Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) (6 page)

"Yeh Zhang Yong is no longer with us," he said in such simple
Anglisc
, such straight phrasing, such a level tone.

My breath caught in my throat, my chest felt like it was squeezing my heart. A muscle ticked in my jaw.

"You didn't know," he surmised.

I shook my head, the movement jerky. I wanted to ask, but there was no need. If Zhang Yong had been wiped, then his family had been as well. I needed to get out of here. I needed fresh air.

I needed to go to
Muhgah Keekee
and confirm what my mind already told me.

I staggered back a step, my hand reaching blindly for the swing door over my shoulder.

"Citizen," Harjeet said carefully. "You know better than to get attached."

What did he know? He thought he understood me. An Elite who tampered with the black market, who was bored and needed a challenge. Nobody knew me. The real me. Except my father; who is dead.

"Can you connect me?" I asked, my voice scratchy.

"It is not so easy," he replied, moving further out of the shadows at last. "The Cardinals are following a lead, it is clogging the system."

A lead. Wántel.

"Whatever they want, they are prepared to do anything for," he went on, half in and half out of light now. "The Yeh family is only the beginning. There will be more wipes to come, we must all take care."

"Then why did you see me?" I asked, feeling a sense of desolation steal into my soul.

"We all have our quaint curiosities, Elite. An Honourable Carstairs in
Little D'awa
. I could not resist."

I stood still as he emerged from the last shadow, expecting someone older and being momentarily surprised to find the great Harjeet so young. Early thirties at a guess. Tanned skin, short, appropriate hairstyle, beguiling brown eyes that hid the hardness of the man, and a handsome, if austere face. He was dressed in a p
'ta r'aru
; the p
'ta
bottom a maroon colour, draped in traditional style between his legs, the
r'aru
top a shimmering golden patterned long-line coat with embroidered collar and cuffs.

He was stunning.

His smile when he saw me appraise him stole all available air in the room, and made me feel shockingly guilty for entertaining it when the Yehs would never walk the streets again.

"If we cannot come to an agreement, then I shall leave," I managed, making the words sound determined and superior. An Elite through and through.

His eyes scanned my face then my body, taking in the k
'ri k'ri
and how I had arranged it.

He cocked his head, gaze returning to my face and said, "You should purchase a handbag on the way out, one that complements the k
'ri k'ri
and your eyes."

I nodded automatically.

"Eyes like yours should be dressed appropriately," he added. "Although there is nothing I can do for your hair."

With that he was gone, melting back into the shadows and out of sight. I stood still a moment longer and then returned to the front of the stall, where a handbag was waiting next to the old wrinkled man at the entrance. He grinned up at me and opened the bag displaying the Citizen clothes I'd arrived in folded neatly inside. Then he held out his hand, palm up, waiting for payment.

I wasn't thinking clearly; too much whirling around inside my head. Too much agony fit to burst from inside my chest.

"Keep it," I said and moved to push past him, uncaring about how my eyes looked dressed in blue or how the k
'ri k'ri
was draped.

His wizened old hand snaked out and wrapped gnarled fingers around my wrist as he said in a cracked, ancient sounding voice, "You take. You take."

I closed my eyes, feeling tears threaten, and sucked in a deep breath of air. Then took the bag he offered, thrusting whatever I could find in cash into his waiting hand. It was probably only fifty dollars, more than the bag was worth, but not as much as what lay inside.

It was only once I'd made it to the end of
Park Road
in a blind rush, and stumbled into the throng back out on
Grafton
Road, that I realised the bag didn't match the k
'ri k'ri
at all.

I found a quiet spot under some trees and hidden by a delivery van from street-cam view and rifled inside, coming out with a plain business card.

Harjeet
, it said in gold lettering.
Park Road
was inscribed below and nothing else.

And on the back in scrawling masculine strokes was a name I had not heard of before and a contact number to get in touch.

The tech whiz, to scrub Lena Carr.

And a message at the bottom, in smaller but matching penmanship.

This one is on the house, Elite. But one day I will ask for a favour.

Be prepared.

Somehow I knew owing Harjeet of
Park Road
a favour was not an entirely good thing.

Even if the information I had exchanged it for was life saving.

I wandered blindly in the crowd of mindless Wánměi Citizens. My arms wrapped tightly around my waist, the bejewelled handbag slung over my shoulder, the shimmering aqua and silver fabric of the k
'ri k'ri
flapping around my ankles. I was numb. Desperately wanting to feel something, but coming up blank every time.

Zhang Yong had been a satellite feature in my life for eight long years and now he was wiped. As though those eight years never existed. And all the years before; his wife's struggles with addiction; his daughters' births; his longed-for son's arrival. All a figment, not even a memory.

I'd waited until the cover of darkness to make sure. The streets of
Muhgah Keekee
as close to deserted as you could get; Wednesday night curfew having kicked in. I hadn't been able to change back into my Citizen attire. Not for lack of opportunity, but because I couldn't seem to rouse myself out of the black malaise I'd fallen into.

