36. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jacob
That voice. It’s not familiar—she doesn’t sound like she’s from fucking Hackney, that’s for sure—but it sets my hairs on end. Something in me recognizes the speaker, and my blood pumps faster as I stare at the closed doors of the hospital.
It’s a battle to keep my voice level. “Kelly. I only just found out you exist. Why don’t you put an end to all this shit and just talk to me? Whatever you’ve done, we can fix it.”
“I haven’t heard that name in a long time.” Her cultured voice is rich and amused. It’s the polished voice of a radio host or an actress. She must have worked hard to cultivate it. “I go by Primrose now. My new mum and dad changed my name as soon as they brought me home."
“Why did they do that?” Talking is good. I haven’t done much in the way of hostage negotiation, as my skills lie in other areas, but I did the training. The more time I spend talking with Kelly, the better.
“They had to scrub off my rough edges. I was Daddy’s project, after all. Take a psychopathic child, and turn her into a responsible member of society. Of course, they never used that word. But we both know it’s true.”
“I don’t think so. You just had a rough start in life. Mum fucked you up good and proper.”
Beeps sound in my ear, and I glance at the screen. Quinn. Shit. I told her I’d always answer when she calls, no matter what. But given the circumstances, I’m sure she’ll understand.
“She did. That’s true. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? I am what I am.”
Her posh accent wavers. “What” comes out a harsh “wot.” She’s rattled, not as cool and collected as she’s pretending to be.
“You can be whatever you want. I’ve got the resources to help, and I’d love to. Tell me what you need. What can we do to stop all this nonsense?”
It’s a long shot, and her incredulous laugh tells me I’ve missed the mark. “I want you to suffer, golden boy! You and the bastard that gave me up. That’s what I want. Nothing else. Don’t think your little psychological tricks are going to work on me. I know them all.”
I don’t doubt it.
More beeps. My heart pounds, and I rub my hand over my forehead. It’s a gloomy, overcast day, but I’m starting to sweat. Quinn wouldn’t call me today unless it was important. Something is fucking happening.
“It’s always so funny to me how simple it is to get people to do what I want. It’s like playing a video game on easy mode.”
There’s a sharp edge to Kelly’s voice, and what she’s saying sounds rehearsed. This is why she called. “Oh yeah? In what way?”
“Like the orderly who cleans the kitchen at your precious little Brotherhood hospital.”
She knows about the Brotherhood. It’s not a surprise, but hearing her say the name gives me a jolt. For a secret society, there are a lot of people out there in the world who know of our existence. But very few know what we really are, and almost no one knows about our Wards. Does she?
“He owes more to a loan shark than he’ll make in a year, and just last week, they threatened his wife and son. He was happy to smuggle a little package in for me just this morning.”
A package. “Let me guess. The exploding kind?”
“So clever. You really must be a genius. And I’ve got the detonator right here.” She pauses, then puts on a fake American accent. “But wait…there’s more!”
It’s so cheesy it should be pathetic, but there’s an unhinged note in her voice that gives the bad joke a menacing edge.
“You’ve pissed off a lot of people, Jacob. Did you know that? A lot.”
“I’m aware. Do you have a point?” She’s grating on me, and I want to hang up on her but force myself not to. Talking is good. I need to remind myself of that even as my blood rushes in my ears. When she’s talking, she’s not pressing the button to blow up the fucking hospital. Quinn’s sister.
It’ll kill Quinn if Marlowe dies just as she’s starting to recover. She’ll never be the same.
“Your little hideout in the woods wasn’t easy to crack, I’ll give you that. I tried bribing the cleaners and the cooks. None of them wanted to know. You’ve got them well trained. But then I had a real stroke of luck.”
Her accent has slipped further, a distinct London twang creeping in. All of a sudden, a face slaps itself into my memory. A girl, with dirty blond hair that hadn’t seen a brush for days, laughing as she dragged me somewhere I didn’t want to go.
“ Come on. It’ll be fun.”
I shudder. Whatever it was hadn’t been fun, I know that much, but my memory cuts off there.
“I started looking into your private army, the little militia you keep, and can you guess what I found?”
“I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”
“Your friend Colonel Brackis.”
My body goes rigid. Brackis. I don’t like the man, but surely he wouldn’t betray the Brotherhood? He’d be signing his own death warrant.
