Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2) Read online

  I blinked back white dots of defeat as they danced around my head and tried to swallow the bile as it surged up my throat.

  For nothing. It was all for fucking nothing.

  I started to breathe too quickly, my hand wrapped around the door handle of the van, contemplating throwing myself outside to get fresh air. Space. Clarity.

  "Easy," Trent said softly, his palms raised to placate me. "Pull over, Si," he ordered, his eyes on my face and not the driver.

  I felt the van slow, then pull to the side of the road, unaware of where we were and not caring. I was out of the vehicle and sucking in air the next instant. Trent telling the other two to stay where they were and standing so he shielded me from their view.

  It took several minutes to realise we were standing on the edge of Domain Park. The prominent hillside beckoning; a statement regarding our nation's history. A history we no longer learned about under the new Wánměi.

  But my father had spoken of Pookee Kahwah - the Mahiah name for this ancient site. Of the Palaces rumoured to have once been built there. Of the Anglisc founder of an earlier Wánměi who had chosen to live here. Of the military presence it later became. A Wánměi from our past that no longer existed, but had held standing in a world we were no longer allowed to remember at all.

  I sucked in one last fortifying breath and turned to look up at Trent.

  We'd lost a part of ourselves, blindly handing over our fate to those we trusted to guide us better than we had thought we'd done in the past. But by wiping our sins away, we had wiped our history from the books. And doomed our future as well.

  "I found something in the Markhams' suite," I said, my voice getting stronger the more I spoke. Trent nodded for me to go on, but didn't risk speaking and ruining my returning strength. "An internal memo from the Chief Overseer's office," I added, still unwilling to mention Harjeet's flash-drive, determined to try to salvage something out of this debacle in the end. Even if the flash-drive was lost. Maybe Harjeet would understand.

  Ha.

  He'd promised an opiate antidote for Trent, if I didn't advise the rebel leader of what I was retrieving. In exchange for the item itself. The vid-screen was outside that agreement. And on the off chance Harjeet chose to honour his side of the bargain without payment, I had to hope the vid-screen remained that way.

  "I didn't get to read it all, but what I did read," I said, "was an eye-opener."

  I stared off across the park, watching butterflies dance around lamp posts as they threw light on the grass at their bases. The rain, from the thunderstorm, having abated as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving the ground wet and glistening in the darkening twilight.

  "Wang Chao intends to hand over all of Wánměi's infrastructure to Shiloh," I whispered, a sense of self-preservation making me lower my voice, even though we seemed quite alone.

  "Shiloh already runs most of the country's amenities and facilities. Even households," Trent advised. Something every Citizen knew.

  I shook my head, but from the look on Trent's face, he'd understood. He just wanted me to say it aloud. To put into words the fear we'd all had.

  "Full control," I explained. "No human direction at all."

  "That's insanity. No computer could run a country better than a man."

  "He believes so. In fact, I heard him tell Overseer Markham he has such faith in his father's creation that he's willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary for it to succeed."

  "But allowing a computer full control of Wánměi? How could that possibly work?"

  "I don't know. You saw how little control he has already, and the memo mentioned Good Friday as the date he would flick the switch."

  "Less than a week," Trent murmured, confusion and concern etching fine lines on his face. "Surely, he'll change his mind now."

  Having seen a Shiloh operated drone shoot down what he thought was me. Yes, I thought perhaps Wang Chao would change his mind. But part of me wondered if it was already too late.

  "Shiloh has been evolving for a while," I said softly. "At the celebration ball, General Chew-wen said, 'She is aiding us now in ways we hadn't even considered.' Even then, Shiloh was doing things they had not designed."

  Trent whistled low, hands in his trouser pockets, dusty jacket open and showing the smears of dirt and blood on his once white shirt.

  "Then why do it?" he pressed. "Chew-wen, both of them, they are not fools."

  "I only read part of the memo," I pointed out. "There was more, and I can't help thinking it was important. A puzzle piece that would have made the rest of this madness make sense."

