Recoil (21 page)

“Have you been sending your brother information?” A memory of
graduation day came to mind. “Sending messages via your little sister?”

He nodded.

“But, Quinn, that’s not right.”

“Why not? He’s not a traitor!” Thunder boomed out in the night,
as if to underscore his anger. “He’s fighting greed and corruption and
power-mongering. He wants this country to be free again, to be what it was,
what it should be.
Jinxy
, you can love your country
without loving your government.”

“And if he gets caught?”

“If he gets caught, he’ll be tried for treason. The only reason
they wouldn’t kill him on the spot is because they’d want to interrogate him. Thoroughly.
Which,” Quinn said, pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket, “brings me to
what I wanted to show you.”

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the screen, where a video was
loading.

“Proof of what they’re doing, and of what you’re helping them do.
Proof that I’m not delusional or paranoid.”

He placed the phone on its side on my bedside table, took me by
the hand and pulled me to sit on the bed next to him. My eyes were glued on the
screen, which showed the image of a man, gagged and blindfolded, tied to a
metal chair in the middle of a small room. A man wearing a sleeveless black
vest. A man with a tattoo of unfamiliar writing around his bare upper arm.

“This came in this morning. It’s the recorded footage of the
interrogation of a suspected terrorist who was captured in the inner city
yesterday,” Quinn said, shooting a quick glance at me then touching the PLAY
arrow on the screen.

“How did you get this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“This is the kind of stuff that
intel
goes through to analyze any information that is … extracted.”

There were two men questioning the suspect. Asking the same
questions over and over and over.

“I managed to download it. I erased all trace that I’d ever been
in the system, I hope.”

Hitting him over and over again.

“We have access to many different databases. And if you know
computers, there’s always a way to hack the system. Back doors that bypass the
firewalls.”

Doing things to him. To different parts of his body.

“This is what happens, in — what did you call it? — ‘interviewing
and debriefing’,” Quinn said, above the sound of thuds and screams and begging.
“Officially, these are called
enhanced interrogation techniques
.”

It went on and on.

“Stop!” Now it was me begging. “Please, I can’t watch anymore.”

Quinn tapped the screen, and the image paused.

I had brought that man in. Me. He was a man who spread the
plague, maybe. But he was also a man with a wife and a kid. And a canary. Was
the torture justified if he was planning more death and destruction? How could
an individual be both a terrorist killer and deserve to be treated with
respect?

“But they’ve done such terrible things.” My eyes were filling and
my throat closing.

“Can’t you see,
Jinxy
? It’s not about
them, it’s about us.  It’s not just what we’re prepared to allow happen to
them, it’s about what we’re prepared to do, who we’re prepared to become.”

Then he pulled into his arms and held me tight while I wept. The
sounds and images of the video still turned my stomach. They’d be joining my
collection of flashbacks for sure.

“I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore!”

“Hush there, my sweet,” Quinn said, cradling me against his
shoulder.

He kissed my tears, and stroked my hair back from my face, held
me until I was calmer. I was so tired, and so tempted just to let go and put
the past behind us. I wanted to surrender to his comforting words. I wanted to
forget everything I’d seen, everything I knew or feared, and just dissolve into
him.

But there were things I needed to say, and it was his turn to
listen.

“Don’t you ‘hush’ me,” I said, pulling away from him. “I’ll cry
if I want to. I have a right to be upset, given what I’ve just found out.”

“Of course.”

“What I’ve
just found out
, Quinn. What I never knew before. But
what you just assumed I knew. How could you think that I’d be okay with helping
bring in targets if I knew it would end in
that
?” I pointed to the paused
video.

“That’s why I was confused when I discovered you were in the
sniper unit. I thought you knew what was really going on.”

“You thought wrong. And you didn’t make enough of an effort to
check. You just dumped me.”

“You dumped me, too,” he protested.

I held up a hand to stop him. “I’m talking now.”

“Okay,” he said meekly.

“You dumped me. You jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst
about me.”

“
Jinxy
, I’m so sorry.” He sounded it,
too.

“You were a jerk, Quinn
O’Riley
!”

“I was, yes.”

“And a real dick.”

“That too, yes.”

“You were a jerk and dick. You ignored me and gave me filthy
looks and said mean things. You
took the last chocolate muffin
!”

His mouth twitched at that, but when he spoke, he sounded totally
serious. “
Jinxy
, I was a jerk and a dick and a greedy
pig. I’m so, so sorry. I felt like I had to choose between you and what I
believe is right. I’m not making excuses,” he said quickly when I made to
interrupt, “I’m just saying that I was a
confused
dick.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, not yet ready to forgive him.

