Psion Delta (7 page)

Tonight’s
conversation began with Jeffie recounting her story of how she’d bumped into
Sammy in the cafeteria, how they’d fought, and then of Commander Wrobel
surprising and shooting her in the chest. She tried to describe for Natalia all
the details of what it was like to black out from a tranquilizer dart to the
chest.

“It’s
scary, isn’t it?” Jeffie asked her friends. “Doesn’t it make you wonder how
safe we really are? Brickert and I kinda talked about this, too. I just don’t
know now.”

“It
was Wrobel,” Kawai said. “And they got him. I don’t think we need to worry.”

“Plus,
I heard from Li that Commander Byron wants the whole security system at
headquarters revamped,” Natalia revealed. “Or maybe Li said replaced? Either
way, he said Byron was pissed about the break-in.”

“I
can’t imagine Byron getting
pissed
about anything,” Kawai answered.

“Really?”
Jeffie asked. “Remember his face when he broke up that fight between Kobe and
Sammy?”

“Speaking
of which . . . ” Natalia chimed. Then, using her irresistible knack for getting
information, she convinced Jeffie to open up about her dilemma, even though all
three girls had guessed what was happening. Jeffie enjoyed talking without the
girls interrupting her, like her mom had done. Nor did she feel like she was
speaking to a brick wall, as with her father. After pouring her heart out to
her friends, she ate a peach as she listened to their advice.

“If
you’re having doubts about Kobe,” Natalia offered first, “you should break up
with him.”

Strawberry
agreed. “If you find yourself wanting to be with Sammy, or even curious about
it, you’re not committed to Kobe. Look at it this way, what if Kobe were
interested in another girl? Would you want to be in a relationship with him?”

Kawai,
however, had a different perspective. “I think you should stick with Kobe until
you have a reason to end it. You told me once that Sammy never made a move on
you. Maybe it’s time you let him do that. Maybe Sammy isn’t even interested in
you. Or maybe he isn’t ready. I mean, I heard he went through lots of terrible
stuff. He might need time to normal out.”

“Normal
out?” Jeffie asked.

“Yeah,
you know . . . feel at home here again. Heal. Normal out.”

“It
doesn’t bother me that he’s never initiated that stuff,” Jeffie explained. “It
used to, but not anymore. I’ve spent a little time with him since he’s gotten
back, I think he’s okay.”

“He
was tortured, Jeffie,” Kawai said. “He was held captive and tortured for
weeks.”

“Like
months ago, Kawai,” Natalia offered. “It’s not even a big deal now.”

Kawai’s
palm smacked her forehead. “Are you kidding me, Nat? Of course it’s a big deal!
Some people never recover from those kinds of things. How can you even think
that?”

Jeffie
shook her head at both of them and looked to Strawberry.

“Stop
thinking about Sammy and Kobe,” her roommate said. “Do what’s best for you.”

“Yeah,
maybe you shouldn’t date anyone right now,” Kawai suggested. “Take a break and
figure out what you want.”

Jeffie
tossed the pit of her peach into the garbage with perfect aim.
Neither.
“Good
idea. Pass the pizza.”
Neither.
“I’ll—I’ll tell Kobe tomorrow night that
we need to break it off.”

The
following evening, Jeffie went on her date as planned. Kobe had pulled out all
the stops, even going so far as to dress in a dapper suit and tie to match her
formal dress. Flowers waited for her in his hands. They ate at their spot in
the small grove of pine trees outside the building. The balmy weather and
setting sun served as icing on the cake. Jeffie did not fail to notice how much
work Kobe had done to impress her.

“We
look so ridiculous like this!” she said, laughing goofily.

“I
know. Isn’t it great?”

They
made small talk for the first few minutes, but she could tell he was working up
the courage to tackle the elephant in the room.

They
had barely finished their salads when he began. “So. . . . ”

“So,”
she repeated. Her heartbeat picked up its pace, and she suddenly found it
difficult to look him in the eye.
Come on, Jeffie, get it over with and
you’ll be happier.

