Endgame Page 4

  Allie was hurrying to class when someone called her name. Turning, she saw a young woman with glasses and long dark hair twisted up on her head hurrying towards her.

  ‘Eloise!’ Allie ran to the librarian and hugged her. ‘You’re OK.’

  Eloise was the youngest of the Night School instructors – the one closest to their age. She’d always been the one they would go to with their problems – the one most likely to still remember what it was like to be seventeen years old.

  But the stress of the last year had changed her – she looked older. No one would mistake her for a student now.

  ‘I’m just fine.’ Her warm gaze swept Allie’s face, catching on the stitches barely visible at her hairline. ‘Mostly fine, anyway.’ Her smile faded. ‘I’m sorry about your grandmother.’

  Allie took a step back. ‘Thanks.’ She mumbled the word. She still didn’t really know how to react to expressions of sympathy. What to say.

  Seeing this, Eloise didn’t linger on the subject.

  ‘Dom’s looking for you,’ she said. ‘She wants you to come to her office right away.’

  Allie’s heart leaped. ‘Is it Carter? Did she find him? Is he OK?’ Eagerness sent her words tumbling over each other.

  Eloise held up a hand. ‘I don’t know. I was just told to find you.’

  ‘OK,’ Allie said, nearly hopping with excitement. ‘I better go.’

  She spun on her heel and took off down the hall, class completely forgotten.

  Maybe they’d found Carter. Maybe they were going to get him right now.

  The thought spurred her on, and she ran even faster. The only problem was, she didn’t actually know where the tech’s office was.

  She searched the main school building without success before trying the classroom wing. Students were still in classes, and most of the doors were shut. She could hear the teachers talking, a faint drone in the background as she hurried upstairs to check the next level. It was much the same – there was no obvious place for Dom here.

  The top floor of the classroom wing was dedicated mostly to seminars for senior students, so the classrooms were smaller and more numerous. All were empty at this hour – the corridor was gloomy and too quiet. Allie found herself tiptoeing – as if not to disturb the silence. That was when she first heard the faint tapping sound.

  She paused to listen. The noise was arrhythmic but constant.

  She traced it – going from door to door until she reached one where the sound was louder. This close she could hear something else as well.

  Music.

  She knocked.

  ‘Enter.’ Dom’s American accent flattened her vowels and elongated the ‘r’.

  Allie burst in, already talking. ‘What’s happening? Is it Carter? Have you found him?’

  Her words poured out in a breathless race.

  ‘Sort of.’ Dom stood up from a desk at one end of the room. Allie’s hope began to dissipate instantly – she looked too serious for this to be good news.

  Allie’s chest tightened. ‘What do you mean, sort of?’

  ‘I’ve heard his voice.’ Dom’s tone was calm. ‘He’s definitely alive. I just… can’t exactly find him.’

  Like Eloise, Dom was young, twenty-one according to gossip, but she was a technical genius. She had started a software company while still at Harvard, and sold it for millions of dollars.

  A former Cimmeria student, she’d returned to the school to help them deal with Nathaniel, but her distinctive, androgynous style always set her apart from the school’s conservative teachers. Today she wore a button-down shirt of a heavy creamy material, with baggy trousers cinched tight around her narrow waist. Her burgundy brogues had been polished until they gleamed. With her dark skin and short-cropped hair, she was so sophisticated, Allie was usually a little in awe her.

  But today all she cared about was Carter.

  ‘You’ve heard his voice?’ Allie wanted to shake the news out of her. ‘How? When?’

  Dom stepped back. ‘You better come in, and close the door.’

  Allie did as she was told. The room had once been a classroom, but it had been transformed into a spacious office. The desks had all been removed, leaving only an oak teacher’s desk, which Dom had accessorised with a sleek, black office chair. Three laptops sat side by side on the desktop. A widescreen monitor was mounted on the wall. Four leather chairs Allie thought she recognised from the common room surrounded a round wooden table that might have been harvested from the dining hall. A red Persian rug with a design of gold stars covered the floor.

