Alter ego, p.24
Alter Ego, page 24
Nathan would have expected smugness from Jeff, or triumph at having separated him from Mary so quickly. But instead, Jeff looked angry. It didn’t make sense. Nathan shook him off. “Don’t touch me.”
In his ear, Gail said, “Eloise says you should have told her.”
“Thanks for that,” Nathan muttered.
A squeak of feedback drew everyone’s attention to the bamboo-covered DJ stand on the other side of the pool, where Alexa Mannes was stepping up to a microphone, beaming. “I’m so thrilled to see everyone here tonight in support of the Sea and Stars Foundation. Thanks to all of you, our first shipment of water purification nets will be going out in one week.”
“What did you say to her?” Jeff asked.
“Nothing worse than what you said to her the other day.”
Jeff sighed. “Look, I’m obligated to get everything squared away before I put my name to something,” he said. “One of my staff raised the question. I didn’t know it would—”
He went silent, mid-sentence, at the same time Alexa stopped talking.
Nathan looked around to see what could have prompted them to cut off simultaneously, but everything was still.
Too still. All whispering, walking, and rustling had ceased. Nathan turned to Jeff. He stood motionless, mouth open, halted in the middle of his explanation. Staring into space. Nathan waved a hand in front of his face. No response. Behind him, Jenna had the same slack-jawed expression, the same glassy eyes.
Nathan turned a slow circle. A few outliers caught his eye, guests as confused as he was about what was happening. The bartender was frowning, shaking his head as though he thought he might be hallucinating. Across the pool, Parker Chapman shook a brunette woman’s arm lightly. She didn’t respond.
Nathan searched for Mary and found her standing in the middle of the closest bridge. Stock still, drink in hand. Nathan’s stomach dropped, fear coursing through him. A breeze ruffled the edge of her skirt, rippling the fabric. She didn’t move.
The feedback squeaked again.
“Thank you for that riveting introduction, Alexa,” a woman’s voice said. Girlish, but rough on the edges. Like a middle-aged Marilyn Monroe would have sounded with years of smoking behind her. “Water purification nets, ah, the things technology can do for us now. So useful, in so many ways.”
Useful in many ways? How could purification nets be useful, beyond their titular responsibility? An interesting concept, brilliant even, but hardly something he’d consider to be versatile. Nathan glanced back toward Alexa, as if he could seek out the source of the voice, but it might as well have belonged to a ghost.
“I’m pleased you could all be here to take part in our special demonstration this evening,” the woman continued. “And we have a delightful surprise to get us started; we’re live on network television, all channels.”
They were under some kind of a spell, drugged. How? Something in the air? But then how were Nathan, Parker, and the bartender all immune?
The signature drinks. Jeff hadn’t brought him one. But Mary wouldn’t have touched hers, either, no matter how upset she got. Maybe she was pretending.
“I’m so grateful for this opportunity to reintroduce the United States of America to my pet organization,” the woman said. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Wave. Why don’t you give us one?”
A sea of arms rose on the perimeter of Nathan’s vision as Jeff, Jenna, and nearly everyone else raised their right arms as if they were about to flick on lighters at a concert. Only instead, the arms floated as though synchronized, the type of frosting-the-cake wave the royal family always did. Was Mary a fraction of a second off? He couldn’t tell. Across the pool, Nathan met Parker Chapman’s lucid gaze. He looked scared.
“Good,” the voice said. “Very good.”
The waving stopped. The arms drifted down.
“America, your government has chosen not to protect you against independent operatives when it’s clear they ought to. They’ve proven ineffectual against every threat you can name. And so tonight, your most treasured celebrities will demonstrate what Wave can do for you.”
There was a long pulse of silence, a moment in which people watching at home—Nathan could almost picture them—would be murmuring. Wondering if they were seeing some kind of a publicity stunt, maybe. Then the voice resumed. “Andrew Thomas James—is he here? Be still my heart, the icon of teenage America. Andrew, raise your right arm for me so we all see where you are.”
