Traceless (Stateless #2) Read online

  Jane goes white.

  Lindsay starts to cry, turning to Foster with an accusatory look I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of.

  “We weren't part of the bombing,” he insists, defensive.

  “You know where the compound is!”

  “You have to believe me when I say we weren't part of it.”

  “I don't have to believe ANYTHING!” Kina screams.

  “No,” I say softly, moving toward her, my hands shaking. “You don't. Neither of us does, Kina. But you have to believe me. And I'm telling you that there's reason to believe the bombing of the server farm was an inside job.”

  “WHAT?”

  I'm revealing too much to these men. They don't deserve to know this.

  “And,” I add, looking pointedly at Foster, Gentian, and Duff, “it's probably the same person who torched Alice Mogrett's ranch.”

  Foster's eyes cut to Gentian. “You sure about that?”

  “No. But I'm not convinced I'm wrong.”

  “Double agents?”

  “More than that. Someone playing off different, competing interests. Could be national intelligence, could be outside foreign actors, could be deep state, could be Stateless. Hell, it could be 8chan at this point,” I mutter. It's a relief to talk openly, and I’m pretty sure I'm not revealing anything they don't already know.

  “Why can't we have clear-cut good guys and bad guys anymore?” Lily asks. “Like in the movies?”

  “Romeo shot you,” I say to her. “Then he kidnapped you to lure McDuff–Duff.” I turn to him. “You were going to be set up for her murder.”

  “I know.”

  “In those last moments, when Romeo ate the cyanide, what did he say?”

  Foster stiffens.

  “His last words were, 'Shoot me.'”

  “And before that?”

  “He said Nolan Corning wanted free flow of borders for a specific reason. But he wouldn't say why.”

  My heart thumps like it's in marching formation. “And?”

  “He said he brought you to me,” Duff says slowly, eyes like mine piercing me. “He said he brought Wyatt to me and I owed him.”

  Kina gasps.

  Incredulity turns to rage in seconds as his words sink in. “You're lying.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “I can think of a thousand reasons why.”

  “Why would I tell you Romeo said that to me, Wy–Callum? There's no strategic advantage. If anything, it makes me look weak. He knew I was trying to find you. Knew Gran and Alice had spent years looking, too. He smelled weakness and he jumped on it.”

  “What else?” I demand.

  “He said, 'If you’ve built the perfect army, what's even better is not to need it.' I never understood that one.”

  Neither do I, but hell if I'll admit it.

  “You didn't shoot him,” Kina says to my brother. “Why not?”

  “I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Not after what he did to Lily.”

  “And Jane,” Gentian adds.

  “You wanted to capture him? To interrogate him?”

  “Of course.”

  “And he used the cyanide,” Kina says under her breath.

  “What was he hiding?” Jane asks.

  “Everything,” I tell her. “Everything.”

  What I don’t say is, if Romeo knew McDuff was my brother, who else has known all along?

  “We've already said too much,” Kina declares, moving toward the door. “If you didn't bomb the server farm, and you,” she says to me, “think someone at Stateless did it, then we HAVE to go back for the children.”

  “Before you go, let us chip you,” Foster says, pulling out a small needle.

  “You're insane,” I bark.

  “Listen. We know where you are already. This lets us track you. Get you out if need be.”

  “No,” Kina and I say simultaneously.

  “They'll cut off the part it's inserted in.”

  “Not if you swallow it.”

  “Then they'll just kill us. If they find any evidence, they–”

  “This is your life? You live and work for people who would do that in a heartbeat?” Lindsay chokes out.

  Kina looks at her, even and cool. “Your own mother unleashed a violent gang rape on you. You’re hardly one to judge.”

  Lily gasps.

  Jane looks at Kina with renewed respect.

  “Then no chip. But we have to have a way to communicate,” Duff says to Callum. “It's all going down fast right now.”

  I nod. “I have ways.”

  “Guaranteed?”