  Allie could hear the faint sound of jazz – the discordant kind, rather than the jolly World War II kind – swirling from hidden speakers.

  ‘Have a seat.’ Dom pointed at the chairs by the table, but Allie shook her head. She didn’t want to sit down. She wasn’t here for a chat.

  ‘Please, Dom. If you know something, just tell me.’ She couldn’t keep a pleading note out of her voice. ‘Where is he?’

  Behind her glasses, Dom’s eyes were sympathetic. ‘That’s the one thing I don’t know.’

  Allie wanted to scream in frustration. It took all her determination to keep her voice steady. ‘What do you know? Is he hurt? Where did you hear him?’

  ‘I hacked into Nathaniel’s comms system. I’ve been listening to them all night.’ Dom hurried back to her desk and began typing rapidly on one of the laptops. This was the sound Allie had heard from the hallway. ‘His system is well-protected. His people are very good, but…’ She paused to glance at the monitor. ‘I’m better.’

  The jazz disappeared, replaced by a cold voice. ‘Item secured. Team Eight en route. Over.’

  The sound crackled but Allie recognised it instantly: Gabe.

  Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. The last time she saw Gabe he killed Lucinda. It turned her stomach to hear his voice.

  It was hard to be here. Hard to know he lived on, while her grandmother’s life was over. But she made herself focus on small things. In the background, she could hear an engine rumbling – a vehicle of some sort – and other voices talking.

  Then a second voice replied to Gabe. ‘Copy Team Eight. Gold Command requests verification of condition of item. Over.’

  Gabe responded a moment later. ‘Item is conscious and aware. Condition good.’

  Time passed. Then the second voice spoke again. ‘Gold Command requests verbal verification from item.’

  Allie couldn’t put her finger on it, but something in that voice – a cool, undertone of distaste – told her the person didn’t like Gabe.

  There was another long silence, broken suddenly by harsh breathing, and the clunking sound of a microphone being fumbled with.

  Gabe spoke from a slight distance. ‘Verify your condition.’

  A new voice replied, sardonic; unafraid. ‘How the hell do I do that?’

  Allie’s heart leaped. It was Carter. She’d know that voice anywhere.

  6

  ‘Speak into the microphone. Tell Gold Command you’re being well treated.’ Gabe was emotionless. The cold, efficient voice of a soldier.

  ‘Sorry. What exactly do you want me to say?’ Carter said.

  He was being stubborn on purpose, and Allie found herself smiling, even as a tear rolled down her cheek.

  It was just so Carter.

  Gabe muttered something low and threatening the microphone didn’t catch.

  Carter cleared his throat. ‘Uh… Hey, Gold Command. This is the item. I am being very well treated. If by “well” you mean handcuffed and carted off by some murderous arsehole and stuffed in a…’

  Muffled sounds of a struggle followed. The microphone clicked off abruptly.

  Seconds later, it clicked again.

  ‘Verification complete.’ Gabe sounded slightly breathless.

  I hope Carter punched you in the face, Allie thought.

  ‘Copy that, Eight Leader,’ the voice from headquarters responded. ‘You are advised to use Protocol Seven
teen. Repeat, Protocol Seventeen. Verify that you receive and understand.’

  ‘Protocol Seventeen. Received and noted.’

  The voices disappeared.

  Allie wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and took a tremulous breath.

  ‘When did you record that?’

  ‘Last night,’ Dom said. ‘Shortly after 3 a.m. I’ve been trying to trace it ever since without much success. Like I said… they’re good.’

  ‘What was happening exactly?’ Allie was trying to piece together what she’d just heard. ‘Where were they taking him?’

  ‘We believe he was being moved from wherever they’ve been keeping him to a new location. Someone – Nathaniel probably – was monitoring his location and condition.’

  ‘Is there more?’ Allie asked hopefully. ‘More of Carter?’

  Dom shook her head. ‘That’s all we got. They gave Nathaniel proof he was alive and well.’ She met Allie’s gaze. ‘That itself is pretty interesting, though. It indicates a lack of trust between Nathaniel and his lieutenants. Which ties in to what Isabelle saw in the fight on the heath – Gabe turning his gun on his boss.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘There’s definitely something going on there.’

