Anew: Book Three: Entwined (19 page)

Amelia

“W
ake up, sweetheart.”

Ian’s murmured words draw me from a
dream of sea, sand, and him. I burrow down, wanting to stay right where I am.

His low chuckle sends a shiver of
pleasure through me. Gently but implacably, he says, “We’ll be landing soon.”

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and am
rewarded by the most precious sight in the world--Ian, smiling and relaxed. The
contrast with how he was the last time we were on this plane hits me suddenly.
For a moment, I’m catapulted back to those anguished hours.

“What’s wrong?” he says, instantly
concerned.

I give myself a mental shake and
focus on the here and now. “Nothing, I was just having a wonderful dream.”

His face clears and he grins. “Oh,
yeah? What about?”

I straighten in my seat and glance
around. We are far from alone. Hollis is seated nearby, talking with Gab.
Daphne looks up from the video she’s watching and gives me a grin. Others are
asleep, reading, or chatting quietly.

Under my breath, I murmur, “Let’s
just say you were in it and leave it at that.”

The heat of his gaze is almost
enough to make me forget that we’re in public.

“Stop that,” I say with a total
lack of conviction and stand.

A few minutes later, as I make my
way back to my seat after using the facilities and getting a cup of coffee, the
plane is banking gently. Looking out the window, I see the dark blue of the
Atlantic. When I fell asleep less than an hour ago, we were somewhere over the
dense green of sub-Saharan Africa interrupted only by its sprawling mega-cities.
Travel at this speed is more than a little disconcerting. I can’t help thinking
that there should be more time to make the transition from a tropical atoll in
the Indian Ocean to the glittering world city of Manhattan but that isn’t to
be.

A short while later, the view out
the window changes. I catch sight of sunlight gleaming off the skyscape of
soaring towers that mark the island enclave of the wealthiest and most
powerful. Tallest among them is Pinnacle House, the headquarters of Slade
Enterprises. Its presence offers at least some comfort and reassurance.

From the air, everything looks as I
remember but that can’t be true. News of Davos’ death must be spreading, at
least among the city’s elite. As censored as information is even on the private
net, word of such a shocking event can’t possibly be contained. Once again, I
remember that Ian deliberately exposed his involvement in the attack. I can’t
help but be concerned about the repercussions of that. What will we confront
when we land?

I don’t have to wait long to find
out. We come in just south of the city, over the harbor where Lady Liberty
still stands, fenced off and forbidden to almost all visitors. I can’t help
thinking that she looks rather worn these days.

Moments later, we touchdown
smoothly on the long runway east of the city that we departed from little more
than week ago. A fleet of dark SUVs and other vehicles is drawn up to the side.
No other planes are in sight. I wonder if the airport has been closed for our
arrival but I have no chance to ask Ian. We’ve barely rolled to a halt before
he’s on his feet.

Holding out his hand, he says,
“Come on, sweetheart. There are some people who are anxious to see you.”

We step out into what gives every
appearance of being a perfect late spring day disturbed only by the whiff of
jet fuel. The sky is cloudless, gulls circle overhead, and in the distance
beyond the runway, cattails sway in the breeze.

A man in a dark suit steps from the
first SUV and assists a white-haired woman out. Together, they start toward us.

My heart leaps into my mouth.
Edward and my grand-mother! I’ve spoken with them in the days since the attack
at the club but their presence fills me with relief. Ian steps back kindly as I
hurry to them.

My brother grins as he gathers me
into his arms. He’s in his late twenties, tall and well built, handsome by any
standard with the same chestnut hair and aquamarine eyes as my own. As head of
the family financial enterprises, Edward naturally projects an air of maturity
beyond his years but I also know him for the kind and loving person that he is.

“Amelia,” he murmurs, his voice
filled with relief. Setting me back a little, he scans my face. What he sees
must satisfy him. His smile deepens as he says, “It’s so good to have you
home.”

“Indeed, it is,” my grand-mother
interjects. She bustles between us, wrapping me in her gentle embrace. I
breathe in the scent of her perfume wafting from her slim, silk-clad body. Her
pure white hair is perfectly coiffed as always. She appears the epitome of
elegance and grace but I don’t mistake the tremor that runs through her.

“You gave us quite a scare,” Adele
murmurs. As she steps back to look at me, her eyes--the same shade as Edward’s
and mine--swim with tears. “Dear girl, if anything happened to you--”

She doesn’t have to go on. I know
full well how she mourned the death of her first grand-daughter, Susannah, and
how overjoyed she was to have me come so unexpectedly into her life. Her
open-hearted acceptance means the world to me.

“I’m fine,” I assure her quickly,
although I’m fighting back tears myself. Until now, I haven’t let myself admit
how much I’ve missed my family.

“You certainly look very well,”
Adele says, recovering her usual aplomb. She spares a glance for Ian. “And you,
young man, I take it there are no lingering effects from your recent unfortunate
experience?”

“None at all, ma’am,” Ian says with
a smile. He appears amused by her decorous reference to the drone attack.

“Good, but you must take better
care in the future. We don’t want to lose you.”

“No, we don’t,” Edward says in a
tone that suggests he has a few other things to say to Ian but is withholding
them until they are alone.

Around us, people are boarding the
vehicles to take them to Pinnacle House. I glimpse Hollis standing by one. He appears
to be waiting.

Ian catches his eye and nods.
Turning to me, he says, “We’ll be debriefing for the next few hours. I’d feel
better if you go home with Edward and Adele.”

“As we would, dear,” my
grand-mother says quickly. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” She gives me a
look that suggests she has more than the usual gossip in mind.