  “Good enough.”

  “You look so much like my father's assistant,” Lindsay says to Kina. “Is she like the two of you? Willing to–”

  “Do not say a word about this meeting to her,” I snap. “Absolutely not one word.”

  “There's your answer,” Foster says. “We knew already. People have tried to get Glen to crack.”

  Kina and I burst into strange laughter.

  “Good luck with that,” I tell him. “Don't mess with her. Glen's hard core.”

  “How could twins be so different?” Lily muses.

  I feel Kina's change in demeanor, the swift jolt of emotion making her radiate confusion and grief.

  “Every moment we stay here,” Kina says in a husky voice, “is time someone has to hurt the children.” She pulls on my arm. “We need to go.”

  Duff moves to me, holding up his phone.

  A picture of two blond kids on a beach, clearly the two of us, flashes at me.

  His thumb swipes and I'm looking at a small blond boy held in the arms of a smiling woman wearing a bikini top, sitting on a picnic table. The child holds a bow and arrow.

  Me.

  That's me.

  Held by my mother.

  One more swipe and I see a bearded man, tall and broad, shirtless on a sunny day, a small boy on his shoulders.

  “That's you. With Mom and Dad. I have more. When you're ready, I can tell you everything I know.” His hand goes to my shoulder, tentative, hopeful. “I know this is a lot.”

  “That's an understatement,” I choke out.

  “But we found each other. That's what matters most.”

  “You’re wrong,” I correct him. “What matters most is that we've unleashed something we cannot possibly understand.”

  22

  Kina

  Being bound to an exam table hurts.

  Being bound to an exam table while my entire body is searched inch by inch for chip implants hurts even more.

  We were right. Refusing the chips was smart.

  Doesn't make this process any less demeaning, but it makes the outcome less terrifying.

  “Clean,” the new staff doctor, a woman named Amelia Roche, says as she turns away, her voice crisp and businesslike. Long black hair, heavy face scars from acne, and deep brown eyes in a narrow face that soften when she speaks.

  She doesn't know me, so she has no preconceived notions. If it were Newbraugher, I'd read her for disappointment or relief.

  Instead, I get a blank wall.

  Which is good. The fewer emotions I need to track, the better. There are more than enough of them raging inside me to keep me busy.

  And most important — we were taught to mirror people. To make it so no one can see inside our mind. Reflecting back only what other people offer is the goal.

  We’re a mirror on a mirror, replicating ad infinitum, the blankness so hollow it’s almost not there.

  Callum likely had to go through the same body scan. I assume he passed. I've been in survival mode, terrified by what happened earlier today.

  People on the outside know so much about me.

  And now I know so much more about them.

  “Keep your clothes off,” Dr. Roche says casually, my legs still in stirrups from the exam as Sally walks in. Slightly behind her is a very young woman with wiry red hair and freckles covering lighter skin, with remarkably fa
miliar dark eyes, carrying her phone. The paper drape over my lower body isn't enough to prevent a wild streak of shame from rippling across my skin.

  I will it away.

  “You escaped.” Sally's words don't have to be interpreted. Her tone makes it clear I’m not getting the nicer version of her today.

  “I went with–”

  The slap comes out of nowhere. Blood tastes the same, familiar and revolting, whether you are seventeen or twenty-nine.

  “You. Escaped.”

  My tongue tries to flick to the corner of my mouth, needing to feel the cut, needing to find the source of the metallic taste dripping in between my teeth.

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Callum ordered me to.”

  The words aren't a betrayal. Callum made me promise to say them. To use his authority to get them to be more lenient with me. I have no idea what he's going through right now, but I suspect it's both easier and worse. Easier because he has a level of trust built up with the leadership.

  Harder because he has more to lose now.

  He has a brother on the outside.

  My sister is out there, too, I remind myself as I avoid eye contact and start to elevate.

  Another slap.

