Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) (8 page)

A soft thud sounded out as I landed in the middle of the gantry platform, then a sharp screech as the metal siding caught on the edge of the building's wall. It swayed for a moment, making me lose my balance and end up clinging to the struts or fall over the side, meeting a swift death at the bottom no doubt. Heights had never bothered me, but even I let out a little shocked gasp at how much farther there was to fall.

I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and waited for the gantry to still. Water ran down inside my jacket collar, mixing with perspiration and making me shiver despite the uncomfortable heat. Thankfully I'd slipped gloves on, so my hands gripped the struts securely and gave me an anchor to fight the fear.

When the swaying had slowed enough, I opened my lids and looked around the platform finding exactly what I needed. A harness, attached to high quality safety lines, sat waiting to be used in an unlocked box at one end. If you made it this far, the window cleaning gang clearly believed you must belong there.

I slipped the harness on, made sure the carabiners were all safely hooked in, and tested the anchor with a sharp tug on the rope. Then moved to the side of the gantry, climbing over the railing and purposely slowing my breaths. Despite the height and the wind buffeting the gantry, making it sway; despite the rain making every surface slick and obscuring my vision, making it hard to see in the dim light up here; despite the fact I was about to let go of the one solid thing holding me aloft, I felt at peace.

I leaned forward, as far as my arm could go, stretching while still holding on to the railing, then let go.

For a second I was weightless, free falling without my flight-suit. Then my hand met the ledge of a window and my fingers gripped on.

I hung suspended there for a second, puffing short breaths through my pursed lips, then I began to move sideways, my arms straining, the muscles across my shoulders bunching, an ache starting almost immediately and becoming a constant throb within moments throughout my frame. It took six long seconds to get far enough along to find a foothold and relieve the agony that had become my fingers. I allowed myself a further few seconds to enjoy the change of position, and then I kept going.

Ten minutes later I'd made it over three sets of windows, the occupants in one apartment not even looking up from their vid-screens at the figure who hung suspended in front of their lounge. By the time I reached the first window of the apartment that should have been the tech whiz's, my safety rope was taut. I could go no further, but I knew this window led to the apartment's kitchen, as it had in the one I'd just passed. Entering in over the sink is always a noisy endeavour, but I had no choice.

I tested the locks with one free hand and found them surprisingly solid. There was no illumination inside. The kitchen thankfully empty, the lights all switched off. If the tech whiz was home, which he should have been, tonight was a curfew night, then he wasn't in this room. But he could easily have been in the next. I waited a moment to see if there was movement, straining to hear noise through the kitchen window glass, but only hearing the sound of rain on the concrete of the building mixed with my harsh breaths.

Finally I couldn't stay still any longer. I either had to retreat or break in. I was here. No one was watching. Of course, there was only one path for me to take.

I tugged my glove off, using my teeth, and twisted the ring on the middle finger of my right hand until it faced the glass, then flicked it with my thumbnail activating the laser cutter. Within seconds I had the glass removed and placed carefully on one side of the kitchen bench.

No sound.

Nothing from within.

I hoisted myself up onto the sill and pulled my body through the tight opening, thankful my frame was slim.

I slithered to the tiled floor and crouched down, my heart pumping, adrenaline suffusing my veins.

Everything was still. I had the feeling my tech whiz was not home.

A smattering of disappointment seeped into my body and I stood up, re-sheathing my gloveless hand, and glancing around. I unbuckled the carabiner that attached the safety rope to my harness and hooked it quietly onto the handle of a drawer, as something suddenly occurred to me.

There were no plates on the bench. No half eaten packets of biscuits, no tea or coffee canisters, no flowers in a vase on the small, bare table at the other end of the kitchen. I crossed the space and opened a pantry door, finding it empty.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. This was an uninhabited home.

I cursed my miscalculation, turned to look back at the hole in the window and then heard a sound.

An electronic beep, followed by a hum, and then a dial tone.

I walked silently through the kitchen towards that sound, already pretty sure I knew what I would find.

In the middle of what would have been the lounge room, if it had furniture to make it so, was a small desk. On it a computer, attached to a telephone, wired into the Wánměi Net.

