Wired (33 page)

As the slat thudded against the building, I reached out and grabbed the rungs of the maintenance ladder. With its momentum stopped short, the slat lurched. I just held on to the metal rail and waited for the wobbling to subside. When it finally did, I told myself not
to look down and carefully transferred my weight. Hanging off the side, I started climbing upward. My muscles shook with every step.

The effort took everything I had in me, and when I made it to the roof, I could crawl only halfway to the exit before I had to rest.

But there was no rest for the weary, as they always say. A British accent swore loudly.
Leo
. Followed by, “Son of a bitch!”
Mason
. I couldn't escape.

I didn't move, but neither man came for me. Mason and Leo began beating the living crap out of each other. Again. So déjà vu.

Leo crashed across the pavement, struck by Mason. His gun had come free and skittered next to him. He caught me watching and said, “Give me the flash driver, Roxanne.” But then he was up and dealing with Mason again, the two trading blows.

Sweat stung my eyes; I imagined I tasted blood in my mouth, though I couldn't remember being hit. Leo commanded me again. I looked over at his gun. My chest heaving, fingers twitching, I reached out to grasp it, an incongruous image of Kitty's goldfish flashing through my mind. The gun was just out of reach.

Get the fuck up, Roxy, and take control of your fate
.

I reached harder, my fingertips brushing the metal stock. I could pick myself up off the ground and stand, not just crawl away on my hands and knees. I could
act
.

I could hear the dull thud of fists against flesh, and I turned and saw Mason was losing. He was holding Leo's leg and each kick he took was as bad as if I were taking it myself.

“Roxanne, don't let him get the gun!” he cried.

I loved Mason and he loved me back; I knew that now. We'd once had a future. He'd even given Kitty and Naveed's daughter back to me, and I had to believe he'd done so while preserving the way things were meant to be. But who knew what I'd done to my own reality, what with the splice I'd engineered by stealing the code back from Leonardo? Who knew what would happen if I gave it to Mason? Would he decide that time was more important than me? Would I respect him if he didn't?

One thing was certain: whatever I did, I would be the one left with the outcome. We were down to the last version of me I would have, and if I trusted Mason I would be stuck with whatever he chose. This was the sweet spot the boys were talking about. This was the sweet spot. This was where it was all going to lock down.

So, what's it gonna be, Roxanne?

I rolled to my side and, instead of curling into myself and waiting for an end, I picked up the gun and got to my feet.

“Stop!”

The men froze, still gripping each other.

“Mason, get up. Leo, stay where you are.”

Very slowly the men separated. Mason backed away from Leo, making his way to my side. Both of my hands were wrapped around the pistol. My legs braced wide, I held the gun on Leonardo, completely calm. Then I freed one hand and stuck it in my pocket. My fingers hit metal and I pulled out the flash drive. Both men sucked in a breath.

“Leo, start moving backward.”

No one moved. No one spoke. The men registered what I was saying, and a look of pain crossed Leonardo's face. He'd processed my intentions.

“Start moving,” I repeated, shaking the gun.

Leonardo started slowly walking backward toward the edge of the rooftop, toward the ladder. I nodded. He continued, stopping short when his heels hit the raised cement ringing the edge.

“I'll bring the wine,” he said. Cryptic. He spread his arms, a strange smile on his face.

I felt Mason's hand slip into mine to take the code. Leonardo stepped gracefully backward, teetering on the edge. “Do it,” I dared him.

Leonardo's gaze fixed on Mason's hand in mine. I glanced at Mason and gave him a quick nod. His fingers slipped free, dragging the code out of my hand. Leonardo watched.

I thought about shooting him. I thought about the evil things he could set into motion, and the realities he would fabricate for people like me if he was allowed to continue messing with time. But I couldn't be his executioner. There were indeed things about us that were similar, as he'd claimed in an elevator long ago. But I was different than he was.

