Masked (5 page)

"
Y
ou can't trust it
," I growled.

"I am right here, you know," Calvin interjected.

"It's perfectly safe," Lena argued.

"As safe as Shiloh?" I demanded.

"I am not Shiloh!" Calvin declared, outraged. If a fucking computer could be outraged that is.

"He's nothing like Shiloh," Lena agreed. With the fucking computer. Not me.

"
It
, Lena. It, not he."

She flicked her eyes to the device in the wall. Her bottom lip wedged between her teeth.

"Baby," I said, taking a step closer.

"It's different," she said softly.

"Lena," I chastised carefully. "How can you be so sure?"

"My programming is quite unrelated to that of Shiloh's," Calvin offered helpfully.

"Stand down," I snapped, my eyes not leaving Lena's expressive face.

Where had the Elite gone? When had the controlled woman I'd fallen so hard for disappeared?

"Standing down," Calvin confirmed. But I wasn't sure "standing down" was a computer command. The fucking thing was humouring me.

"Trent," Lena began.

"No, babe," I said shaking my head. "You of all people. Si I could understand." She frowned. "He gets a hard-on for these things." Calvin made a beeping sound, confirming the whole
not
standing down thing. "But you faced off against Shiloh. You saw what it had done to the image of your mother. Not just what it had done to Wánměi."

"Shiloh is a different programme altogether," Lena insisted.

"And you read code now? You've deciphered its programme when Si hasn't been able to get near it enough to read?"

She turned ice blue eyes on me. "It's different," she insisted.

"Because it told you so?" I pushed.

A chin lift was my only reply and nothing else.

"If Shiloh had told you she was protecting you by controlling all the drones, would you have believed her?"

"He's not controlling drones!"

"But it's online and hiding it. Si didn't even know, and
he
flicked the switch. Was that another of your commands, Lena?" I'd started to raise my voice. Any louder and I'd be yelling.

Lena gave as good as she got.

"What if I did? It's
my
device. My father gave it to me!"

"And your father created Shiloh!" I shouted back.

"That was not one of my better moments," Calvin admitted.

"Shut up!" both Lena and I yelled at the same time. "You're not helping, Dad," she added and I staggered back a step.

"Fuck," I breathed. "This machine is not your father." The words were whisper quiet and spoken slowly. Carefully. Not because I didn't want to hurt her - she'd royally pissed me off this time - but because they were important. So fucking important. She had to see. "You know that, don't you?" I pressed. "Tell me you know that, Lena. Tell me you don't think he's in there, somehow, his conscience transferred to a computer and it's the man you knew and loved talking out of those speakers. Tell me," I begged.

She let out a long breath of air and said, "Of course I know. It's just hard to not call it that sometimes."

I shook my head, my fists aching from where I'd been clenching them. I spread my palms out, let the blood rush back in, and then scrubbed at my face. I was so fucking tired of all of this. I was filthy, exhausted, and fed up with constantly battling for what was right.

I looked back at the device on the wall, then shifted my gaze to Lena.

"You left before I said it," I murmured. Her eyes came up to mine, head tilted slightly, complete and utter focus on me. Lena could steal a man's breath by simply listening. "Before I told Alan that we're not through. The war's not over."

"So it would seem," she said, sounding more and more like an Elite. Wherever Lena had been she was coming back.

"And if the war's not over, then the revolution is still in full swing," I added.

"What are you trying to say, Trent?" she demanded with all the haughty flare I'd come to know.

"You bought this penthouse floor because you knew that truth too," I pointed out. "You expected every surviving member of the rebel army to live here. You insisted on a tech-room, a safe-room, and an armoury. Because you knew the rebellion was not yet won."

"Battles come and go," she murmured, leaning against a bench but somehow still looking Elite while she did it. "Causes evolve."

"From freedom and back again," I agreed.

"Freedom's still the goal," she argued.

"Yes, but keeping it, not obtaining it."

She nodded.

"This is Rebel HQ," I said, bringing myself up to full height, straightening my shoulders. I towered over her, but that wasn't my intention. I just needed to be ready for the fallout after I said what was coming next. "And I'm still the rebel leader."

She held my piercing stare with a flat one of her own.

