81
Emily Botswanger danced in the line, weaving in and out of the ribbon barriers that were supposed to keep her in check and ignoring her mother’s stern warnings about behaving. At eight years old, she could be forgiven for her exuberance. Especially since she’d spent the last three days on a “holiday” that consisted of her parents dragging her all over England seeing a bunch of musty old things that meant as much to her as a dead mole on her doorstep. At least then she knew her tabby had done the deed, and while yucky, it was new. Why her parents thought she’d care about someone’s death a hundred years ago was beyond her.
The Tower of London, the royal Palace, the Wartime Bunker, it was one boring thing after another, but they were finally doing something she would enjoy. Riding the Eye.
Her mother admonished her again, saying they wouldn’t go forward if she didn’t behave. She calmed down. Enough to give her parents the leeway to continue. They advanced forward in the line, seeing the capsules being filled one after the other in a relentless march.
She said, “How fast does it go? Will we feel like we’re on a roller coaster?”
Her mother smiled and said, “No. It’s slow. Like an escalator. Not like a roller coaster.”
Disappointed, Emily said, “Can they make it speed up? If we ask?”
Her mother ushered her to the platform, lining up into the queue for the next capsule. She said, “We don’t want it to speed up. That would be dangerous.”
Their car appeared, rolling inexorably forward, and they stutter-stepped to get in. Emily said, “I don’t mind danger. I like excitement.”
* * *
Blaine returned, a huge grin on his face, and I knew we’d saved the day. At least his and the president’s. My teammates came through as well, smiling and carrying in Nicholas Seacrest, groggy and drugged, but alive.
So we had won. As far as the US government was concerned. I would have cheered, but we were still missing Kylie. And we now had a new threat. They were buoyant in our success, but I was about to pop that bubble.
Blaine saw my face and said, “What? What happened?”
I pointed to Seamus and said, “He can give us Kylie.”
His face scrunched up in confusion. “Kylie? Who is that?”
“She’s the reason I’m here. Kurt’s niece.” I pointed at Nick Seacrest and said, “Honestly, I don’t care about him. I’m glad we got him, but I want Kylie. They were tied together, and now they aren’t.”
Wondering why his huge victory wasn’t being shared, Blaine said, “Okay, so we go get her next. These guys will know where she is. Right?”
I said, “Yeah. They do. But there’s another problem.”
I told him what I knew, Nung bringing out photos and schematic drawings delineating explosive charges and resulting effects.
He said, “This is going down right now? In the next hour?”
“Yes. But I don’t give a shit. I’m going to Ireland to get Kylie. You can sort this out.”
He looked at me in confusion. I stood up, saying, “I’m taking Seamus. And your van.”
Seamus rolled back, clearly not wanting to be with me. Jennifer rose and said, “Pike, we can’t do that.”
I said, “Bullshit we can’t. Kylie isn’t going to die.”
Nung, of all people, said, “They’re going to drop the Eye. Kill over eight hundred civilians. I do not care, but I thought it would be prudent to show the tradeoff.”
And there it was. The dilemma this entire chase had been about. Now exposed. How much was one life worth? How many could be sacrificed to save the one?
I looked at Jennifer, wanting guidance. She didn’t turn from my glare, holding my eyes. I saw the truth to my question. I saw her answer. And the pain.
I said, “What the hell can we do anyway? Call them. Tell them to stop the tour. Get them out.”
Pulling up the Eye website on his phone, Retro said, “We have thirty minutes. That’s one revolution of the wheel. Even if we got them to stop loading, a ton of people will die. And that’s given we could penetrate the fog. Get through to someone with the power to stop it right this second.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, seeing Kylie from parties in the past. A teenager, full of vitality and youth. Now going to die by my decision. I gave a silent prayer to her, begging forgiveness.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but in the room, Blaine said, “Pike, I have to get Seacrest out of here. I can’t let you take the team. I have the vice president’s son. He’s the precious cargo, and I have to get him out. You can have the sedan, but the van stays here.”
I gave him a look of disgust and said, “Fine. Me, Nung, and Jennifer. Keeps it clean anyway. And I don’t need the sedan. The Tube will be faster. The rest of you fucks can bask in the glory of saving mister high-and-mighty.”
Brett said, “I’m coming with you.” Retro followed with “No doubt. I’m not riding this in the rear.”
I said, “Blaine’s right. Get Seacrest out of here. Numbers don’t matter now. You’ll be no help.”
Blaine nodded, relieved, and said, “I’ll start the chain right now. Get them to stop loading and tell them what we have. Get them ready to receive you.”
I said, “That’s a wasted call. We’ll be there in minutes, before you can get anyone to start moving. I’ll do it myself. They’ll shut down operations when we arrive waving guns around.”
He nodded, saying, “I know, but it’ll help with the cleanup.”
“I could give a shit about that. I care about Kylie. You start looking. Find out what you can from Seamus, and don’t be nice. When this is over, you better help me locate her.”
He said, “I will. No matter what the Oversight Council says.”