The Alliance (31 page)

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
85

Something is happening. My husband hasn't told me, but ­people are moving our things. I must act quickly or else my chances of escape will disappear.

—­The diary of Megan Jean

The driveway was so long, Mia didn't think they would ever reach the street. She was trying to help Riley run while Alex was flying down the driveway with Rod in his bed. Grant was right on their tail. Mia could feel him. They never stopped moving. Alex and Rod were too far ahead to be in danger and Mia was grateful.

“Drop me,” Riley said. “I'm too much weight.”

“Where did he get you?” Mia asked.

“My calf,” Riley said. “Save yourself.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Mia said. “We're almost there.”

She knew that was a lie. Grant's driveway was too long. Mia tried to move toward the side, hoping the darkness would protect them. Riley kept throwing her good leg farther ahead, but she was getting heavier. Frank came into view. He was running up to them. He stopped and grabbed Riley, flipping her over his shoulder. Mia took the time to look behind her. Grant wasn't chasing them. She didn't think that was a good sign.

“Hurry,” Frank yelled.

Mia started running, trying to stay behind Frank and Riley. She kept looking behind her; nothing was coming. Then the van was close enough to touch and Mia felt relief. Maybe Grant had passed out from his injuries, or maybe he had just given up. But Mia knew that rang false. He had another plan. She worried the grounds were lined with bombs.

They made it to the van. Alex was getting Rod into the back. Frank dropped Riley on the bumper and Mia tried to help her inside. Riley scooted herself back and Mia took a moment to pause. She remembered the feeling of the gun at the back of her head and a tremor went through her body. Then there were arms around her. Mia looked up to see her mother embracing her.

“You did it,” she said. “I am so proud of—­”

Her mother suddenly went limp. Instead of holding on to Mia, Mia found herself gripping her mother. Mia let out a scream. She could feel her clothing getting wet with her mother's blood.

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
86

I have never felt more betrayed in my life. The security team surrounding my home informed me of my wife's daytime activities. While I have never been a fan of punishing her, she has left me little choice in this matter.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

Andrew's nerves were getting the best of him. Carter was driving; Zack and Trent were fast asleep in the backseat. Andrew knew he should be sleeping too. He had a long night in front of him.

“Where is Grant's house in relation to our final destination?” Carter asked.

“I'm not sure,” Andrew said. “It can't be too far though. An hour or two at most.”

“Tonight is the deadline,” Carter said.

“And we will get Rod back,” Andrew said. “Mia was headed there last night to check the place out.”

“So are we going to turn her over to Grant, get my dad, and then bust her out?” Carter asked.

“No,” Andrew said. “We're going to see what Mia thinks is best first, but I think Grant would kill her before we got Rod out of the house.”

“I can't think of another way,” Carter said.

“Don't talk about it,” Andrew said.

He heard Zack rustling in the backseat. The blond man did a long stretch and let out a yawn.

“What time is it?” Zack asked.

“Almost six,” Carter said.

Zack reached for his phone and flipped the screen open.

“I have directions to our destination,” Zack said. “I wish my arm wasn't in this cast.”

“I have to call Mia,” Andrew said, “and tell her where to meet us.”

“Can't she just track our cell phones?” Carter asked.

“I don't want her to sit around and wait for us to arrive,” Andrew said. “Besides, we have to pull over soon anyway and refuel.”

“Barely made it,” Zack said. “We have one can of gas left.”

“One is enough,” Andrew said.

Carter pulled over to the side of the road.

“We're heading to sixteen sixty-­five Evans Avenue,” Zack said. “From the looks of it on my screen we're a little under an hour away.”

“Thanks,” Andrew said.

He jumped out of the car and opened the back door, pulling out the gas can. Trent climbed out of the backseat.

“I need to relieve myself,” he said. He wiped the sleep away from his eyes and stumbled to the side of the road.

Andrew started filling up the tank before he pulled out his phone. He dialed Mia. The ringing made his heart thump; a part of him was scared she wouldn't answer. He told himself it was an irrational fear, that she was still safe, but what he heard on the other end proved him wrong.

“Hello?” Andrew yelled.

He could hear screaming and crying, a mix of voices.

“Andrew?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Where's Mia?” Andrew asked.

“She can't talk right now,” the voice said. “Where should we come meet you?”

It was a trap; Andrew was sure of it.

“My name is Riley,” the voice said. “I helped Mia rescue you from the militia.”

“Is Mia safe?”

“She is inconsolable,” Riley said. “But she's uninjured.”

“I want to speak with her,” Andrew said.

“I wish you could,” Riley said. “But I don't think that's going to happen. Please, we're driving around in a white van that can easily be spotted. We need help or you will never speak to her again.”

Trust. That was something Andrew tried so hard to work on. He had little reason to trust the voice on the other end of the phone.

“If you don't tell me where to head we'll all be caught,” Riley said. “Please.”

“Sixteen sixty-­five Evans Avenue,” Andrew said. “Inside the capital. Can you find it?”

“Yes,” Riley said. “Thank you.”

“What happened to—­?”

The line went dead before Andrew could finish his question. Andrew tried to tilt the gas can and fill the tank faster. A new wave of adrenaline drove his movements. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice the black SUV that had pulled up behind him. The car door slamming shook him from his thoughts.

“Having some car troubles, brother?” a man asked.

Andrew looked him up and down. He wore the black suit of a RAG agent.

“Needed to fill up the tank,” Andrew said.

“There are stations all around here,” the man said. “Why carry your own fuel?”

