Alpha (19 page)

WHAT ATHENA
is seeing scares her, because what Athena is seeing is men who are scared.

Most of the men, that is. The one who stayed with Vladimir when they took Mom and the family away, he’s definitely scared. Athena thinks his name is Oscar, and she’s been watching him get more and more tense, and he’s jumpy, too. Whenever one of them moves, just tries to adjust how they’re sitting on this cold floor against this not-real bed, he’ll spin about. He does that, and he looks like he doesn’t know what they are, like the idea of human beings outside himself is alien and strange. Then his expression hardens, like he’s thinking mean thoughts. He stares most at the boys, Leon and Miguel and Joel.

Then there’s the new one. Sonny, she thinks his name is, if she’s reading what Vladimir said correctly. He got here just a little bit ago, came in and must have been calling out, because Vladimir and Oscar and Dana all looked in the same direction, and then here he was. Went straight to Vladimir, and they talked quickly, and she caught maybe less than half of that, but the gestures made it clear, and Vladimir left for a couple of minutes.

Vladimir and Oscar, they carry their guns sometimes like they forget they have them. Like, in one hand, and sometimes Vladimir just lets his hang from its strap, over his shoulder. But not Sonny. Sonny holds his in both hands, and he paces, back and forth, and each time he’s caught Athena watching him, he shouts at her. This last time he pointed his gun at her and came toward her. He was calling her a deaf bitch, Athena could tell, and Dana wrapped her arms around her, could feel her shouting back at Sonny, and Dana’s whole body was trembling.

But that wasn’t just fear, that was anger, too.

Leon and Gail have both been crying. They’re all scared.

Except Vladimir.

Athena doesn’t know what to make of Vladimir.

When he came back, he went to Sonny, and he called Oscar over, and he spoke to them. He looked worried, furrowed his brow, and nodded a lot. They were on the other side of the room from where Athena and the rest of the class were seated, maybe fifteen feet away, but standing in the light, and she could make out his mouth. She really focused, too, tried to read everything from his lips and his body language, and he was being very calm, and she thought quiet, maybe, too, but she just couldn’t understand a single word. She signed to Dana.

What saying?

Dana shook her head.
Different language Russian?

That explained that.

Whatever he said to Sonny and Oscar, it seemed like it helped. They both nodded, and then Oscar went into the tunnel on one side, the place where the cars would enter this area on the track, and walked down it with his gun in both hands until he was out of sight. Sonny did the same thing, but in the other tunnel, where the ride would have exited. Vladimir watched them, and when both were gone, Athena thought he kinda smiled, just a little. He walked toward where they were all seated, and Athena felt her stomach ache and tighten, and Dana, still holding onto her, tightened her grip again.

But Vladimir didn’t say anything to them or even look at them. He just looked down the tunnels in both directions, and then he moved back to the other side of the room, near where there was this open chest of fake gold coins and jewelry. Athena tried to watch him from the side, not looking at him directly, and he was pulling a phone from his pocket. The way he did it, the way he held the phone and turned away slightly, Athena could tell he didn’t want the others to see him doing it, or maybe even to know he had it.

Vladimir looked at the phone for a second, maybe, pressed a couple of buttons, frowned. Raised his head, and Athena took that moment to rest her own cheek against Dana’s knee, pretending to close her eyes. When she opened them again, Vladimir had the phone to his ear, was looking from one tunnel mouth to the other. He looked at her, and she looked back at him as blankly as she could, and he didn’t seem to care. His mouth started to move.

It was hard, he was almost too far away, and she couldn’t catch more than every eighth or ninth word as he spoke them. At first, she was sure he was speaking in another language again. Then she thought she saw “scared,” and “fill,” and “men,” and she was
sure
she made out “move.”

Then he said “bomb.”

He wasn’t on the phone for long, not long at all. It couldn’t have been more than a minute. Looking at the tunnels the entire time, from one to the other, and then, when he was finished, quickly tucking the phone away again. His eyes found Athena, and her heart jumped, the fear of having been caught instant and overpowering. But he didn’t do anything, maybe frowned just slightly, and she realized he wasn’t looking at her at all; he was looking at Dana.

Ignoring Athena because she was deaf.

Then he opened his mouth and called out something, and Sonny and Oscar came back. There was another brief talk that Athena again couldn’t follow—it was in the other language, what Dana thought might be Russian—and then Vladimir went up the tunnel one more time, and disappeared.

Athena twisted, pretending to adjust her position, turning her head to look up at Dana. Moved her hands, signing.

Phone did you hear him?

Dana shook her head, barely.

He said bomb,
Athena signed.

Dana bowed her head, and pulled Athena in closer, and held her, and both of them tried not to be scared.

