Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) Page 15

  I pulled my gaze away with monumental effort. Even as I did it, I felt the draw to look back, to search for answers to questions I couldn't quite frame in my mind. My eyes landed on the table, sheets of paper scattered haphazardly across its surface, as though the owner had read and discarded each one, but couldn't make himself place them too far away. I imagined Trent sitting at that desk, scouring those words, setting them aside and then in the next instant picking them back up again to reread. I knew I had to go to that table. Devour its contents for clues as to who the hell these people I'd landed with were.

  But I was scared now. Scared of what I would learn. The poster mocked my existence. The table, I was sure, would destroy my world.

  My hand fisted the blanket beneath me. Trent's blanket. On Trent's bed. I stood up quickly, cringing when my ankle throbbed, and hopped to the table, pulling out the chair with the Cardinal uniform draped across it and sitting down before I changed my mind. Words swam before my eyes, meaningless and unreal.

  I picked the closest piece of paper up and scanned the sentences. It looked like an aged news article from a paper, but photocopied onto an A4 sheet. The picture was of a man I didn't recognise and I realised why when the caption beneath read, "President of the United States" in Old Anglisc.

  The paper dropped to the table's surface and I stilled. United States of what? The answer was no doubt in the article itself, but would it mean anything?

  I reached for the next piece of paper, this was different, in a language I did not understand. I pushed it aside with a shaking hand and picked up the next. Written in Wáitaměi, the document appeared to be about the Communist Party of Wáikěi.

  Wáikěi.

  My hand shook as I lifted the next sheet, this one a photo of a flag waving in the breeze. I didn't recognise it. I didn't know what it meant. More pieces of paper passed through my fingers, filled my vision with words I couldn't comprehend. Names that meant nothing. People who could have been alive or dead. Some had dates on them, before Wánměi became what it is today. None were dated after General Chew-wen took control of our city.

  None spoke of Wánměi.

  Pictures and articles from newspapers and books and magazines. Faces and scenery that seemed so foreign; one even had what I knew was snow, but had never seen. The world was supposedly too hot for snow, but the picture didn't have a date so I couldn't tell when the snow in it had fallen.

  My mind told me this was all prehistoric. It meant nothing.

  My heart ached that it could be real, current. Or close enough to our time to give hope.

  I knew other places existed. On the edge of our island you can look across water and see the lights of a city in the distance, haze from its pollution in the sky. We import, it's well known. The Overseers deal with our requirements, details are not for us to know. But we all silently knew that much of what made our city function, survive, came from somewhere outside our walls of security.

  I'd known. It had been a far off, inconsequential thought. But as my eyes darted back up to the poster behind the door I realised I wanted to see. Where our supplies came from. Where our exports were sold to keep us afloat financially. Who lived out there and how they lived.

  Did they close their doors too and only communicate through trade?

  I couldn't stand this. I couldn't take it all in. I felt adrift and lost, and even though I knew this building held others, so very alone.

  But I wasn't, was I? Trent had read these things, seen these images, looked upon that poster every single day. Did he have the same questions, or did he hold the answers already? Was this just a tease to break me in? The real truth existing out there. Somewhere in this building.

  I checked my ankle. It hurt to carry too much weight for too long, but Trent had been right, it wasn't broken. Swollen and tender, but only a very bad sprain. I rummaged through his drawers until I found what I needed, then braced my leg and foot, strapping it tightly. When I tested my weight again I could walk. Running would be a challenge, but I was at least mobile.

  I walked to the door, offering the poster of the unknown city a last longing glance and then crouched down to investigate the lock.

  I was questioning everything. Did they leave me my handbag to see if I had the balls to break out? Or had they simply overlooked it, thought me too injured to do anything more than lie on Trent's bed? Maybe they believed I'd be catatonic after reading all the papers, seeing the city with a river much like ours.

  They didn't know me at all.

  I pulled my decoder out, along with my knife, then pried the casing off the keypad. I attached the leads and set the device in action. There was no eScanner, just a combination to open and close the door. Simple security measures, but my guess was, not too many people made it into this structure, so anything more was superfluous.

  The decoder cracked the lock within seconds. It was only a four digit combination. The door clicked open a fraction, but I didn't pull it back until I had my laser pointer in hand. The knife stayed in my free hand, braced against my thigh. I stood up, straining to hear any sounds out in the hall, then pulled the door back and peered quickly outside. I'd committed the location of each camera lens in the stretch of hall leading here to memory. Further into the building I'd be operating blind.

  I could have just gone to the front entrance, got out, passed the guards who looked well trained, and left. But where would I go? Tan and Aiko? Endanger them? No, I had to stick this out, but I was not going to do it as a prisoner.

  Best case plan, I'd observe and listen, and figure out who the hell these people were. Worst case, I'd prove they couldn't lock me up for long.

  In my mind, right then, it was a win-win.

  I flashed the laser at the first camera, counting to ten in my head. It buzzed and I moved forward. The second and third went down swiftly afterwards, before I heard approaching feet in the hall. I tried the first door handle and found it locked. The one across the hall was the same. The footsteps sounded closer.

