The Masked Truth (6 page)

I flinch. Only Max seems to notice, but he just looks thoughtful. Or bored. With Max, it’s impossible to tell the difference.

Lorenzo clears his throat. “They both have a point. Additionally, it will seem you’re being considerate, releasing the most affected hostage.”

“Which is exactly why I’m saving her as a special reward,” X-Files says. “For this round, let’s go with Welfare Sandy.”

Sandy looks up, mortified, then stammers, “M-my dad’s a seasonal worker. It’s not welfare. We—”

“Really? You’re arguing
against
getting to go home?”

I catch her eye and force what I hope looks like a smile as I whisper, “Go.”

She closes her mouth and X-Files chuckles. “No argument, then? I didn’t think so. Mr. Highgate has pointed out
that most of your families would struggle to scrape up ten grand. Yours would be lucky to find a hundred bucks. But your luck just changed, Sandra. You’ve won the only lottery that counts: the one that keeps you alive. It helps that your little dress and sweater are adorable, in a thrift-shop kind of way. It’ll play well for the cameras. See if you can squeeze out a few tears as you exit.”

He waves for the Predator guy to take her. I catch her eye and give a little wave. Maria mouths something I don’t catch, but Sandy does and her lips twitch in a smile. Aaron shoots her a thumbs-up and she nods, ducking her head shyly before turning away to leave.

We all sit in silence, listening to their fading footsteps. The front door is at least a hundred yards down a twisting hall, and soon we hear nothing. When I close my eyes I catch the barest sound of an opening door and a man barking commands. The door shuts. Silence falls again.

It’s so quiet in here that it’s easy to forget the building is surrounded by a team of professionals, all focused on getting us out alive. I think of my dad, and grief surges, but it calms me too, imagining a dozen of him out there.

When my dad was on the SWAT team, he couldn’t speak highly enough of the negotiators. He said that when they were used, the rate of injury dropped to near zero. I have to remember that. As horrifying as our situation seems, it isn’t nearly as dangerous as an actual kidnapping. This crime was organized and our captors are obviously professionals. Sandy is fine, and we will be too. It’s just a waiting game.

I think of Sandy. Is her family out there? Has it been long enough for them to arrive? I’ve been trying very hard not to consider that, not to think about Mom getting that call.

Will
she get a call? Or are they keeping this quiet, notifying only Aaron’s father initially? X-Files said he wants money
from everyone, but Mr. Highgate is the big fish. To keep the confusion to a minimum, they might not have contacted the other parents yet.

Maybe Mom is home, finishing a dress design, papers and swatches of fabric spread over her worktable, as she looks forward to a quiet night alone, with me here and Sloane out with her friends. I hope that’s what she’s doing. I hope they haven’t told her and won’t until they need to.

“Brienne was right.” It’s Max, his voice startling us out of the silence. “It should have been Riley. Letting her go early sets the right tone. Holding her hostage will turn the press against you even more.”

“Umm, hello?” Brienne waves her hand in front of him. “Nice of you to join us, Max, but next time? Chime in
before
it’s a done deal.”

I lift my hand to back her down and say to Max, “I appreciate that, but I’m fine.”

“I know it’s too late for this round, but I’m saying …” He turns to X-Files. “You should send Riley home sooner rather than later.”

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” X-Files mock-whispers. “You’re a little slow, but you finally realized it may be in your best interests to support the cute girl’s cause. Improves your chances of—what’s the word you Brits use?—shagging her?”

Max’s response is remarkably calm. Measured, even. “Given that I’m the least likely to leave this building alive, I doubt that’s an option. Even if I do get out, something tells me none of us are going to want to see each other again. This is hardly a bonding experience. I’m only pointing out that the others are right, and there’s more advantage to releasing Riley than to keeping her.”

“Riley, Riley, Riley,” Gideon says. “Everyone’s so worried about Riley. The local hero who saved two people from— Oh, wait. No, she didn’t. She was under the bed
when they got shot. And now you want to give her another free pass?”

I feel everyone’s gaze on me, and there’s no impulse to hang my head or avert my gaze. That comes when they lie and call me a hero. This is truth.

“She
did
save someone,” Brienne says. “That little girl. She did the smart thing. If she’d interfered, they would have both been killed, along with the girl’s parents.”

