ll be happy when this thing is off me.”
“Won’t be long now,” Taylor said.
Nigel’s mom waited for him outside the grocery store. She stubbed out a cigarette when he emerged and smiled at him. Smoking and drinking—she’d been doing that a fair bit these last few days. For all her calm demeanor, Bea was nervous about this plan of hers.
She peeked into one of his bags. “Nigel, my goodness, this is all junk. I told you we have guests coming.”
“What? You expect me to roll out the red carpet for a sociopath with a fifty percent success rate offing Barnabys?”
Bea pinched his cheek, her fingers cold despite the unseasonable warmth at the base of the mountain.
“My dear, we’re expecting more guests than just Einar.”
Caleb rubbed his eyes, thinking back on that late-night call made on a cell phone provided by Isabela.
“Uncle Clarence?”
“Jesus, Caleb, it’s the middle of the goddamn night.”
“Wade Sydal is going to Switzerland.”
“You called me at three a.m. to tell me that?”
“I . . . I can’t tell you more for . . . for operational security reasons. But you have to make him take us with him. Say he needs Earth Garde protection or something. Pull some strings.”
“Caleb, that’s one big goddamn ask.”
“It’s important,” Caleb had said. “And if you ever want me to trust you, really trust you—this will be a good start.”
He’d barely slept after that. And now? Now, Caleb sat on a padded bench at the back of the Shepard-1, as far away from the others as he could get. He chewed his thumbnail and tried mentally to get his armpits to stop sweating.
“How great is this?” Sydal shouted from the front of the circular passenger compartment, his face pressed to the window glass that went all the way around the space, affording lucky passengers a 360-degree view of blue sky and ocean. “I’m so, so glad you guys could experience this with me!”
Of course Sydal had chosen to take his flying saucer to Switzerland.
Sydal extended his arms, showing off for the group gathered in the ship’s lounge. That included Daniela and Melanie, and a trio of Sydal’s stern-faced personal security guards. None of his assistants had been brought along. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t trust them after what went down that morning—Lucinda, apparently disappearing with a bunch of files stolen from Sydal’s workshop. And then the call from Earth Garde informing Sydal that there were credible threats being made against his life. Because of his close ties with the military, the trio of Garde had been assigned to him as bodyguards. Vacation was over.
Uncle Clarence had pulled it off.
“You guys feel that steadiness?” Sydal asked, not seeming the least bit bothered by his recent betrayal or the looming death threats. “It’s like flying on a cloud. And check out that ocean view—amazing! Tell me this isn’t going to change the future of air travel.”
“It’s so, so cool,” Melanie replied, not even looking away from her window.
Caleb glanced out his own window and his stomach turned over, but not from the heights or the ocean whipping by below. He couldn’t get what Isabela had told him last night out of his head. She’d been in a hurry to make her escape as Lucinda, but she’d found time to tell Caleb about Sydal’s dealings with the Foundation.
How had she come by this information? How long had she been Lucinda? How was she even out from the Academy? Where were the others?
“Better you don’t know yet,” she told him. “You won’t like it, Boy Scout.”
As if that information wasn’t weighing on him enough, Isabela had told him there was danger coming.
“We are going to bring him down,” she had said. “Him and these Foundation dogs. You must promise to stay out of our way. You must trust me, Caleb. We must be loyal to each other.”
Caleb felt sick. He also felt an agitated duplicate starting to pop out. He focused on keeping his feelings buried.
One of Sydal’s guards stepped over to the beaming magnate. Caleb leaned forward to hear what was said.
“Our team in Florida apprehended Lucinda,” the guard reported to Sydal.
“Oh, wonderful,” Sydal replied, making no effort to keep their conversation private. “Tell our people to prosecute as harshly as possible.”
“Thing is,” the guard continued, “she was tied up in her apartment. Claimed that someone jumped her a couple of days ago. None of the stolen property was recovered . . .”
“Well.” For the first time, Caleb saw a glimmer of annoyance on Sydal’s smooth face. “That’s certainly curious.”
Caleb missed the rest of the conversation as Daniela sidled up next to him.
“Yo, quiet guy,” she said. “Everything okay?”
Caleb itched around his collar. “Yeah, I’m just . . . feeling off.”
“If you’re still brooding about dinner last night, you should stop. No one even remembers you going off on Sydal,” she said with a grin. “Or maybe you’re down because hot-ass Lucinda ended up being a cat burglar or something?”
“I . . .” Caleb touched Daniela’s arm and lowered his voice. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”
“You’re nothing but bad feelings, man. You . . .” Daniela trailed off, noticing the seriousness on Caleb’s face. “You know something, C?”