  I spun back around and limp-ran back past Trent's bedroom door, along the path Alan had originally brought me. A door further down yielded when I turned the handle, and I ducked inside. I cursed silently. The cameras would be active again any moment now, and I'd have to start the process all over again.

  I heard voices outside, I guessed down by Trent's room, which I'd relocked behind me. If they knew the code to get in, then it wouldn't take them long to figure out I'd escaped. I considered sitting down where I was and waiting for them to find me. It had proved a point, if nothing else and I was blastedly tired.

  But I wanted more. Always had. Never could settle for what I already possessed. And right now my goal was knowledge. I wanted to know who the hell these people were.

  I checked the door in front of me and noted a keypad, currently deactivated. I attached my decoder and reversed the process, setting up my own code to lock the door. Twenty seconds later I was secured in my little haven. Not that I planned to stay here, but for now this would be my base.

  I glanced around the room and noted it was similar in layout to Trent's. Bed, desk and chair, mirror next to a cupboard and a small rudimentary bathroom attached. It was plainly decorated, no personality, waiting for an occupant to make their mark. So, they had more space than their population required. It made me wonder how large this organisation was. And I was going with calling it that.

  Trent was obviously their boss, or a boss, and those I'd seen so far followed his commands. Structure indicated organised. Therefore this was an organisation, but of what?

  I walked into the centre of the room and turned around in a full circle. There was no vid-screen attached to the wall, like most residences had. I was betting Shiloh didn't exist inside these walls. We were off-grid, which was good. But no one lived without some technological help.

  I found the network interface behind the desk, half hidden by the edge of the cupboard. Shifting it made me sweat, despite the air-con being on in here. I knelt down beside it and pulle
d out my offline PDA. It wasn't Shiloh operated, but it did have some of the programmes my Shiloh in Parnell used. My father had been the technological whiz, I'd just picked up the ability to use what he gave me to gain what I wanted. Understanding it had been limited, but wielding it I could do.

  I wished I'd downloaded more of my Shiloh into the little device, but I'd stuck with basic operating programmes that allowed me to do my job. Break in, steal, and get back out.

  Sometimes what I stole was technology, like at Wántel, which I simply put on a flash-drive and took away. The virus I used in Arthur Chen's office was also on my PDA, and for a moment I considered simply uploading it to the network here and seeing what the fallout would entail.

  But I quashed that idea in favour of discovering their secrets instead. If I fried them, even temporarily, I'd not learn a single thing.

  I pulled the casing off using my knife, then looked at the multiple coloured wires inside. None of it made any sense. I powered on my PDA, waited for it to light up, and then searched for instructions on network wiring, finding a labelled diagram, which although in greyscale, was explained in detail, allowing me to single out the correctly coloured wire I needed to hack. I stripped it, attached it to the PDA after removing its back, and waited to gain access.

  The PDA ran a basic programme, trying to identify the new information it was receiving, sort through it and seek entry to at least one aspect of the network it was attempting to hack. And for a long suspended moment I thought it wouldn't succeed. Then a screen came up, still in greyscale, there wasn't much an ancient PDA could do about that, but clear enough to decipher sufficient detail.

  A room, viewed through security cameras. My little handheld device had accessed the video footage being filmed throughout the building. No sound, unfortunately, but enough to let me know I'd stumbled into something big.

  A whole wall was covered in vid-screens. A man with inappropriate length hair sat before them. Beside him, leaning against the desk and talking heatedly, was Trent. I switched to another camera angle and came up with a man at the back of the room with headphones on, what appeared a communications board sat before him and he was toggling switches; listening in on frequencies at a guess.

  Who were these people?

  They were the only occupants in that room, but a quick flick through all the cameras came up with eight more in areas covered by the system. I was betting those were the common areas, bedrooms seemed exempt from surveillance. I returned the device to the view featuring Trent, in the room that looked like a command centre.

  I could almost hear what he was saying to the guy sitting down in front of all those screens.

  "Where the hell is she?"

  I smiled. My finger hovered over the PDA and several options ran through my head. Virus. Power outage. A systematic release of all the locks throughout the building.

  I settled on the least invasive. These people meant business, what business I didn't yet know. But part of me was intrigued. It was because of the unknown that I chose caution over destruction, even if that destruction would have been fairly benign and short-lived.

  I had a feeling Trent and his team of non-model Citizens held all the answers, and my goal hadn't shifted from that. My PDA lacked the power to delve deeper, hacking only those parts of the network that sat on its surface. Power. Internal security. Cameras. If they had files with their secrets they were buried too deep.

  I'd have to gain them another way.

  For now, I entered my command, and sat back to watch the cards fall where they may.

  Chapter 23

  Yeah, I Was Pretty Much Officially In Deep, Deep Shit

  Trent

  "What do you mean you can't find her?" I asked Si, getting up to pace at his back.

  "She lasered the cameras in the hall outside your room and disappeared before Alan arrived."

  He sounded impressed. I glared at the back of his head.

  "She won't have gone far," he added. "External doors are all locked. Cameras everywhere are back online. She's hunkered down somewhere and biding her time."