  “Don't you dare. Stay right here with me, fully. You're walking a very fine line between being a traitor or a genius. It’s my job to determine which you are, Kina.”

  “What do you want to know? I documented my experience. Callum has–”

  “We're talking about you. Not him. You're a fool if you think he'll protect you. Don't you understand he was testing you?”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Tell me everything again.”

  The red-headed young woman fiddles with the thermostat in the room. Air conditioning comes on, blasting cold air so hard. It flattens the drape over my lower belly and thighs. Gooseflesh prickles my skin, my muscles tightening, the chill hard to fight off.

  My nipples tighten like pink bullets.

  I fight my own elevation. This is new. Normally, we're praised for using it.

  “I was out for a run. I saw Callum on the other side of the fence. I also saw the other man with a gun. I screamed for Callum, to warn him, and wiggled under a loose spot in the fence. Once I was on the other side, the man urged us to come with him. He turned out to be Callum's blood brother, from Before.”

  The carefully rehearsed words jab me from the inside out.

  “Callum told me to come with them. He whispered that we were doing deep surveillance work. We arrived at a cabin with six people. I've already told you–”

  SLAP!

  This time, she smacks my cheek so hard, her pinkie finger skims my nipple, the pain like torture.

  I hold back a scream. It comes out like a high grunt, a mistake.

  She pulls my hair back, bending down so close, I can tell she used coconut milk in her last cup of coffee. Her breath is overpowering, making it hard to breathe.

  “We have you on tape. Why would you go for a second run? You have pushed every boundary possible in the last year, Kina. You killed my friend. I won't allow you to contaminate Stateless any longer. We know what you really are.”

  The door crashes open, kicked in, slamming into Dr. Roche. She pushes into Sally, who stumbles into the red-haired woman. As one, they fall to the ground, dragging the paper sheet off my lower body. Someone's hand catches on a restraint, pulling my foot down at a wrenching angle that makes me see stars and gasp.

  “What the hell are you doing to her?” Callum thunders, dressed in sweatpants, no shirt, no shoes, with Hokes behind him and others in the hall.

  Sally stands, smoothing her hair, unflappable. “The same search you just experienced.”

  I look for signs of slaps or punches on him. Not a one.

  Gently, he unbuckles my wrists, ignoring my nudity. “All of you get out. We're both clean. We were doing deep surveillance. You of all people should understand that, Sally. Angelica did it for years, as Lindsay Bosworth's therapist. No one roughed her up as part of debriefing.”

  Dr. Roche hands me a gown. I use it like a blanket, covering my nakedness, the sudden lack of chill centering me.

  “Angelica was not Kina.”

  “No kidding. She's dead. She was weak.”

  Sally's mouth tightens at his words.

  “We went in with my brother. Let him think we trust him. Infiltrated and established communications protocols with them. We're in a position to learn as much as Glen does in her role with the president. If you're too stupid to understand that, then you don't deserve your leadership position,” he snaps, hand on my shoulder, the gesture protective.

  Claiming.

  “I spoke with Lindsay Bosworth, Jane Borokov, and Lily Thornton. They expressed s-s-sympathy for me,” I add, my chattering teeth impossible to control in the cold. “That relationship building could be crucial for future efforts.”

  “You're not trained on field behavior,” Sally scoffs.

  “She did as well as anyone else, or better. Have you ever been that close to the president's daughters, both of them? To the woman Romeo failed to kill?”

  Her huff of frustration makes it clear she doesn't want to answer.

  “Kina's clear. She did good work with me. Get out and leave us alone. She needs to dress and get back to doing her job.” His voice rings with authority. Unlike me, he's not shaken one bit by the morning's activities.

  The parts of me not covered by the gown are still ice cold, but the spots where Sally smacked me throb with heat. The contradiction is confusing, fear coursing through me, adrenaline making me hum.

  Callum's presence means she won't inflict more pain on me. Some instinct inside me stands down.

