Chapter 23
Carla crosses her arms. She leans against the wall, taking some of the weight from her bad knee.
A military-style backpack slumps from one shoulder.
“I’ll take that,” I say brightly, grabbing the backpack before it hits the ground.
It’s heavy and I can hear things clinking from within.
Maybe more jammers. Or more smoke bombs.
Carla doesn’t pay any attention to me. Her gaze is centered on Eames. “You could’ve just radioed, Will.”
“No,” says Eames. “I couldn’t. And that’s not my name anymore.”
“Yes,” she says firmly. “It is. No matter what identity gets written beneath your skin, no matter what the government calls you, I know who you are. I know where you come from.” Her gaze flicks to me. “Can she say as much? Does she even know what’s happening?”
“More than you do, actually,” I say. “Sorry to sound all crime-splainy. But Vale’s lying to you.”
“You can’t trust them.” Carla’s attention never wavers from Eames. “They took you.”
“No one took me,” says Eames. “There was no one to take me. We were living off the grid near Redding.”
No wonder he was willing to die to get away.
“I left,” continues Eames, “because I had no other choice.”
“You could’ve talked to me,” says Carla fiercely.
“No, I couldn’t have!” Eames’s fingers curl into fists. “You were always gone. Working with Mom—always on your mission. I couldn’t get you away from her.”
“She’s doing good work,” says Carla.
“She isn’t.” Eames shakes his head. “She’s been lying to you. Ever since Dad died. You and Bud and Corey—you’re about the movement. But Mom isn’t.” He swallows. “I know what she’s planning.”
“She’s retaking power, water, waste,” says Carla. “Putting it in the hands of the people, not billionaires who want to make a buck.”
“She’s been hacking infrastructure, yes,” says Eames. “But she’s not going to hand it over to anyone … except whoever can pay her the highest. And not until she flees the country with me and my sister. You—you were going to get left behind. A perfect fall person.”
Carla freezes. “No. You must have misunderstood—”
“She has disposable gloves with your fingerprints on them,” says Eames quietly. “She has your old college manifestos. You were the one who recruited Bud, and he’s responsible for the sewage deaths. Mom is going to run. Leave you to the terrorist charges while she gets rich.”
“Will—”
“I love you,” says Eames, ignoring her. “You’re family, and I wanted to warn you. But I couldn’t, not without alerting Mom. So I took Piper and went to the only people who could stop her.”
“You could’ve come to me.” There is real pain in Carla’s tone—the kind only family can inflict.
“Could I?” Eames gives her a cold stare. “You tell Mom everything. You trust her. Were you going to listen to a seventeen-year-old kid over her?”
She bites down on her lower lip. “Will, are you sure…”
“I’m sure,” he says. “I went through all the fake passports. There wasn’t one for you.”
I see the moment she believes him. Her expression cracks down the middle—denial giving way to distress. Betrayal hurts. A traitor can drive in the knife all the deeper with their proximity.
“Will,” she says.
“Eames,” he says forcefully.
Another flash of pain crosses her face. “Eames,” she amends. “You have to understand—I didn’t know.”
“You came here knowing you were going to take a building of people hostage,” I say. I can sympathize with her pain only to a certain degree. “Vale killed the security guard and you let her.”
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” says Carla. “We were supposed to find you and Percy in the lobby.” She nods at me. “She interfered, I’m guessing.”
“What do you mean, I interfered?” I ask. “All I did was…”
All I did was get Eames and Piper out of the lobby.
My stomach squeezes in a spasm of panic.
“Oh,” I breathe. “Oh, shit.”
Then I’m backing out of the closet, dragging Eames with me. “Hey!” calls Carla, but I don’t answer. I can’t. There’s no time, none at all.
I fling the storage closet shut and press Matthew’s ringware to it, activating the lock and severing its connection to the building mainframe. At least Carla won’t be a problem again.
“What is it?” asks Eames. He takes me by the hand, his fingers cold with fear. “Augusta?”
“It wasn’t a coincidence you were there,” I say wildly. I know I’m not making sense, but the words just tumble out. “You were supposed to be there.”
“Augusta,” he says again.
I rip free of his grip and sprint down the hallway. My heart is in my throat, my lungs ablaze as I run. Please, I think. Please, please, please. Let me be wrong. I don’t want to be right about this, not this—
The shadowed hallway feels far longer than before. Every step is too slow, too short. It’s like one of those dreams where you try to run, but every step feels like it’s through thick mud. Carla’s backpack is a weight against my shoulder, but I don’t pause to set it down.
I know what I’m going to find. I feel so stupid for not realizing until now.
The door to my apartment is ajar. Just a few inches—just enough to confirm my worst fear.
I pull the door open the rest of the way, frozen in the doorway.
The living room is empty. There is no sign of Consul or Piper.
“Piper!” Eames tears into the bedroom, but I don’t follow. There’s no point.
“I don’t,” says Eames, emerging from the bedroom. “I don’t—understand—”
There is no sign of a struggle. No evidence that Vale broke in.
But Piper is gone.
“She told you to go to the pool,” I say. I hear the words as though from a far distance. “Didn’t she?”
“What?” says Eames.
“I should’ve known,” I say. “I should’ve realized. The moment I was down in the basement, and they were wondering why Number Six hadn’t checked in yet…”
“What are you talking about?” asks Eames.
“Eames,” I answer. “Who told you to go down to the pool today?”
His eyes roam back and forth as he searches his memories. “Aunt Connie. I mean—Consul. She thought it might be a nice way to spend a Saturday.”
“Yes,” I say. “Exactly.”
The best way to play chess is to set up your pieces beforehand.
Understanding spills across his face. “Wait, you mean…”
I nod. “Consul’s working with Vale.”