“And the more I missed you, the more confused I got and the more
of a jerk I became. For which I am truly sorry. Will you give me another
chance?”

“Hmmm. You’ll have some making up to do, buddy.”

He nodded.

“And from now on, we need to agree on complete honesty between
us. So if there’s anything else you haven’t told me …”

“There’s more,” he said, flicking his eyes to the phone, where
the screen was still lit up with the frozen interrogation image.

“I meant anything about us. I don’t want to see more of that.
I’ve seen enough.”

“I think you need to know the rest of it — some we only suspect,
but some we know for sure. And I’m not sure you’ll believe me unless I show
you. I’ve been given some time off and a pass out tomorrow, and I’m going to
meet up with Connor.” The worry I felt must have been clear on my face, because
he added, “Oh, not at home — Connor hasn’t lived there for a while in case
they’re watching. We’ll meet at our old neighborhood library. Anyway, point is,
I’m hoping he’ll have some evidence that will convince you.”

The meeting sounded dangerous to me; I didn’t want him to go.
“You don’t need to do that, Quinn. I don’t need more proof, truly. I believe
you.” As I said the words, I realized they were true.

“And I believe in you,
Jinxy
. Hell, I’m
trusting you with my life. What I’ve done tonight, it’s enough to get me sent
to
GitBay
. Maybe to the electric chair.”

The bang on the door startled a squawk out of me.

“Jinx? It’s
Leya
, can I come in?”

Crap! I looked an urgent question at Quinn, but
Leya
didn’t wait for a reply. As the copper handle of the
door turned, Quinn quickly pulled me down onto the bed beside him, rolled on
top of me and began kissing me as passionately as he ever had, smothering any
objections I might have had with his mouth. Despite how dreadful I felt,
despite how mad I still was at him, my body was galvanized by instant lust. I
wanted to lose myself in this, in him.

“
Well
! Sorry to interrupt. I obviously missed the
relationship status update.”
Leya
stood, hands on
hips, staring down at us with undisguised amusement.

I was too breathless to speak, but Quinn was quicker-witted or
perhaps just less affected by that kiss. Rolling himself a little off me, he
gave
Leya
an apologetic grin.

“We wanted to talk things out, so we wouldn’t be left with hard
feelings, but then we sort of got carried away, and …”

“And now you’re left with feeling hard?”

“
Leya
!” I said.

“Well, I’ll let you lovebirds get back to what you were doing.”
Her eyes flicked to the bedside table. “I don’t see any foil packets out —
remember to play it safe, kids!” she said, and with a last laugh at us she
left, pulling the door closed behind her with a bang and an “As you were,
soldier!”

For one long, breathless moment, Quinn and I looked deeply into
each other’s eyes. He was still half on top of me, braced on his elbows, the
length of his hard body pressed against mine. Long black lashes fringed the
smoky gray of his eyes.

“That was quick thinking,” I whispered.

“I can be quick.” He looked down at me in a way that sucked the
breath out of me.

“But I prefer to go slow,” he said, running a hand over my ribs
and down my waist, nuzzling against the soft skin of my neck. “I like to take
my time, exploring every inch.” He dipped his head and placed a soft kiss under
the lobe of my ear. I may have whimpered. “Tasting every bit, taking all of it
in.” His hand ran back up my side, pressed against the curve of my breast, took
my lower lip between his and gently sucked. He could brush the horror away with
his caresses, drive it out of my mind with his touch, suck it out of my soul
with his kisses, but still I pushed him back.

“You’re right. This isn’t the time or the place. Not when you
still taste of tears,” he said kissing each of my temples. “Not when you’re
still full of horror.”

“And not when you’ve still got a bunch of making up to do before
I get over your being such an ass,” I said, glad to have found my pride.

He grinned. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Under the secret
staircase, after supper?”

“Sure. Now go, I’ve got things to do.”

He scooped up his phone and headed for the door.

“Wait!” I said as he reached for the handle. “Throw this in the trash
for me, will you?” I reached behind my neck, unhooked the clasp and tossed the
hog’s tooth necklace at him.

His smile was wide and free and full. He dropped the hog’s tooth
into the trashcan beside the door, then walked slowly back to the bed to give
me a last kiss. It was deep and tender, and it left me light-headed and limp.

“Have I told you,
Jinxy
, that I love
you?”

My mouth was still hanging open when the door closed softly
behind him.

Chapter 24

The Last Tango

“Out with it, princess.”

