Michael Vey 9, page 4
She tried to find the Weekend Express pipes, but if they were still there, they were concealed beneath the forest’s canopy.
As if reading her mind, Amash said, “I trust you recall the Weekend Express?”
Taylor looked at him. “You knew about it?”
“Of course I knew about it. I sanctioned it. It was a way to reward the faithful and root out the unfaithful.”
“It’s where guards deserted the Elgen,” Taylor said.
“It’s where they tried to desert. We always hunted them down. We kept it because it helped us root out the unfaithful.
“It might surprise you that Hatch never knew about the pipes. There was actually a lot Hatch didn’t know about. But the tunnels have been sealed off. We welded the outside shut. A few men tried to escape, but we just locked them inside. It was like burying them alive. Horrible way to go. You can see on the metal lid where they tried to claw their way back in. Now the thing smells of death and decaying bodies. It’s a deterrent.”
“Death usually is an effective deterrent,” Taylor said.
“Not as effective as you would think, but still useful.”
“Are there still rats?” Taylor asked.
“Yes. Of course. Not nearly as many as before; we don’t need them as we did. But we keep enough to generate our own power. It’s either that or solar out here. Rats are more dependable than the sun. Rain or shine they produce the juice.” He smiled as if he was pleased with himself.
To the east of the compound, on a loading dock on the murky brown river, there was a row of large trucks loading cargo containers onto a barge. There were at least fifty men, many of them wearing white lab coats, surrounding the containers.
Taylor had almost said something snarky about the bats but had wisely stopped herself. Amash still hadn’t said anything about the bats, which likely meant he was keeping it secret, which also meant that he didn’t know they knew about the bats or the Chasqui’s plan to burn Arequipa to the ground. One slip of her tongue might have changed the Chasqui’s plans entirely.
“What are you shipping?” Taylor asked innocently.
Amash looked at her with a peculiar gaze, then said, “The usual contraband. Fentanyl and cocaine… mostly.” He suddenly smiled. “Fentanyl is the future. In the drug world it started as an additive. Dealers used to cut it in with heroin since it was more potent and cheaper than heroin, but it wasn’t long before the junkies preferred the additive to the drug. It’s cheap and easy to produce, and it’s fifty to a hundred times more potent than morphine. Of course, that makes it dangerous. Just two milligrams can be fatal. To put that into perspective, a grain of salt is about sixty-five milligrams. So a speck of fentanyl the size of one-thirtieth of a grain of salt is enough to overdose on.
“Almost twice as many Americans died of fentanyl overdose last year than died in the Vietnam War. That must make you very proud to be an American.”
“That must make you very proud to be a mass murderer.”
Amash snapped back, “We haven’t murdered anyone. Handing someone a knife isn’t the same as stabbing them with it. If they choose to use it, that’s on them.” He looked down below. “That one forty-foot container can hold enough fentanyl to kill every man, woman, and child in the world. Of course, that’s not our objective; you can’t make money off dead people. A dead slave is of no use at all.” He suddenly grinned. “I suppose that’s not entirely true.”
Taylor wasn’t sure who was worse, Hatch or Amash.
When the other two helicopters had caught up, the lead copter began to descend slowly until it set down on the helipad near the compound’s center.
For Taylor, being on the ground was like stepping back into a nightmare.
As the helicopter rotors slowed, a group of soldiers, each with one hand on their hat, the other on their weapon, ran up to the front of the helicopter and stood at attention.
When Amash stepped out, the soldiers saluted him. He casually saluted back, then walked forward, leaning in to say something to the first soldier. After he passed, the soldier went to the helicopter’s side door and, with the aid of another soldier, helped Taylor out, taking her by the arm.
“You come with me,” the soldier said.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked sardonically.
“No!” he barked back. “You have no choice!”
Jack stepped out of the copter behind her, and a row of guards fell in behind them. The entourage followed Amash up to two large steel doors that automatically opened at their approach. They walked inside onto a concrete floor that had been painted glossy white.
Everything was white—the floor, walls, doors and frames, even the hinges and doorknobs—giving the place an unusually sterile and austere feeling. A soft, squishing noise was piped over the sound system. It was the only sound other than their footsteps on the concrete floor. She knew that Jack was walking right behind her, so she never turned back.
They passed several white-coated scientists on their way down the brightly lit corridor.
“We have more scientists here now than soldiers,” Amash said proudly. “We consider that progress. Of course, one scientist can kill more people than a million soldiers.”
“What part of that do you consider progress?” Taylor asked.
Amash just smiled and kept walking.
After a few more minutes, Taylor asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“I’ve told you. To see your sister.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then. Be patient and respectful. You’re a guest here.”
I’m a prisoner here, she thought.
They walked through a second set of doors, past a guard standing at attention. “Déjà vu,” Taylor said to herself. She remembered these halls too well. They were the same halls where Hatch had released the rats and Zeus had almost sacrificed his life to protect the rest of the Electroclan, suffering terrible burns in the process.