This was his rerouteing location. A fail-safe so he could stay hidden. Probably someone's actual home; an identity perhaps that didn't exist in reality, but the Overseers were tricked into believing that it did. I let a small breath of air out in surprise and I admit, respect. He'd fooled me as well.

I turned slowly to take in the rest of the vacant space and came face to face with a security camera lens staring down at me from the corner of the room. It zoomed in.

Of all the rookie mistakes to make, this was mine?

I smiled ruefully at the camera, pulled out my laser pointer and aimed.

Ten seconds later the camera lens was fried... but then the phone began to ring.

"Oh, she is good," Si said with awe.

"How the hell did she get in there?" I demanded.

"Not through the door," Si offered. "Looked like she walked in from the kitchen."

I stared at the last image of her smiling up at the camera, her face wet from the rain, flushed, I'd thought, from the heat. But now I wondered if it was her exertions that had made that pink glow suffuse her pale skin. Her hair was tied back again; an inappropriate braid like she'd worn at Wántel. I was beginning to like that style, and not just because it was non-compliant. I could see every inch of that perfect face. She wasn't in a flight-suit, so she didn't intend to jump out a window, but as my eyes followed the line of her fitted jacket, down to her seductively tight black trousers, they snagged on a harness.

"She climbed down from the roof," I said.

"Oh, she is good," Si repeated.

I let a breath out in an incredulous snort.

"Who abseils down a thirty storey apartment building and breaks in through the kitchen window in a thunderstorm?" I asked the room.

"She is one crazy bitch," Kevin offered.

"And why?" I added.

"She followed the address attached to that phone number," Si offered.

"Just to see if you were legit?" I asked.

Si's turn to snort. "Me, she would have left well enough alone. No, this is because of you and that fucking message."

I smiled. It was instinctive and I was thinking maybe a little cocky.

Si rolled his eyes.

"So what now, boss?" he asked.

"Phone her."

"And say what?"

"Congratulations?" I suggested.

"This is so wrong," Si muttered, but opened up a line and started to dial the phone in the apartment where I hoped she still stood.

It rang five times before she answered.

"I'm disappointed," she said down the line in way of greeting.

I slowly sat down in a chair and lifted my booted feet to the top of a desk, leaning back and making myself comfortable. The room had stilled, absolutely dead quiet. Si looked at me as though I was mad, I didn't bother to see what anyone else was doing. I should have been grateful that Carla had left ten minutes ago, but I was too busy having fun to think about that near miss right now.

"You shouldn't be," I offered. "You've done surprisingly well."

"Surprisingly?" she asked, affronted I think. "You left me bread crumbs the size of boulders. I hardly had to work for it at all."

"But you still don't know my name," I teased, not entirely sure if my claim was right.

"It's not your name I'm after."

For some reason my body decided to translate those words into something far more erotic than I think she'd intended. I could feel myself hardening, tension zinging throughout my frame.

I licked my lips, shifted in my seat surreptitiously, and said, "But I know so much about you, Honourable Selena Carstairs."

"What is in a name?" she murmured.

I resisted the temptation to complete the quote, hearing more in her tone than just the words themselves.

"You don't like your name?" I asked instead.

"I don't need to know yours," she corrected with haughty Elite flair.

"Aren't you afraid?" I pushed.

"Fear only excites me."

Oh, God. I wanted this woman.

My feet met the floor as I leaned forward, as though I could get closer to her if I moved closer to the microphone on Si's desk.

"What else excites you?" I asked.

She laughed. It was rich and throaty. Confident and alluring. Every man in the room stopped breathing for a second and just
felt
.

"I don't know you well enough to tell you that, Cardinal," she finally said.

For some reason her calling me Cardinal made me mad. It was all she knew me as, but still. I wondered what my name would sound like in that sexy voice. I wondered whether she'd like it.

"We should remedy that," I remarked.

"Very well," she replied, sounding every inch the Elite she was. "As curfew is still in effect, and you obviously are not nearby, shall we make a date for the morning?"

