Vendetta Nation (Enigma Black Trilogy #2) (21 page)

“But what if they aren’t resisting?” I asked, a fury encompassing me. “What if your soldiers are slaughtering innocent people?”

“Impossible.” Brooks stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s not,” Ian said. “I saw it with my own eyes. Your men are nothing short of tyrants.”

“And your words are nothing short of treason, Mr. Grant,” Brooks said, steadily growing impatient. “Tell me, how close were you to those protesters when you saw their alleged murder? My understanding was that you and Ms. Stevens had left, so you couldn’t have possibly seen the gun being drawn on my men by those disgruntled people, could you? As you peeled away, did you happen to see everyone being shot? And if you did, how do you know they were shot with real bullets and not tranquilizers? Tell me, how do you know with certainty that any of those individuals are actually dead?”

“We don’t for sure,” Ian admitted.

“Exactly,” Brooks sighed. “What
I
know for sure is that their actions have caused deaths. One particularly gruesome one came from that apartment fire I just mentioned. Actually, Celaine, I do believe that fire occurred in your hometown on Balsam and Oak, I believe.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and bile rose from my stomach. “Balsam and Oak?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“Yes, the Metropolitan apartment complex was completely destroyed.”

The Metropolitan
.
Chase‘s apartment building
.
Gruesome
.
Death
. The world around me began to spin, the bile that originated in my stomach rose upward into my esophagus. A question. One single question invaded my thoughts, unwilling to leave me alone until it was answered one way or another. “Who was it? The person who died in the fire, were they a man or a woman?” Although I meant my voice to come out strong, I found that it shook uncontrollably at various intervals.

Brooks stared at me. In his head, I was sure that he was formulating his answer carefully. He knew he had the upper hand with me at this moment. “A woman. Elderly,” he answered me, studying my expression. I felt guilty for the overwhelming sense of relief that rushed over me just then, but the smile crept over my lips regardless. “She wasn’t who you feared she was, was she?” Brooks asked.

Ian glanced at me, his expression unreadable, which told me everything I needed to know.
Don’t give away too much information, Celaine
.

“No,” I answered him, “she wasn’t. In fact, now that I think about it, the person I had in mind moved away from that complex around a year ago.”

“Well, then you have a lot to be thankful for,” Brooks said, an insincere grin displayed his half-hearted attempt at a full-blown smile. “Let what could have happened to your loved one reiterate my point, then. If these protesters, rebels, or others decide to wage their own war against me and our country, who do you think will pay for it? Not I. Not my administration. You see, it only takes a single spark to ignite a wildfire capable of destroying everything in its path. Any sympathy on your part toward those who oppose our laws would be like holding a match to dry kindling. Only next time, those you knew and loved in your former lives may be in the path of the flames.” Brooks paused, satisfied he’d made his point. “Tomorrow, we must stand united, regardless of any protests that may be going on around you. It’s imperative that I don’t lose complete control over this country, or even stricter laws will have to be put into place, and funding for Victor’s pet project will be pulled. In essence, your mission, and purpose for completely uprooting your lives will effectively end, leaving The Man in Black to his own devices.

“We will travel to the park tomorrow by private boat. Given the circumstances, I believe it’s the safest form of travel, and we’ll be able to avoid the highway that way. I’ll have one of my drivers meet you in the back lobby where you came in earlier at roughly five o’clock tomorrow evening to take you to the pier. We’ll arrive at the park together, we’ll be as one on stage during my address, and we’ll leave together. We’ll present ourselves to the public as a complete and unified package. Is that clear?”

Ian and I sat in silence. At that moment, I wanted desperately to know what he was thinking. Was he as enraged as I? Did he want to jump across the table and throttle Brooks, too? “Understood, sir,” Ian’s voice broke the dead air.

“Very well. I’m glad we were able to have this little talk,” Brooks said, standing up from his chair, the universal sign for ‘get the hell out of my sight’. I followed suit, joined shortly by Ian. “Let me escort you out.” Brooks walked around the table in the direction of the door.

