The Alliance (21 page)

 

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Chapter
55

I received a new visitor, my old friend I came to this place with. She was glowing, explaining her new life to me, complete with husband and beautiful home in a gated part of the city. She is expecting a child. She did a good job showing her excitement, but I thought I saw some death behind her eyes.

—­The diary of Megan Jean

Sleeping on the floor made the aches and pains Mia had been ignoring set in. She thought about the bed in Flo's house. It was so luxurious and comforting. The feeling of dread came. It was no longer Flo's house. Flo was dead. Mia pushed herself up; the sun was setting, flooding the room with a golden hue. Even though her brief sleep hadn't been comfortable, it had supplied Mia with a clear head. She grabbed her phone and opened the door before heading down the steps. Frank and Alex were busy in the kitchen. Mia was certain her mother and sister were still asleep.

“That wasn't much of a nap,” Alex said. “Are you still set on looking for Andrew?”

Frank gave him a slight elbow. Alex wasn't supposed to mention Mia's initial plans.

“I'm selfish,” Mia said.

“No,” Alex said. “You're not selfish at all.”

“It's okay,” Mia said. “I'm aware of it. I'm part of something big, something good ­people lost their lives over, and my biggest concern is finding a boy.”

Frank and Alex gave each other confused glances.

“I mean,” Alex said, “he's more than some boy.”

“But he is capable of taking care of himself, just like I am,” Mia said. “I don't want to stop.”

“Asking for help doesn't make you selfish,” Frank said.

“I was putting finding Andrew over stopping the Registry,” Mia said. “I'm sure he didn't falter. I want to stick with the plan. We have less than two weeks until Grant's wedding. I want to make sure that the Registry is stopped before then.”

“You can't do that by yourself,” Frank said.

“That's why I am asking for your help,” Mia said. “We were supposed to make it to the capital by tomorrow, but I'm sure Andrew, Carter, and Zack will be in the capital by the wedding date. If they're not we'll forge ahead anyway. Flo will not have died for nothing. I know it's a lot to ask. But will you help me?”

“With whatever we can,” Frank said.

Mia saw Frank put his hand on Alex's.

“Thank you,” Mia said.

“We want to help too,” Corinna said.

Mia whipped her head to the side. In the former dining room her sister and mother were sitting cross-­legged on the floor. Mia had been so determined to speak that she hadn't noticed them.

“It's too dangerous for you,” Mia said. “Frank and Alex both did time in ser­vice. They're trained in something.”

“You can train us,” Corinna said.

She rose to her feet. “I wouldn't know where to begin,” Mia said. “And we need a backup plan in place, just in case Andrew doesn't show up with the codes. I can't strategize and train you at the same time.”

“We're not staying behind,” Mia's mother said. “You have our help, whether you want it or not.”

Mia wanted to fight with them, but she knew it would be a waste of time. She nodded her head, telling herself it was a false agreement.

“We should leave right away,” Mia said. “You said your new home was closer to the capital?”

“We need a few hours to pack up the rest of our belongings,” Frank said. “And we should all get some sleep before driving.”

“As soon as possible,” Mia said.

“I hate to break your momentum,” Frank said, “but this is a big undertaking, the
biggest
undertaking. You want to head in with two men who have been out of ser­vice for years and untrained women?”

“First, stop thinking gender matters,” Mia said. “Second, if at any point any of you decide this is too dangerous you can back out. I need the location of your new home.”

“It doesn't have an address,” Frank said. “Privacy and all.”

“Is there any way I can pass on the location?”

“I mean,” Frank said, “I can give you the longitude and latitude, but that won't help the average person.”

“I don't want a barrage of ­people there,” Alex said.

“Trust me,” Mia said. “We only need one person to meet us there.”

Alex gave Frank a nod and he opened a few drawers in the kitchen until he found a pen and paper. He wrote the coordinates down and handed them to Mia.

“Thank you,” Mia said. “Remember, any of you can back out whenever you want.”

Mia walked toward the door. She didn't want anyone near her when she made this call.

“Who is that girl and what did she do with my daughter?” Mia heard her mother ask. Mia was being the girl she wanted to be. One who cared about the bigger picture and the world around her more than herself or an individual.

There was a slight chill to the air and Mia wrapped Alex's shirt tighter around herself. The sweatpants Frank had lent her were double-­knotted and still slipped down her waist. She made it to the fence and took a seat.

Mia typed in the number she'd spent weeks staring at, knowing it by heart at this point. The smartest, bravest, most experienced person Mia had ever met was on the receiving end. As expected it went to voice mail.