“I want to withdraw from the sniper program,
Sarge
.”
I forced myself to look him in the eye as I said it.

I was light-headed from lack of sleep. Between terrible
flashbacks of the interrogation footage and debates with myself about the
rights and wrongs of hurting some people to stop them hurting others, I’d spent
the night alternating between floating on cloud nine with Quinn’s last words
echoing inside of me, and worrying about what the heck I was going to say at
this meeting.

My heart kept telling me that as long as Quinn loved me — Loved!
Me
.
— everything else would all work out somehow. But my head kept interrupting the
blissful fantasies of happy-ever-after with inconvenient questions about what I
would do once I quit. Because I had to quit — that, at least, was clear to me.
I’d never been happy about shooting anything but tin and paper targets. Rats,
cats and coyotes had been bad enough, but taking down people had been making me
sick, peppering my days and nights with horrible images. And now that I knew
what would happen to some of my take-downs, what my work was actually about, I
simply couldn’t go on with it.

“You want out?”
Sarge’s
eyebrows were
raised, and his grin was nowhere to be seen. “You want to quit?”

I nodded unhappily, remembering my promise to myself:
failure is
not an option. I will not quit.
Was choosing not to do this work the
same as failing, as quitting?

Quinn was certain about the morality of resisting the government,
that torturing suspects was always wrong. I was less sure. It was really complicated.
What if the information that was “extracted” wound up saving lives? Then again,
if we lost our humanity while trying to save lives, what would we be left with,
who would we be? It made my head spin. I was only sure that I wanted no direct
part of it. I had a nasty suspicion that made me a hypocrite.

“Why?”

“Um …” I had known this part would be hard if I wasn’t going to
break my promise to Quinn. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.” Both
Sarge’s
lips and eyes were
narrowed with irritation. And suspicion?

“Well, it’s been hard for me to shoot animals. And it’s been
worse darting people.” That much was totally true. “I know what you and Ms.
Roth said about it being necessary, but I don’t think I’m the right person to
do it. I don’t have the stomach for it, and I get flashbacks and nightmares.
And I just … can’t,” I finished lamely.

“Even after you saw what they did to your father?”

“You need soldiers for this job,
Sarge
.
I’m not a soldier. I’m just a girl who played a computer game really well.”

Sarge
stroked the stubble on his chin
with his fingers, studying me until I squirmed uncomfortably.

“Has someone been talking to you, Blue?”

“No!” Damn. That came out too defensively. “No,” I repeated,
trying to make my voice sound reasonable. “But that last assignment — the
canary and the family photo, they kind of blew my mind. I can’t do it,
Sarge
. I haven’t got the stomach for it. I think I should
go home.”

“Back to Momma?” he mocked.

“Back to Momma.” I hoped he would mistake the dread in my voice
for the shame of failure.

“I am disappointed,
Blue
. No getting
away from that. Very disappointed. We figured you for something special, not a
spineless cake-eating maggot of a quitter. We figured you for someone who
wanted to use her skills to take out the people who made her daddy suffer and
die a terrible death. But as I said before, no one’s forcing you. Tell you what
I’m going to do. I’m not going to accept your request to be discharged just
yet. I’m going to give you a week to mull it over, to reconsider and maybe overcome
your innate pigheadedness.”

“Sir, I don’t think —”

“If by this time next week you still want out, I will send you
back safe and sound to your little bedroom, to contemplate the four walls.”

“Yes, sir,” I sighed.

“And you can go back to playing computer games.”

“Yes, sir.”

“While the rest of your unit — shooters not as skilled or as
cool-headed as you — go back to fighting the war and saving lives.”

I looked down at my feet. The smudge of spider was gone. Was I
dismissed?

“In the meantime, we have an important mission this afternoon,
based on fresh
intel
, and as you are still a part of
this unit, you will be on it.”

“Can’t somebody else do it?”

“’
Fraid
not, Goldilocks. We need our
little girl for this one.” There was an evil smile on
Sarge’s
face now and, unlike his usual mad grin which came and went like a flash of
lightning, this one lingered on his lips.

“Get issued with your weapon at the armory. You’ll take point,
with Fiona in charge and Bruce providing live backup on site. Dismissed,
soldier
.”
His voice was acid with contempt.

I told no one of my plans to leave — they wouldn’t understand,
and I couldn’t explain. I spent the morning exercising halfheartedly in the gym
and then hung about the cafeteria in the hopes of seeing Quinn. I was out of
luck. He was nowhere to be seen. After lunch, I trudged back to my quarters and
put on the ridiculous pink dress, tied my hair up in the ponytail and pulled on
a pair of the polka-dot gloves. The gloves that were unnecessary, if Quinn was
right. I left off the mask.