I'd known wiping existed. There are always stories of whole families being wiped when one member stepped out of Overseer approved line. People knew of people who knew someone who'd been wiped. But it had always been far enough away to not really touch you. A warning on the horizon you were sure you'd never need.

Their house had been empty by the time
Olive Grove
quietened enough for me to slip through an upstairs window from the roof. It was clumsy and haphazard, not dressed as I usually was for this sort of thing. Had I been spotted, I would have made an unusual sight. The k
'ri k'ri
dressed cat-burglar on the roof.

As far as I know I wasn't seen. No one disturbed my vigil inside the Yehs' former home. Now devoid of worn furniture and the roughly woven mats on the floor. No more finger paintings or family portraits decorating the walls. Even the staffroom sign had disappeared. All that had remained to indicate a family had existed,
lived
, here was the smell of thick spices and cloying incense on the air.

I'd sat down in the middle of their empty main room and didn't cry. I didn't shed a tear for the father who did his best to raise his children free from the addictions that had devoured his wife. A man who even in the end, when the reality of their plight must have registered, warned me to stay away.

I'd heard the warning, I just hadn't understood who needed to heed it the most. Could I have helped them? Did I ignore the signs to save myself?

I didn't know the answer to that and that knowledge scared me the most.

I'd stayed until the sun rose. Until the early morning call to prayer sounded out in a waking city. I'd stayed until I was sure I wouldn't forget. The Overseers may think the annihilation of an entire family for one man's sins was enough to wipe them from the world and our memories forever. But they didn't take into consideration the indomitable spirit of mankind. The will to survive and never forget.

I will never forget the Yehs. I just didn't know what to do to honour them. Five people should not simply disappear without someone commemorating their lives. Who else had awakened in their homes today aware a family they knew was gone? Who else wanted never to forget?

I came to a stop in the middle of a busy street, somewhere in the vicinity of
Muhgah Keekee
, and lifted my face. People flowed around me like water in a river over rocks. Neither concerned nor conscious of my existence. Just moving inexorably onwards with little purpose to their lives.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to rail and shout, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" But all I saw were several street-cams rotate to fix on me.

The water knows no better, but the man who directs its flow sees.

I had to move. I had to pull my cellphone out and pretend to be mindless too. I had to behave accordingly.

A model Citizen in a world that was anything but.

I took a step, then another and another, until I was swallowed by the throng. I still had no idea where I was going, who I could trust. I just kept walking. One step in front of the other, face down staring at a blank vid-screen. Part of the collective, but apart from the whole.

The flash-drive continued to burn an imaginary hole against my skin. The card Harjeet had given me was crushed in my free hand. The phone number already committed to memory, but I couldn't seem to make myself destroy it. Like the Yehs.

I desperately needed to get myself together. I desperately needed to decide my next move. But little by little my world was shrinking. No Zhang Yong. Too frightened to touch base with Tan and Aiko. No one else to trust. Just me.

And I had never felt this alone before. Cut adrift from my safety net, swinging wildly in the breeze.

What was I good at? What could I do even in my sleep? What would help me now?

Everything I needed was in
Wáikěiton
, probably already confiscated by Cardinal drones. But I did have one thing up my sleeve. Not intentionally, definitely not planned. My PDA. The one I had used at Wántel and left at my
Parnell
home. Usually I wasn't so careless, but the past twenty-four hours had been insane.

I rubbed my temples absently, checked my location and decided on a taxi instead of the long walk it would be to the nearest Rap-Trans station. I was currently Honourable Selena Carstairs. An Elite. I might as well benefit from that fact.

I had the distinct impression, when I carefully approached my apartment building from a distance, that my home in
Parnell
was being watched too. I'd had the taxi driver drop me off a block away, so I could check the street before I arrived. I'd come in from the small park opposite, stood in the shadows of artfully groomed trees and felt eyes on me. Or the building. But I couldn't see them. The street-cams were directed to their usual common locations and not where I would have expected them to be if waiting for me.

But I couldn't get the sensation to ease. That tickle between your shoulder blades. That indefinable feeling that you were not alone.

Not that the street was deserted, but this
observer
was definitely not one of the crowd.

I breathed steadily though my nose, my eyes scanning the environment, my ears ringing with the effort to hear something out of the ordinary. I hadn't slept at all last night. I'd not been active, after breaking into the Yehs' home, but more absent than asleep. So a burgeoning exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I blinked a few times to clear my head, sucked in deeper breaths to refresh myself, and then slipped through the shadows, using the trees and a well thought out approach route that avoided street-cams and being seen. I took extra care, in case the Cardinal - I could only assume it was a drone or a Cardinal in person - watching didn't pick me out.

Many times I'd had to slink back into my building. My Shiloh indicating I was at home when I'd been out selectively stealing from the Elite. Although I hadn't stolen anything last night, the need to keep my presence outside of my apartment hidden was just as essential. I'd activated Shiloh before I'd left. Placed her on a timer to reinstate after I was long gone. I'd intended to be Lena Carr for the night, but that hadn't gone according to plan.