“It's Mia,” she said. “I could use . . . I need your help. It's for a crazy plan, it might not work, but it has a better shot if I have you by my side. The coordinates are forty-­seven degrees, thirty-­two minutes, forty-­eight point seven three eight seconds north, and one hundred thirteen degrees, forty-­nine minutes, forty-­five point six four five seconds west. I don't know what that means, but I'm assuming you do. I'll be there tomorrow and for the next week or so. Please come.”

Mia hung up the phone, knowing if she continued the message she would ramble on with too much information. Riley had taught her better than that.

 

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Chapter
56

I presented my monetary system to the grand commander. He was pleased with the new bills but cared little for my ideas about how to raise revenue for the government. He insisted he had a plan in place already.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

A dull pain in Andrew's arm woke him up. It was pitch-­black outside; he couldn't even see the stars. That was when Andrew realized he wasn't outside. He was in a room. His hands and feet were tied together, but he forced himself upright and took in his surroundings.

It was too dark to see much. The room he was in was the size of a closet and he saw light shine from a crack. He assumed that must be the door. He pushed himself up onto his knees and tried to feel for a handle.

“I heard a noise,” someone said.

“He's awake already?” another voice asked. “That tranquilizer should have taken a few more hours. You better get Mikey.”

Andrew heard footsteps. He saw the light under the door break. Someone was coming to the closet.

“Are you awake in there?”

Andrew didn't respond.

“Oh, come on,” the voice said.

The door flung open and Andrew didn't wait to look at his newest captor before lunging forward and throwing his shoulder into the man's knee. The man let out a yelp and moved out of the way. Andrew tried to push himself up but felt a blow to his gut as the man kicked him.

“That really hurt!”

Andrew felt his legs curl up and he gasped for breath.

“The guy tried to take out my knee,” the man yelled.

“So you kicked him in the gut?”

“He's a government agent, what does it matter?”

“That other guy said he wasn't,” a voice said.

Andrew forced his eyes open. The two men arguing looked somewhere between forty and fifty, and they were covered in dirt but seemed to wear similar outfits: tight pants with boots and long-­sleeved shirts. Andrew glanced around the room. It was small and led right outside; there was no door. Part of the ceiling was missing and Andrew could see the stars.

“What's your name?”

Andrew glared up at the man. He wasn't about to give any information to someone who'd just attacked him.

“I'm JR and the man who kicked you is Dustin.”

JR bent down and hoisted Andrew up by the shoulders.

“I would like to cut off your ropes, but I need you to promise me you won't hurt us again. If you do that, or try to run, I will harm your friends. Do you understand?”

Andrew nodded. The man pulled out a hunting knife and sawed through the ropes around Andrew's hands; he bent down and did the same with his feet. Andrew had the perfect opportunity to kick the man in the head, but the size of the knife and the power behind his threat told Andrew not to.

“How come he's awake so soon?” JR asked.

“I've been drugged before,” Andrew said. “Maybe I built up a tolerance.”

JR scratched his head.

“Why did that other agent call you a traitor?” Dustin asked.

“I'm not sure,” Andrew said.

“So are you a government agent?” JR asked.

Andrew glanced back and forth between the two men. He was about to lie when he took a good hard look at his situation. If these men stole a government vehicle they didn't have much respect for RAG agents.

“No,” Andrew said.

“Then what are you?” JR asked.

“I am here to stop the Registry and mandatory ser­vice.”

The two men looked at Andrew and then each other. Andrew thought about the absurdity of the statement he'd just made. After everything he had been through his whole life could be summed up in one outrageous statement. He started to shake his head and laugh. At first JR and Dustin looked at him like he was crazy, but soon they joined in with him.

The three laughed for quite a while. Andrew had to keel over at one point and wipe the tears from his eyes. Dustin started clapping and stamping his boot up and down. Soon it slowed and the silence was deafening.

“You might be the craziest person I have ever met,” Dustin said. “And I mean that whether you're lying or telling the truth. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Andrew said.

“JR is going to get us some food, maybe a drink or two, then I want you to tell me everything there is to know about you and your little traveling party,” Dustin said.

“I look forward to it,” Andrew said.

He meant it. Andrew wasn't certain these men would believe him, or let him live, but if he was about to die he looked forward to passing on his story before he left this world.

 

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Chapter
57

Our new monetary system is working well. I hate to admit how thrilled I was with the salary assigned to my position as a government employee, but I still worry about where the money will come from if we don't tax the ­people.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

The phone rang. It was the grand commander. Grant had no desire to speak to Ian again, but he put on his best smile and picked up the phone.

“Good evening, sir,” Grant said.

“I'm sure you're as sick of my phone calls as I am of making them,” Ian said.

“Nonsense,” Grant said.