“I
heard about your party last night and the topics discussed.”

Jeffie
swallowed her mouthful of water too quickly and coughed several times to clear
her throat. “Who told you?”

Kobe
gave her a sly grin. “The grapevine. I never heard the outcome, but I got the
gist of it.” His hand rested on Jeffie’s and she finally looked at him.

“Hey,
it’s okay. I know what you’re going through—I mean, I can’t really empathize.
I’ve never had a crush on Sammy, you know.” He paused as if to let her chuckle,
but she didn’t. “Anyway, I’m sure it’s been tough. I respect that. Part of me
feels awful that I tried to tell you so many times that he’d died in Rio. I
thought that was true, and I thought it was the right thing to say. You have to
believe that.”

“I
do.”

“The
reason I had to stay so long in the hospital after we got back was because I
couldn’t get past it. So I thought I was helping you get past it.”

“You
don’t need to apologize. I’m not mad at you.”

Kobe
ran his fingers through his hair, which lately he’d let grow longer than
normal. “I’ve been worried the last few days. When we dated last year, I was a
tool.”

“Kobe,
you don’t need—”

“I
didn’t take you seriously. I didn’t take anything seriously. I wanted to have
fun and you were fun. Then in Rio, when I got shot and thought I was going to
die, I—I remember sitting in a corner watching Sammy and thinking about myself
and I had all these regrets. And one of them was you.”

Jeffie’s
eyes narrowed on him, and her expression turned to one of curiosity. “What
about me?”

Kobe
closed his eyes, giving Jeffie the impression that he was embarrassed by what he
was thinking. “I’ve always thought you are the most beautiful girl I have ever
seen. Which is why, I think, I had so much regret in that moment. I realized
I’d wasted something—an opportunity to be with you—that was something special.
You’re not just a beautiful girl, Jeff. You’re fun, smart, talented. You like
to game and you like sports, but you’re not all about that stuff. You’re so
much deeper than you like to let on. I love the time I spend with you and I
find myself wanting more of it with you.”

“I
know,” Jeffie said, her eyes bright and her mouth decorated with a smirk. “It’s
amazing how awesome I am.” Her attempt at a joke didn’t hide what she felt
inside. Kobe’s words moved her. They made her doubt her decision. The concern
and care coming from him was something she hadn’t felt on the phone with her
mother or father. The feeling warmed her and elevated her spirits.

“You
have to know how much you mean to me.” He leaned across the blanket and kissed
her. Jeffie kissed him back and poured herself into it. He had told her things
no one had ever told her, not even Sammy. He wrapped his fingers in her hair
and pulled her close. She didn’t mind at all and enjoyed the safety of having
someone who cared about her so deeply. When he finally broke away, she saw that
the lipstick Strawberry had helped her carefully apply had smeared itself
around Kobe’s face. She laughed as soon as she saw it.

“So
does this mean things are good between us? Or do I still have to worry?”

Jeffie’s
laugh died quickly. The time for decision had come.
Sammy, Kobe, or neither?

* * * * *

Dr.
Sokama, now a suspected agent of CAG, had not been found despite an intense
two-day search, neither had the Thirteens nor Aegis she’d allegedly helped
escape from the prison. At a quarter to midnight, Commander Byron left the War
Offices where Psion Command had met with General Wu and Alpha Command to
discuss the events of the escape and formulate a plan. He had intended to go
straight back to Beta headquarters, but had changed his mind and gone, instead,
to Victor Wrobel’s home. Only a few minutes later, he stood in the kitchen of
Victor Wrobel’s house with the image of his old friend exploding fresh in his
mind.

The
house was a simple place, like most of the units in the Alpha complex: two
bedrooms, a living area, a bathroom, a kitchen, and only a little storage
space. Alphas didn’t have time to collect things. Teams of Elite had combed the
house twice: once when Byron had ordered Wrobel’s detainment, and once more
when they returned to search for any contraband or evidence of treason. Both
times they had come up empty-handed.