“Brienne is right,” Aimee says. “Riley’s response was the correct one. She didn’t panic. She didn’t foolishly interfere. She did what the Porters would have wanted by protecting their daughter and—”

“I think we can skip this,” Max says.

Brienne turns on him. “God, you’re
such
a jerk. You say one nice thing, and then you have to follow it up with assholery.”

“Don’t believe I said anything nice. Not really my style. I just pointed out you were right that Riley should be released. Now I’m saying Riley doesn’t need you to defend her. She’s heard it in therapy. Over and over. It hasn’t helped then. It won’t help now.”

And
that
just might be the nicest thing he’s ever said, even if he doesn’t mean to be kind.

“If you want to pass the time,” he continues, “may I suggest a game of cards to take our minds off this?”

“Do we have cards?” Maria asks.

“Are you
joking
?” Gideon says.

“No,” Maria says. “We have to pass the time, and we’re just getting on each other’s nerves otherwise.”

I look at the counselors. “She’s right. Do we have cards? Board games?”

“Uh …” Lorenzo says. “There’s a deck in the desk over there, but I don’t think anyone’s really in the mood …”

“I am,” Brienne says.

“Sure, I’ll play,” Aaron says, and Maria goes to get the cards, and with that, we have our distraction while the waiting continues.

Over the next hour, X-Files takes two more phone calls outside the room. We’re all trying to gauge his reaction when he comes back. We whisper and compare observations. It’s Maria, Brienne, Aaron and me playing cards. Max is watching. He occasionally offers advice, which has a fifty percent chance of being useful and a fifty percent chance of totally messing us up. In other words, he’s amusing himself by screwing with us. No one seems to care—it’s not like we’re taking the game seriously, and there are even a few chuckles when someone follows his advice and loses the hand … or fails to follow it and loses.

Gideon is pacing. I’ve got my back to him, because that pacing certainly doesn’t settle my nerves. Aimee and Lorenzo are playing counselor. By that, I mean they’re sitting between us and the men, alternately looking at one group and then the other, as if they’re keeping the peace and ready to run interference. If anything happens, though, they’ll be the last ones I turn to for help.

There’s a weird feeling in that. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who pays undue attention to authority figures. I even helped organize a couple of protests at school, which is how I ended up on the student council—the
vice-principals were trying to redirect my efforts away from reforming student policy, which only gave me a better platform for it. But I guess I still look to the adults in a room when things go wrong, and now here are two who are supposed to be keeping us safe this weekend, and at this point I’d rather rely on Max, which is saying something.

X-Files comes back in. “Miss Riley, you’re up. Negotiator Will has Mr. Highgate on the line, and he’s being remarkably compliant. Time to reward that by releasing the hero.”

“She’s not a damned hero,” Gideon says. “She hid under the
bed
.”

Aaron and Brienne both open their mouths to come to my rescue, but I shake my head and whisper, “Please.”

“Riley’s right,” Max whispers. “Don’t goad him or this only gets worse.”

“Says the guy who specializes in making things worse,” Brienne mutters.

Max only smiles. “Exactly. I don’t like Gid stealing my thunder. You must admit, he’s not nearly as entertaining as me.”

Brienne rolls her eyes, then says, “Go on, Riley.” When I hesitate, she reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Really. Go. Sure, we’d all like it to be us, but no one’s going to begrudge you an early exit. We’ll get ours soon enough. Aaron’s dad is cooperating.”

“He will,” Aaron says. “He’s a lousy father, but he’s rich for a reason. He knows when to cut his losses and when he can turn a loss into a corporate advantage, and this is money well spent. It’ll earn him good press—the poor guy who almost lost his son.”

“All right,” I say. “Take care, then. I know you might not want to make contact when we get out, but I’d like to know you’re all okay. Aimee has my phone number and e-mail.”

“We’ll call,” Brienne says. “Get together and celebrate with ice cream.”

“I hate ice cream,” Max says.

“Good, then we won’t have to invite you.”

I get to my feet.

“Seriously,” Gideon says. “You’re going to let her go? That’s sexist.”

Brienne sighs.

“No, really,” Gideon says. “You set two girls free first. We’re told we aren’t supposed to do that anymore—women and children first—so I object.”

“This isn’t a democracy, boy,” X-Files says.

“I still object. It’s racist too.”

“Racist?” X-Files snorts. “Releasing the Latino girl instead of the white boy?”

“Exactly. You’ve freed two minorities in a row.”