Now Dana shifts, and Athena lifts her head, and she sees what Dana is looking at. Vladimir has returned, he’s talking to Sonny and Oscar, and again, it’s not taking him long. Finished, he turns and walks over to them, all of them, and his lips are easy to read this time.

Get up.

The other men have followed Vladimir, spreading out slightly, holding their guns. Looking at them, and maybe they’re still a little scared, but now they look mean, too. Athena feels Dana speak, and suddenly Vladimir is leaning forward, grabbing her with one hand by the arm and yanking her up so fast that Athena is nearly knocked on her side. Along the line, Joel starts to move, reaching to help Athena, and the one called Sonny steps forward and kicks him in the belly, and then he does it again, and again.

Athena makes a noise, feels it escaping her throat, and on her hands and knees goes to Joel. Miguel is trying to help him, and Athena finds Joel’s eyes, sees the pain and the tears in them as he lies on his side, holding his arms around his middle. She helps him sit up, sees Miguel gesture, understands that something is happening behind her. Before she can react, before she can turn, there’s a hot pain across the back of her head, the tearing of hairs as someone tries to pull her to her feet. She cries out, trying to rise, but he pulls so hard she’s falling back, hits the concrete. The pain, if anything, gets worse, makes fresh tears fill her eyes, and she’s being dragged, now, shouting and struggling and maybe screaming, too.

It stops as suddenly as it started, the pain still echoing as she lies on her back, gasping. Blinking through blurred vision, seeing Sonny standing over her, and Vladimir, and he’s got a fist in Dana’s hair. She sees their guns, not pointed at her but not pointed away. She sees their expressions, and she understands they do not care about her, about Joel, about Dana, about any of them at all. It’s not hatred; that would require feeling something.

They look down at her like she’s a piece of driftwood. Like she’s gum on the pavement. They look down on her.

Vladimir shakes Dana slightly, speaking to her, and Dana starts signing. He points his gun at Athena, then at Dana.

Dana signs,
Everyone stand up.

Athena starts to do as she’s told, but she’s not fast enough for Sonny. He grabs for her again, but she sees it and jerks away. Shouts at him, maybe saying “No,” maybe saying “Don’t,” but she knows it’s loud, feels it ripping out of her, all the frustration and pain and shame, and the noise makes him balk, eyes widening. Athena gets to her feet, angrily clears the tears from her cheeks, the snot from her nose.

“Fuck you!” Athena shouts. “Goatfucking cocksuckers!”

The one called Sonny jerks his head back, and she reads his shock, his confusion. Then it turns to rage, and even in the light of Hendar’s Lair, Athena sees the color flooding up into his cheeks. He steps forward, dropping his gun to one hand and raising his other, and she knows he’s going to hit her, and she doesn’t even care, so filled with her own fury that she’s shaking.

Sees Dana, shouting,
Stop!

Sonny is over her now, and Athena won’t look away from him, hating him, and that fist is going to fall, she knows it. But he doesn’t hit her, he doesn’t move, frozen, and from the corner of her eye, past him, she can see that Vladimir is speaking, and he looks as angry as she feels. Sonny lowers his hand, grabs her shoulder with it, forces her to turn, and Athena finds herself in line with the others. Joel, ahead of her, still has one arm around his stomach, his jaw flexing, and she thinks he might really be hurt a lot.

Vladimir pulls Dana with him to the front of the line, turns her to face all of them. She’s wincing as he twists her hair, speaks to her, and he’s making his words deliberate now; Athena can read them even before Dana begins to sign.

Follow and don’t do anything else or he will kill you.

Then Dana adds,
Just do what he says it will be okay.

Athena has to wonder if she really believes that at all.

When they come out of the tunnel, the sunlight blinds Athena. She blinks rapidly, trying to restore her vision, and the first thing she can make out is Pooch, his giant head and his puffy costume, except he’s standing on his hind legs, like a person. It’s vaguely disturbing, not to mention unexpected, but what makes it all the worse is that his hands are hands, not paws, and he’s holding one of the same guns Vladimir and Sonny and Oscar have been carrying.

The second thing she sees are the costumes, spread out on the ground in front of all of them. There are pieces of Gordo and Betsy and another Pooch, and two of the space suits with helmets from the Star System Alliance, and one of the S.E.E.K.E.R. Robot suits, and Smooch, and Valiant Flashman, and Kurkur the Unending, too. More than enough costumes for all of them, Athena realizes, and she looks from the piles to see that Vladimir has pulled Dana close to him, is speaking in her ear. She’s trying to pull away, and then he shoves her, and when he does that, she sees Pooch with a Gun take a step forward, like he wants to catch her.

Dana doesn’t fall. She moves so that all of them can see her, begins signing.
Put on costumes we have to put them on.