The thought of that made her nauseous. The trauma she had faced back then, combined with Jack’s current betrayal, was too much. She suddenly turned back and shoved Jack against the wall. “How could you betray us?! After all we’ve been through.”
I’m not a traitor. We’re going to rescue Tara, then get out of here. It’s the only way I could think of.
Taylor looked at him with surprise. Jack’s lips hadn’t moved. He was thinking this.
The Chasqui guards pulled Taylor from him as the familiar screech of a RESAT dropped Taylor to her knees.
“Don’t touch him,” a guard said.
“It’s okay, you can turn it off,” Jack said. “She’s just angry and scared.” He crouched down next to Taylor, who was still doubled over on the floor. He spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “You’ve done the right thing by coming here. Once you understand the Chasqui vision for the world, you’ll join us. Happily.” Jack glanced back at Amash, who was gazing at him intensely.
Taylor climbed back to her feet. “I’ll never join you.”
Amash smiled confidently. “We’ll see, dear girl…. We’ll see.”
The entourage continued on down the corridor.
13 A Gilded Cage
About sixty feet from where Taylor had attacked Jack, they stopped in front of another door. One of the guards opened it, exposing a spacious apartment-like room.
Amash said to Taylor, “This will be your room. I trust you will find it comfortable.”
“You said I was going to see my sister.”
“And you will. She’ll be at dinner. I wanted to give both of you a little time to tidy up. This is a celebration; it should be handled appropriately.”
“A celebration for who?”
“For whom. For you, of course.”
“Do I look like I’m celebrating?”
“No, but you should be.”
“You just took me prisoner.”
“You keep forgetting that you came to us. And you’re not a prisoner. If you were a prisoner, you’d be in a battery-charged cage with the RESAT on full, instead of this comfortable suite with luxurious amenities. But that’s beside the point. Babies cry when they’re born, but that doesn’t make it any less of a time for celebration.
“Figuratively speaking, you are a baby. The true world is as unknown to you as to a newborn in a crib. If you knew the truth about this world we inhabit, we wouldn’t have had to chase you down. You would have come to us willingly. As Jack said correctly, you would have joined us… happily.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
“But I do, Taylor. And mark my words, someday you and I will laugh at this very conversation.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Well, as they say, you don’t know what you don’t know.” He looked at Jack. “Isn’t that right, Jack?”
“Absolutely, Sovereign.”
“From Jack’s mouth to God’s ear. And by ‘God’ I mean me.” He smiled. “Dinner will be ready in two hours, so for now you have time to get a little rest. There are fresh clothes in the closet and refreshments in the refrigerator. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, by all means, let us know. I have a concierge assigned to you.”
“Concierge? You mean a guard?”
“Your room is equipped with an intercom system; all you need to do is speak.”
“And you’ve bugged me.”
“We are at your service,” he said. “Now get some rest. You must be exhausted after this morning’s ordeal.” He held up his finger to stop her from speaking. “This morning’s battle.”
Taylor furtively glanced over at Jack. They had brief eye contact before everyone walked out of her room, the door locking behind them. She took a deep breath, then looked around the room. She honestly couldn’t say it was bad in there. It was a lot better than the other cells she had been kept in. She shook her head at her thoughts. I’ve become a connoisseur of Elgen prison cells, she thought. From the look of things, Amash and the Chasqui had a different mindset than Hatch and the Elgen. This room had been “humanized.” It had still-life and landscape paintings on the walls, and even the bed had a luxurious floral duvet and decorative pillows.
On the nightstand next to the bed there was a fragrant and exotic bouquet of flowers in an etched crystal vase. It was pretty—not just the flowers, which were impressive enough, but the vase itself.
“At least he has more class than Hatch,” she said, momentarily forgetting that she was being listened to. The RESAT wasn’t on, for which she was especially grateful. Her mother once asked her what a RESAT felt like. Taylor’s best explanation was, “Do you have metal fillings in your teeth?”
Her mother said, “Yes.”
Taylor said, “Then you know what it feels like to chew aluminum foil.”
Her mother winced. “That’s horrible.”
“Exactly,” Taylor said. “Now imagine that your whole body was your mouth.”
Her mother didn’t know what to say to that. Finally she said, “I’m sorry that you know what that feels like.”
Alone in the room, Taylor realized how lonely she was. Mostly, how much she missed Michael. She hoped that he wasn’t too angry at her, but then, maybe if he was angry enough, he wouldn’t risk his life by coming after her.
She also wished that she had talked to her mother before surrendering herself. But what would she have said? “Hey, Mom, I’m going to surrender myself to the people who kidnapped Tara. Have a good day.” That wouldn’t have gone well. It was just better that she didn’t know.
Taylor sat down on the bed. There was a thick book on the nightstand next to it. Atlas Shrugged. She opened to the first page.
Who is John Galt?
Great first line, she thought. She set the book back down. She decided to test Amash’s offer and see how closely she really was being monitored.
“I wish I had some ice cream,” she said softly. Then she lay down on her bed. Less than ten minutes later there was a short buzz; then her door opened. In the doorway stood a beautiful young Peruvian woman wearing an apron. She carried a silver platter with a crystal bowl filled with various ice creams.