“Just . . . stay on your toes, okay?”
“Are you aware that this tiny landlocked nation is one of the world’s wealthiest and most stable, with one of the highest standards of living?”
Nigel responded with a bored groan. The two of them walked through the abandoned village, heading towards the mountains. Nigel was still lugging the groceries and now regretted getting that extra tub of pretzels. His hands were cold and tired.
But then . . . there was no one around. So, he used his telekinesis to carry the bags and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. The display of power didn’t even register with Bea.
“Do you know how Switzerland came to that status?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me, Mum.”
“Nazi gold,” Bea continued. “The Swiss remained neutral during the war and the Nazis needed a place to hide the ill-gotten gains they’d looted from their victims. The Swiss banks were happy to oblige and, when the Third Reich collapsed, the Swiss just happened to be holding all their profits. They were rich.”
“What’re you telling me this for?”
“There are fortunes to be made from chaos,” Bea said. “The carefully neutral survive unscathed and prosper.”
“Oh, right, so you’re the bloody Swiss in this metaphor. Because you seem more like—”
“Yes, I’m a Nazi,” Bea interrupted sarcastically. “Please. Don’t be so predictable in your insults, dear.”
Nigel fumed silently as they reached a large clearing near the base of the Alps. There were stone benches there and a marble fountain frozen solid for the winter. To the north was a large cabin—the Welcome Center for those skiing the Alps—its windows dark and abandoned. Attached to the cabin was a cable car that connected to the mountainous peak.
Bea did a full 360, gazing around the field.
“We’ll do it here,” she declared. Bea grabbed a walkie-talkie from her hip and spoke into it, waving her hand back and forth. “Do you see me, Captain?”
“We see you,” a man’s voice crackled over the walkie. “Setting up now.”
Silva, Isabela. São Paulo, Brazil. Shape-shifter. Silva exhibits excellent control of her Legacy and adequate telekinesis. She displays tremendous situational intelligence that would recommend her for all manner of espionage activity. However, Silva suffered severe burns prior to becoming Garde and thus is constantly shape-shifting to maintain her appearance. She exhibits textbook narcissism and a disregard for authority verging on the pathological. Earth Garde has assessed her as a potential RTH and we are inclined to agree. Contact is not recommended.
“Pah!” Isabela spat, and tossed the tablet through her open door and out into the Skimmer’s hallway. “Pathological, my ass! Bastards!”
Her rage was barely contained by the narrow supply closet that she’d declared her sleeping quarters. There wasn’t a lot of private space aboard the Skimmer, so she’d dumped the crap that was in here and moved in a sleeping bag. She’d enjoyed her few days posing as Lucinda. The woman had a very comfortable bed.
Isabela’s hands shook. She touched her cheek—smooth, unblemished. They knew about her. The tablet had belonged to one of the Foundation people Einar killed. She’d been scrolling through it, nosing through their files. And oh, were there files. Every Garde that was enrolled in the Academy and some that weren’t—the Foundation knew about them.
They knew about her.
“Please don’t go hurling around our evidence,” Einar said, appearing in the hall outside Isabela’s closet. He picked up the tablet and dusted it off. “We may actually need this.”
Isabela sniffed haughtily to show her disregard, but also to hide the frustrated tears in her eyes.
“They wrote . . . bad things about me,” she said.
“I know. I read it.”
She glared at him.
“You should read my dossier when you have a chance,” Einar said. “If you thought yours was bad . . .”
“They called me a—what was it? An RTH.”
“Risk to humanity,” Einar said. “They call me that, too.”
Isabela’s eyebrows shot up. “But . . . you are a killer! Why should I be lumped in with you?”
Einar shrugged. “They think they can predict our futures,” he said.
Isabela considered this. “You should prove them wrong.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Stop acting like an angry child. Stop killing. Bring them to justice. There are good people at Earth Garde. They will help.”
Einar pursed his delicate lips. “You just want to save Nigel’s mother. I understand. He’s your friend. But trust me, she is not worth saving.”
“You read our files, yes? Then you know that the Garde at the Academy like Nigel. He was a hero during the invasion. You want to unite the Garde? Prove you are not a shitty little villain? Well, you need to stop killing people’s moms and dads.”
“You’re oversimplifying things,” Einar muttered, but he was listening. He was looking at Isabela the same way that Caleb had last night. Waiting for an answer.
“I have a plan,” Isabela declared. “For when we get there. A fate worse than death for these Foundation bastards.”
“What’s worse than death?”
Isabela touched her smooth cheek and, for a moment, let her appearance waver. Einar’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of her scars.
“For these people?” Isabela smiled. “Being seen for who they truly are.”
