The Legend (10 page)

 

chapter 15

W
e get off the bus just a few blocks from the Carlisles' apartment and split into small groups in an attempt to be less conspicuous. We are only three hundred miles from Chicago. This is the closest I have been to Kenneth Williams since my torture, and a big part of me wants nothing more than to abandon our plan and instead hunt him down and end his life.

“Focus, Tiny.” Reed seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. “You'll get your chance.”

As we turn on to the street of the Carlisles' apartment block, I beckon Chase over. It is early afternoon and we have only a few hours before Richard Carlisle will be home.

“You sure you can do this?” I ask, and he nods.

“Just don't hurt them, if you can help it,” he mutters, looking slightly green.

“They'll be fine, Chase. Let's get on with it.”

We both enter the lobby of the luxurious apartment building. Chase smiles charmingly at the man sitting behind the front desk and greets him warmly.

“Hello, James.”

“Mr Crawford.” James manages to look both polite and disapproving at the same time. “I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I've been busy,” Chase brushes him off. “Is Lucy here?”

“Yes.” He lifts a handset from the desk. “I'll just let her know you're here.”

“No need,” Chase leans over the counter and takes the handset, depositing it back in its cradle. “She's expecting me,” he murmurs conspiratorially, and the doorman scowls but he doesn't argue. Obviously Chase and Lucy's cavorting around behind Richard's back was even more frequent than I had suspected. I spare a brief flash of sympathy for Jenna, and then James' next question brings me back to the present.

“And you are?” he addresses me directly and I hold my breath, waiting to see if he recognises me. Admittedly, in my casual clothing with my hair tied back and wearing no make-up, I am a far cry from the former First Lady, but there is still a risk that I might be recognised. Fortunately, James gives me nothing but a contemptuous sneer.

“I was under the impression that Mrs Carlisle pays you handsomely not to ask,” Chase reproaches, narrowing his eyes, all traces of civility gone. James squirms a little in his seat. “No need to record any of this in the visitor's log,” Chase adds pompously as he heads for the elevators. I follow and the second the doors close on us, I round on him.

“How many women have you brought with you on these little soire
é
s?” I ask, shocked to the core.

“A few. Lucy is very adventurous. And don't look so disapproving, Rebecca,” he adds darkly. “You're not exactly an innocent.”

The elevator opens up straight onto the landing of the penthouse apartment. Chase goes immediately to the door, and I move aside so that Lucy won't see me unless she actually steps out of the apartment and onto the landing. Chase's sharp rap on the door is met with the sound of footsteps on the other side.

“Lucy!” Chase holds out his arms as the door is pulled open, and he quickly steps inside, preventing her from coming out.

“Chase?” Lucy's shock is palpable, even though I cannot see her face. “What on earth . . . what are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” he asks suggestively.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her words wary. “I heard you were taken by the Rebels. You haven't been seen or heard from in months.”

An interminable silence follows her words and then I hear the sound of footsteps and glass breaking. Not wasting a second, I step around the still open doorway and into the grand entrance hall. Pausing, I watch with mild interest as Lucy struggles in Chase's arms, her stiletto heels narrowly missing his foot as she tries desperately to stamp back at him. I follow the direction of her eyes and notice an electronic keypad on the wall opposite. Shutting the door behind me and ignoring her astonished intake of breath when she recognises me, I walk over to stand between her and her target, avoiding the shattered vase of flowers on the floor.

“Let her go,” I instruct and Chase releases her. Lucy promptly turns on her four inch heels and slaps his face before dashing through to the sitting room. I reach the next keypad before she does, and she skids to a halt only a few feet from me.

“What do you want?”

“We need your help,” I answer, and she shakes her head so hard that I fear her enormous dangling earrings might knock her out. Lucy has short, cropped dark hair, and a svelte figure that is almost always on show in skin-tight clothing. Wringing her red-taloned hands, her eyes dart backwards and forwards as she tries to come up with another plan of escape.

“Lucy, you can't get out. I have no intention of hurting you unless you really make me.”

“Richard will be home in five minutes!” she hisses.

“Richard will be home in three hours,” I correct as Chase saunters into the room. “Courtesy of your ex-lover over here, I know your schedule practically by heart.”

“He's lying,” she cries in outrage, seemingly more concerned with being called adulterous than with having two intruders in her home.

“He's not,” I scoff, “but if it makes you feel any better, I have no intention of telling Richard about your . . . transgressions.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Just your hospitality. We need a place to stay while we're in town. When we're done, you can go back to your life and pretend this never happened.”

“You'll be caught,” she bluffs. “You're wanted in every state. You killed Eric! Don't think I don't know you killed him!”