I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic. Her tone belied contempt, but I couldn't believe she'd freely meet with me. She must have still suspected I was the enemy, even if I had access to inappropriate set-ups like the one she was standing next to in that empty apartment room.

"Where do you suggest?" I asked carefully, Si trying to give me a pointed look. Which I ignored.

"Do you know Yum Cha in
Wáikěiton
?"

Holy shit, she was for real.

"Yes," I managed, too distracted with possibilities to say more.

"Eleven o'clock," she whispered, as though our conversation was personal, intimate.

I was so fucked.

"I'll be there," I announced, sounding like I was committing to more than a first date.

She laughed again, this time more of a chuckle.

"And Cardinal," she said, humour still lacing her tone. "Don't wear the cloak."

"The cloak?" I asked, confused.

"I figured out why you didn't look right," she said softly, a caress of words across my skin. I closed my eyes, not wanting the conversation to end, not wanting her to stop talking. Wishing it was in person, her lips against my ear.

Not in a room with several other guys listening in.

"A small mistake," she added. "Your Cardinal cloak is two seasons old."

What?

"No it's not," I said, sure we had the most up-to-date uniforms. I glanced at Si. He shrugged, offering a dumbfounded shake of his head.

"Check," she suggested. "But I think you'll find the buttons should have an engraving of the Wánměi coat of arms."

There is no way she picked up that.

"I think you'll find, Honourable, that they
did
have the requisite engraving," I bluffed.

Si was shaking his head, frantically pointing at an image of a Cardinal he'd brought up on the screen. He'd enlarged it to show the detail of the buttons. Which were shined to a gleam... and quite blank.

"Very clever," I whispered, but the line had already gone dead.

So, he wasn't a real Cardinal. That made me feel... elated in fact. The idea that he was a Cardinal had been unnerving, adding danger to a situation that had already screamed dangerous. But it wasn't that.

I hadn't
wanted
him to be a Cardinal.

I smiled at the near empty room, then slipped out of the harness, draping it over the table next to the computer and phone with care, and walked to the front door. A parting gift.

It didn't take me long to make it outside undetected, and it was a damn sight easier than clinging to the side of the building in the rain. I found my "borrowed" car in its safe and secure spot, ready and waiting. Within minutes I was on the road, moving back towards the inner city, the residential apartment blocks of
Hillsborough
flashing by as I made my way on the still empty streets.

The drive wasn't quite as nerve racking as the earlier one over there, but it still held a certain amount of thrill despite the excitement that threatened to consume me at having found out at least something about the man.

I was no closer to discovering who the tech whiz was and therefore scrubbing Lena Carr's name. But I'd take the small victory because it was significant. Had he been a real Cardinal any manner of things could have gone wrong.

The fact that he was a Citizen seemed easier to swallow. Maybe because it was Citizens I dealt with by choice. I was forced to attend Elite gatherings, to behave like a model Honourable because of my birth. But I chose to spend most of my time with Citizens, because to me they were more honest than the Elite.

Of course, you couldn't really trust anyone. Not when the consequences of breaking the rules were so harsh.

I parked the car back in its allotted slot; there was nothing I could do for the odometer reading. But how many times did people actually pay attention to those? They were more inclined to notice the dirt, or rain water on the polished paintwork, when the car had been under cover for two days.

It was out of my hands. If they questioned it, they'd pull security tapes, and only see the blurred image of a woman behind the wheel and a shadow as she moved through the dimmer parts of the garage floors.

By the time I made my apartment's front door the adrenaline and excitement of the evening had worn off. My ankle hurt. My muscles felt stretched from hanging on the side of a sky-scraper, and I was sick of being wet. The first order of business, after deactivating Shiloh as I walked in, was to shower.

And then, knowing my official identity of Selena Carstairs was safe, I was checking up on Aiko and Tan.

I took too long luxuriating under the shower spray, remembering his deep voice over the phone. Going over every word we'd shared. He was right. He knew more about me than I knew about him. But I was determined, that by eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, I would be greeting him with his name.

Just how I was going to achieve that, I didn't yet know.