"You agree?" I pushed. I needed her to say it.

Her chin lifted a millimetre more.

"Do you, or don't you agree that I'm the leader of this rebel army?"

"It's hardly an army," she pointed out.

"Lena!"

"Yes!" she shot back. "You're in charge. Happy?"

I smiled. It was in no way mirthful.

"Shiloh," I said.

"Yes, Trent," Calvin replied immediately.

"Voice control lock activation."

Lena's mouth fell open. Her hands falling from her hips in utter disbelief.

"Activating. Please provide voice imprint and code."

"Trent Masters," I said. "Two-Four-Alpha-Charlie-Eight."

"Voice imprint and code accepted. Voice control activated."

I held Lena's fiery gaze, felt the rift that I'd torn open between us widen, and said, "Shut down. Maintain security for penthouse floor but nothing else." We could answer our own damn telephone calls and adjust the air-con when needed.

"Command received."

Lena stared at me, a flush marring the perfect paleness of her cheeks.

"Well, that's that then," she whispered.

"Yes," I replied, my throat aching, my chest a hollow cavity.

"I'll be on the roof," she offered, spinning on her heel, and gliding from the room.

I leaned back against the bench, my legs suddenly weak. Reaching out I lifted the water bottle back up to my lips and took a sip. Before I'd swallowed it completely, I threw the fucking thing across the kitchen and let it slam into the far wall. Water exploded out as the plastic fractured, running down the tiles as though slick tears.

Fuck!

I stood there for too long. Staring at a machine that was for all intents and purposes offline and shut down and locked on my voice command. I expected it to lecture me about mistreating its daughter at any minute.

"What the fuck have you got me into, Calvin," I muttered.

The machine remained mute.

Thank fuck!

I stormed from the room and climbed the spiral staircase to the mezzanine. The window was open out onto the roof. I purposely avoided that side of the bedroom and went directly into the ensuite.

We had exactly one hour to get cleaned up, get prepared, and face Lee Fucking Tan. And I had a horrible feeling I'd be doing it without Lena's backing.

I scrubbed a little harder than was strictly necessary, the towel as rough as the sponge had been. By the time I was dressed and stormed out of the bathroom with thunder clouds swirling around my pounding head, the window to the roof had been closed. A quick search told me Lena had left the apartment, and for all I knew, she wouldn't be back again until I apologised.

My teeth ached from where I was grinding them, the palms of my hands were scratched from the indents of my nails. Going up against President Tan in this fucking mood was ill advised. I worked on lowering my blood pressure, starting with some powerful pain killers for the headache from hell, and then stalked off towards the tech-room.

The complete gang were there. Including Xiu Ying and Zhang Jun; sitting in a corner beside Lena. The headache lessened as soon as I saw her. I let a ragged breath out and ran a hand through my hair, then faced Si. He'd not missed a thing. His eyes darted between me and Lena, and back again, and then he turned to his vid-screen.

"The invitation was for you and Lena," he said, bringing up schematics of Parliament House. "But it didn't specifically exclude anyone else."

"We'll keep you here," I said. "We might need someone to coordinate an escape." The joke fell flat. Tension too thick to even get off the ground. Either everyone knew about Lena's and my spat, or they were just naturally uptight about being summoned.

"What about the rest of us?” Paul asked.

I glanced around the room, the full impact of how woefully understaffed we still were hitting me upside the head. I rubbed at my temple distractedly.

"I think it's best if we minimise those who attend," Lena offered, somehow coming to my rescue even when she wasn't trying. "Tan wants answers, but there's no reason to assume he suspects us of being involved. We weren't the Masked. And on every newsfeed running, that's all they're talking about. We make this a casual... well,” she corrected when she received a few arched brows, "semi-casual response to his invitation, and things can't get escalated."

"This
is
Tan we're talking about," Alan offered.

Lena smiled. It almost looked natural, if you didn't know that face intimately. "What do you think, Trent?"

I had to work not to grimace. Lena was a consummate politician in every possible regard. Trained not only by her Overseer father, but by the cut-throat environment that she'd been raised within. Ohrikee had been a political nightmare for a young orphaned teenage girl.

She knew how to behave publicly. She knew the team needed to see us united.