One by one, the line breaks apart. One by one, Athena and all the others disappear inside bodies too big for them. Then Sonny and Oscar and Vladimir do it, too, one after the other, until all of them, every single one, is dressed like a WilsonVille character.

She’s not surprised that Vladimir chooses Kurkur the Unending. Athena doesn’t know anything really about the Flashman stuff, but she knows who Kurkur is; he’s the worst of the worst, the only villain to have ever killed any of the Flashmans, and now he hunts down every incarnation of them throughout time and space. He wears a helmet that has horns coming out of the mouth, like an insect’s, and large red eyes, and a big black cloak, and his is the only costume that, once it’s on, looks like it should be holding a gun.

Pooch with the Gun points Dana toward Betsy.

Athena picks Agent Rose.

They’re putting on the costumes, and Dana has half of Betsy on, the lower part, and she moves to help Lynne with the Smooch body. She’s signing when she can, checking with them,
Okay?
and of course they’re not, how can they be, but everyone nods. When she reaches Joel, she signs
Stomach?

Hurts
.

Dana tries to smile at him, helps him with the Dread Flashman coat. Athena thinks Joel is looking a little pale.

Then Dana is in front of her, holding the comedy-tragedy mask, and she hands it to Athena, then signs.

Hold on they’ll let us go.

Athena gives her the look that says,
Bullshit tell me another one
.

Those were bad words you said.
Dana tries to smile at her.
Where did you learn to swear like that?

Athena grins. Uncle Jorge taught her to swear like that, helped her out, would do it whenever Mom and Dad weren’t looking or listening. Teach her to swear like a soldier, deaf or not, he’d said.

Dad and friends.

Dana grins, helps her put on the mask, then settles Agent Rose’s fedora atop Athena’s head. Athena doesn’t move. She can see just fine through the mask, but her breath bounces back against her face, makes it hot and damp.

Dad coming,
Athena signs quickly.

Dana raises an eyebrow.

He will kill them.

Dana throws a quick glance over her shoulder, to where Pooch with a Gun and Kurkur the Unending and now Gordo with a Gun are watching them. She looks back to Athena, pretends to adjust Agent Rose’s trench coat, and signs.

Good.

EIGHTEEN MINUTES
left, and Bell tells Amy, “I need you to stay here, stay with Michael and his family. Don’t let them leave, nobody leaves until someone comes for you.”

Amy says, “Freddie is right, Jad.”

It knocks Bell out of his stride for a moment. “You’re going to give me operational advice, Amy? Really?”

She simply stares up at him, what she thinks and what she feels all too apparent to Jad Bell. Then she turns away, down the hall, back to the conference room. She doesn’t look back and she doesn’t wish him luck, and that’s no different from any other time he’s gone on mission. Personal and professional kept separate, a distracted soldier is a dead soldier, keep your head in the game, all the clichés and watchwords run through his head.

He moves back through the command post, where everyone is gearing up. Ideal deployment would be a squad of four targeting each hostage group, primary shooters with secondary to sweep and clear. That is impossible here and now, and Bell’s original intention was to pair Bone and Board, Chain and Angel, and take the group holding Athena by himself. The admonition echoes, makes him doubt, and that is enough, because if there is doubt, there is no doubt.

Much as he wishes it could be so, he cannot ride to his daughter’s rescue alone. In point of fact, he shouldn’t ride to his daughter’s rescue at all.

“Freddie, Isaiah, you two take Group Three,” he says. “Nuri and I will take Group One, Jorge takes Group Two.”

Freddie Cooper, Cardboard, looks Bell in the eye and nods once. “Right call, Jad.”

“We’ll bring her home,” Chain says.

Nuri says nothing, any objection she has to being paired with Bell not one she wishes to share with the room. Instead, she finishes checking the MP5K that Bell brought back with him from Wild World along with his wounds, then throws a glance to the surveillance bank, to the increasing number of charcoal-blank screens. She checks the Spartan again.

“Anything?”

“Dick-all,” she says, and Bonebreaker laughs.

Bell finishes his check, surveys the team, reads their commitment. Even Nuri has brought her game face, and Bell once again wonders what she’s capable of. The CIA lies, it’s their job, and they’re good at it. She killed an armed man who had taken her by surprise in his office with her bare hands, he reminds himself. She can put the bullets where they belong.

“Time to go to work,” Bell says.

Without the need to avoid surveillance there’s no reason to use the tunnels. The confusion of WilsonVille: at this time, on a normal day, going underground would be the only way to cross the park quickly, efficiently. Today, with the landscape barren and hostile, Bell and Nuri cover the distance from the Sheriff’s Office to the border between Wild Horse Valley and Pirate Bay in just over four minutes. With crowds, it would have taken four times as long, easily.