“Um, Sandy was Italian,” Maria says.

“Is there a reason we’re listening to this moron?” Aaron says. “Go, Riley.”

I take another step, and Gideon lunges at me. I see him out of the corner of my eye, and I react. I spin and hit him. It’s not a punch. Not even a boxing jab. The only martial art I know is fencing, so my response is to swing my arm and wallop him.

Gideon stumbles. Then, with a roar, he charges me. Aaron grabs him. He yanks Gideon away and throws him aside, and when the smaller boy recovers, he’s face to face with Max. Gideon swings. Max staggers back fast, his hands up, saying, “No, no, no,” this look on his face … Max who had a gun on him earlier and never flinched, and now this boy—six inches shorter than him—is taking an awkward swing and Max reacts as if Gideon is throwing a hand grenade.

Gideon spins on Aaron, who mutters, “Thanks, buddy,” to Max. Gideon charges, and I glance over at our captors,
expecting them to do something, but they’re standing there, watching, and I can’t see their faces with the masks, but their eyes look amused. No,
entertained
. Just standing back, chilling and watching the rumble along with everyone else. Everyone except Maria, who’s at the desk, going through the drawers. When she sees me watching, she motions she’ll be careful.

Max has moved halfway across the room, as if to make damned sure he doesn’t get pulled into the brawl. Aaron and Gideon are still going at it. It’s obvious Aaron knows how to fight. Gideon does not. Aaron is only defending himself, but I can tell he’s getting frustrated, and a few of his blows hit hard. Gideon is hopped up on adrenaline and just keeps going back for more, until X-Files finally moves forward and says, “Okay, kid. Fun’s over.” He grabs the back of Gideon’s shirt. Gideon swings, and for once, his fist actually connects.

X-Files falls back with an
oomph
, then “You little brat,” and I’m on Gideon in a heartbeat. I don’t think. I just grab him to pull him away, and then I see the knife. X-Files pulls out a blade and the light shines off that razor-sharp edge and … and I drop Gideon. I don’t mean to, but someone grabs me, one arm around my waist, and yanks me away from the younger boy. Before I can twist to see who it is, the hand is gone and X-Files is snarling and Aaron is running toward Gideon. I shout, “No!” but Aaron tackles Gideon, knocking him face-first to the floor. And, thankfully, X-Files eases back.

“Let him go,” I say, and Aaron gives me this look of
Huh?
I say, “I mean, let Gideon leave in my place. Just get him out of here. Please.”

“Is that an order, Miss Riley?” X-Files raises the knife as he turns on me.

“No,” I say quickly. “I-I’m just suggesting. Asking. Can he—
May
he take my place?”

I expect him to give me the same line he did earlier with
Max, about not wanting to reward bad behavior, but he grunts, “Fine. Get out of here, boy. He’ll take—”

He turns to Predator, and as he does, there’s a blur behind the guy in the Cantina alien mask. It’s Maria. She has something in her hand, something long and metal, and she’s been slipping up behind Cantina. Now she runs toward him, weapon raised … and Cantina shoots her. He shoots her point-blank, and she flies back, and there’s blood, just the smallest spray, and that’s what I think about in that moment.
There should be more blood
.

Then I hear whimpering, and I realize it’s me, and I clap both hands over my mouth to stop and someone grabs me from behind, pulling me back, the same arms as before, holding me tight as I shake so hard I can hear my teeth chatter, a voice whispering, “It’s all right,” but it’s not all right, Maria is lying on the floor, the white lettering on her T-shirt spattered red, and she’s not moving. God help me, she isn’t moving.

I push off the arms and run to Maria. I hear a shout of
No!
It’s Aaron and I think he’s telling me not to go to her. Then I see Gideon jumping Cantina. He grabs for the gun, and everyone’s shouting, Lorenzo and Aaron telling Gideon to stop, just stop, X-Files yelling that Gideon damned well better stop or he’s going to get a bullet through—

The gun fires. It’s a suppressed shot, like the first, but still far from silent. Cantina jerks back, his eyes wide. I see the gun, both of their hands on it, blood spreading across Cantina’s stomach. Gideon is turning, and everything comes in incredible slow motion, sound off, their mouths opening, nothing coming out, nothing that penetrates my terror. Gideon turns, and Lorenzo runs between him and X-Files, and Gideon fires. Lorenzo goes down. Then X-Files aims and—