Simulated, p.15
Simulated, page 15
I refuse to tell them about Fingertips. “Everything is fine.”
“All right then. I’m signing off. If there’s any trouble activate K2’s SOS, and we’ll send those officers in,” he says. “And Jo? Ms. T says no risks.”
My gift is tingling, right on the verge of appearing. “You mean apart from meeting a dangerous scientist while pretending you’re a psycho recently sprung from prison ready to do the greatest deal of her life? Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Harrison fakes a laugh, for my sake. “You claimed he wasn’t dangerous. You better be right.” He skips a beat. “There he is—or should I say target in sight?” He signs off.
A man with a blank stare crosses the street, entering the Palais. He’s looking around, concentrating too much. He walks quickly, not a confident stride, but like he wants to get it over with. He rubs his forehead, then wipes his pants. He’s sweating, nervous. His fingers tap against his leg. My stomach knots. I step forward, my heart racing, gift flickering with numbers. I can’t let my team get anywhere near this guy.
Goliath leans down. “Jo, this guy’s got every warning light going off in my body.”
“Listen,” I say to Goliath, adrenaline simmering in my chest. “Don’t interfere unless I ask, please.”
We move to the veranda in the back of the Sparkling Star Palais. Montego is heading outside where a few tables are set up under a vine-covered arbor.
“It’s money time,” I say. Goliath gives me an odd look.
“Sorry. Inside joke. Let’s go.” With his large hand on my back, he escorts me inside.
Numbers are cast like a net into the sea as I enter the building. For 34 seconds I catch the dimensions of rooms and the distance to the terrace. I take note of the starkly juxtaposed modern appliances amidst old paintings and illustrations and a collection of musical instruments. Then my gift starts to blink, like it wants to come on, but something’s pushing it away. The on-and-off is distracting me. It’s too hard to piece all of the clues together.
Goliath positions himself at a corner table, awaiting my instructions. Montego settles into his white chair, a small briefcase with him. Anyone could tell he’s not a fighting man. He’s tall and gangly, extra thin arms and legs. A sunken face. A sad man who looks like he has lost all hope. Most likely easily overpowered. It makes me pause. He probably was once a brilliant professor with a future, full of scientific breakthroughs the world needed.
What made him so desperate or disillusioned at life that he gave up his reputation for money and power at the cost of his own soul to work for Madame, and now the Loyalists? I think back to the Pratt and how gradually lies seep in and take root. Unless someone’s there to pull them out and plant truth, monsters grow. A part of me wants to bind the monster and set this man free, like Red would have. But I also know he has to make it to the transaction on Friday or the bigger monsters go free.
And if he believes I’m Madame, he’ll most likely be scared of me and do what I ask.
Despite the nausea of those days, I allow my dinners with Madame in Shanghai to sink their teeth into me. Her power. Her cunning words. Her threats. It makes me sick, but I take on her persona now. I am the one who wields the sword. I strut up to Montego’s table as graceful as a doe, as silent as a ghost, as deadly as a kiss.
“Montego, darling,” I say, in that icy whisper of a voice. “Nice to see you.”
He turns startled, already pushing his chair back. “W-h-ho are you?” he asks, his hands immediately splayed out on his legs. Drips of sweat pour down his forehead. He really is nervous.
“As if you don’t know.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Ah, now. You’re wondering if I am her or an associate. One never knows. That is how she likes it. But she told you she’d show up. And I always show up. Your buyer couldn’t make it, you see.” I sit at his table like I own the whole palace.
“Impossible.” He’s trembling, his chest is already heaving. I feel sick but my gift is starting to buzz. Just a bit more fear and intimidation, then I will calm him down, set him at ease. Perhaps persuade him to a better life, to get out of the game. But instead, I do what Noble says not to—I threaten him.
“What’s impossible is you selling Madame’s property without permission. Tsk tsk tsk. Cherie, you had a deal. And even before the big day.” I stare, hard and without blinking.