To Nathan’s right, a single arm went up.
“Oh, my apologies Andrew—I meant your left arm.”
Andrew switched arms. His drink splattered on the concrete.
“What about both?”
This was their grand plan? A puppet show?
There had to be more, and Nathan needed to do something—anything—before the night turned deadly. But how could he deal with an invisible threat? Jeff was his only known tie to Wave, and he was as truly frozen as anyone else around the pool. The guy may have won a few awards, but surely he couldn’t fake that blank expression for this long.
How long would Mary be able to do it?
33 Mange
Finally, Mange was part of a real operation.
With his major contribution finished, his current involvement consisted of staying out of the way while Bradley coordinated with the announcer. Mange hadn’t met her yet; she was working from another location because, as Bradley said, it was impossible to be too careful. She called the shots for the broadcast, based on what they’d rehearsed, and he told the computer chips what to do. The program was intricate, allowing him complete access to anyone who had swallowed the chips.
Mange’s serum had made it all possible. With the party scene projected onto an entire wall of the control room, the effect of his work was life-size, which made it even more astonishing. All those famous faces, awaiting instruction. Because of Mange.
“Andrew,” the woman said, “raise your right arm for me so we all see where you are.”
Bradley sent the command, and the pop star obeyed.
“Incredible,” one of the assistants said, leaning close to the controls. Bradley batted him away.
“You’re fogging up the screen,” he said.
The assistant adjusted his glasses and slunk away from the console.
On the screen, the celebrities danced to the tune of the serum. It would be over soon, with no harm done. The whole scenario was perfect. Warning the world against independent operatives, demonstrating Wave’s superior power to provide protection against them. Everything Mange had always wanted.
He was still savoring success when a crash sounded from the hall, followed by a chorus of shouting. Then, gunshots.
“Mange,” Bradley said without looking up. He made Andrew change arms.
Mange’s hand was on the door when it burst open with such force that it nearly knocked him over. He staggered and lifted his arms to attack, but he was too slow. The intruder grabbed his shirt and flung him aside. Mange flew into the wall, his skull smashing into the bricks with enough force to knock a normal man unconscious.
But Mange was not a normal man.
He started to push himself up, but the man—it was the ex-Marine, Ire—was already halfway across the room. He dominated the space, his bulging limbs crashing into chairs and assistants without distinction. The staff ducked and scrambled out of his way, to no avail. His monstrous face was a mask of rage, red and twisted. Mange doubted he could even tell flesh from furniture at this point.
To send fire his way would be to incinerate Wave members, too. Mange hesitated.
Bradley grabbed the control panel and tried to make a break for it, but Ire was already there. He wrenched the computer from Bradley’s hands and threw it across the room.
On the screen, Andrew Thomas James walked methodically toward the water, still clutching his empty glass, and stepped off the ledge.
Bradley yelped and sprang for the tablet as the Boston cop dove into the water after the pop star, and Ire launched the equipment table into the air. Communication units shattered, and the table came apart with a spray of bolts.
“Andrew,” the narrator said, her voice still eerily calm. “Stop.”
But Andrew didn’t stop, because Ire was holding Bradley by the throat.
“You don’t understand,” Bradley choked. “Please—”
“Where is she?” Ire said.
Mange started forward, but Ire squeezed Bradley’s neck and lifted him higher, so the poor man’s toes were barely brushing the floor. He struggled and clutched at his throat, wriggling like a ferret on a leash. “If you try anything I’ll snap his spine,” Ire said.
Bradley made a gurgling noise as if to call Mange off. Mange dropped his hands to his sides, took a step back. “Andrew Thomas James is drowning because Bradley can’t control him. You have to let us—”
“If you think I’m going to believe anything you say, you’re wrong.”
The cop might try to save the celebrity, but if Mange didn’t convince Ire to let Bradley resume control, the singer would fight to obey the commands he’d been given. He’d fight until he drowned. He had seconds left, at best.