“What about him?”
“Just a text message to a friend. Very vague, not breaking any of your rules. Complaining some jumped-up British cocksucker almost cost him his job. How he was on his last warning and it was all your fault.”
What? Kendrick never told me he’d come down hard on Brackis. But then again, why would he? It’s not my concern how he disciplines his employees.
“I got the sense that ‘last warning’ is pretty final in your world, so I approached him for a chat. Turns out Brackis wanted an out. To disappear as if he never existed. I can make that happen, so we cut a deal.”
No.
I can see where this is going, all the dominos tumbling down, one after another.
No.
He was supposed to be safe in the Compound. The one place I could truly protect him. But Brackis could have lured him out and then…
My control cracks, and I slap my hand onto the glass door. The group inside jump at the sound, heads whipping to face me. “What the fuck have you done?”
She laughs, and it’s a fake sound. Sweet, feminine, and cold. “There we go! There’s the reaction I’ve been hoping for. I want to see the nasty side of you, Jacob. I know it’s there. Ruth, she’s just a normal, boring bitch. But you’re like me. You just hide it better.”
“You’re right. I’m a fucking cunt. Now what have you done?”
That laugh again, and if she was here right now, I’d rip out her throat. If she wants my bad side, she can have it. As much as she wants.
“Our dear old grandad is safe—for now. Knocked out and wearing a new necklace. The exploding kind, as you put it. I’ve got that detonator, too, right next to me.”
Red stains my vision as I picture it. I’ve seen people blown to bits by explosives. It’s revolting in a way that sears itself into your psyche for eternity. And she wants to do it to Grandad? To my fucking grandad?
“I’ll fucking hunt you down. You hear me? I’ll—”
“You’ll choose which button I press.”
The red heat pulsing through my veins slows, and a trickle of ice creeps in. “What?”
It’s surprising how strong my voice sounds. It feels as though it should be quavering.
“You’ll choose. Our lovely little sister, or our precious grandad. Who will you pick? Any sane person would save Ruth, of course. You’d be saving all those other lives too. The doctors, the nurses, the admin team. And Ruth is only thirty-three. So much life left to live.”
Her voice is pure, sickly-sweet poison.
“But I know you do love your grandad. Always had a special bond, haven’t you? I think you could murder someone in cold blood right in front of him, and he’d help you bury the fucking body.”
Bitterness oozes from every syllable, and I can feel the raw hurt behind it, the pain of being an unloved child, the one he gave up.
She doesn’t know Ruth is safe.
It’s a splash of cold water through the red haze. Brackis hasn’t told her that. And she hasn’t mentioned Quinn, either. What else doesn’t she know? I bet he hasn’t told her the extent of the Brotherhood’s power. The superior tech we have.
Ruth is safe. And with one word from me, Grandad could be too.
My mind goes still as I turn the possibility over. I can save him right now. Just one word. Can I trust her? Maybe not, but she’s created this game, and I think she’ll play by her own rules. She wants to force me to kill one of my family. Killing them both anyway would remove the agonizing guilt.
I could do it. One word.
It’s right there.
Marlowe.
I hear the word in Quinn’s voice. If I save Grandad, I kill her. There’s no other way to look at it, and I wouldn’t just be killing Marlowe. I’d be destroying Quinn, too, taking the light from her eyes forever.
Not to mention all the innocent hospital staff. If I condemn them to death, I’m a fucking monster. Grandad wouldn’t want that. If he found out I approved a massacre to give him a few more years of life, he’d fucking kill me.
But the idea of giving the order to kill him rips a hole the size of a football in my chest. I couldn’t live with it. It’d eat at me every waking moment. I can’t do it. I can’t.
“I’ll give you ten minutes to decide. If you don’t choose, they both die.”
The line goes dead. I stare at the phone, hand frozen into a claw. That bitch. That evil fucking bitch.
I need to move. Contact the Compound and see if they can track the call. Find a way inside the hospital. Order a search of the grounds to find Grandad before it’s too late.
But it’s already too late. I know it, deep in the marrow of my bones. Ten minutes isn’t long enough to do anything, and it’s already ticking away.
When the phone rings, I almost drop it. This time, it isn’t Quinn. It’s Kendrick.