“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m leaving.” She turned toward Clete. “And if you try to stop me, I’m going to scream like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Take your time,” Clete said to Danika. “Relax. Relax your throat. Let gravity do the work.”
Lila spun toward Danika in time to see the lump disappear. Danika made a terrible choking sound; her eyes grew huge as she pressed her hand to her bulging throat.
“There you go. That’s it,” Clete said softly.
When it was down, Danika cried out in a mix of horror and relief. “It was bigger than the ones I practiced on. Much bigger.”
“Maybe they didn’t want to risk you choking in practice. Or maybe your throat is tighter because you’re tense.”
“You’re damned right I’m tense.” Danika was on the verge of hysteria.
“For God’s sake, what did you just swallow?” Lila asked.
“A bomb,” Clete said. “Now she’s going to walk into the heart of the production facility and detonate it.”
For a moment Lila was speechless. When she finally regained her voice, she shouted, “Are you out of your fucking minds? There are people in there. Some of them are my friends. Besides that, there are eight other facilities. They’ll just divert production to the others.”
“No they won’t,” Clete said, “because we’re hitting all of them at once.”
“How are you bombing the Easter Island facility?”
“All but that one,” Clete allowed. “It will still cripple their production capability.”
Lila’s head was spinning. She wasn’t sure she was on the same side as these people. She should be, but they were talking about bombing her facility. She’d designed it, she ran it, and some of her friends were in it. And this woman, this math teacher, was about to kill herself.
“Wait a minute—you don’t look like me. They’re not going to let you waltz into the lab just because you have my ID.”
“She’s the same height and weight as you, the same hair color,” Clete said. “That’s all defenders use. They can’t tell one face from another. We’re counting on the human workers to instinctively keep their mouths shut.”
“So you can blow them up. How nice.” He was right about the defenders not being able to distinguish human faces, though. Erik had told Lila as much. Still, this was insane.
Danika stood. “I need your ID.”
“You also need the pass code,” Lila said, not sure she was going to give it to her.
“We have the pass code.” Danika reached to check Lila’s pockets.
Lila slapped her hand away. Danika reached again, drew Lila’s ID out of her breast pocket.
“I’m sorry if you don’t agree with this,” Danika said, “but the president does. His people do.”
Lila didn’t see how this would bring down the defenders. Unless… “There’s more to the plan. More to come.” Lila said it aloud, but mainly for her own benefit. Clete and Danika already knew it.
At the door, Clete and Danika clasped hands. Maybe hugging risked detonating the explosive, or maybe they didn’t know each other well enough to hug. Danika was clutching a thin satchel, which Lila guessed held the igniting agent—something Danika would inject to induce a chemical reaction.
Then Danika was gone, and it was just Lila and Clete. Lila wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop them or not. She hovered in the middle of the room, deciding whether to scream, try to get past Clete, or do nothing. In the end, she took a seat in a stuffed chair by the window.
“How will you know if she’s successful?”
“We’re close enough that we should hear the blast.” Clete pulled the briefcase off the bed, took it to the little hotel desk, and pulled out a laptop.
Curious, Lila leaned in to see what he was doing. Clete opened Earth2 and got an avatar up and running.
“Is that your means of relaxing during stressful situations?” Lila asked, knowing full well what he was doing.
Clete looked up from the screen, said nothing. Lila moved closer to the computer so she could read what Clete was typing.
It was nothing surprising or enlightening. He was communicating with an avatar named Sandovar, saying all had gone well so far. He was keeping the message intentionally vague.
After a few minutes he signed off and closed the computer. He stood, sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Now comes the hard part.”
“The hard part? We haven’t gotten to the hard part yet?”
He gave Lila a hard, direct look. “We have to make it look like this happened against your will.”
That had crossed her mind. After the explosion the defenders would assume she was the one who bombed the facility. When they found her alive, she’d be a prime suspect, and they weren’t ones to wait for a trial, or even facts, before they started meting out punishment.
“And how do we do that?”
Clete looked at the floor, like he was suddenly feeling terribly sad, or ashamed. “It has to be immediately obvious to them.”
Then she understood, and felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. It had to be immediately obvious, as in, she had to sport the bleeding, swollen face of someone who’d put up a fight. She wasn’t convinced their plot would do any good in the long run, yet they had dragged her into it, risked her life, and now they needed to kick the shit out of her so the defenders wouldn’t kill her. She was supposed to stand there while this asshole beat her.
She looked up, returned Clete’s level stare for a moment, then punched him in the face.
Teary-eyed with pain, Clete clutched his nose. His fingers came away bloody. “Why did you do that?”
Lila punched him again, in the eye this time. The blow landed with a satisfying smack.
Clete started to fight back. His first punch felt like a hammer blow to Lila’s cheek.
70
Lila Easterlin
October 15, 2047. Washington, D.C.
The man at the front desk called, “Jesus, are you all right?” as Lila stumbled past. She kept walking.
She couldn’t see out of her left eye. Although she knew it was because it was swollen shut, a small, scared voice in her was sure she’d been blinded. Her nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. Before he left, Clete had said that was good, let the blood pour all over her shirt. She had the worst headache of her life, and felt like she had thick clumps of mud plastered to her cheek, her lower lip, her forehead. Lila wondered if the kicks to her face had been planned ahead of time, or improvised.
Outside, she texted Kai to meet her at home while she waited for a cab to happen by.
The cabby, a woman in her seventies, said nothing about Lila’s injuries. She nodded when Lila gave her the address, and took off. Lila had to get back to her house—to Erik’s house. When he saw her face, Erik would believe her story and protect her.
She still hadn’t heard an explosion. As the taxi hurdled over the cracked, pothole-laden streets, Lila guessed the explosion must have happened by now. She must be out of hearing range.
When she got home, she went straight to the freezer. She found a defender-sized bag of frozen brussels sprouts, collapsed on the couch, and gently pressed the bag over her eye.
She jerked the bag from her eye. What was she doing? She didn’t want the swelling to go down. Easing herself to her feet, she tried to jostle her pounding head as little as possible. She had to find Erik, tell him what happened. Maybe she could act like she was trying to warn him, trying to prevent the blast.
The door flew open. Erik stormed in, flanked by two defenders in combat gear.