Worse, the console seemed to have gone haywire. Other celebrities were walking, zombie-like, some safely out of the vicinity of the pool. But even with his focus on Ire, Mange caught the splash of at least one more actor or actress making a grand entrance into the water.
Ire’s gaze drifted over Mange’s shoulder, and for a moment his features relaxed. The permanent grimace was replaced with something else—wonder and relief, mixed with confusion—for a split second before Agnes ran into Mange’s peripheral vision, a syringe clutched in her hand.
“You’re alive,” Ire said. He didn’t let go of Bradley.
Agnes stopped less than a foot away from Ire. Bold. Mange wouldn’t even be in the same room with the psycho, given a choice. “You can let him go,” she said.
The grimace returned in full force. “What?”
Agnes didn’t hesitate. She stuck the needle in Ire’s bicep. “I’m sorry. No time to argue.”
34 Nathan
Nathan’s lungs burned.
Andrew Thomas James was stronger than his skinny frame would suggest. He clawed at Nathan’s face, the shattered stump of the martini glass clutched in his hand. He swung it at Nathan, the movement slow but still threatening. It wasn’t as if Nathan could move any faster down here. He evaded Andrew’s attack, barely. How the hell was he supposed to save this guy?
Nathan wasn’t any good at this on his own. He needed Mary’s help.
He kicked to the surface. Took a breath. Swam back down.
He approached Andrew from behind to disable the pop star with a neck hold. But as soon as Nathan landed on the bottom, Andrew elbowed him in the stomach and knocked a good portion of the air out of his lungs. The glass slid along Nathan’s arm as Andrew struggled, sending a cloud of red into the water. He barely felt it.
They must be getting close to a minute down here. Andrew hadn’t taken a breath yet. Nathan’s chest screamed for another, but Andrew pulled at his clothes, fighting wildly.
Nathan kicked toward the wall. Maybe he could knock Andrew out. Risky, but his only option at this point. Otherwise, the kid was going to drown them both.
Across the pool, a column of bubbles erupted. Someone else was in the water.
As they neared the wall, Andrew relaxed, his eyes rolling back in his head. Nathan dragged him to the surface and pushed him up, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Parker Chapman met him at the edge. He hooked his wrists under Andrew’s arms and lifted his limp form onto the tile patio.
“Jeff Hayes,” Parker said. “He went in over there.”
“How long?”
“Maybe ten seconds. I don’t know.”
Nathan gulped air into his lungs and pointed to Andrew. He could stay and do CPR, or get Jeff out of the pool. He couldn’t do both. “Can you help him?”
“I can try.”
Nathan glanced at the closest bridge, where Mary stood motionless, blue drink still in her hand.
No matter how upset she was, she wouldn’t have broken her drinking rule. She had to be faking.
He swam under the bridge, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach and the sting of the cut on his arm. Right now, he had to save Jeff.
35 Mary
A few seconds after Wave sent Jeff into the pool, Nathan erupted out of the water with Andrew, gasping for breath.
Mary almost dropped her drink.
Blood. There was blood streaming down Nathan’s arm, staining Andrew’s clothing. Whose blood?
She tamped down the rising panic, breathed slowly. If she moved, if she even twitched, they’d notice. She held a blue drink, which meant she had to be frozen.
Being frozen sucked.
Nathan exchanged a few words with Parker, then turned toward her bridge. Jeff Hayes had gone into the water behind her. Why would Wave drug one of their own, put him in direct danger?
Nathan caught Mary’s eye from below, but she didn’t move. He swam past her, beyond her line of sight, and panic closed its grip around her throat.
Right now, she didn’t care what he’d done, how much he’d lied. It mattered, but his life mattered more.
In her head, she counted the seconds he’d been underwater.
…five, six, seven.
Ten more, and she’d go in after him.
Across the way, Parker attempted CPR on Andrew. If anyone here knew CPR, it might actually be Parker. She thought he’d told her once about lifeguarding as a teenager.