“We already had it,” Andrew said. “Might as well use it.”

“Your suit is dirty,” the man said. “Hardly up to code, and you don't look familiar; what territory are you with?”

“We're in town for Grant Marsden's wedding,” Andrew said. “We're personal friends of his.”

The man seemed taken aback by Andrew's lie, but that faded and his cockiness returned.

“I am sure you've heard three of our vehicles disappeared,” the man said. “We've all been encouraged to follow procedure and verify identities. Do you mind if my partner runs your plates, and can I see you and your men's badges?”

Andrew was not about to lose now. “Only if we do the same for you,” he said.

“Of course,” the man said.

He reached into his pocket at the same time Andrew moved for his belt. Neither man brought his hands up with identification. Instead each held a pointed weapon.

“You're done for, deserter,” the agent said. “My partner is calling in your vehicle as we speak. You have five minutes before this place is filled with RAG agents. Put the weapon down and come in without a fight.”

Andrew couldn't see through the tinted windows, but he hoped Carter and Zack were aware of the situation. Andrew didn't break eye contact with the agent, but he was sure Trent had full knowledge of the happenings.

There wasn't a viable option at the moment. Andrew needed Carter or Zack to act. Andrew heard a car door open, but he could tell it was from the other vehicle. Another man walked out, with his gun drawn.

“Did you call it in?” the agent asked.

“They're on their way,” he replied.

Andrew would not be taken prisoner again. He looked at the two men and hoped he could shoot both of them before one returned fire on him. That way Carter and Zack could still make it to Mia and their safe haven. He was getting ready to pull the trigger when he saw Trent walk up, a huge rock in hand. He smashed it over the second agent's head. The man let out a groan and his partner lost concentration for a second. Andrew heard the first agent gasp before a red stain started to appear on his shirt. He dropped to his knees and Andrew saw Trent, holding the second agent's weapon, the smoke still billowing from the barrel.

“I bet you're glad you took off the handcuffs,” Trent said.

“We have to get out of here,” Andrew said.

He lowered his weapon and went for the driver's seat. Carter moved to the passenger side while Trent climbed in the back next to Zack. Andrew didn't look back as he sped away from the bodies on the road, hoping whatever time they had was enough to get a head start on whoever else was about to storm the scene.

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
87

I leave for my new post today and am reluctantly taking my wife with me. I asked for a divorce, however the grand commander admitted he has not made accommodations for unwanted women yet and I must wait until these are available.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

There was a small pool of blood at end of the driveway. It wasn't as much as Grant would have liked to see but was enough to convince him of the owner's death. Grant was happy they had taken the body with them; it meant less cleanup for him. It was morning; the red spot looked brown in the golden rays of the sun. He heard thunder in the distance and was satisfied rain would wash away the stain before anyone important showed up.

Grant went back inside and patrolled the rest of his home. The west wing was in perfect shape. Almost as if his visitors had never arrived. The east wing was a different story. Grant opened the door to the hallway and the scent of death was fresh in the air. He walked toward Hansen's body and bent down as he approached. Two gunshot wounds, one to the back of the head and another to the chest. Whoever that woman was, she had some military-­level training. Grant didn't remember hearing a weapon go off.

He left the body for now and went back into Roderick's former room. Grant lifted up the computer and reviewed the security tapes from the east side. The woman didn't show up on any of them. Whenever she walked into view the camera went black. Grant followed the roaming blackouts. They continued every time she would have stepped into frame. Her face was never captured. If there was a silver lining, it was that Grant's beating wasn't recorded either. The woman had an electronic scrambler, and he knew none of the cameras would have recorded any scene she was present for.

Grant had assumed Mia's plan was to draw him out of the room and have one of her untrained friends rescue Roderick. He didn't think another person would have been able to enter the premises. Grant followed the trail of blackouts in reverse and saw that the woman had entered through an abandoned room at the end of the hall. Grant stood up and went to investigate.

This wing of the house was impenetrable. He couldn't understand how she would have gained access. A cool breeze came through the open window. Grant walked over and examined the scene. A circle, big enough for someone to crawl through, was cut out of the inch-­thick glass. He stuck his head outside and saw the removed glass leaning against the house.

Only three types of blades could cut through the windows on Grant's home: one made of diamonds, which would be impossible to find; one that had been heated up to over a thousand degrees Celsius, which the women couldn't have done without a portable scientific-­grade oven, which also didn't exist; and a blade Grant had created himself, which he had sold to the American government a long time ago. He wasn't sure what connection the mystery women had, but if she owned a knife like that she was no layman. For the second time one of Grant's own inventions had been used against him. He made a fist and punched what was left of the window. His knuckles exploded in pain.

“Sir?” Dr. Schaffer asked.

Grant turned to see the man standing in the door frame.

“Good morning,” Grant said.

“What happened here?” Dr. Schaffer asked.

“Your patient is gone,” Grant said. “Your ser­vices are no longer required.”

The doctor stepped into the room. “You look like you could use a checkup,” he said.

He grabbed Grant's hand and forced his fingers outward.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” Dr. Schaffer asked. “Your face is all bruised and your lip is bleeding.”

“It's dried blood now,” Grant said.

He took his hand back and started to work his fingers back to life.

“Do you have any need for a cadaver?” Grant asked.

“Anything to help further medical advances is appreciated,” the doctor said.

“Take Hansen from the hallway,” Grant said. “He's all yours.”

Grant headed out of the east wing. He needed to shower and rest. Last night had not gone as planned, but if there was a positive outcome it was that Amelia Morrissey was finally dead.