“Of course I killed him.” I move towards her and she shrinks away, backing up until she collides with Chase. She gives a shriek of alarm and vaults over the settee, her eyes wide with fright. “Oh for God's sake, calm down, Lucy. Before we get to it, I need you to do something. You need to call downstairs and tell James that you're expecting company.”

“Never!” she maintains bravely. I speed over to stand beside her, grabbing her arm and twisting it savagely behind her back. She squeaks in pain and I twist even harder. Chase looks away.

“I'm not playing games with you, Lucy. If you don't do this, I will kill you. And then I will kill Richard. And then I will head over to Thomas Prep and . . .” Thomas Prep is the prestigious boarding school that Richard and Lucy's daughter attends during the term time.

“No!” she wails, and Chase looks nauseous. Threatening Lucy's daughter, no matter how badly she treats her, is a low blow but it's necessary to ensure her cooperation. I walk her over to the intercom with absolute certainty that she will oblige.

“Six people,” I repeat, still holding her arm behind her back. “And make it believable.”

“Nice digs,” Reed drawls as he drops his backpack onto the cream chintz sofa. “When's the master expected to return?”

“A few hours.” I glance over to where Jethro is tying Lucy up in the sitting room. She's probably enjoying it, the deviant cow. Morgan and Michael have been uncharacteristically subdued since we arrived in Kansas City. Missouri was their home, I recall. Their mother is buried not far from here, near Independence City.

“Why don't you two get cleaned up?” I offer kindly and they move down the hall towards the living area. I find a dustpan and a broom in the kitchen and venture back out into the hall to clean up the vase of flowers that got knocked over in Chase and Lucy's initial struggle.

There is enough time to kill that we are all able to take a shower, and I feel no shame in raiding Lucy's wardrobe for something clean to wear. We have each brought a change of clothes, but I find an almost new pair of jeans hanging in Lucy's cupboard that fit better than anything I have worn since I left the States. I pair them with a fitted grey vest top and, to my delight, the rarest of treasures – a pair of pale grey boots made of the softest leather that are both pretty and remarkably sturdy. My newly washed hair is still wet when I return to the vast sitting room.

“Help yourself,” Lucy sulks, as Reed lets out a low exaggerated whistle. I grin at him.

“Thanks,” I reply, crossing to the open plan kitchen and opening the refrigerator door.

“Score!” Michael whoops behind me as he peers over my shoulder. He is positively glowing since he got his way after all about coming with us.

“Think you can make us something out of that?” I ask, moving aside and he gets stuck in.

“You'd think someone as rich as this would have a housekeeper,” Reed remarks as he joins me at the kitchen table. Lucy cannot overhear us in here.

“She did,” Chase interrupts, “but she got rid of her. Lucy was terrified that Richard would find her attractive.” The irony of this is not lost on us and we all laugh uproariously. Unused to being in such an opulent setting makes us all feel slightly giddy.

“I could get used to this,” Michael says as he takes an enormous bite of his ham sandwich, and washes it down with a glass of ice-cold Coke.

“You'll be here a while,” I note. “You're going to help Morgan keep an eye on things when we head over to SubTropolis.”

SubTropolis is Jupiter's base – an enormous, supposedly abandoned 1100 acre man-made cave in the bluffs above the Missouri River which was once the world's largest underground storage facility. Michael looks slightly crestfallen as it dawns on him that this is as far as he goes in this mission, but he shrugs acceptingly.

“Better than a kick in the ass, I guess.”

Knowing that James the doorman knocks off at four o'clock and that Lucy's cuckold husband Richard only gets home after five is a relief. James will have no opportunity to warn Richard, and by tomorrow morning, he will assume that we left after the shift change.

At a quarter to five everyone but Reed, Chase and me heads down the passage. The penthouse apartment is incredibly spacious and there is room for everybody, although a few people are sharing. Kwan and Jethro have disabled the security system in one of the spare bedrooms, which will be Richard and Lucy's new sleeping quarters for the next few days. The bedroom is far too high up for them to climb to safety and, likewise, too high for them to call for help to the ground below without our hearing them.

Lucy's eyes widen as we hear the front door open, almost on the dot of five o'clock.

“Luce, I'm home!” Richard calls, and we hear the sound of him depositing his briefcase on the floor and then riffling through the mail in the entrance hall. Reed moves to stand just behind the kitchen wall and as Richard appears in the doorway, Reed grabs him and pulls him into the room, smothering his roar of fright by placing his hand over his mouth. Richard's eyes meet mine for a moment and his pupils dilate in shock.