“Ms. Ridley, I thought you might enjoy some ice cream,” she said in nearly perfect English. “It is actually gelato: raspberry, stracciatella, mango, and lemon. This little pitcher has hot fudge if you like. The lemon is very tart. It’s my personal favorite.” She walked over to the counter and set down the tray. “I’ll leave it right here.”
“Thank you,” Taylor said.
“My pleasure.”
As the girl turned to go, Taylor asked, “How long have you worked here?”
The girl looked at her for a moment, then said, “It’s been my pleasure. I hope you do not spoil your appetite; the sovereign has planned a very special dinner for you and your friends.”
“Thank you,” Taylor said. She reached out her hand. The girl hesitated, then took Taylor’s hand. It was as Taylor had expected: the girl was terrified. “Take care,” Taylor said.
“My pleasure,” she said again, then hurried out of the room. The door shut behind her.
Taylor lifted the bowl and took a bite of the lemon gelato. It was as good as any gelato she’d had in Italy. I guess he meant it, she thought. I wonder what would happen if I asked for a pony.
There was one frightening question that had secreted itself in the darkest corners of her mind. Was this the first day of the rest of her life in captivity?
She ate about half the gelato, then lay back on the bed. Will I ever see Michael again? She hoped he’d understand. He had to, didn’t he? Hadn’t he done the same thing in trying to save her and his mother?
Her exhaustion from emotion and lack of sleep caught up with her, and she dozed off. She woke to an announcement over her room’s intercom.
“Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Ridley, but dinner will be served in one hour in case you would like to freshen up. There are fresh clothing and undergarments in the closet. In fifty minutes, someone will be at your door to escort you to the dining room. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
It was strange how differently things were handled than the Elgen way, which was pretty much all pain, coercion, and fear. Of course, Hatch had tried to seduce her with charm, too, when he’d sent her out shopping in Beverly Hills.
She walked over to the closet and looked inside. There were two dresses. One was a simple black cocktail dress. She looked at its label. Christian Dior.
Of course, she thought. Wonder how much that cost.
The other dress was just as beautiful—a leopard print on a silk fabric. Dolce & Gabbana. She took it out of the closet and held it up. She knew that it must have cost several thousand dollars. She hadn’t worn anything that nice for a long time.
The dress was her size. How did they know what size I wear? Of course, they could have gotten her measurements from Tara, but how did they get a dress like this, deep in the jungle? It occurred to her that they had been preparing for her capture for some time. That only made her more anxious. Had she played right into their plans?
She pushed the thought from her mind. You’re going to see Tara, she told herself. Time to get ready. She walked into the bathroom. It was larger than she’d expected and, like the main room, nicer. It had a heated stone-tile floor with a large glass shower. It felt like it had been weeks since she’d showered. She turned on the water, and the glass around the shower immediately steamed up. She glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. The blinking red light on the camera confirmed that it was live. She wondered how many men were watching her. She shook her head. Whatever.
She took off all her clothes and put them into a clothes hamper. (Did they have laundry service?) Then, for a moment, she just looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her body was covered with bruises and cuts, some from that morning. They fit with the scars she carried from much older injuries. Somewhere, during the battles with the Elgen, she had stopped counting wounds.
She sighed. Elgen. It was a word that had started to vanish into the past. Now here she was, back at the first Starxource plant again.
She reached in to test the water’s temperature, then stepped into the shower. The warm water felt luxurious. There were expensive body gels and shampoos, something she’d expect from a Four Seasons resort hotel, not a jungle cell.
She rubbed her body with a shower oil that smelled rich, like almond oil. Then she let the water run through her hair as dirt pooled in the bottom of the shower, then dissipated. Despite the circumstances, she felt like herself again.
The shower felt so nice that she wished she had more time. Still, she was eager to see Tara, so she got out of the shower, drying herself off with a thick, plush towel—another luxury one only thinks of when one has been away from civilization for a while.
She brushed her hair, then went out to the closet. There were all kinds of lotions and expensive perfumes, including one she had heard of but never tried, Roja Haute Luxe, considered one of the finest perfumes money could buy. Tara had shown it to her back at a Neiman Marcus in Phoenix. The small purple-gem-capped bottle had been selling for $3,500, almost as much as two ounces of gold. She unscrewed its cap and smelled it, then dabbed some onto her throat and behind her ears, then a little more onto the insides of her wrists and the backs of her knees. The perfume had a light floral fragrance.
“There’s at least fifty dollars’ worth,” she said softly. “I hope tonight’s worth it.”
She decided on the leopard print and slid the dress on, admiring the way it looked in the full-length, gold-trimmed mirror that was in the corner of the room.
She looked back through the drawers. There were different kinds of stockings and pantyhose, which she ignored, but the shoes thrilled her. There were three different kinds, one a bright red pair of stiletto heels, the others simply black. She sat down on her bed and put on a simple low-heeled pair of patent-leather pumps.