She also knew how to manipulate a situation to get her own way.

Lena wanted me to curtail the impact on Tan - her self-proclaimed adopted brother - by limiting the amount of backup I brought.

There were ways I could play this. So many different ways. Lena is the love of my life.

But Wánměi is our soul.

I met her level gaze and said, "Alan and Paul are coming with us, Xiu Ying and Zhang Jun will stay behind."

The zebra-lookalikes looked angry. Si looked content. Paul looked excited. And Alan looked relieved.

And Lena? Lena looked Elite.

Now I'd
really
fucking gone and done it.

P
arliament House stood sentinel
over Wánměi River.
I
ts orange tiled roof and white washed walls set a colonial tone in amongst the lush greens of the native plants surrounding it. Until recently, it had been the seat of the Overseers. Cardinal controlled drones had operated out of the rear half of the enormous structure. Politicians out of the grandiose front section facing the ornate Grafton Bridge.

Each vied for supremacy over the other, but Parliament House had that one firmly in the bag. It crouched low on the river bank, demanding attention. Its bulk impossible to ignore.

Wánměi is not overly large, but our small city-state is heavily populated. I'd always thought we'd had too many Overseers - one was one too many for me - but running a populous nation, as Lee Tan liked to inform us, took a lot of people.

Lena was the one to walk in first. Head high like an Elite. I kept pace and dared any one of the Cardinals on duty to accost us; I was spoiling for a fight. I didn't doubt that Tan would deny me access to his inner chamber if I stepped one foot out of line. But the argument with Lena, and the oppressive nature of Parliament House, had my body tingling, my heart rate racing, and sweat beading my brow.

The cool air-con breeze that met us didn't assuage the heat. Perhaps I was coming down with something.

We handed over our vid-screens and personal items - including our earpieces - and then walked through the x-ray machine feeling naked, all the while memories of the drone factory stormed through my mind. I occupied my thoughts with more pleasant imagery, but the look Lena threw my way put an abrupt stop to that enticing pastime.

"You're clear," a Cardinal advised. "Please wait for an escort."

I wanted to growl that we knew the damn way, but Lena replied with all the calmness of a bored Elite, "Of course." Then promptly sat down in a cluster of over stuffed, supremely luxurious looking chairs.

I hesitated, but knew the power appropriate appearances held, so followed suit, making Alan and Paul feel obliged to do the same. I flicked my gaze over my companions; Lena dressed in a figure hugging, delicately embroidered, linen shift, which she somehow managed to keep crease free; Alan in black combat boots, black combat pants, black combat vest; Paul toned down a bit, matching me in casual warfare chic.

Had we expected a battle?

I let a slow breath of air out and scanned the over-height waiting area we'd been ushered to. White columns held fifty foot high domed ceilings aloft, large palms waved at us from super-sized brass pots, polished marble tiles glinted with sunlight as it poured through the floor to ceiling stained-glass windows along one wall. Artwork, sculptures, mesmerizing water features. This was where the National Museum's more generic prizes had been stored when Wánměi turned its back on its past.

A Cardinal appeared before I could make a comment to the others; probably for the best, we'd undoubtedly been under watch. Tan might consider Lena his sibling, but he had no such fantasies about the rest of us.

I stood and held a hand out to Lena;
showtime
. She accepted it gracefully, her smile one I almost believed myself. The clip of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall we walked down, bouncing off priceless artefacts and ubiquitous potted plants. The slow, rhythmic sway of the wing-shaped rattan fans dangling from the ceiling sent trickles of air-con cooled air across our backs. They were all for show, an homage to our history. A strange reminder of where we'd come from for a nation who'd chosen to forget.

I wondered briefly if Lee Tan was trying to remind us, but these fans had been here since General Chew-wen. Tan had inherited a legacy half realised. And half forgotten.

Lena walked first into the President's office, long white hair cascading down her back in Elite perfect presentation. She'd taken to wearing it up lately; a rebellion of her own against the old regime. But old habits die hard, it seemed. Faced with Tan - or it could have been Parliament House itself - she'd reverted to form.

At least, the form she used to be.

We hadn't had a chance to talk, to air our grievances. To compromise. We were both off centre and walking into the lion's den. But then, for Lena, Lee Tan was not such a beast.