If Ian was calling only to rehash their earlier conversation, Grant knew he would have a difficult time not lashing out at the man.

“Well, I was pleased to hear the explosion was only an accident,” Ian said. “That is one less thing we have to worry about.”

“Did you give any more thought to my request?” Grant asked.

“I think the RAG agents are capable enough,” Ian said.

“Of course,” Grant said. “But I could use the distraction of finding the survivors of the ‘accident,' ” Grant said.

“The press conference will be in three days,” Ian said. “I need you here early; your speech will be prepared.”

“What about notifying the French?” Grant asked.

“They're already informed,” Ian said.

“Are they rioting in the streets for your head?” Grant asked.

“She wasn't well liked for her American sympathies,” Ian said. “And her second is already making a play for backing.”

“Will the ­people be shocked once she is elected and also shares her sympathies?”

“The illusion of democracy saves us every time.”

Even Grant had to chuckle at the man's joke.

“The real reason I'm calling is about your request,” Ian said. “With all of this happening I think it's best if you spend every day up until your wedding at the capital. This is a good time for you to get some hands-­on learning.”

This was unacceptable to Grant. He knew Mia was in the country and planned on spending every waking moment hunting her down.

“I'm getting nervous,” Grant said. “Pre-­wedding jitters.”

“I'm surprised anything gets you nervous.”

“Your daughter is quite beautiful,” Grant said. “And there's another reason I want to take on this task.”

“What for?”

“My last few days as a single man,” Grant said. “I thought maybe I would do some last-­minute traveling. Inside the country, of course. Reflect and prepare for my next stage in life. I might as well have a goal while I'm at it.”

Ian was quiet.

“Sir, you are going to live a long, healthy life; I'll have plenty of time for hands-­on learning over the years,” Grant said.

“I already have you booked for
The Greg Finnegan Show
twice before the wedding,” Ian said.

There was nothing Grant wanted less than another spot on Greg Finnegan's talk show. The country might have respected the man but Grant found him tedious and annoying.

“Don't you think my absence might increase the public's desire for me?” Grant asked. “Maybe make the wedding seem more grand?”

Ian paused again. “Be here for the press conference. If there is anything else I need you for I will give you advance notice.”

“Thank you, sir,” Grant said.

“Stop with the ‘sir,' ” Ian said. “You know I hate it.”

“Good night, Ian,” Grant said. “I'll see you in three days.”

Grant did not wait for a reply before he hung up the phone. He had not anticipated Ian turning down his request to chase after the survivors of the French disaster but was happy to finally have the clearance. Tonight he would meet with Hansen; they would go over the possible places Mia could be and whether or not it was worth it to wait for her to come near the capital, since he now was certain of her final destination.

Grant went over to his walk-­in closet and looked at the hanging mirror. The sun was down now and he had missed his chance to wear shorts. Instead Grant picked navy blue pants with a light pink and navy striped shirt. The stripes were vertical, which were supposed to slim Grant's figure, but he didn't need it. A knock on his door diverted his attention from his perfectly parted hair.

“Come in . . . Hello, Brandon,” Grant said, greeting his head of staff.

“Sir,” Brandon said, “we took care of the incident at the home on your property. I am about to retire for the evening, unless there is anything else you desire?”

“How was Hansen?” Grant asked. “The new occupant?”

“He was quite helpful in the cleanup,” Brandon said.

“Good,” Grant said. “I'm going to visit with him now.”

Brandon bowed and started to walk out of the room.

“One more thing,” Brandon said. “There was an alert on one of your items of interest.”

There were multiple things across the country Grant wanted an eye on. If there was any news regarding these spots or ­people, Grant wanted the information. They were growing so numerous with his new undertakings that he'd passed most of them off to Brandon to monitor and personally tracked only the newest.

“Did someone else die?” Grant asked.

“No,” Brandon said. “This was a report on a house. One in the Midwest Area. It went up in flames. I suppose there could have been ­people inside though. That wasn't in the news.”

Grant stopped admiring himself in the mirror and turned to face Brandon. A second fire in as many days.

“Where in the Midwest Area?” Grant asked.

Brandon struggled to remember the details, but Grant knew what house he was talking about. The Morrissey farm. Amelia's father's home. She was turning into quite the firebug.

“It doesn't matter,” Grant said. “Get one of my smaller planes ready. I will fly it myself, no pilot necessary.”

“Yes, sir,” Brandon said.

Grant pushed past him and out of the room. He started toward his massive staircase, eager to get Hansen and bring him along for the flight. Grant needed to know if Amelia had died in that fire. If she'd survived the fire and was stupid enough to return to her father's farm, that meant she would be easy enough to track. Amelia would be his by the time the sun rose.