Revolution (Replica) (29 page)

Belinski poured himself a third cup of coffee, his face creased with thought.

“She has to be stopped, Mr. Chairman,” Nate said, sitting on the edge of his seat and leaning forward. Nadia put a hand on his arm and shook her head subtly when he glanced her way.

Let him think,
she mentally urged Nate, and to her surprise he seemed to get the message. He wasn’t usually one for patience, but even he had to see that Chairman Belinski had a lot to absorb—assuming he wasn’t ready to put them in straitjackets.

The Chairman sipped his coffee, frowning into the depths of his cup. Nate fidgeted, and Nadia kept an eye on him in case she’d have to remind him once again to be patient.

Finally, the Chairman put his cup down and faced them once more. “Your story is preposterous,” he told them calmly, and Nadia preemptively grabbed on to Nate’s arm. “But Agnes told me pretty close to the same thing. It’s possible you were lying to her about Thea and Dorothy, since she didn’t see any of that with her own eyes, but she
did
witness the escalation of hostilities in the Basement. If Dorothy is lying about that, then I have to assume she’s lying about other things, too. I’m still having trouble believing some of the things you say are true, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt because if I didn’t and I was wrong, the results would be catastrophic.”

“So what exactly does that mean?” Nate asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. “What are you going to do?”

The Chairman leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping restlessly against its arm. “That, son, is a very good question, and I don’t have the answer yet.”

Nadia was disappointed—if not surprised—when Chairman Belinski ended the conversation on that uncertain note. Despite everything she and Nate had been through, they were still kids in Belinski’s eyes, and he was hardly likely to include them in any top-secret strategy meetings. Their mission had been to escape from the Basement and tell someone who had the power to make a difference the truth about Dorothy. They had succeeded, and despite the Chairman’s doubts, he was going to act on their information—one way or another.

“You two must be exhausted from everything you’ve been through,” Chairman Belinski said, rising to his feet. “There are a couple of guest rooms upstairs. Perhaps you’d like to get a little more rest. I was planning to go back to the city, but now I think I’ll stay here tonight. I’ll see you again at dinner and let you know what my team and I have come up with.”

Nadia was pleased that Belinski meant to keep them in the loop at all, but Nate wasn’t so easily mollified.

“Please, Mr. Chairman,” he said. “We have friends and … loved ones still trapped in the Basement. Innocent people are dying in the thousands, and there’s no sign that Dorothy’s going to let up. We don’t have time to—”

“I understand, son,” Chairman Belinski interrupted. “I know it’s urgent, and if I could snap my fingers and fix it all right now, I would. But going off half-cocked is only going to get more people killed. I have some of the best advisers in all of North America, and when we put our heads together, we can do amazing things.”

“Military advisers?” Nadia asked, suddenly forming yet another unpleasant image in her mind. Synchrony was best known for its advanced military technology, and though it was far smaller and less wealthy than Paxco, its well-equipped, well-trained military was world famous. Had Nate and Nadia just tacitly given Belinski the okay to invade Paxco? The thought of a military invasion gave Nadia the shivers, although she was pretty sure being occupied by Synchrony would be the lesser evil to being ruled by Thea.

“Among others,” Belinski said. “Considering Dorothy’s use of force against her own people, it is possible a military intervention will be necessary. I’m sure you agree.”

Nate raised his chin and squared his shoulders. “I am the rightful Chairman of Paxco,” he said. “I didn’t go through everything I’ve gone through to have you invade my state.”

“A military intervention is not an invasion,” Belinski countered. “You came to me because you needed an ally, one who had the power to do something about Thea. Don’t tell me you didn’t consider Synchrony’s military one of my chief assets.”

It was pointless to argue. Especially when Belinski was right. Dorothy had to be ousted from power, and Thea had to be destroyed. The chances that those things could happen without some kind of military support were almost nil. That didn’t mean it was a comfortable situation to be in.

“Get a few more hours of rest,” Belinski said. “We’ll talk more at dinner.” He looked at Nate. “Mr. Parker will show you to your room.” He dismissed Nate and turned his gaze to Nadia. “If you would remain for a moment, Miss Lake, I’d like a private word with you first.”