Now the Rap-Trans system could have recorded my identity. The taxi I'd used may have done the same. In such a short amount of time I'd well and truly fucked my life up. But if I could get in and reboot Shiloh before this cycle ended, all was not entirely lost. If I had any luck left at all, my true identity wasn't under scrutiny by the Overseers. And I still had time.

It didn't feel like I did. What with the sensation of eyes on my back as I used the side entrance into the apartment building, bypassing alarms and the eScanner with practised ease. If my building was ever audited it would be picked up. But whether or not it could be tied to me, I'm not sure. I even knew where to stand to avoid the security cameras, counting off inside my head for the correct moment to strike. There was always a small window of opportunity to break the rules and not get caught.

I prayed I got it right today.

By the time I made it up the emergency stairs to my upper floor my ankle was throbbing. There was only so much that strapping could do for a sprain. And I had been very busy. My body ached in more places than that though. My shoulders were tight with stress, my eyes stung with exhaustion, my chest throbbed with a heartache I could do nothing to ease.

I waited for the eScanner at my door to do its thing and then slipped through the opening when the lock disengaged. Before Shiloh could even query why I was returning when she had me already situated at home, I gave the order to countermand.

As the door swished faultlessly shut at my back, I announced, "Override, Lena Carr, 241386," turning my Shiloh unit into something else. One of a kind. Completely unique. Entirely special.

Officially, it was still linked to Selena Carstairs. Unofficially, it was now cut-off and quite safe from Overseer interference.

It represented my freedom. A freedom that looked very much in jeopardy all of a sudden.

Cool quiet met my ears and for a moment I just stood there and took it all in. White, black and sleek metal made up my home. Open spaces unadorned with artwork, shelves bare of mementoes and knick-knacks. It was a soulless home, because it wasn't where my soul lived.

A soft sob escaped as I collapsed onto the plush sofa. My home in
Wáikěiton
,
my real home
, was possibly gone. It shouldn't have mattered. Not when the Yehs had just lost their lives. But it was my haven. My heart resided there. This
shell
was just a front.

My hand slipped down the back of the couch cushions and found the small anomaly in the stitching, with careful fingers I pried the slot open and reached inside to withdraw my PDA. Sometimes, if your luck holds, our technologically dependent sPol drones overlooked old school techniques. Like hiding something under a mattress or inside a sofa.

I powered it up and stared at the LCD screen. Pixelated greyscale lettering appeared before my eyes. There was nothing to identify me on its hard-drive, just a perfect backup of various systems found online in the Wánměi Net. One of which was a telephone directory.

I typed in the phone number Harjeet had given me on the tiny keypad and waited for the unit to process my command. It took so long, I lifted my sore foot up and rested it on a pillow, laying down on the couch to get comfortable while I waited. I should have grabbed an icepack from the freezer, but exhaustion had well and truly taken hold. I considered reapplying the bandage Tan had wrapped around my injury, but even that would have required too much effort right then.

The PDA screen flickered and an address came up for the number I'd just checked.
Hillsborough
. As far from central Wánměi as you could get. Out in a Citizen zone, on the edge of our great city. I stared at it. Trying to decipher more information from a simple line of words. There was nothing to tell me who this person was. If they could be trusted. How they had come to Harjeet's attention. Simply an innocuous address in a residential area of Wánměi, nothing more.

I rested the PDA screen down on my stomach and stared at the ceiling trying to decide what to do next. I could pretend Lena Carr didn't exist. I could cut my losses now and be the Elite I was meant to be. I could forget everything I had learned in the past twenty-four hours and become a model Citizen.

My fingers traced the outline of the flash-drive inside my bra. Just what the hell had Arthur Chen put in here? And why had it suddenly turned my life upside down? I'd chosen it because it was mentioned in passing by my godfather to his son when I'd been attending his birthday celebration. A simple statement. Nothing that would have stood out if I hadn't have been looking for a challenge.

"Chen has completed the codes on Sat-Loc. Everything is exactly as it should be."

I'm not sure why those words rankled. Maybe because
nothing
had been exactly as it should be for me since my father had been killed.

And I realised now, I was not alone in that category.

But for whatever reason I decided my next challenge would be stealing Arthur Chen's Sat-Loc codes. My father had always said I'd been impulsive, reckless. I thought maybe he was right, and I might have bitten off more than I could chew with this latest heist.

My eyelids became heavier as I futilely tried to decide my next move. Before I knew it I'd fallen asleep, because I woke to darkness and a crook in my neck where I'd slept with my head angled sharply on the couch armrest.

The air-con unit hummed quietly, the fridge in the kitchen off to the side whirred accompaniment, and the distant sounds of the city as it bed down for the night seeped through the double glazing to reach my ears.

"Time," I said aloud.

"Twenty-one, fifteen," came Shiloh's offline voice. No Honourable this or have-you-been-a-model-Citizen that. Just the joys of an automated household organiser without the Wánměi doctrine. If only all Shiloh units were the same.

I stretched my neck and sat up as I mentally thanked my father for the gift of this particular Shiloh.