  "Can you guess?"

  I shook my head. He stared at me for a long moment and then ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further.

  "Is that all you were after? The memo?" he finally asked, a question that seemed to be pulled from the depths of him most reluctantly.

  I cocked my head and held his steady blue gaze. I could get so lost in that deep ocean. But there was calculation in amongst the hesitation.

  Once a rebel leader, always a rebel leader.

  "I had my reasons," I murmured, looking back towards the van, breaking eye contact before him. "They are irrelevant now."

  "You risked a lot," he pointed out.

  Pushing. Pushing. Pushing. Trent was always pushing. For more loyalty. For more commitment. For more awareness. For more.

  "The prize would have been worth it."

  "Prize, Lena? Are you telling me this was a hired job?"

  He'd jumped to a conclusion, that shouldn't have been naturally made. Perhaps the only mistake I'd ever seen Trent Masters make.

  "You tell me, Trent," I said, bringing my gaze back to his and holding it fiercely. "You're the one who played me back at the base."

  He stilled. Then, "Played? You think it was a game?"

  "Isn't it?" He didn't trust me then. I was sure he didn't trust me now.

  "And what of the game you're playing with Harjeet?" he asked, anger making his features darken. But far from ruining his good looks, it only sharpened them. Made him more appealing. Stronger. Harder. Every inch a man.

  "Survival," I offered. He laughed. There was no humour in it.

  Silence as the city bedded down for curfew. We'd have to get moving soon, or risk being stopped on the street by sPol. Shiloh had eyes everywhere. I glanced around for street-cams, but we were conveniently well hidden by the Domain. I wondered if Trent had known that, and that was why he'd allowed this conversation to continue.

  Si certainly would have known that, and Trent still wore his earpiece. Which meant both Simon and Alan were listening in.

  It suddenly felt so fucking difficult. Conspiracies and enemies and friends who acted like foes.

  I needed Tan. I needed the last member of my adopted family. I needed someone who trusted me unconditionally.

  Or who, at least, used to.

  "Lena," Trent said, his voice suddenly much softer. I bristled, straightening my back and taking a step towards the van. Ending this conversation once and for all.

  Or, I had hoped to.

  "Your handbag's in the car."

  I stopped in my tracks at Trent's quietly spoken words. At the evidence of the wretched games he was playing.

  "One day you'll trust me," I whispered to the air, not bothering to turn and face him.

  "And one day you'll realise I already do."

  I closed my eyes, closed my fists, and closed down the part of my heart that had leapt inside my chest.

  Then walked toward the vehicle, sliding in the rear without a further word.

  My handbag was waiting for me. On the back seat.

  Chapter 32

  We're Going To Be A Little Late

  Trent

  I watched Lena slip into the back of the van and closed my eyes, sucking in a slow, deep breath in the hopes it would make everything better.

  It didn't.

  In a world where we had been raised to watch what we said, who we said it to, where we sa
id it, Lena and I kept dancing around each other as though we expected to be betrayed. And I didn't know how to reassure her. Because I felt that fear of betrayal too.

  With no other options available to fix this mess, I checked that the street was still deserted and then made my way back to the idling van, slipping into a seat in front of Lena. Giving her space, when all I wanted to do was reach out and soothe her worries. Si pulled out from the side of the road without a word and headed off towards Little D'awa. The thought of returning to Harjeet Kandiyar's lair only making me clench my fists too tightly.

  But where else did we have to go?

  We'd been chasing our tails, trying to solidify what we already had, struggling to stay under the radar and out of the Overseers' sight. The time taken to just survive and recover meant we hadn't had a chance to expand, grow stronger. I was the leader of a rebel army that almost didn't even exist.

  As much as I hated it, Lena was our only chance of success. Which proved, unequivocally, how low I'd go to win this war.

  We needed her. Hell, I needed her. Without her our battle would be over. Without her there'd be no battle to win.