I hesitate out of the simple need
to be near Ian. But he has duties that can’t be ignored. And the truth is, I do
want to spend time with the two people who are very dear to me.

And then there is the fact that
Adele seems to be hinting that she has news to share.

“All right,” I say.

Ian appears relieved as does my
brother. They exchange a look I can’t quite decipher. I know that they’re good
friends, if fierce opponents on the polo field. But I’m also aware that Edward
must have his own perspective on what’s been happening. And that there are
depths to him that I’m far from being able to decipher.

Heedless of the eyes on us, Ian
draws me to him and kisses me gently before releasing me. “I’ll see you soon,”
he says.

I clutch that promise to me as he
disappears into the waiting SUV and is quickly driven away.

Edward, Adele, and I follow
shortly, part of the convoy of vehicles departing the runway. Once again, I’m
struck by the absence of the usual hustle and bustle that I would associate
with an airport serving a major city.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

Edward is on his link. He glances
up and says, “The city is more or less on lockdown today.”

I can’t help but be shocked. Even
given the circumstances of Davos’ death, this seems extreme. “Why?” I ask.

He and my grand-mother exchange a
glance. It falls to Adele to answer. “Because, my dear, the workers have
decided to go on strike. And if you wonder how that happened, I suggest you ask
your brother.”

“It’s only a one-day strike,”
Edward says. “They’re just making a point.”

“Indeed, they are,” my grand-mother
replies. “First, that they can go on strike and second, how essential they
are.” She sighs and raises her voice slightly. “We can only be grateful that
dear James is willing to drive us anyway.”

From behind the wheel, I hear a
chuckle. A young man--dear James, I presume--glances back at us and smiles. I
can’t help thinking that he looks more like a body guard than simply a driver.

“Not a problem, ma’am,” he says. “I
got a special dispensation.”

Edward grins. He appears unconcerned
about circumstances that even I, on my short acquaintance, know would have been
unthinkable in the city even a few weeks ago.

“I’ll be sure to thank Miss Vargas,”
my brother says.

“Who is that?” I ask.

Adele sniffs. “Miss Violeta Vargas,
a worker of some sort or another. She’s in the thick of all this.”

“We can get into that later,”
Edward says. “Let’s let Amelia relax and get her bearings first.”

I appreciate the thought even
though I don’t see much likelihood of that happening, at least not the relaxing
part. But I keep my opinion to myself and glance out the window. We’re speeding
into a tunnel that is one of the few access points onto the island of
Manhattan. No vehicle can come onto the island without a special pass issued only
to residents and a few highly vetted delivery companies. The result is an
ultra-luxurious enclave that is a private preserve of the elite.

Once inside the tunnel, I notice
the raised platforms to either side manned by armed guards. Not for the first
time, I think that Manhattan, for all its luxury, bears more than a passing
resemblance to a prison.

“I take it the Municipal Protection
Services haven’t joined the strike?” I ask with a grimace. Even the name is
bitter in my mouth. I despise what I’ve seen of the city’s enforcers.

“They’re too busy enjoying a recent
pay increase,” Edward says dryly. He slants me a glance.

A spurt of anger goes through me as
I remember the MPS officer drawing Ian in front of the camera right before the
drone attack. The man’s behavior was far too convenient to be innocent.

“Not all of them,” Adele says. “At
least one is under arrest.”

From her look, I conclude that
we’re thinking of the same officer. I’m slightly mollified but still
suspicious. “Until the Council decides to release him?”

“If they do,” Edward says with a
shrug. “The Council is in a defensive crouch at the moment, waiting to see
which way the wind is blowing and whether it’s going to turn into a gale.” He
seems pleased by that.

We leave the tunnel and emerge onto
sunlit, tree-bordered streets that despite the one-day strike still look as
though they’re scrubbed down nightly. Neighborhoods flow past, distinguished by
rows of elegant brick townhouses mingling with larger loft buildings until they
are overtaken by the soaring towers that I glimpsed earlier.

I can’t help noticing that contrary
to what I’ve seen in the past, few people are about. Not only are the drably
dressed workers in their utilitarian garments missing. So are most of the
richly dressed, gaudy residents who love nothing more than to parade their
excesses along the city’s broad avenues.

“Where is everyone?” I ask again.

“Some have decided to go off to
their summer places early,” Adele says. “Others are holed up in quiet rooms
with the curtains drawn, nursing migraines. Although,” she adds with a smile,
“how they’re doing that without the help is beyond my powers of imagination.”

The image of the city’s pampered
elite left to fetch their own cold compresses and cups of tea coaxes a laugh
from me. But a more sober thought intrudes.

“They won’t just accept what the
workers are doing, will they? They’ll look to retaliate.”

“They certainly want to,” Edward
replies. “But they can hardly punish everyone.” He frowns. “At worse, they’ll
try to make an example of the leaders but they have to find out who they are
first.”

I wonder if that includes Miss
Violeta Vargas and if she is in any way responsible for the concern I see in my
brother’s eyes. Before I can think of how to ask him, James brings the car to a
halt in front of the French chateau-style residence that is my family’s home.

Sited opposite the park that cuts a
greensward through the heart of the city, the house boasts twin peaked towers
at opposite corners of a crenellated roof covered in black slate. The walls are
white limestone with marble accents around the large windows from which
balconies extend, fronted by delicately carved balustrades.

Beyond the porte-cochere, a short
flight of broad stone steps leads to wide double doors of polished mahogany inlaid
with panels of etched glass. Edward helps Adele from the car as I get out on
the other side and come around. I’m surprised by how excited I am to be back. As
much as I miss Ian, he was right to want me to come here.