Bonebreaker runs along with them, keeping pace. The two target locations are relatively close together, and even though Jorge has studied the map, Bell wants to guide him to target as best he can. At the bridge west of Nova’s Tower, Bell puts up his fist, and they all slow to a stop.

“That way,” Bell tells Bonebreaker, pointing south, past the Race for Justice. “There’s a bridge, crosses from Terra Space north into the valley.”

Bonebreaker nods. “And if I get lost, there are signs.”

“Don’t get lost. Call it in when you’re good to go.”

“Roger that.”

Bonebreaker takes off, weapon in hand, and Bell begins moving again, feeling the weight of his own pistol in his grip. Bone and Board brought a resupply, and with knowledge of the map, with determined points of entry, this is a by-the-numbers operation. They do what they do, and it should come off without a hitch.

That nagging doubt again, and Bell knows it isn’t going to be that easy.

“You did the right thing,” Nuri says.

They’re skirting the Old WilsonVille Railroad, where the original steam engine that used to run on the track circumscribing the park was decommissioned. Now it’s an attraction of a different sort—a restaurant, a shop, and a play area. Heading north, toward Fort Royal, and Bell can feel the humidity in the air, rising from the man-made Pirate Bay.

“The right thing is doing this, now,” Bell says. “There isn’t anything else.”

Bell pulls into cover behind the ticket booth at Royal Hunt. They’re in the shade from Mount Royal, the sun now having descended far enough to be blocked by the imitation Everest. Nuri stacks close to him, almost touching, and he feels her turning, covering their back.

“It was a hard call, that’s all I’m saying,” she says softly. “I can’t imagine having to make that choice.”

“What choice?”

“Between your job and the people you love.”

Bell looks at her, suspicious, unsure if he’s being mocked and truly not in the mood for it. Instead, he finds that she’s watching him, her expression somber. There’s sympathy, and something else, and for the first time in almost two months of knowing this woman, Bell can see something aside from the professional demeanor, the park mask.

“My whole life has been that choice,” he says.

He leans back against the kiosk, peers out, checking his lines, seeing nothing. Ahead of them, to the north, is Fort Royal, built to resemble a seventeenth-century Caribbean fortress on one side and an early pioneer trading post on the other. This side, facing south and the Wild Horse Valley, is the more rustic. He starts to turn to Nuri once more, to give her the run, direct her where she should go, when he sees movement. One hand goes to her, pulls her back with him, presses her into cover at his side.

The service door on the southeast side of the fort swings open. As Bell watches from cover, two figures emerge, immediately followed by two more. Then three, and another two, and by his count that’s everyone who was in Fort Royal, now all outside. They move in a cluster, staying close, and almost as one begin walking, heading in their direction.

Bell doesn’t move.

Nuri slips his arm, looks past, says what Bell is thinking.

“Shit,” she murmurs.

“Move,” he answers, and they retreat from the kiosk, back toward the wall bordering the Royal Hunt. She goes over it first, Bell after, dropping into the fake foliage, landing between an animatronic gorilla and its mate. Each listening, and each hearing nothing. Nuri begins picking her way carefully through the overgrowth, following the wall, stops after a dozen yards or so, dropping to one knee. Bell leans over her, can see the walkway through a gap in the wall.

Bell brings his left hand to his ear, is about to activate the earbud, but Chain beats him to the punch.

“We have a problem,” Chain says. “They’re mobile, and they’re concealed. Repeat, we cannot identify the Tangos.”

“Same,” Bell murmurs.

“Same,” Bonebreaker says.

“Hold.”

The group is beginning to pass them now. Walking close together, almost touching one another, and all of them, every single one of them, is in some costume or another. They’re not perfect fits: a Gordo whose cuffs drag on the ground, a S.E.E.K.E.R. Robot with one hand out on the back of a fully armored Valiant Flashman. A Pooch; a Rascal with his tail wrapped around his middle like a belt; a Clip Flashman in full encounter suit, including visored helmet; two dressed as Betsy, one in the soccer player costume and the other in traditional cutoffs and a plaid shirt; and finally a Lola, the oversized toucan, wings dragging alongside.

With only a couple of exceptions, Bell can’t see their hands. Sleeves hang empty at the sides of costumes, sway disturbingly with each step. No way to tell who’s armed, who is pointing a weapon, and who has their hands perhaps bound inside the confines of their outfits.

No easy way to tell the good guys from the bad, despite what each costume may say.

The procession passes them by, and not one head turns, not one costume looks their way.

The dead Tango’s radio on Bell’s hip crackles to life.

“Mr. Bell.” It’s the same soft-spoken man, the same voice. “Let’s talk about how this is going to work.”