After grabbing a bite to eat, out of what was left in my pantry, I text messaged Tan. Another saved, innocuous message, one that meant nothing to the Overseers who could be watching, but something to Tan himself.

Tomorrow at eight, we'd meet in
Federal
Street, in front of the steps that led down to the Rap-Trans. That left four hours to either sleep or attempt a dose up; just a small one. Enough to allow my system to get used to Serenity again, so when I attended the celebration in just over a week, I could test clearly and not be under its effects.

The annual celebrations of the Uprising's defeat had stricter than normal testing. As yet a replica had not been made that could circumvent it.

I stared at the segment of Serenity tablet sitting on my bench. It was pink; a pretty shade reminiscent of rose petals and princess dresses. A colour that made you think: Safe. The Overseers would have you believe it was. Simply a way to enjoy life while not being encumbered with the worries we used to have. No more depression. No more anxiety. No more cares or woes or anything that could bring you down. Just pure happiness and contentment on a blissful cloud of joy.

I hated it. I despised it. I so did not want even that tiny portion of the thing in my mouth.

My fists clenched, my mouth was set in a determined scowl as I stared the Serenity slither down. I was drenched in perspiration within seconds and I'd only just exited the shower.

With a trembling hand I reached out and picked the broken piece of tablet up and lifted it towards my mouth. At my lips I hesitated, lifted my eyes up until I was staring into my reflection in the glass above the stove. I looked pale. My eyes too big. My lips too red.

I let a breath of air out, closed my lids and placed the tablet on my tongue.

It dissolved immediately. I didn't swallow.

The longer it took for me to swallow, the more saliva I made. The sweet aroma of candied apple met my nose, the taste seeping into my horrified tongue. I made a wretched sound as I gulped the flavour down.

The room began to spin immediately. An unwanted smile spreading my lips. A slow tear trickling out of my left eye. I brushed at it with a finger, but when I pulled the digit back I couldn't stop staring at the drop of liquid on its tip.

"Hello," a voice said. I realised, in a detached way, that it was mine.

I licked my finger, then proceeded to suck it, while turning around and flinging my free arm out to balance me.

A chuckle left me, and then I spun again and again and again. Both hands out wide, making me pirouette in my kitchen like a spinning top, colours and lights flashing by as my head became dizzier and dizzier still.

I stumbled into the kitchen bench and rebounded off that to hit a cupboard door. It opened under the force and several packets of food fell out onto the floor. I watched them fall. Tip over end over tip and
splat!

Huh. "That could have been me," I said in a slight slur, the joy of dancing being replaced suddenly with utter calm.

I walked sedately into the lounge, crossed the plush carpet and into the hall. Not connecting with a single thing.

My face hit my pillow on the bed, my body moulding into the soft mattress, and within seconds I was asleep. Possibly snoring.

I woke with an horrendous headache as my offline Shiloh unit announced, "Good morning. Wake up."

"Time," I croaked.

"Oh-six, thirty," Shiloh obediently replied.

I groaned and pulled my spare pillow over to cover my face.

"Dim lights," I instructed in a muffled voice. I had no way of knowing if she complied. I was too sore to check.

"Oh-six, forty-five," Shiloh announced, what seemed a second later.

I sat bolt upright, squinted through the dimmed lights and stared at my way too pale face in the mirror above my dresser. My pupils were the size of saucers in my eyes.

"Oh, damn," I muttered, crawling off the bed.

I blinked, and blinked again, but it still seemed way too bright.

"Dim the fucking lights," I demanded again. "Lowest setting," I added, forestalling a repeat instruction.

The room sank into blissful darkness, just the barest hint of illumination to guide my way. More than I currently needed. I took a cold shower, not bothering with lights and shivering for more reasons than the temperature of the water. I scrubbed my body, trying to stimulate the nerve endings, with a towel. I bit my lip as I pulled a comb through my hair, wanting desperately to braid it, but knowing I needed to comply this morning and blow dry it straight.