  And it wasn't in me to admit defeat. It wasn't in me to allow the notion of the Overseers' Wánměi to continue. I'd been raised to question everything. Even stunning women who make my pulse race and my mind go blank and idiotic words to come out of my normally eloquent mouth.

  I turned in my seat and watched her. Silence from the front of the vehicle where Alan and Simon pretended the air wasn't thick with distrust. She was looking down at a vid-screen, not her usual one, so I could only assume it was the one she'd stolen from the Markhams' suite. She just stared at it. Not powering it on. Just blankly looking at a dark screen as though caught inside her head and not aware of what was going on outside.

  And then I realised, the vid-screen was cracked.

  "Si might be able to do something with that," I offered, unable to stop the words before they were out.

  Even now I wanted to help her. Make her feel better. Make the afternoon she'd just experienced have a happier outcome than watching people die.

  She slowly placed the vid-screen on the empty seat beside her and raised conflicted pale blue eyes to mine. I'd expected rage or sadness. Fuck, I'd even expected guilt. Lena had a habit of blaming herself when things went FUBAR, despite the fact that half of what we faced nowadays was the result of a broken, obsessed, powerful man and the other half was because of a heartless, mechanical, computer programme with grandiose ideas.

  But she was battling something inside. Something that made her beautiful eyes cloud with doubt and indecision. A look I had never seen on Lena Carr.

  How to make her trust us? Trust me. I held her gaze, not saying a word. Too scared I'd fuck it up. Too worried I'd lose her forever.

  There's a Wáikěinese proverb that says, if you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.

  I was never very good at following tradition.

  "Did you know the memo was going to be there?" I asked, and I swear the stillness in the van felt oppressive with the weight of anticipation.

  Lena held my gaze for a long moment and then swept her eyes out the window, as though getting her bearings. The disappointment was hollow, but swiftly followed by heavy regret.

  I shouldn't have pushed.

  She sat forward in the van and said, "How secure is the tech room, Simon?" Surprising the hell out of me and making Si jump.

  "Um," he replied, in typical Si fashion. "I left Emir and Paul guarding it, but," he flicked apologetic eyes to me in the rear vision mirror, "Isha could have fooled them and gotten back in. We'd have to do another sweep before we could trust it."

  Lena bit her lower lip, which in any other situation would have been captivating, but right now, when we were five minutes out from Park Road and curfew was only another fifteen on top, I couldn't even enjoy the imagery.

  "What do you need?" I asked, and watched a transformation occur across her pale face.

  Her eyes flicked to mine, her lips parted on a surprised breath, and then she stilled. That fucking indecision crossing her features again.

  "How are you feeling?" she ridiculously asked. And where the hell had that come from?

  "Fine." I watched her. She didn't add anything else, so I offered a belated and clearly not heartfelt, "How are you feeling?"

  But she brightened. Almost comically so.

  "Actually, I'm feeling pretty great," she said, making Alan shift in his seat to stare at her over his shoulder, the glower on his face out of place with her enthusiastic pronouncement right then. Si just kept flicking concerned eyes between me and Lena repetitively in the mirror, displaying the confusion I was feeling at her words.

  "That's good," I replied, unsure what else to say, but Lena just kept looking at me, as though willing me to say something else.

  But what else? She felt great after jumping off a sky-rise building attached to a slippery fucking rope. She felt great after running from laser firing drones and a maniac fiancé. She felt great after swapping her seat on a doomed helicopter with an Elite she didn't even know and then watching them plummet to their deaths.

  Lena was so far from feeling great it wasn't funny. So why say it?

  I held her gaze as Si turned the vehicle onto Grafton Road, Park Road less than a couple of minutes away.

  There was no way Lena should be feeling great. In fact, what with the opiate coursing through her system, any moment now she should be feeling paranoid. And after today's events, paranoia wouldn't seem that unusual an emotion at all.

  So why wasn't she shifting in her seat like Alan was?

  Why wasn't she flicking her eyes around nervously like Si was?