  "For what?" I asked and he shrugged.

  "How should I know. She's definitely the most adventurous Elite I've ever seen."

  I couldn't argue with that fact. Time and again she surprised me. I'd almost hoped she would do something like this, just to prove to me how reckless she is and how stupid I was to bring her here, of all places.

  But then, we really needed those codes.

  I ran a frustrated hand through my hair about to command every single person in the hub to start searching, and wouldn't that have let the cat out of the bag; their boss unable to control one Elite woman. But Si straightened in his seat, sucked in a breath of air, and then laughed.

  "Oh, she is good," he whispered, half in love, half in awe, and a whole lot wrapped around Lena's little finger already.

  I moved to look over his shoulder and stared at the words flashing in time with my heartbeat on the screen.

  "In a sea of uncertainty, Wánměi is an island. Are you the bridge that leads to another world?" I read the words aloud, hearing more than their meaning. Feeling like I was looking into her very soul.

  "She's hacked our system," Si pointed out, but my mind had stalled on her message, my eyes glued to the screen. "What did you guys leave on her?" he persisted. "A fucking handheld computer?"

  That got my attention. I shifted uncomfortably, sure she probably had something like that but I'd failed to search her, and obviously Alan had too. What was with this woman? She stole all reason.

  She really was an excellent thief.

  "Can you trace her?" I asked Si instead of voicing those disconcerting thoughts.

  "Already have. The spare room down the hall from yours. Wanna reply?"

  How did you answer such an open and honest question? I couldn't understand why she had exposed herself to that degree. In what she must have considered enemy territory, she'd bared her belly to the big bad wolf. Why?

  Nothing this woman did was without thought.

  And despite that realisation, I couldn't answer her here. On a screen. In front of Si and Kevin, where anyone could walk in.

  "Cut her off from the cameras," I instructed. "Or, better yet, blank them for just two minutes."

  "Why?"

  "I'm going to her."

  "Boss," Si warned.

  "If she truly wished us harm she would have uploaded a virus," I pointed out, then paused. "Right?" I checked.

  "Yeah, right," he confirmed reluctantly. "Are you gonna at least take Alan with you?" he pushed.

  Only Si could get away with pushing me.

  "No need. I have something she wants."

  "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," he muttered as I walked out of the room.

  It took a little over two minutes to reach her closed door and ten seconds to determine she'd changed the lock code and I couldn't gain access that way. I waved up at the closest camera, sure she'd be watching, if Si had gone with plan B, but still the door remained shut.

  I knocked, but no one answered. If she wanted me to dance a jig to get her attention, she was shit out of luck.

  I considered her question. She wanted an answer. I walked back to my room for inspiration and looked at the state of the desk, sure it was tidier than I had left it. I glanced around the small space I called home and tried to see it from an Elite's eyes. The door had swung shut at my back and I stared at the image of Lunnon for a moment, realising she must have seen it too.

  Was it the first time her eyes had taken in another city, even if only in a poster? What had she thought? I wanted to know. I wanted to see the questions in those pale blues that had plagued me since I found all of this in my father's locked chest. A treasure trove of history that was punishable by death.

  I liked to think I was brave having it out on display in my room. But the reality was if we were ever searched by the Cardinals we would already be heading for a wipe. So the risk was pitiful.

  And I s
uddenly realised how small it was compared to what she did. We had proof another world existed. We dreamed aloud. We knew. She didn't. Raised by an Elite, left in the care of the Chief Overseer at the age of fifteen; such an impressionable age and yet she broke Wánměi rules. Why?

  She couldn't have suspected, could she? Was it just a fantasy that we were not alone? Or was it more? What had her father taught her before he died that made her disobey her guardian, General Chew-wen, the man who made Wánměi what it is?

  She was an enigma I found fascinating for so many reasons. She was danger to my sanity and our safety, and yet I felt compelled to take her hand and show her what we knew, lead her on this path we were already walking.

  Danger.

  She was such a risk.

  And yet I found myself peeling the poster off the door and placing it face up on the desk, then writing my answer across its surface.

  I strode out of the room before I could change my mind, sure I was making the biggest mistake of my miserable life so far.

  An Elite. Practically the daughter of the Chief Overseer. And I was about to cross a line in the sand for her, and part of me couldn't say why.

  Another part knew, as I bent down and slipped the poster under the door to the room she'd locked herself into, that I'd crossed that line the day I watched her somersault off Wántel's roof.

  She represented everything I thought Wánměi could be. Composed, yet rebellious. Beautiful and mesmerising. A challenge, but fuck me, the reward would be worth it.

  I realised I thought she was worth it. This woman who had hair the colour of a zebra and the heart of a lioness.

  Yeah, I was pretty much officially in deep, deep shit.

  Chapter 24

  Much Like Me

  Lena

  I watched on my PDA screen as he came back out of his bedroom with something in his hand. I couldn't tell what, the greyscale made deciphering minute details difficult. But when he bent, and went to place the object under my door, I stopped breathing. My head spun toward the sound of paper against carpet and I sat stunned as the poster from behind his door slipped through the small gap.