  Allie lowered herself into a nearby chair. She needed to process everything but her brain kept having its own celebration – Carter’s alive! He’s alive!

  Still, the last bit she’d heard puzzled her enough to keep her focused.

  ‘What’s Protocol Seventeen?’

  It was the right question. Dom shot her an approving look.

  ‘We’ve been talking about that all day. We’re assuming it’s a humane treatment protocol similar to the one we used for Jerry Cole. If I could just get into Nathaniel’s system, we’d know more.’ Dom ran a tired hand across her short hair. ‘His security is damn good. I’m going to need time and help.’

  ‘But where is he?’ Allie couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice. ‘Are they even in the country?’

  ‘We think so. At least, he was last night.’

  Dom’s words left Allie hollow. Between that recording and now, Carter could have been bundled onto a private plane and spirited across the Channel. Nathaniel had the means. Nothing was beyond him.

  Her desolation must have shown on her face because Dom left her desk and came to stand near her.

  ‘Look,’ she said with uncharacteristic gentleness. ‘The thing you need to take from it is this: Carter is fine. And we are going to get him back. I need you to be positive, OK?’

  She knew Dom was right. But hearing Carter’s voice had been a kind of sweet torture. He’d seemed so close. So reachable.

  And now he was gone again.

  She bit her lip so hard it hurt. Then she nodded. ‘I’ll try to be patient.’

  To her surprise, Dom shook her head. ‘Don’t be patient.’ Her dark eyes flashed. ‘That’s bullshit. Be angry. Use your anger to help you think clearly. That’s what Carter needs from you now.’

  That night, all the senior students were early for Night School. No one could wait. They wanted to get started.

  Everything was different now.

  When Allie told the others she’d heard Carter, Rachel and Zoe tackle-hugged her.

  Lucas had walked away from the group for a moment to gather himself. Allie thought she’d seen tears of relief in his eyes.

  The mood at the school had changed. There was a kind of barely controlled energy – it fairly crackled in the air.

  Everyone wanted to win. Just this once.

  Allie decided not to tell the others what she and Isabelle had discussed. They needed to believe in their own power first. They needed to believe they could win. If she told them now it would deflate them at precisely the worst time.

  As they headed downstairs, for the first time ever Katie was with them, albeit lagging just a little behind.

  In the end, Zelazny hadn’t helped her out of Night School training after all.

  The girls’ changing room was a simple white cube lined with brass hooks above a polished wood bench. Each hook held a single set of black, Night School training gear, draped like shroud. Above each hook was a name.

  Katie surveyed the room with open distaste.

  ‘And you come here every night… on purpose?’

  ‘It’s great,’ Zoe chirped. Not waiting for the others, she started to change. As she pulled the white blouse of her uniform off, Allie saw a row of deep purple bruises on her narrow back.

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Zoe! Is that from London?’

  Zoe twisted to see her back in the wall mirror.

  ‘Yeah. Some tosser ran right over me. Lucas dropped him with a spin kick.’

  She sounded pleased.

  But Allie stood for a long moment, looking at those marks on Zoe’s narrow back. Her delicate shoulder-blades, the tiny knobs of her spine – they looked so fragile.

  Pressing her lips together, she turned to her own hook and began to change.

  We all have bruises, she reminded herself.

  In the mirror, she met Nicole’s expressive dark eyes. She could tell the French girl understood how she felt.

  This was all getting harder to take.

  ‘So, what am I to do?’ Katie still stood in the middle of the room. ‘Change or drift elegantly through the room offering useful and badly needed fashion advice?’

  Zoe opened her mouth to reply but Allie didn’t give her the chance.

  ‘Change,’ she said tersely. ‘You’re one of us now.’ She took a set of black leggings and matching tunic hanging from a hook with the name ‘Jules Matheson’ above it and held them out to her. ‘Shoes are under the bench. Take any that fit.’