  Why wasn't she agitated like I was?

  Fuck.

  "Keep driving, Si," I instructed, eyes locked on the steady, open, non-dilated blue of Lena's.

  "Keep driving?" he queried. "Curfew's in ten."

  "I know," I replied, holding Lena's gaze as she slowly smiled. "We're going to be a little late."

  Chapter 33

  Seeing Things Suddenly So Much Clearer

  Lena

  "Not far," Trent advised Simon. "Find somewhere we can't be seen. From street-cams and Harjeet."

  He'd worked it out. Now I just had to hope Simon could do the rest before we made it back to base. Before Harjeet suspected I'd played him. Without actually breaking our agreement.

  My heart fluttered inside my chest, my stomach flipped over anxiously. Would Harjeet deny Trent the antidote if he suspected I'd found a way to circumvent his orders? I'd like to think the D'awan wasn't that cold hearted, but he was a businessman, and a cunning snake of a businessman at that.

  Harjeet liked control, and here I was operating outside of his.

  But what was his endgame? He'd offered sanctuary to the remainder of the rebels. He'd financed them when they had practically nothing left. For all outward appearances he supported their goal, he supported them. But I didn't trust him. Harjeet Kandiyar did not share the limelight with anyone.

  Simon found a quiet street two blocks over from Park Road and parked the van between two small delivery trucks. The back of disjointed shops and an empty carpark sat on one side of the road, a well worn children's playground in the front of misshapen homes sat on the other. The multicoloured awnings hanging low over porches at the back of the houses flapped in the breeze. A plastic bucket rolled across the concrete pathway, making the area seem derelict and deserted, when the fresh scent of curry, coriander, garlic and cumin told you it definitely was not.

  Trent leaned back in his seat and looked at me, eyes assessing and intrigued, body held taut. Simon and Alan watched from the front of the van but didn't make a sound. Confusion the most prominent emotion on their faces right then.

  "You feel great," Trent started. "No anxiety?"

  I shook my head, Si cocked his. Alan remained statue still.

  "No agitation?"


  Another shake of my head. A smile to encourage him further.

  "No paranoia?"

  Alan leaned closer, but I think Si had already worked it out.

  "Why?" Trent asked.

  My smile fell. How the hell did I do this?

  "OK," Trent said slowly, rubbing at the stubble on his face. He stared out at the deserted street for a long while, thinking it through.

  It was ridiculous really. I could just tell them, show them the flash-drive and then lie to Harjeet. But, something told me the snake would see through it. If he asked me, had I advised the rebels of what I stole for him in exchange for the antidote, he'd hear the falsehood in my reply.

  Maybe.

  "You've still got tonight," I offered.

  "But you should be feeling the need to test by now?" he checked.

  "Possibly," I replied.

  "You were hit twice," he pointed out. "Does a double dose make it work faster?"

  "I've no idea," I admitted.

  "Maybe not faster," Si interrupted. "But definitely the urge to test should be stronger, which would lead you to believe the paranoia would be showing by now for Lena."

  "But it's not," Trent murmured. "What...?" He stopped before he asked the question, no doubt aware I wouldn't reply, like I hadn't when he asked why.

  I looked down at my handbag, thinking there was no way they could work this out like this. Bread crumbs and innuendos. It was a waste of time, and now we were past curfew and would have to leave the van here and walk back through alleys or across rooftops to avoid the sPol.

  And Harjeet would have his flash-drive which would do God knows what and we would be unprepared.

  It wasn't fair. And I was sure that it was perhaps the most reckless thing I had ever done; stealing something that could be potentially dangerous and handing it over to a megalomaniac.

  I looked toward Simon, who was watching Trent and sneaking peeks at me. The car was heavy with silence. Trent at an impasse, unsure how to proceed, but clearly desperate to know how I'd combated the drones' opiate, not to mention why I'd led him to question it at all.

  "What equipment have you got with you, Si?" I asked.