“I scanned Celaine’s file into an electronic format and emailed it to you as you requested, sir,” Cameron’s voice declared over Victor’s cell phone.

“Excellent work, Cameron, as usual,” he answered, suppressing the urge to cough.

“If I may ask, why the sudden interest in her file?”

“You know what they say about curiosity and cats, Cameron, the same goes for humans, too.”

“Noted. I only ask because Celaine has taken a recent interest in your office, and I wondered if maybe it had something to do with that.”

“What?” Victor asked, feeling a sudden fury building within him. He took a deep breath, which resulted in a series of coughs escaping from his lips.

“Are you all right?” Cameron asked, concerned.

“Yes, of course. Never mind me. Please tell me more about Ms. Stevens’ interests.”

“There isn’t much to tell, really. I saw her poking around the hall near your door a few nights ago, and she asked me whether I would give her a tour. I…I told her I wouldn’t,” he hesitated as if sensing Victor’s rage at the other end of the line.

“Well…I’ll just have to deal with that,” Victor answered, in a calmness that surprised even himself. “Thank you for being so loyal, Cameron. You’ve always been like the son I never wanted.” Victor ended the call, set the phone back down on his lap, and rubbed his head with his bionic, yet realistic in both appearance and texture, left hand. “Stevens,” he grumbled out loud, “you have a weakness, I know you do. I just have to find it, and when I do, perhaps your compliance will be bought a little easier.”

Victor stood up from his leather recliner, and stretched his sore muscles—at least, what was left of them. From the waist up, he was completely nude as he stood in front of his picture window. The receding sunlight shone brightly through the glass, bouncing off both skin and machine, organic and man-made, causing the metal to glisten. His left arm, from the shoulder down to mid forearm, was robotic, developed to replace a limb far too mangled to have ever worked again. From mid forearm down to his hand, a biological and technological feat came together perfectly to form the rest of his extremity, one that had fooled everyone into believing it was the real thing.

From the clavicle down, intertwining with ribs, sternum, and vertebrae, metal had been grafted onto bone, either to repair breaks or to fortify the integrity of his human structure, thus ensuring his ability to take a blow without much repercussion. From the hips downward, both legs were more robotic than flesh-and-blood in nature, though he had more of his left leg intact than his right. Mistimed explosions and trial and error in preparation for his attacks in the earlier days were to thank for that. But despite all of this, all of the pain, the stripping away of his humanity, he couldn’t help but admire his reflection in the glass, and the way the sun made him shine like a god.

Sighing, he walked away from the window to retrieve his laptop from his small dining room table, which only housed two chairs—because one made the whole thing seem too awkward. As he sat down again, he powered up the laptop, stealing one final glance at the steadily-disappearing sun. Reluctantly, he stood up to switch on a small lamp just feet from where he sat.

The laptop powered on slowly, profusely irritating him, as most things beyond his control tended to do.

“Isn’t there anything you can count on to work properly anymore?” he bemoaned. When its start-up had finally completed, he scrolled to his personal email account, where he found the email he’d requested from Cameron. Celaine Stevens’ complete file. He’d combed through it numerous times, both before and after she’d arrived at The Epicenter, but never for the purposes he found himself browsing through it tonight.
What makes you tick, Miss Stevens?
he thought while thumbing through the electronic file.
There has to be something that drives you; something that gives your heart a reason to beat
.

He flipped through photographs of his attack on The Lakes, of his revenge on Dr. George Stevens, unable to suppress his ear-to-ear grin.
Well, I can’t use your family against you now, can I, Miss Stevens?
He flipped through more photographs, sighing in disappointment with each one that gave him nothing to work with. Just as he began to close the laptop, something caught his eye. In the surveillance photographs Blake had taken the night before he approached her, he found his smoking gun.
Wait. Is she holding hands with that man
? Yes, she was indeed. A maniacal smile, the same one that had crossed his face when he’d looked George Stevens in the eyes before he died, overcame him as he inspected the handsome, blue-eyed man in the photograph. With a plan steadily forming in his head, he grabbed his cell phone.