Byron
had been here many times, though not recently—not in the last few months. It
was in this kitchen, however, that he’d spoken with Wrobel about his son’s
entrance into the academy. It was here they’d discussed over lunch the ethics
of forcing Anomaly Fourteens who wouldn’t join the Psions to take a pill to
suppress their abilities. It was here they’d debated over the wisdom of sending
Maad Rosmir to medical school. In all those years, Victor’s tastes hadn’t
changed much. He kept a clean house, bordering on immaculate. Thick carpet
padded the floors. Expensive. The pieces of furniture had been selected more
for their design than their comfort. Also expensive. In the kitchen, all his
appliances were elegantly shaped and gold-plated. On his walls hung many frames
with photographs of scenery of Western Europe, their frames large and gilded.

He
left the living room and walked down the hall. The door to Victor’s study was
ajar. The carpet in this room, though the same pattern as everywhere else, was
less worn, the white much brighter. The study, however, had been torn apart.
Drawers opened, documents confiscated, and computers gone. Byron brushed his
fingers along the massive walnut desk in the corner of the room. Above the desk
hung a picture of Claire, identical to the one Wrobel had kept in his office at
Psion Command. In another corner rested a large safe, big enough for a grown
man to curl up and hide in. The door to the safe hung open, and on its front,
written in chalk by whomever had cracked it, were the numbers to unlock it.

03-01-68.
The day Emily and Claire died in the sewers.

After
snooping around further and finding nothing, Byron moved to the main bedroom.
This room, too, had been well searched, but the damage didn’t look as bad:
mattresses overturned, drawers opened, furniture pulled back from walls a half
meter. Yet the same theme prevailed here as elsewhere: a well-kept bachelor’s
home with classy, pricey tastes in decoration. Nothing in the room hinted at
what Byron had discovered only days ago—that Victor Wrobel had driven himself
insane over the last several years and turned to the CAG to help him wreak
revenge on his friends.

Everything
Byron saw in the house indicated that Wrobel had somehow walled off the
insanity from his home and personal life. There was nothing here, nothing at
the office, nothing at all to prove that he’d been working against the NWG and
the Psions. It didn’t add up. There had to be something, somewhere, some place
Victor went to escape his phony life among the Alphas. Somewhere he felt safe.

The
answer came to Byron as if someone standing next to him had whispered it.
The
safe.

He
went back into the study and looked around again. He stared at the carpet, the
walls, and the baseboards. The coat of paint in the study was fresher than the
coat in the hallway. He walked over to the safe. It was empty.

“Retrieve
the record of all items confiscated from the residence of Victor Wrobel,” he
told his com. He scanned the report. Nothing of importance had been taken from
the safe: pictures and keepsakes, no confidential documents nor anything
personal like a journal or data cubes. It might as well have been empty.

Byron
grabbed the safe and shook it; it wouldn’t budge. He tried again, this time
with more force. Same result. He went to the wall and grabbed the carpet,
ripping it up savagely. The carpet tore up to the safe and went around it, its
edges perfectly flush with the edges of the safe. Byron looked inside the safe
again, running his hand along the base. It felt solid.

No,
no, no. There must be something here.

He
put a hand inside against the base and blasted. The bottom moved ever so
slightly, accompanied by the sound of a pop. The floor of the safe was no
longer flat against its frame. It was tilted inward.

“General
Wu,” he told his com. He heard two rings, then the general’s voice. “Sir, I
think I found something at Wrobel’s residence. I need a recovery team over here
immediately.”

Byron
forced the heavy base piece of the safe up by turning it at an angle. Then he
slid it out of the frame. Doing this exposed a man-made tunnel going through
the bottom of the safe and through the foundation of the house into the earth.
He shined his com light into the hole to make sure it was free of traps, then
turned around and climbed down a surprisingly sturdy ladder made of thick
wooden beams.

“Lights,”
he ordered once he had hit ground. “Lights on.”