…ten, eleven, twelve…
Heads started to turn, but Andrew remained motionless. No one ran to help Parker. They were all blinking in confusion. They probably hadn’t seen Andrew, didn’t even know he was in trouble.
Was Nathan still in trouble? Mary wrenched her gaze from Andrew and whirled around to look for him.
“They did this,” the Wave voice said, a whisper now. “They corrupt everything that’s good.”
There was no time to try and dissect that one. Nathan surfaced with a struggling Jeff Hayes, who shoved him away and climbed out on his own. Nathan stayed in the water. He propped his arms on the side of the pool, head bent.
Satisfied of his safety, Mary ran to Parker.
“It’s no use,” he said, breathing hard as he continued compressions. “He’s gone.”
Mary knelt by Andrew’s head and checked the angle of the airway. He still wasn’t breathing. She tried a rescue breath and listened again. Nothing.
The rest of the patio was pandemonium as people ran for the door. Over by the DJ stand, Alexa was on her cell phone, presumably talking to the police. Her eyes darted over to Mary and Parker, lingered. She was shaking her head, like this couldn’t be true.
“You should go to your security guard,” Parker said quietly. “He’s hurt.”
“But—”
“Andrew’s gone,” Parker repeated, his eyes shiny with shock.
Mary looked down at Andrew, checked his breathing again. There was makeup smudged around his eyes, a hot pink smear of lipstick trailing up the side of his cheek. He would hate to be seen this way. She drew a tissue from her purse and wiped the lipstick away. Parker covered his face with his hand.
Mary stumbled to her feet and ran across the bridge to where Nathan was recovering, his arms and shoulders resting against the side of the pool, the rest of his body still submerged. “You’re bleeding,” she said, and reached for his arm.
But Nathan flinched away and pulled himself out of the pool. “What the hell was that?”
“That was Wave,” Mary said. “Did you lose too much oxygen or something?”
“I meant you,” he hissed.
Mary straightened, relief evaporating. Her dress dragged water up with it, the fabric hanging heavy around her legs as she rose. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She started to head toward Jenna, who was still standing by the bar, bewildered, but Nathan seized her wrist.
“Never drink, always look like you’re drinking,” he said. “They couldn’t have drugged you.”
She could turn his weight against him, especially in his weakened state, and throw him to the ground. She could defeat him on his best day, and this was not his best day. Part of her wanted to do it, too. If it wouldn’t undo the performance she’d just managed, if it wouldn’t give her away, she’d take him down.
“Not here,” Mary said.
He held on, eyes fixed to hers, and for a second she thought he might not let go. For a second, she thought she might have to blow her cover after all.
But then he released her. She went to Jenna and laid a hand on her arm. “Jenna, how did you get here?”
“Cab,” Jenna whispered. Her eyes were locked on the commotion across the pool. Most of the guests were running, but a few—Alexa, Parker, Parker’s date, and Jeff—were standing with Andrew. Part of Mary wanted to go to them, too. Her people. They were her people, too. For the first time, she felt torn between her two lives. For the first time, she wanted to be Mary O'Sullivan simply so she could sit down and sob.
Instead, she took a shaky breath and glanced around at the emptying patio. Glasses were shattered all over the concrete, the blue liquid scattering along the cracks. The bartenders had abandoned their posts, the DJ fled. “Everything’s confused,” she said. “Find Hal. Nathan and I will leave behind you. We’ll meet you in the car. Got it?”
Jenna nodded.
In her ear, Gail. “Mary? Mary, are you OK?”
“We’re alive,” Mary said, then cringed. “Andrew…he’s… he’s not…”
“We can see,” Gail said.
“Where’s Eloise?”
“Headed your way.”
“Good. I’ll check in when we’re home.”
Gail let out a sob of relief. “Oh, my god,” she said.
“Hang tight,” Mary said, feeling the lameness of it but not caring. She had to pull herself together. “We’re OK. You’re OK.”