From his vantage point, Nigel could see a dozen or so Blackstone mercenaries moving about on the rooftops at the edge of town. They’d have an unobstructed line of sight down to the clearing where he and his mom stood. He was sure there were others, too, who weren’t visible to him. Maybe in the cabin, maybe up on the cable car.
“You sure you’ve got enough men?”
“One sniper would be enough for Einar,” Bea said. “His Legacies are only effective at close range. I’ll have every angle covered.”
“You thought of everything,” Nigel said dryly.
“Darling, when I plan an ambush, I plan an ambush.”
“Might not even show up.”
“He’ll show up,” Bea replied. “I made sure to leave ample bread crumbs for him to follow.”
Nigel squinted. It looked like one of the mercs was carrying a rocket launcher. He whistled.
“Is that a bazooka up there? Christ, Mum. Going to blow us all up?”
“My dear, it’s always best to be prepared for the unexpected.”
“Do you know what you’ve done?” Agent Walker shouted. “We’re talking international incident here!”
“You said our mission is to find Einar,” Ran replied coldly. “She will help us do that.”
“We’ve kidnapped the daughter of a sheikh from a nation that doesn’t participate in Earth Garde,” Walker responded. “Do you have any idea how illegal that is?”
Ran tapped her temple. “Is this legal?”
“You didn’t kidnap me,” Rabiya added. “I came willingly.”
Walker and Ran didn’t acknowledge her, too deep in their own argument. Kopano sighed and put his hand on Rabiya’s shoulder.
“They’re always fighting,” he said. “In the meantime, best to just enjoy the view.”
They stood on a mossy cliff overlooking a gorge filled with overgrown jungle. Fog rolled across the valley below and, through the misty gaps, Kopano saw the remains of an ancient village. Stone temples and houses, all built into the mountain walls. Next to him, a Loralite stone jutted out of the ground.
“Where have you brought us, exactly?” he asked Rabiya.
“Machu Picchu, in Peru,” she replied, hugging herself. “No one has discovered this Loralite growth yet, so it’s free from the usual checkpoints and security guards. I come here sometimes to think.”
Kopano glanced over at her. She was hard to get a read on, but he thought he saw loneliness in her eyes.
“You can just teleport all over the world and see such amazing things,” Kopano said with a grin. “What a Legacy! I’m jealous.”
“Yes, it’s great until someone is trying to kill you.”
“You can just teleport away!”
“It’s not always so easy.”
Kopano took a deep breath and extended his arms, letting the breeze blow across his chest. “At the Academy, they will teach you ways to defend yourself. You’ll love it.”
Rabiya glanced back at Walker and Ran. “Will they let me stay? If they send me back to my father after what I did . . .”
“Things will work out,” Kopano assured her, although he wasn’t so certain of that any more. He fingered the Inhibitor chip in his pocket, the one that he’d pulled out of his own head. What reason did he have to be positive when everything lately had sucked so hard?
He thought of Taylor, back at the Academy, probably worried sick about him. He’d made a promise to her, too, about keeping her safe and making life boring. Now he wasn’t around to keep it. He thought about kissing her, about how their relationship was just getting started. Now, it was Kopano who had loneliness in his eyes.
Agent Walker snapped her fingers at Rabiya and Kopano as they both stared wistfully across Machu Picchu’s crumbled architecture. Apparently, she and Ran had finished their latest argument.
“All right, since we’re in this mess and we can’t hide in Peru forever, we might as well know,” Walker resignedly addressed Rabiya. “Where is Einar?”
“Switzerland,” she replied. “Or, at least, he will be there.”
“Why Switzerland?”
“There’s a meeting happening there between one of the Foundation heads and one of their biggest customers. He won’t be able to resist.”
“And you know this how?”
“The woman from the Foundation approached my father about acquiring my services for the meeting. Apparently she wanted a quick getaway.” Rabiya had held Walker’s gaze throughout the mini interrogation, but now she looked away. “He denied her, but I heard the details. The meeting is soon.”
Walker ran a hand through her hair. “Jesus. So this is all just a hunch of yours?”
“No,” Rabiya replied sharply. “The Foundation woman in question is Bea Barnaby. She recruited Einar. He won’t be able to resist attacking her.”
“But he might not even know about this meeting,” Walker groaned.
Ran stepped in close to Rabiya. “Did you say Barnaby?”
“Yes,” Rabiya replied. “I think you know her son.”
Kopano’s stomach dropped. There really wasn’t much reason for optimism in this world. None at all.
“How close can you get us?” Ran asked.
Rabiya draped her hand against the Loralite growth.
“Close.”