I swallowed, limbs trembling as I followed him inside. The small apartment felt instantly claustrophobic, clammy with the sensations of fear and weeping, thick with the scent of newly shed blood. I had to force myself to enter the tiny dining area, where several other Agents stood around the table, faces grim. Franklin Newman gave me a shaky nod from where he stood in the corner, looking pale. Torture always made him queasy.
Natalie turned from her work when I entered, a pleasant smile on her face and a surgical scalpel in her hand. "There you are, Mike."
"Natalie." Raspy-voiced, I could barely speak.
"Good job in closing the mission out. Kilgore reports that you performed to the utmost, finding out exactly what the traitor was up to. Thanks to your collaborative efforts, Chicago will finally be under UH control again."
Kilgore stood beside me with his arms folded and a blank expression on his face. He lied to cover me, but I couldn't figure out why. He knew what me and Maxine were planning. He knew I distrusted him, practically hated him, but he kept my treason out of his report.
Natalie glanced down at the table with a sneer. "Or when I get every last drop of information out of this disloyal bitch, that is."
When her unforgiving eyes met mine, I realized the truth. She was behind Kilgore's discretion. She knew if the word got out, I was finished. Trial, judgment, execution. And there was no way she'd ever let that happen — not by anyone's hands but hers. She'd cover for me, wipe away my mistakes, preserve my reputation as an Agent … and she'd make sure my punishment was equal to her efforts.
Sure enough, malice glinted in her gaze when she waved me over. "Come and see."
All eyes were on me when I stepped forward, steeling myself for the worst. Unable to face the horror of the moment, I retreated into the darkness inside, where the other waited. The one with cold eyes and a black heart, detached from emotion, focused only on survival. It was the only way to endure as the other Agents cleared back so I could see what Natalie had done, how she had punished Maxine for my transgressions.
My mind turned blank, lost in the void as I looked at the woman tied to the table like a hog before the slaughter. To Mike she was a woman he fell in love with, but to Hunter she was just another body. Natalie had been severe but methodical, making sure to stitch and patch, never allowing Maxine to lose consciousness even as she lost other parts of herself. Her face was practically unrecognizable, her entire right arm amputated. One eye was missing, but the other — the other stared at me, crazed with fear and agony, pleading for me to do something, anything to help her.
Instead, I did nothing.
Natalie draped a bloodstained hand around my neck, gazing through her lashes at her macabre work, a look of pride on her face. "Do you want a piece of this, Mike? Maybe add a few personal touches to make it complete?"
I never took my eyes off of Maxine. "Not my thing."
Natalie's eyes glimmered with rage even as she laughed. "No, you'd probably butcher her, wouldn't you? No matter, I was nearly finished. I think she's told us everything, but I have to be absolutely sure, wouldn't you agree? And now that you're here to watch, I can administer the coup de grace."
Seconds later, Maxine's screams rang in my ears while I stood there, frozen in place, hidden behind Hunter's mask while huddled inside my head, sobbing in impotent helplessness.
And all the while, Kilgore watched me with a frozen grin on his face.
I winced, dismissing the ugly visions. I owed Maxine whatever payback she wanted to serve up, but first, I had to deal with Kilgore. I had to focus on what made him tick. Everyone had a weakness. Exploit it, and you could take them down. My years with the HSSC proved that. No one was invincible, and Kilgore was no exception. He was never a nihilist; he was a soldier. He betrayed Maxine because he was ordered to, and he covered my tracks for the same reason. He was a vessel in need of a purpose, something to motivate him to one end or the other.
What in the world was driving him now?
The last I'd heard, he quit the HSSC of his own accord, suddenly and without explanation. The next time his name popped up, he was making a rep for himself on Mars in the Red War. Something made him quit and head for the red sands of another planet. Something important. If I knew what it was, then maybe …
My holoband buzzed, and I took the call on the heads-up display. Agent Kessler's face flickered onto the screen, looking unexpectedly frustrated.
I gave him my most infuriating smirk. "Why the long face, Kessler — someone take the stick out of your ass?"
He didn't even crack a smile. "You remember the failsafe I told you about?"
"The one that dampens Kilgore's powers? What about it?"
"Let's just say things aren't going well. The Environmental Department is a madhouse right now. I'm talking mass panic. I can barely get a word in with any of the labcoats, and none of them have any idea how to install the device. They say the weather system is out of control, and they're all more concerned with trying to stop the flooding."
"You gotta keep at it, Kessler. That might be the deciding factor in taking down Kilgore."
"I'm aware, Mike. I don't think your friend Captain Flask likes me, either. Every time he shows up, I swear he's thinking about throwing me in a cell."
"You'll get used to it. Look, you might have to get your point across in a less diplomatic way, Kessler."
"Yeah? What would you suggest?'
"Putting a gun to someone's head always gets their attention and usually works better than saying pretty please."
Instead of scoffing, his expression turned thoughtful. "Might do the trick. I'll get back with you."
Immediately after he signed off, another call buzzed over. Lord Troll's narrow face flickered on the screen, eyes covered by oversized red goggles. "Had to move my equipment Uptown, 'cause my base was fragged by the bloody flooding."
"Yeah, that's not gonna stop anytime soon. You got something for me?"
"Just the same thing everyone else is getting. Message sent on all wavelengths and stations. It's Kilgore."
"Play it."
Lord Troll's profile was replaced by Kilgore's. He sat in a dark room with neon orbs glowing behind him. The bullet wound in his shoulder was nearly healed, puckered scar tissue that looked months old. Laser lights reflected from the surface of his mirrored aviators, and he wore his usual vacant expression.
"Residents of New Haven: you've witnessed the flooding of the lower depths, where those who have lived disadvantageous lives can no longer be ignored. And now, you've risen to the heights. You may think this a time for mourning, for panic. I'm here to tell you that it isn't. It's a time for revelations. A time for rising up."
I clicked over to Lord Troll. "Can you trace the signal?"
"Working on it."
Kilgore continued his deliberation. "You believe yourselves free residents, but in reality, most of you are slaves. Victims of memory implants and reprogramming that prevents you from asking questions about what's outside the protective shield that shrouds this Haven. What you don't know is that your existence is a fabrication, a façade created by Dr. Faraday and his minions to conceal the truth. At the Wake-Up rally midnight tonight, I'll prove it. Gather yourselves in Haven Square and prepare for the ultimate revelation in a display that your masters can't conceal or obstruct. The clock is ticking."
I knew that the last point was directly aimed at me, and I felt the countdown in my head. I knew what the result would be for the midnight gathering. If I didn't get him what he wanted, it was gonna be a bad night in New Haven. The worst, in fact. I knew it like I knew my reflection in the mirror, right down to the gritty little details.