“This way, sir,” Mr. Parker said to Nate, making a sweeping gesture toward the stairs in the foyer.

Nate raised a questioning eyebrow at Nadia.

“It’s okay, Nate,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be up soon.”

Nate still didn’t look happy about it—neither one of them was in much of a trusting frame of mind these days—but he allowed Mr. Parker to lead him up the stairs, leaving Nadia alone in the living room with Chairman Belinski, who looked at her with kindly, grave eyes.

“You indicated that you’ve had no access to the net or telephone the last couple of weeks,” he said, stepping closer to her and reaching out to put one hand on each of her shoulders.

Dread flooded Nadia’s system as she registered the unmistakable signs of pity on Chairman Belinski’s face and realized what his overly familiar gesture portended. She shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything. Please.”

“I’m sorry, child,” he said in a voice not much louder. “There was apparently a riot in Rikers Island over the weekend. Your father sustained only minor injuries, but your mother … I’m afraid she didn’t make it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Nadia
climbed the stairs, following Mr. Parker, in a glassy-eyed daze. When he gestured her toward a room, she walked in without question, closing the door behind her.

She wanted to cry,
needed
to cry, but somehow it all just hurt too much. She lay down on the bed, her body curling in upon itself as she clutched the pillow with both arms, willing the tears to start, desperately hoping for some release of the toxic emotions that swirled within her and made her chest ache.

Her sister was dead. Her mother was dead. Her father was injured and in prison. Dante was in the Basement where the bombs would no doubt continue to fall. In her head, she knew none of this was her fault. She’d always made the best choices she could, and she couldn’t take the blame for the things that the late Chairman Hayes and Thea had done. But knowing that in her head did nothing to lessen the smothering blanket of guilt that made it so hard to breathe. Nor did it stop her mind from continually second-guessing every decision she’d made.

If she hadn’t blackmailed Chairman Hayes into destroying the original Thea, would her mother and Gerri still be alive?

The worst, however, was the way her mind kept playing back the last time she had seen her parents, her final cruel words filling her with more shame and remorse than she could bear.

I never want to see either of you again.

She remembered how furious she had been at the time. Furious at her mother for sacrificing Nadia’s happiness for the sake of social standing. Furious at her father for not fighting harder for her. Completely devastated by what felt like her parents’ abandonment, Nadia had snarled those fateful words and had actually meant them. But only in the heat of the moment. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered the possibility that they would be the last words she ever spoke to her mother.

A choking sound rose from Nadia’s throat, but still the tears wouldn’t come, the pain and guilt and grief trapped in her body, making her want to escape from her own skin.

Would those spiteful words be the last she spoke to her father, too? For all Nadia knew, the “prison riot” had been engineered by Thea herself in an attempt to kill Nadia’s parents without the inconvenience of a trial or conviction. If that was the case, then she would surely try again. And eventually, she would succeed.

The dam finally burst, and Nadia buried her face in the pillow while sobs racked her body.

*   *   *

Nate
slept until late in the afternoon, waking up only when Mr. Parker stopped by to deliver a shopping bag full of clothes and shoes so he had something to wear other than the scrubs. Nate took the bag gratefully.

“Miss Lake is asleep for the moment,” Mr. Parker said, “and it’s probably best to let her get whatever rest she can. But I thought you should know she’s had some very bad news.”

Mr. Parker told Nate that Esmeralda Lake had been killed during a prison riot, and a black wave of fury rose from inside him. He wanted to kill Thea for putting Nadia’s mother in that prison, and he was so pissed off at the universe in general for all the shit it had heaped on Nadia’s shoulders—not to mention his own—that he had to fight the urge to kill the messenger. His whole body clenched up with the need to hit something, but he controlled it, pulling firmly on the reins of his temper, finding yet another occasion to practice his newfound self-control.