“She’s…You’re…in prison. Even this morning. I checked. How did you…?” His fists curl in and out.
“Am I the only one who knows the news is a farce? Even after all the tools I’ve provided for you. You didn’t even think to check the FBI’s private network?”
Harrison veiled the feed this morning. AI bots went to town creating fake videos of Madame’s getaway.
I deliberately cross my legs as she used to, drawing attention to my boots. “They’d never announce an escape this important on National news or an FBI network. No one wants to admit they have a criminal of my caliber on the loose.” I hold out the phone to him, a Veil news leak created by my personal team.
He pales to a shade of ash as he reads it. I stare, without blinking, my flickering gift revealing more about him than I like. Nervous energy is jolting off him. His fear is taking over. It’s hard to ignore. I shake it off and act hard and cold. Like she would. I’m pleased he believes my performance.
“So who am I? Does it matter? I do her bidding.” My gift flinches as the lies and confusion fly out of me, a glimmer of the truth trying to surface. I suddenly understand something. Madame’s gift flickered too. Those moments when she saw me for who I was. It was her gift. But it never fully returned. I clench my teeth. I won’t let that happen to me.
His face drops as he reads the headline in a Veiled news source. “Notorious criminal Maxima Moreau escaped her high security prison last night. Authorities have closed borders in three countries in attempts to identify her location and prevent her from eluding capture.”
Noble is in my ear, running, voice firm. “I’m one kilometer from you. No threats. Switch the file and leave.”
I give him a smile that does not reach my eyes. “Now hand me your holothumb. I already know you have it on you. Yours is corrupted now. I have a new one for Friday.”
He swallows hard, nothing moving except his hands, which are still rubbing his legs. “What are you going to do to me?”
My gift buzzes with life.
Focus on the file. I know I should but that is not what Madame would do. It’s scary how I know exactly what she would say. And I say it.
“Nothing, Cherie,” I say as smug as possible. “We have a job to do. And I still need you. You’ll still make the deal for me, as agreed, and when this holothumb is in the Successor’s hand, your disloyalty can be his problem.” I take out the little black holothumb. “Here, an updated list without a trace of corruption.”
He shifts in his chair. A horrified expression now on his face.
Noble is in my ear again. “Jo, numbers don’t lie. Whatever you said, your cover is blown. Call your bodyguard.”
“You can’t be her,” Montego says. “You’re not who you say you are.”
“Montego, darling, don’t be stupid.” But Noble’s right. My cover is blown. His hands are trembling, he’s sweating. Is it because I’m not speaking French? What did I say that triggered him? Whatever it was, I have to fix it. “You don’t want to mess up our last job, do you?”
Noble’s in my ear. “He’s not buying it. I’m almost there. Stall. Calm him!”
But I don’t listen because my numbers are spinning out of control now, and I want to fix this. I want the plan to move forward for Kai. Then I do the one thing Noble told me not to do.
“Now, let’s get on with it. I’m growing impatient with you. Don’t make me summon the men surrounding this building.” The threat. It just came out. So naturally.
His eyes, crazed, stare into mine like a rabid dog’s.
I should tap my watch for Goliath. He’s about to make his move, but I don’t because my numbers are surfacing. One more second and I should know what’s to come. But it’s too late.
He grips my arm so hard it’s like a jaw-locked dog. It hurts, but I don’t register it fully. “I don’t know who you are but call your men off, right now.” His voice is laced with desperation. “We’re going to walk out of here, and you’re going to let me go free or this whole building explodes, and we go with it.”
With his free hand he waves. All I see are his fingertips.
Chapter 31
THINK.
MY GIFT IS spinning, but nothing is clear especially when K2 barks in my ear. “System override. D2, M2, K1 all have lost visual.” Noble’s cutting their video. He knows they can’t see this. It can still be salvaged.
Qadar moves toward me like a raging bull to intervene. “Stand down,” I confirm, but before the words are off my lips he’s already pulled back. I half-expect him not to obey orders. He doesn’t move, though still strung taut like a lion about to pounce.