“Son of a bitch!” Reed yells a second later as Richard sinks his teeth into his palm, and without hesitation, Reed smacks him on the back of his head, hard enough to knock him out.

We move Richard across to the sitting room and deposit him next to Lucy, who is crying crocodile tears over her husband's prostrate body.

“Give it a rest, Luce,” Chase snaps. “You're wasting it. He can't even appreciate your wifely concern right now.” She narrows her eyes at him and her tears continue to streak silently down her cheeks. It would be almost touching if I wasn't so acutely aware of how unfaithful she is.

“Piss off, Chase,” Lucy retorts. “I can't believe you're doing this – helping her. She's a murderer! She murdered her own husband, for God's sake.”

“I never really liked Eric,” Chase shrugs, unconcerned as he watches Reed tie Richard up next to his wife.

 

 

chapter 16

W
e wait patiently for Richard to wake up. When he does, it takes him a while to register his surroundings, but the moment he does his gaze comes to rest on me.

“Hello, Rebecca,” he greets me calmly, before turning to Lucy and making sure that she is unharmed.

“Richard,” I nod back. Richard is an astute businessman and he gets straight to the point.

“What exactly is it that you want?”

“Just a few days. I have some business to attend to and I needed somewhere to use as a base.”

“We're honoured,” he jeers. His face is rigid with anger, but he is incredibly composed. “I'm expected in the office at eight tomorrow morning.” He lets the implication hang in the air.

“You'll be calling in sick,” I confirm his implied question.

“Richard! You have to do something! I want them out of this house!” Lucy is gobsmacked by his apparent lack of concern.

“What would you have me do, dear?” Richard tries to move his arms, indicating the rope that is binding him in place.

Under the cover of Lucy's subsequent tirade, I step closer to Kwan.

“He seems calm enough,” Kwan murmurs.

“Don't let him deceive you,” I correct. “Richard is no fool, and he's extremely cunning. He'll be planning something. We need to keep a close eye on him.”

“Let me handle Richard,” Chase offers and I raise my brow. I am still not entirely sure I trust him. Chase sighs dramatically.

“Not that you care,” his voice is low and steady, “but I happen to be in love with your best friend. I want nothing more than to bring her back here and give her the life that she deserves. I know that will never happen unless you bring down the fences so, like it or not, we're on the same side.” He meets my gaze levelly.

“Keep an eye on both of them,” I mutter eventually, reluctantly impressed.

Not wanting to spend any more time in the States than we possibly have to, we set off early the following morning. After a decent night's sleep, I feel revived and positive about the outcome. In hindsight, I am glad that Michael is here. Despite Chase's declaration of love, he could still easily join forces with Richard, who certainly has the money and the resources to get him what he wants, and I would be hesitant to leave Morgan alone to stand guard over the prisoners.

“We'll be back as soon as we can,” I tell the siblings. “Just stay put and don't let either of them out of your sight.” Morgan seems oddly distant, but she nods her blonde head and with that I have to be satisfied.

As we emerge on the street, I cannot shake the nagging feeling that Michael and Morgan are not equipped to deal with this on their own, and I turn to Archer.

“I want you to go back,” I tell him. “Keep an eye on things.” Archer doesn't bat an eyelid, and I assume that he is delighted to be staying back with Morgan.

“You're sure you'll be okay without me?”

“We'll be fine,” I smile reassuringly. “In fact, now we won't have to catch another bus.” Archer is the only one of us who is not Gifted with speed, so leaving him behind means we can cover the ten mile distance easily on foot.

Approaching SubTropolis answers a question I had about how Jupiter manages to fly beneath NUSA's radar. The entire area is a typical example of a pre-war environment.

Standing before the entrance to SubTropolis, just a few miles from the opulence of the Carlisles' apartment block, I feel as though I have stepped outside NUSA's boundaries and back into the Rebeldom. The entrance is completely overgrown with weeds hanging from the bank above it.

“What do we do now?” Jethro asks.

“We wait,” Kwan replies simply.

It doesn't take long. After about ten minutes of standing around waiting, two men emerge from the trees on the bank above the entrance.

“Hello, Patrick,” Kwan calls up and the taller of the two men fixes his gaze on the Korean.

“You're breaking the rules, Mr Lee,” the man named Patrick replies. His fair skin is pasty and not complemented by his red hair and ginger beard. Kwan doesn't answer and the two men make their way down to the street below. Patrick's associate is very nondescript – he's short, blond-haired and blue-eyed, but with a weak chin and eyes that are slightly too close together.

“We need to see him,” Kwan finally speaks up when they are close enough.

“He's not going to be happy,” Patrick gestures at me, Reed and Jethro.