“Cameron, I need you to do me another favor…”

*****

“Where are we going?” Ian struggled to keep up with my eager strides down the hallway.

“There’s something I have to see, something I’ve wanted to see since I was a child,” I answered him.

“Disney World?”

“Better.”

“There’s something better than Disney World? I think not.”

“Excuse me, sir,” I said to a Park View employee approaching us from the opposite direction.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Would you point me to the courtyard, please?”

“The courtyard, ma’am?” He seemed confused, like I’d just asked him to direct me to China.

“Yes, the courtyard. There is still a courtyard, isn’t there?” I asked, fear tingeing my voice.

“Oh, yes, there is,” he answered to my relief. “It’s just that nobody ever asks for it, so your question threw me off guard there for a minute. If you keep following this hallway down, you’ll run into the lobby. Take a right at the desk. You’ll enter another hallway. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” I responded to him. I increased my speed down the hall to an octave just shy of ‘superhero’.

“You need to slow down.” Ian caught up with me. “You’re going noticeably fast, if you know what I mean. Besides, why are you practically running to a courtyard? Those are a dime a dozen.”

“Not this one, Ian,” I replied to him almost offended. “This one is spectacular. You’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Funny, I’ve used that line myself,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes at him and continued my momentum, anxious to see with my own eyes the beauty that had so readily captured my attention as a child. We turned right at the lobby as instructed and ventured down the hallway just like the Park View employee had told us to do. Soon, we were there. The glass walls gleamed, struggling to catch the last of the sun’s rays on the horizon. As it shone through, the light bounced off the walls of the Park View, playing off the gold flecks in the paint. They glistened spectacularly, an image I quickly recognized from one of the multitude of photographs featured in
Modern Society.
But that’s where the comparisons ended.

The view through the glass walls of the courtyard was not of roses in bloom, buds ready to burst open, or even of any greenery of any kind. To my astonishment, there was no beauty through those glass walls; there was no hope through those glass walls. Through the glass, there was only a concrete slab surrounded by mounds of dirt that supported an array of long-dead foliage. I let out an audible gasp and looked around frantically for a way out into the courtyard, not wanting to believe the sight presented to me.

A handle stuck out from one of the glass walls. I rushed over to it, and noticed that it was a door constructed to blend in perfectly with the rest of the wall. Gripping the handle, I pulled the door open and walked out into the vision that was steadily becoming a nightmare. My heels clicked on the concrete and echoed off the walls, which made the barren courtyard seem that much more lonely and desolate.

“
This
is the spectacular sight you’ve been dying to see since you were a child?” Ian said behind me. “You must have had one lame child—” Ian’s face fell from condescending to empathetic when I turned around to face him, a tear streaming down my cheek. “Celaine.” he said softly. He walked over to me and pulled me in his arms, holding me close to his body. I let loose in his grasp. The tears streamed down my face in sheets. “Things change,” he spoke. “People change, places change, everything changes. That’s life.” He held me tighter, and stroked my hair with his hand.

“It’s not the courtyard,” I murmured.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

“I think it’s more what the courtyard represented for me. It may sound silly, but it was like a gateway back to my childhood, to a time where my life was carefree, when my family was still alive. The courtyard was the last beautiful, tangible link I had left to them.” Ian stood silent with his arms still firmly around me. I felt his warmth caress my ear, and his quickening pulse on my bare skin. “I know it sounds silly, but I just thought that if…if I could just see what I saw in the pages of my mother’s magazine again, if I could just sit amongst the beauty captured in those photographs, maybe a part of them would come back to me somehow. It’s as though a part of me figured that if this one place could remain untouched after all these years, then maybe there was hope for the rest of our world, and that would remain untouched, too.”