“Chairman Belinski had some flowers brought to her room,” Mr. Parker said, as though he hadn’t noticed Nate’s fight against rage. “We kept an arrangement aside for you in case you’d like something to give her yourself.”

All the belligerence drained from Nate’s body, and he was surprised to feel a sudden prickle in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, hoping that somehow Mr. Parker had missed the sign of weakness. He had to clear his throat before he could talk.

“Thank you,” was all he said, because if he said anything more, that one small gesture of kindness was going to start him bawling.

“I’ll bring them up,” Mr. Parker said. “The Chairman will be dining at eight, but he would understand completely if you and Miss Lake would prefer privacy in this difficult time.”

“We’ll be there,” Nate said without hesitation. He knew Nadia would want to have a voice in whatever plan they came up with to defeat Thea, no matter how much pain she was in, and Nate, as the rightful Chairman of Paxco, had an obligation to be there as well.

“I’ll tell the Chairman to expect you. There’s a media room at the end of the hall,” he said pointing. “The phone line and net access are both secure and untraceable, so feel free to make use of them however you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Nate said again. But there was no one he could imagine calling on the phone, and he couldn’t stomach getting on the net and seeing Dorothy’s version of current events.

*   *   *

Nate
stood outside the closed door to Nadia’s room and had to swallow the aching lump in his throat. In his hand, he held the small flower arrangement Belinski’s men had set aside for him, but he was having trouble convincing his free hand to knock on the door. Every time he caught the faint echo of Nadia’s sobs, his own eyes teared up, and only copious deep breaths would bring back his sense of self-control.

He wanted to be strong for her, to be a solid and comforting presence in this time of grief, and bursting into sympathetic tears wasn’t the way to accomplish that. He’d never much liked his would-be mother-in-law, had
hated
her when she’d sent Nadia away to that awful upstate retreat to hide her away like an embarrassment, but though Nadia had been just as angry, Nate knew how she felt right now. Knew it all too well.

“Damn it,” he muttered between clenched teeth as his eyes tried to well up again. Kurt had told him that he still had a lot of grieving to do for his father, and Nate was beginning to think he was right. It certainly wasn’t Esmeralda Lake who was bringing tears to his eyes. Blinking rapidly and taking yet another deep breath, Nate gathered his courage and knocked softly on the door. Standing out here in the hall getting high on the overly sweet perfume of the lilies wasn’t helping Nadia one bit, and it wasn’t doing much for him, either.

“C-come in,” Nadia stammered after a long pause. Her voice was hoarse, and though she’d gotten the sobs under control, he could still hear her sniffling. No doubt she was in there dabbing at her eyes, trying to control and hide her emotions—just as he’d been doing for the last five minutes. And maybe that was something they both needed to stop doing for a while. They were in a relatively safe place with no one trying to kill them right this moment, and maybe it was time to stop being so goddamned strong all the time.

Eyes stinging, throat tightening, Nate opened the door and ventured inside. If the best thing he could manage was to hold Nadia while they both cried, then that was what he was going to do.

*   *   *

Nadia
looked wan and tired when she and Nate headed downstairs for dinner, and he suspected he looked much the same way. The two of them had eventually fallen asleep cuddled together on her bed, holding on to each other for strength. Throughout their lives, they had always been there for each other, and never had they needed each other as much as they did on this terrible day. Especially when they were both painfully aware of the setting sun, of the horrors that would come as night fell. Assuming there was anything of the Basement left to bomb, of course.

Dinner was a quiet and somber affair, and five seconds after each plate was cleared, Nate couldn’t have said what had been on it, although he ate everything that was put in front of him.

There were only the three of them eating. Agnes wasn’t well enough yet, and the rest of the household were staff. Agnes’s mother, who suffered from severe chronic migraines, was back home in Synchrony.

After dinner, Chairman Belinski invited Nate and Nadia into a sleek, modern office that looked completely incongruous in the homey farmhouse. There was a small conference table on one side of the office, with a bank of video monitors on the wall at one end. The other side of the office held Belinski’s desk with a couple of chairs facing it. The Chairman gestured Nate and Nadia into those chairs and then took his own seat.