As Leonardo and I again locked eyes, he simply let himself go. His suit coat fluttered up around him, and he vanished just as I gave the code completely to Mason. The sweet spot locked. I blinked once and the roof beneath me seemed to twist away: a rectangle shape flipping end over end, vanishing from under my feet. Mason and I dropped into empty space, hurtling down between buildings. I lost track of him,
falling, falling more, the pavement hurtling up to meet me. This time I didn't flinch or close my eyes or scream or panic. I relaxed.

This is impossible. I don't really exist in this time. Not yet. I'll land. I'll just land. Mason, Leonardo, and I are wired together. If there's even an inch of wire left, I'll land
.

I opened my eyes, bracing myself for whatever version of my life I'd brought about. But I wasn't in my life. I was spread-eagled on the ground, staring up at the sky, once more in the silence between rush hours.

From this angle I could see the spire on top of the Kaysar Corporation. I blinked and remembered how close the agency had been to the motoway. About as close as the Market Street agency from my apartment via BART. And if my apartment was behind me . . . then this was the same damn intersection where the 7-Eleven was in the present day, and this was the spot on the ground where I'd lain like a corpse next to Mason's car. I felt like I'd journeyed many miles, but really I'd been moving in circles all along.

The spire disappeared as Mason stepped into view, and I choked up, indescribably happy to see him alive and well.

He tried to look stern, saying, “I have to get this code to headquarters, Rox. It's not over until it's safe.” But then he pulled me to my feet, put his arms around me and enfolded me in a tight embrace. “And
it's also not over until you're safe at home,” he added, his voice edged with emotion.

I closed my eyes and let my body relax into his. “You're not coming with me?”

“I'll be right on your heels,” Mason said, “but I've got to lock this all down.”

It was hard to accept that we'd be separating just as we'd truly come together. I looked up at him. “Why didn't you just tell me I was your girlfriend all along?”

“Too many reality variables with a Major,” he said. “You'd been disappeared, and the protocol on cases like this is very strict. It has to be, if we have any hope of keeping things under control.” Then, with a smile: “Besides, when I finally caught up with you that night, you didn't really know me anymore.”

I was a different person then
.

“And about Louise. I need you to know that she wasn't
ever
my girlfriend, and we definitely weren't sleeping together.”

I stared at Mason. “But—”

“She's a coworker. She's how I was able to stay near you.”

“My old roommate Louise is a wire crosser? But she was a complete
moron
.”

“A good actress,” Mason said. “We just put the music on loud and let you make wild assumptions.”

I stared at him in total disbelief.

“And if it makes you feel better, it was absolute torture.”

Actually, it did make me feel better.

Mason suddenly bent his head close to mine. “I love you, Rox. I hated that I couldn't say it earlier.
But now we've done it; we're going to end up together, and I'm not going to let anybody take you away from me again. Do you trust me?”

He meant everything to me. Now that I'd taken charge of my life, I knew what and who I was and what I wanted and needed. It was Mason. My feelings had locked in with the sweet spot. And my certainty gave me hope that we could still have life and love in this last version of my reality I would ever have. “I do trust you,” I said.

“Then go home, Rox. Go home and I'll be there as soon as I'm done here.”

“Is there enough wire for both of us?” I asked.

“You don't need any.” He gave me that same crooked grin. “A door is still a door, even when it looks like a line.”

I laughed. Before I might have feared he was being selfish, wanting to use the last of the wire on the case against Leo. But I knew him now. I
knew
him.

Mason's hands caressed the sides of my face, and then he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. He held there for a moment, then kissed me hard, and this time I knew it wasn't good-bye.

Memories, wonderful memories were pouring back—memories of the past and a future yet to come. I'd see him again, exactly when I was supposed to.

“It's so good to have you back,” he whispered, tangling his fingers in my hair. I would have liked nothing more than to linger in his arms, but he crushed me in a quick embrace. “Go back to where you came through. You'll know the way back,” he said stepping back. Then he suddenly turned and ran, disappearing down the street.