He crossed to her immediately, not even offering a welcome to the group as a whole. Simply wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her cheek, setting my teeth grinding again and making my hands bunch into tight fists. Taking longer than necessary to let her go, he finally looked up at the rest of us. First me, and then Alan. A cursory glance at Paul completed the sweep.

People underestimated Paul. Just the way I liked it.

"Tan," I greeted, never one to be the last to step up to the plate.

"
President
Tan," a Cardinal clipped from the edge of the room where he stood statue still; almost a part of the furniture, save for that blood red cape.

I inclined my head in acceptance and tried again. "Interim
President
Tan."

Tan's eyes narrowed fractionally, but the soft caramel skin was soon smooth again across his forehead. Giving nothing of his anger away. The game had begun, then.

"Masters." He nodded to my men, then hooded eyes darted down to Lena. "Lena." It was said gently, familiarly. Lovingly.

I took a step forward.

The Cardinal powered up a laser gun.

Holy fucking shit! I raised my hands in a peace-motherfucker move, let out a bark of unimpressed laughter, and stopped dead in my tracks.

"Some greeting, Tan."

"Stand down," he instructed the Cardinal. "These are my friends."

"I have my instructions, President Tan," the Cardinal advised, not lowering the weapon or powering it down. The whine sent a chill skating along my spine; like a primeval memory, burned into my brain before life began.

"You were expecting trouble?" I asked, unsure whether to be honoured or pissed off. Or just resigned to the fact that we'd been right. Tan was going to blame us for what had happened at the Pherres.

Tan shook his head, stepped away from Lena - thank fuck - and ran a hand though his dark cropped hair. It was the most I'd ever seen the guy stressed.

"Things are... delicate right now." He turned and walked to two couches, facing off against each other, with armchairs at right angles at either end. Cream leather. A luxury not often seen by the average Wánměi Citizen. Lena sat down on one side without so much as a blink, I made sure to sit next to her, and Tan took the sofa across from us. Paul grabbed an armchair and Alan stood at our backs. The message couldn't have been any louder.

Tan noticed. He noticed everything. But chose to be the bigger man and remain quiet.

"What do you know about what happened at the Pherres?" he asked, hitting the ground running and not giving a damn.

"Explosion," I offered. "Children rescued by masked men. A fucking disaster."

Tan nodded and then turned his gaze to Lena. "Your view?"

"I agree with Trent," she surprised me by saying. Not because I thought she
didn't
agree with me as such. But that she had bothered to say so at all. Lena wasn't one for stating the obvious. So her reasoning for voicing
those
words was to set the tone.

I flicked her an appreciative glance from the corner of my eye, and she promptly reached over and gripped my hand. Fingers laced. Palm against palm.

My heart damn near burst out of my chest.

I returned my attention to Tan, who watched on with interest but no other indication that the motion - or words - had meant anything to him.

"And the fighter jets?" he asked instead.

The Pherres I could almost understand. But how he thought we'd know anything about the fighter jets was beyond me.

"Loud," I offered. Being obnoxious to Lee Tan was just too damn tempting.

"Frightening," Lena added, softening my words. Taking the sting right out of them, in fact. "What can
you
tell us about them?" she hit back.

"I know as much as you," Tan started.

"I doubt that," Alan offered from over our shoulder.

Tan ignored him.

"Clearly reconnaissance of some sort," he continued. "Footage we managed to gain of them suggests surveillance equipment attached to their underbelly."

"You activated the street-cams," I accused.

"I had no choice."

"And yet the jets were here for less than three minutes. The command must have been an easy one to carry out."

Tan held my steady gaze with an unrepentant one.

"We're under attack," he said simply. "Whether that's a full-on invasion, terrorism from within the nation, or simply the benign interest of curious neighbours, is yet to be ascertained."

"And you think we know something about it," I concluded. "I'm flattered, Tan. But you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Are you telling me you've hung up your rebel hat?"

"I'm telling you we had nothing to do with the Pherres incident and we sure as hell don't fly fighter jets."

"Forgive me, Trent," Tan said in arched tones dripping his sarcastic intent, "but if anyone was to don masks to hide their identity, while playing at being heroes for the night, it would be you."