“What, no welcoming party?” Reed drawls, becoming agitated by the lack of action. Patrick scrutinises Reed, sizing up the competition, and then he smiles patronisingly as if he is not impressed by what he sees. These men are obviously Gifted, given that they work for Jupiter and the fact that they are not at all intimidated by us.

“Come on, then,” Patrick saunters towards the dilapidated entrance and we follow him inside SubTropolis.

We move through a dark tunnel which is at least forty feet wide, but it is not long before the tunnels become brightly lit. The man-made cave is incredible, and we pass one impressive storage facility after another. There are massive square pillars every forty feet, which obviously support the entire structure. The street that we are walking along is paved, but the floor of the various warehouses we pass appear to be concrete. We move deeper and deeper into the structure in silence, until Patrick finally stops outside a large metal door, behind which we can hear the sound of building and activity.

“Wait here,” Patrick instructs as he slips through the door. His associate remains with us, surly and silent. When Patrick returns he is followed by a man who I can only assume is Jupiter. His hair is so black it looks almost blue in the fluorescent lighting, and is long enough to be tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He is incredibly dark complexioned, with a perfectly trimmed goatee of black facial hair. If it weren't for the impeccably cut beige suit that he is wearing, I would be inclined to say that Jupiter looks somewhat like a pirate.

He has obviously been informed of our group's arrival, because he does not look in the least bit surprised to see us, but he does address Kwan first. Opening his arms, he steps forward and embraces the usually reserved Korean warmly.

“Kwan Lee,” Jupiter booms, and his voice is honeyed and welcoming. “My dear man. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

“Jupiter,” Kwan's voice, in comparison with the larger than life man before him, sounds barely more than a whisper. “I am sorry to intrude, but we were hoping you might be able to help us.” At the word ‘us' Jupiter glances around again and gives a very exaggerated start as if he had not noticed us before this point. As introductions are made, he clasps both Reed's and Jethro's hands in turn, his sloe eyes boring into each of them. Turning at last to me, he gives me a lingering once-over, an appreciative smile pulling up the corners of his Cupid's bow mouth.

“And who do we have here?” he asks, his eyes never leaving my face. When Kwan speaks, I can hear the underlying amusement in his voice.

“That's Rebecca Dane,” he calls me by my most recognisable title and Jupiter drops my hand as if it had suddenly been transformed into a snake.

“Get out,” he drops the chivalrous demeanour instantly, rounding angrily on Kwan, who looks not even a little surprised by his about-turn. “How dare you bring her here? You've told her about the lab, I presume?” He doesn't wait for an answer. “A fine way to repay me after everything I have done for you! I remain neutral, Kwan, you know that. It's part of the deal. I want no part in her petty war.”

“Petty?” I am so insulted that I do not even question the fact that Jupiter knows about the Resistance and its objectives. “There is nothing petty about wanting to overthrow a dictator who cares about nothing but himself!”

“There is nothing wrong with looking out for number one,” he replies smoothly.

“So you agree with NUSA's methods?”

“Not at all. But I do understand putting oneself first. We are not all as self-sacrificing as you are,” he adds, giving me a look that makes it clear that he doesn't see my philanthropy as admirable.

“So you refuse to help anyone but yourself?” I am disgusted.

“On the contrary, I help many people. Just ask Mr Lee over here,” he gestures at Kwan. “Although I think, in light of this little gathering, I should be more careful who I offer my services to in future.”

“You are paid handsomely for your services,” I point out. “What if I offered to pay you, in return for your help?”

“That would be an entirely different situation. But I assume that funds are scarce out in the barren lands?” We both know I have no money or wealth to offer.

“By refusing to help me, you are effectively helping NUSA,” I say dejectedly.

“I am above all that politics, Mrs Dane. Think of me as Switzerland.”

“Switzerland?”

“I avoid all alliances that could entail military or political action. I am neutral.”

“But you would help me if I paid you?”

“That is different. You would be a paying customer and I would provide a service. What you do with that service after the fact is none of my concern. There would be no alliance formed. Now, I am sorry to cut this little visit short, but I'm a busy man after all, and I have work to do. So if there's nothing else . . .” He stops at Reed's low growl, but as Reed makes a movement towards him, I step between them.

“You're going to help me,” I warn, and a short scuffle follows. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Jethro and Kwan holding Patrick and the blond man back as they try to reach me. Jupiter remains impassive. “And I am going to pay you,” I hasten to add and the men around me calm down, their curiosity piqued.

“You have something I want?” Jupiter asks mockingly.

“Yes,” I nod, playing my trump card. “I have Jeffrey Davis.”