With my arms squeezed by fingers with little bombs likely to go off any second, I get up and walk to the door.
“We’re going for a little walk.” Montego’s death grip on my arm tightens, squeezing it so hard his fingernails dig into me. It’s going to leave a mark, but I’m only concerned about the bombs. How did Pens say they detonate again?
I follow his instructions and walk to the door. To any bystander we’d seem like a couple leaving for the afternoon.
“If you make any wrong moves at all,” he says nervously, “your arm will be the first to go. Then your head.”
His threat hits me like a shock wave. Instead of fear, my gift wakes up, rocketing around the room for solutions. I knew it wouldn’t fail me. It spouts off equations; within seconds my face falls. The equations line up K2’s Taser and an equation for a chemical reaction of Fingertips. Bad news hits me right away. Noble was right. It will set off a far worse explosion if I use it.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. Stupid! If I signal for help or try to use any of the tech on my body, he’ll know. My numbers confirm that he won’t hesitate to ignite the bombs in his fingers. Then where will we be? He’s desperate and not thinking clearly. If I go with him, my chances of survival are higher. But I can’t let Montego get into the street and risk PSS seeing what’s happening.
Goliath is in the corner, watching intently. I’m obviously in trouble. I expect him to step in somehow even if I told him not to interfere. But the minute I look at him Montego notices, and whips him a hard stare.
“Not one move, or you’ll go too,” Montego growls.
Goliath cocks his head the other direction, and steps back before I give an order. What happened to taking a bullet for me? Maybe bombs are different. He flicks his eye to the door and cocks his head again to the right. Is he obeying someone else’s orders? The numbers around him tell me he is listening. But to who? Is Ms. T in his ear and if so, what is she telling him?
Twenty-four steps now—my numbers spout off an equation. Noble is around the corner –I just have to stall. But what can he do? If Montego is touching me at all, these bombs will rip us to shreds.
Another wave hits me, stronger this time—calculating my odds and how not to die. What will happen if we get into the car and go together? My numbers explode with adrenaline, then completely zap out. My head spins. But in the midst of it, an equation reveals Montego is as scared as I am. There’s a speck of something in my favor, a glimpse, one in a million. I need to stall him. But how?
Montego squeezes the back of my neck. We’re almost at the Palais exit. “You almost had me convinced, but I knew Madame couldn’t escape. Tell me who you are!”
A whisper in my ear, Noble’s words answer my question. “Almost there.”
We stumble through the exit, and Qadar is left behind.
Alone and out of the building, Montego yanks me forward toward the street.
“You’re making a huge mistake.” I growl through my teeth, hoping to get him to second guess his choice. “Madame is smarter than you think. I know her better than anyone. I was trained by her side.”
He drags me one step forward when suddenly I know what to say. “You’re right,” I hiss. “I’m not Madame. I’m her Successor.”
Montego stumbles back, gasping, horrified. He lets go of my arm. Right then Noble, breathless and sweaty, runs onto the scene like a shadow, slamming something that looks like a needle into his arm.
Montego swings his hands wildly trying to mix the chemicals to ignite the bombs but they’re powerless. Goliath flies out the door and to my side and knocks Montego to the ground.
Noble, panting, red in the face, stares at me, his eyes assessing me with numbers and something else much deeper. He takes one fleeting look at the bodyguard then bolts away.
Qadar cocks his head at the boy.
Montego’s eyes roll back into his head and he slumps to the floor. The shout of a woman in the crowd startles passersby. Heads spin in our direction.
Ms. T is in my ear. “What happened? All visual cut out.”
I don’t answer, but snap down, frantically searching for the holothumb. We’ve got to flee the scene before any police get here. I need the Blacklist. Finally, in his pocket I feel the small cold metal device.
After it’s in my palm Qadar snags my arm. “We have to leave, now!”