Well, he wasn't beating about the bush, that's for sure.

"Sorry," I replied, just as scathingly, "
not
me."

Tan stared at me for a long time and then shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll see," he commented mildly, but alarm bells started clanging inside my head.

"And how do you plan to do that?" I asked. Lena's hand started to softly squeeze my own in a show of support and understanding. Obviously she'd come to the same conclusion as me.

Always so quick to perceive new threats. Always so fast at seeing potential disastrous outcomes.

The woman was a rebel whether she believed it or not. She was one of us in every possible way.

"You think your security systems can keep the Cardinals out?" the
President
offered.

"What have you done, Tan?" Lena demanded.

"You're not making this easy, Lena," he stressed in return. "The rebellion is over. Finished. Yet you insist on remaining a part of
his
team. What would your father say?"

Oh, low blow.

Lena's hand jerked in mine; I held it securely, offering what comfort I could.

Then she laughed. That deep, throaty purr of a chuckle. She threw her head back, white hair flying over a supple shoulder, and lifted amused eyes to Tan.

"You think my father would agree with you?" she asked, and I stiffened.
For God's sake, Lena, don't mention the fucking Shiloh unit.

Tan sighed. It was genuine, I think. He leaned forward and all pretence of the upright authoritative leader disappeared. And the Lee Tan we'd got to know in the rebel bunker stared across the small space at us.

"OK," he said, as if deciding something. Clearly he wasn't winning this round, he was changing things up a bit. I bristled, not wanting to let my guard down. I noticed Lena straighten her back, eyes narrowing, doing the same thing.

"We've had to turn the street-cams back on again. Sat-loc is going live at midnight, as well." He looked devastated. Torn apart. No one wanted to take control of a free nation and then push it back into the dark.

I almost felt sorry for him, but then he said, "You understand how precarious things are right now, don't you, Elite?" The way Tan said it,
Elite
, it might as well have been a pet name for her. And Lena's softening on hearing it said as much.

"It can't be easy," she commented. "Especially with these Masked people causing such chaos."

"In what way?" he pressed; all innocence; all friendly enquiry. Nothing else.

Lena answered before I could stop her. Before I could put an end to this farce.

"Well, it was clear the Civil Defence Force station doors were tampered with," she said. Alan growled. I just held my breath.

"And you think they did it?" Tan asked, ignoring the obvious. But Lena wasn't born yesterday. Maybe the day before, having fallen for a rookie trick like that. But certainly not yesterday.

She lifted her chin and stared down her very Elite-like nose at him.

"And what do you think, Tan?" she asked.

He smiled self-deprecatingly, just as an aide entered the room. He held his hand out without breaking eye contact with Lena, and a slip of paper was placed into it. The aide disappearing as silently and smoothly as he'd arrived.

Tan flicked his gaze down to the paper and then crumpled it. His head snapping up and dark eyes landing on mine.

I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled. It was part cocky, part amused, and a whole lot fuck-you!

"No masks at our place?" I asked raising an eyebrow. "Nothing to implicate us in this little witch hunt of yours? That must be disappointing for you,
President
. Perhaps, next time, you'll actually listen to us.
To Lena
. Perhaps you'll stop being a fucking jerk."

Again with the laser gun. I glared over at the Cardinal, daring him to fire it up.

"Fucking hell," I muttered. "You've got yourself a trigger happy one."

Tan blinked, then sat back in his seat and let out a breath.

"You're really not involved," he murmured.

What a fucking idiot!

Lena stood up, dusting herself down, although she didn't need it. She was Elite perfect. No... she was freedom fighter perfect.

"You've got a serious problem, Tan," she said softly. The words carrying so much more weight for the way they gently landed. "You're blinded by prejudice, just like the Overseers. You've forgotten what we were fighting for."

He stood as well. We all did. It was natural, trained into us at an early age. Even Citizens rise when a lady does.

"It's not always as straight forward as you think," he started.

Lena held up a hand. "If you wake up and find the world has moved on without you, and you need someone to tell you how it is, you know where to find me." She took a step towards the door. "Penthouse floor," she added. "My home," she pressed. "With what remains of the rebel army. The same people who gave up so much, who sacrificed it all, for you."