How we all hate good-byes
. I stood there, stunned for a moment, then ran as fast as I could toward the playground where I'd first appeared in this time. Panting and gasping, I made the distance to the playground with record speed. How many times had I run this route from the 7-Eleven to home?

A couple of men with oddly formal, slicked-back hair and shiny white jumpsuits were finishing up some maintenance work. I watched them shake out the tube of their painting equipment, the lacquered end of the hose sprinkling blue paint on the drop-cloth.

Leaning over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath, I studied the freshly painted outline of the basketball court glistening in the sunlight. I looked back up; the men gazed blankly back at me and continued packing up their equipment.

Mason had said I would know the way home, and I knew he wouldn't steer me wrong, but it was hard to control my panic with no obvious exit in sight. I walked back to the fence, running my hand along the chain link rimming the area. When I turned back, the painters had gone. Just the chemical smell and hurdle-like metal barriers protecting their handiwork remained.

The smell, the blue paint . . . This playground was my condominium complex from another angle, buried under an archeological layer of reality. This line of blue paint was the threshold to my home.

I paused, awed. All these circles I'd run without going anywhere at all. And yet, I'd gone everywhere.

A hot feeling filled me, a feeling like a splice, and I had a sudden flash of fear. The wire hadn't been entirely
used. Was I being paranoid? Either Mason or Leonardo could still—

Wait.
I'll bring the wine
, Leonardo had said. I'd let him go, and he'd stepped off that ledge like he knew his time had run out—or that he had one card left to play.
The villain in the story always fights to the end, Roxanne. Run. Run!

I ran as hard as I could toward the center of the basketball court, ignoring the burn in my muscles. A million thoughts crossed my mind, but all I felt was terror. The seconds counted. They weren't like saved pennies at all, and I needed every single one of them.

My heart nearly pounded out of my chest as I crossed center court and headed for the far end. Just when I thought I couldn't run any farther, I reached the last barrier, took flight and hurdled over the gleaming blue line.

As I felt myself launched back through the layers of reality and time, a faint ringing sounded in my ears. Struggling against the warp and heat in the air around me, I found my voice. “Kitty,” I screamed. “Don't open the door!”

I went flying over the couch.

Kitty's blond hair was swinging as she turned to look at me over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob. It all seemed to go so slowly. But she opened the door.

It would have made for an hilarious anecdote: me, arms and legs flailing in midair, knocking the vase of flowers off the coffee table. It could have been absolutely hysterically funny, except Leonardo's bullet hit her in the chest.

Kitty went down, bleeding out, just bleeding out all over the apartment floor. I knelt in the blood and held her hand.

“My friend,” I said, squeezing her fingers. The kohl around her eyes ran as she turned her face to me, and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

“My friend,” she whispered.

I heard a beep and I snatched Leo's reader from my bag. The red light next to my name was black. I'd hit the sweet spot; we were out of time. Kitty sucked
in a quick breath, squeezed my hand and died. She died. Case closed. The light next to my name on the reader turned green.

“I'm a rather sore loser,” a British accent said. I slowly looked up. Leonardo Kaysar stood on the threshold, a gun held at his side. Kitty's hand slipped from mine as I leaned back on my knees.

Leonardo's green eyes glittered, but not with warmth, familiarity, or seductive intent. He raised his gun and I flinched, falling back on my hands. Leo moved in on me, and I scuttled in reverse, awkward in my fear. He pushed me back, back—I moved toward the stairs, hitting the bottom step with my butt. I slowly stood up, each breath a shudder as he took steps toward me.

“I thought nothing more could be done,” I whispered.

“Roxanne,” he said, shaking his head as if criticizing a small child. “Perhaps there is nothing more to be done as far as
you
go on this case, but there is a new Major out there now.”

I started ascending the stairs backwards. “Then you have no more business here with me,” I said, raising my chin.