I shake off his arm. I can’t leave yet. I need his thumbprint. The sirens are getting louder. Think! Then I remember. Fumbling in my pocket I grab the lipstick serum, Sway. I spread it on the top of my hand, then quickly press his thumbprint into it, praying it won’t smudge. Then, Qadar whisks me to my feet and ushers me to the van.
Sirens and the Tunisian police are on the scene seconds later shouting in Arabic and French. “Back away! Move back!”
Ms. T signals me again. “Jo. What’s going on?”
I catch my breath before I answer. “He didn’t cooperate.”
In the van, the small holothumb bounces in my hand. We got the PSS Blacklist. We can stop the radicals. But the master-file is still out there. The Successor is still on the move. And Kai is in more danger than ever.
Chapter 32
SAINTE CROIX CHURCH OF TUNIS, THE MEDINA
SMOKE IS ALREADY underway.
A light blue sky unfolds with the dawn over the pale city of Tunis as the early morning call to prayer echoes in the distance. From the rooftop of Saint Croix, I observe the sand-colored buildings, minarets, and large signs in Arabic script, trying to take it all in, even study the language, but all I can think about is Kai.
The Arabic signs reminds me of a night I came home from my sims and found Kai teaching my sisters how to do Chinese calligraphy. The brush in his hands looked so natural as he traced graceful strokes, crafting a Chinese poem. After my sisters left, I marveled at the boy-fighter who tended orchids and painted calligraphy.
“You’re so much like Red. He loved poetry,” I said.
“I wish I knew him like you did,” he said, inviting me to sit.
“I’ll tell you everything I know about him,” I said, peering over his art. “Might take years though.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He leans over to kiss my cheek. “And speaking of poetry…this is for you.”
I looked down at the Chinese characters, each stroke artfully brushed in black ink, and read it.
sea and sky invited me for a trip, but i heard your voice, and said no thank you.
gold and silver offered me luster, but i saw your face, and turned them down.
time and mystery promised me secrets, but I held your heart, what more could I want.
Speechless, I threw my arms around his neck and nuzzled my face into his skin, soaking in his scent. “You should write poems more often.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve written a poem about you. Just the first time I’ve shown you.”
“When will you show me the rest?” I ask peering into his big dark eyes.
He laughed. “We’ve got years remember?”
Except, we might not have years, after what happened yesterday.
I shrink down next to the intricate bell tower on the roof, watching the light reflect on the three glass domes. Poor Qadar is sitting in the stairwell, watching me from a distance. He didn’t complain when I woke him. He even offered to make me authentic qahwa arbi, a Turkish style coffee made with a zizwa he carries with him. It’s sweet and grainy, but also stiff and strong, biting back with each sip. I need that right now, especially as I wait for a call from my dad.
He rings a minute later and after a brief chat where I recount nothing but a lovely adventure in the blue and white paradise of Sidi Bou Saïd, my dad admits he’s doing better than expected, even started making some new business plans. I’m glad he has something to focus on other than me.
After we hang up, I turn my gaze to watch the clouds shift and billow. My conversation with Montego runs over and over in my head. I keep searching for where I slipped up.
No one was hurt, no historical palace was destroyed, but still, I botched the plan. Montego will be locked up and interrogated. There is zero chance he will make it to Friday’s deal with the Successor. No chance to vouch for Kai. I can’t figure out what went wrong. What triggered his disbelief?
Thankfully, half of our job is in motion. With Noble’s SMOKE now uploaded to Montego’s holothumb, the team can trace the previous PSS tech sold to the radicals, like Veil. The prods already uncovered four attacks planned on historic or government sites in Tunis and identified three names and faces they believe are connected to them. The Tunisian government is now on the case and arrests will begin. The momentum for their coup has slowed, and the radicals are not happy. They’re attempting to set up Veil in another government host site. But it’s the Successor and the Loyalists who are my concern.
Apart from the coup, Eddie detected Veil in cities in North Africa. Thankfully, PSS can use SMOKE to wrangle PSS software into Cyber Island. The team considers this a victory. But I can’t celebrate.