  As Sally, the doctor, and the mysterious redhead file out, Callum shuts the door behind them and hands me my clothes.

  “Those assholes,” he says. “They did this to you just because they could.”

  “And that's why I had to come back.”

  “Huh?”

  “Because they would hurt the children to hurt me.” I reach for my panties, the same ones I wore running early this morning. On the way here, I ditched the chip Duff gave me, knowing it would be found in a full-body search. My Kegels tighten at the memory of that search.

  They were thorough.

  Once my panties are on, I drop the gown and dress in front of him, modesty be damned. “Why are you half dressed?”

  “My exam was over. Smith mentioned Sally was with you. The way he talked about you made me realize–” His words fade out as he watches. Concern radiates from his eyes. “Did she hurt you much?” His fingers touch my chin, tilting my head to examine the slaps in the light.

  “Nothing more than I expected. You?”

  “They were, uh, exacting in the cavity search.” His hand cups his ass cheek.

  Giggles turn to ridiculous laughter in me. Hysterical, traumatized laughter, the kind that comes from an atrocious situation turned into a bizarre pantomime of normalcy. We're joking about having every bit of our bodies excavated, probed, catalogued.

  We're standing in a medical exam room after I've been hit repeatedly and Callum's ass has been the subject of a report.

  Even just a few hours off compound makes me see how ridiculous this is.

  “Kina,” he says softly, with tender care. “I'm so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. What happened today shouldn't have happened.”

  “I'm so glad you didn't kill your brother.”

  He goes silent.

  “Aren't you?” I enquire, surprised by how he's acting.

  “Yes. No.”

  “That's not an answer. That's two.”

  “I'm of two minds. Hell, I'm two people,” he says with a laugh I instantly understand.

  “Wyatt. Callum,” I whisper.

  “Sawyer. Kina,” he whispers back.

  “We're being monitored, you know.”

  “Of
course. I have nothing to hide.”

  I chuckle.

  “No, Kina. I literally have nothing to hide. You wouldn't believe how complete that exam was.”

  I offer him my hand, held between us so the camera can't catch it.

  “Well, I'm glad you didn't kill your brother, Callum,” I say loudly. “Now we can go back to meet him and his group, and we can learn their secrets. Forward our mission. Help Stateless.”

  Tap tap tap.

  The red-haired woman from before, far younger than I thought she was at first glance, opens the door without knocking.

  “Kina? If you’re done here, Philippa needs you.”

  “Thank you–uh...?”

  “Leila. My name is Leila. I'm new to the nursery.”

  Her smile makes my skin crawl.

  “Sally assigned me to be your new assistant. I'll walk over with you.”

  She closes the door, but we hear no footsteps.

  “I'll see you later,” Callum says, eyes dancing between the door and me, hand on the doorknob.

  “She reminds me of Glen,” he whispers.

  “Shhh.”

  He nods, one corner of his mouth going up, fingertips grazing my cheek as he leans in and whispers, “Get ice on that. Reunite with the children. Then come for a run with me.”

  That's code for meeting him at the waterfall.

  “A good old-fashioned run?”

  “The kind where your brain is empty by the time you're done,” he says with a flourish, opening the door. I was right.

  Leila is there.

  And Callum's right, too.

  She does remind me of Glen.

  23

  Callum

  No one trusts me.

  No one, that is, except Svetnu and Josephs. But they're the ones who count.

  On the other hand, if my own peers don’t trust me, but they do — why? In a “trust no one” situation, it’s not paranoid to assume the worst.

  Why are Svetnu and Josephs bucking the trend?

  “Coincidental, don't you think? Having McDuff turn out to be your brother?” Josephs asks from a secured line, the conference call a surprise. He's come here for meetings before, but Svetnu decreed that after the server bombing, he needs to stay far away.

  I'm not stupid. It's also because we now know Foster and his crew know our location. Being spotted going in and out would be crazy.