It took me longer than usual to get ready, but by the time I went for the door I was Elite perfect, my vision back to near normal, my headache eased with a fast acting painkiller, my anger at having to dose up at all just a mere simmer in the background to the excited rush that was replacing the artificial high.

I slipped sunglasses on as I came out into the main foyer. Augustine, the same concierge who saw me arrive after Wántel, in attendance at the desk.

"Good morning, Honourable Selena Carstairs," he intoned with a small bow.

"Citizen Augustine," I said with a hint of a smile.

Elite perfect, that was what I was today.

His own smile dimmed slightly, but then he rallied.

"May I order a limousine?" he enquired.

I glanced outside at the sky, noting the thunderstorm had passed and there wasn't a cloud to be seen.

"I think I'll take the roadster," I said, but I was sure I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Really?" the concierge said, then hurried to cover his mistake. "Thunderstorms are predicted for this afternoon, Honourable Carstairs," he added. "Will you be out long?"

I stared at him, for the moment unable to understand the lifeline he was throwing me. Or why. I took too long to answer.

"A limousine, then," he said gently. "I'll have one ordered straight away."

"Good," I murmured, taking the seat he directed me to on a finely upholstered couch off to the side. His eyes darted up to my face once he'd deposited me there. I realised he was trying to see my pupils, but behind the sunglasses he couldn't make out how dilated and dull they currently were.

Only a slither. Barely a quarter of the tab. And I was like this. It had been too long. Tan had been so right.

The limousine appeared in front of the double doors before I comprehended time had passed. How did Citizens drive themselves when they'd dosed up? Easy. They were so used to the dosage they could cope without becoming a hollow shell.

"Honourable Carstairs," Augustine said softly at my side.

I jerked in my seat on the couch.

"Must you go out today?" he asked, so quietly no one could have overheard.

I looked up into his bright brown eyes and realised what I'd missed the other day. Augustine didn't dose up. He was a replica user. A breaker of Overseer rules. This information would normally have been interesting, but right then all I did was stare.

He smiled softly back at me.

"May I suggest you keep the glasses on," he whispered as he helped me to my feet. "And only visit with those you trust."

"Wise advice," I managed to somewhat coherently say.

He deposited me into the rear of the vehicle, flapping the driver back towards his side of the car. Augustine leaned in before closing the door and said, "Your destination?"

I blinked at him, something deep within me making me seal my lips.

"I only ask so I can give directions," he hurried to explain before the driver made his door. "Allowing you longer without having to communicate."

OK. I was paranoid. I nodded again, this time more assuredly.

"
Wáikěiton
," I murmured.

If he was surprised with my destination, he didn't show it. Just nodded back and, when the driver slipped into the front seat, said, "
Federal
Street, Citizen."

"As you wish," the driver replied without inflection.

Such well trained Citizens.

The door shut before Augustine offered the usual farewell. Maybe he thought I wouldn't have been able to say, "Wánměi leads the way," in reply.

The roads were thankfully busy, the time it took to arrive in
Wáikěiton
allowing me to surface further from the malaise of the Serenity Tab. By the time the driver pulled over at the side of the road, I was sure I could function appropriately.

"Thank you, Citizen," I said as he opened my door for me.

"Wánměi above all others," he intoned with a bow of his head.

"Wánměi leads the way," I replied, my speech once again perfect.

I didn't wait to watch him drive away. I strode down
Federal
Street towards the meeting place, head held high, people parting for me as I came. An Elite in
Wáikěiton
was not completely unheard of. But enough of an anomaly to make the Citizens aware.

Tan was waiting at the top of the Rap-Trans stairs, baseball cap pulled low over his angular face, his own sunglasses on. I was sure his reasons were quite normal, such as the brightness of the sun on this hot day. I stopped beside him, swaying slightly now that forward motion had ceased. For a second or two Tan remained quiet.

Then he let out a sigh and said, "Come on. Let's get you changed."

It was only then I realised I never came to
Wáikěiton
dressed as an Elite. For exactly the reasons I'd just so blindly overlooked. The vid-screen watching Citizens making way even though they were all sheep.

I followed silently behind him, despising everything to do with General Chew-wen's Wánměi.