I didn’t want to go on this mission. I also didn’t want to go
home. I was no longer sure where I belonged. I’d been proud of my skill, but if
the one thing that I was good at was bad, what did that make me? What exactly
was I supposed to do with my life now?

Quinn had said he loved me, and I yearned for the chance to get
back together with him. He planned on staying at the Academy, to feed his
brother inside information. If I resigned and went home, how would I ever get
to see him again? Maybe I could apply for a different job at ASTA — a cook or
cleaner or cafeteria check-out person. I imagined scanning
Leya
and Cameron’s food, or cleaning Bruce’s room, and groaned. Besides, every job
in this place in some way supported the unacceptable missions and methods,
didn’t it? Unless you were working against the system from the inside, like
Quinn.

At the armory, Juan issued me with a short-range dart gun and
three darts. So it would be the take-down of another
terr
— another man due to be interrogated like the one I’d seen in Quinn’s video.
Repulsion and horror made my fingers stiff on my weapon. Bruce was handed one
of our usual sniper’s rifles and a sidearm, plus ammo. Live ammo.

“Expecting rats?” I asked, eyeing his weapons as I dropped the
dart-gun into my denim bag.

“
Sarge
says that according to our
intel
, the
terrs
are armed and
dangerous, and may put up a fight. This could get ugly.” He looked thrilled at
the prospect. “And I’m there to keep you safe.”

“I can keep myself safe,” I snapped.

“I’m there for you, Blue, I’ve got your six. And we’ll be in
constant communication.”

He handed me a small earpiece and fitted his own communication
earphones and mike. In the transport — a white van this time, branded “Peak
Plumbing: Only a flush away!” — Fiona was on her phone, receiving last-minute
information and instructions about the operation.

“Right,” she said once she hung up and we were on our way. “There
will be two men. Your tango is the shorter of the two and is wearing a green
shirt, according to our spotters. We’ll insert you at the near end of the
block, then drive past to the far end. Bruce will be talking you through, and
you can call on him if things go wrong and you need backup. Insert your
earpiece now so you can test it.”

I inserted the earpiece and tested the equipment. Outside the
van, the road was slick with puddles from the morning’s storm, and the sky was
low with heavy clouds that promised more rain. We passed a massive government
billboard which had been defaced so that it read “Department of Homeland
In
Security
: See-Say
Rats and snitches!
”
A red-and-white stop sign now stated, “STOP
President Hawke
”. Had there
always been this much anti-government feeling, or was I only noticing it now,
because of what I’d learned last night?

The van dropped me off at a rusting old bus stop in a low-end
residential area. A block of small houses stretched ahead of me through a
silver haze left by the rain. I walked up the sidewalk toward the two men
ambling side by side in the distance. As the white van passed them, the shorter
of the two men looked up and turned his head to watch it drive by. He was
obviously on his guard. Would he be checking me out carefully, too? I could
take him from the front or let them both pass by and then shoot him in the
back. The van paused in the distance before driving around a corner and out of
sight. The man glanced back again and seemed reassured. From where he was, he
wouldn’t be able to see Bruce, who would already be in position behind the
cover of a car, or wall, or some thick shrubbery. But Bruce would see both men
clearly through the magnification of his optics.

“I’m in position, Blue, with clear sightlines. Copy me?” said
Bruce’s voice in my ear. The volume level that I’d set in the noisy van was too
loud for this quiet street, it hurt my ears, but there was no way I could
fiddle with it now. That would be a dead giveaway that I was wearing an
earpiece.

“Copy,” I muttered.

“Your tango is the man on the left — your left — in green.”

“Copy that.”

The distance between me and the two men was narrowing. A shot to
the neck or the exposed section of chest would be best. Then he’d be taken up
by another team.
Interviewed and debriefed.
My steps slowed
involuntarily. I just wanted to get this over with.

“You are good to go, Blue. We are hot.”

I needed another few meters. The dart gun was most accurate at
short range. At distances of more than about ten meters, the effect of drop on
the dart made it too unpredictable for my liking. I walked closer, dipping my
right hand into my denim bag.

A heavy dread was building inside me, drying my mouth and closing
my throat. Something was wrong. I shifted my glance from the green-shirted
tango to his companion. And my eyes took in what my subconscious had already
registered at some level.

The man on the right, the taller man, was Quinn. And the tango at
his side — I had a sudden flash of a man on a porch, holding the leads of two
dogs — was his brother.