  Chagrined, Katie accepted the clothes with a silent nod.

  Allie returned to changing her own clothes, but out of the corner of her eye she watched as the redhead began to get ready. She could see the nervous set of her jaw, and the way she fumbled with the top as she pulled it on over her expensive lace bra.

  She knew this wasn’t easy for her – she was faking the arrogant act. But, for her own good, she had to do this the hard way.

  As they emerged from the training room a few minutes later, Allie dropped back to whisper to Rachel. ‘Keep an eye on Katie.’

  Rachel, who’d only joined Night School recently herself, inclined her head.

  ‘I’ll stick with her.’

  Training Room One was squat and ugly – grey stone walls, dim fluorescent lighting and floors covered in blue exercise mats. A perpetual smell of warm sweat hung in the air.

  Lucas was already there. The small group clustered together stretching, talking in low voices.

  Allie turned a slow circle, taking in the emptiness of the room. The first time she’d ever come in here, it was packed with Night School students. Cimmeria’s best and brightest. There must have been fifty students in here then. Maybe more. Now there were six.

  And one of them was Katie Gilmore.

  Others were coming – but most of them were new to Night School. They’d be starting with the very basics. No one would mistake them for the real thing.

  Most of the Night School students had gone when Nathaniel laid down his first ultimatum, forcing parents to choose between his way and Lucinda’s. They’d almost all chosen his.

  Out of fear, probably, but it didn’t matter what their reasoning was. The effect was the same. An empty school. A hollow training room.

  ‘Who are our partners going to be?’ Zoe asked. Her voice echoed in the quiet.

  Allie’s heart sank. Of course, with Carter and Sylvain both gone they’d have to rearrange. Find a different system. Suddenly it seemed overwhelming. Everything was such a mess. Everything they’d thought so permanent was crumbling around them.

  The others were looking at her as if she should have the answers. She just stared back at them, panic rising in her chest.

  I don’t know how to do this, she thought. How can we even go on with just us? It�
��s not Night School anymore. It’s not anything.

  It was Nicole who came up with the solution.

  ‘I think Rachel should pair with Katie,’ she said, pointing at the two girls who were newest to the training. ‘Zoe, you pair with Lucas. I’ll pair with Allie.’

  Lucas punched Zoe lightly on the shoulder. ‘Come on midget, let’s see what you got.’

  ‘Don’t call me midget.’ Leaping effortlessly to her feet, Zoe swung a kick at him. This time he dodged the blow.

  Their sparring lightened the mood, and soon the group had arrayed themselves in pairs. While Rachel walked Katie through some basics, the others worked on the last self-defence moves they’d been practising before the parley.

  Within minutes the room had warmed up. They’d forgotten how empty it was, how few of them were left. They were really fighting – sweating from the exertion. They didn’t notice when the door swung open.

  ‘Uh… guys…’

  Something in Rachel’s voice made the others stop and look up.

  At one end of the room, a group of younger students clustered by the door, watching them with wide eyes.

  Slowly, they all noticed what was happening and stopped fighting. As a group they turned to face the new recruits.

  ‘What’s wrong with them?’ Zoe squinted at the younger students critically. ‘Why are they just standing there?’

  ‘I think you’re scaring them,’ Katie said. She waved cheerily. ‘Come in, little ones, come in. Welcome to Hell. Don’t be afraid.’

  ‘Oh great, Katie,’ Rachel said. ‘Scare them more.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Zelazny pushed his way through the crowd of new trainees. ‘Move along. Move along. Stop crowding the doorway. They don’t bite. Spread out.’

  With obvious reluctance, the youths moved a step or two further into the room where they clustered together, surveying this new world with suspicion. Most were twelve to fourteen years old, but a few were younger.

  Allie found herself staring at them. They looked so small.

  Eloise arrived a few seconds later, with Raj and a troupe of his guards. More teachers poured in, too.

  Allie and the senior students stood at the back of the room, arms crossed, surveying the increasingly crowded space as Zelazny and the other instructors took their place at the centre of the room.