Fox Forever (3 page)

“There are rumors about Karden,” Livvy says. “We have to know. If they’re true, he’s been holed up for sixteen years and no one’s tried to help him. We owe him that much.”

I backtrack, trying to remember every word Miesha told me about that night. She never saw them. All she saw was a burning house.
I was walking back from the market.… The front door was open and bursting with flames.… I ran, screaming, breaking a window with my bare arms.… I thrashed, desperate to get to them, and then I felt a tazegun at my neck.… When I woke, I was in prison, and they told me they were dead.

She said it herself. She never saw them dead. She only knew what the prison officials had told her.
They wouldn’t even let me make any kind of arrangements for their funerals.… As far as I know, their remains were shoveled up along with the burned rubble of the house.

Unless Karden’s body wasn’t there to shovel up. And with eighty billion duros at stake, the Security Forces would have covered all their tracks. But why now, after all these years, are there finally rumors? And if he’s been missing all this time, why the sudden urgency to find him? They all act like time is running out. I look at the four of them seated across from me waiting for me to respond. The table is turned—do I trust
them
enough to meet them halfway? Eighty billion duros gives them a lot of reasons to lie to me.

“Is it Karden or the money that you’re really after?”

“Karden,” Livvy and Xavier both say firmly and simultaneously. Jake nods his agreement.

Carver is slower to respond. He leans back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s tired and then gets up and begins pacing in the shadows of the room again. A nervous habit? But he doesn’t strike me as the nervous sort—more of the slow methodical type. “We all want to help Karden if he’s alive, but I’m not going to deny that the money is a big consideration too. There’s a small but growing movement in higher political circles that’s mumbling about reunification. They want to have one united country again, but there’s strong opposition from both of the fractured sides. That kind of money could give the Resistance a lot of mileage, and now there’s a small contingent in power who would actually listen. It could mean an instant end to the subclass of people the division created. No more Non-pacts, and as you know,
Non-pacts
has become a catch-all phrase for anyone who doesn’t meet certain standards.”

Like me. I know he’s playing to my sympathies, my lab-created body falling way short of meeting so-called legal standards. Miesha’s bitter words cut through me.
The human race has always found a group to marginalize—every culture, every time, every race.

But that inequity still doesn’t mean I’m going to risk what I do have without more answers. “The money has always been out there somewhere. Why the sudden urgency now?”

“Bank accounts with no activity for fifteen years are absorbed by the country where they’re deposited. There’s a one-year grace period to reclaim them,” Livvy says. “We’re in that grace period now. But more importantly, if Karden is alive, once the money is gone for good, there will be no reason for the Security Forces to keep him alive. He’s living on borrowed time.”

“
If
he’s alive,” I say. “It might be just that, you know? Only rumors.”

“We’re well aware of that,” Carver answers.

They all stare at me, silent and waiting. The cards are laid out and it’s my turn to play.

This is no ordinary Favor. With this one I could lose everything I’ve managed to gain in the last few months. My
freedom
. After all those years of being a prisoner, first in a hellish cube and then on Gatsbro’s estate, I could end up in prison again. Big-time prison. Or worse, dead. In my old neighborhood, people could end up dead over a Benji in their wallet. With eighty billion duros at stake, plugging someone wouldn’t even be an afterthought.

But we’re talking about Miesha’s
husband
. Leader of the Resistance. I’m still trying to get my head around that possibility. I remember the knife in my pack. His knife. It was the only thing of his that Miesha had left and she gave it to me. I remember using it to cut away the CabBot’s fingers that clutched my wrist. And before that it slashed and disabled the iScroll on my palm that Gatsbro was using to track me. His knife has saved my skin twice already. It’s a long shot, but if it is him …

“I’m not here to join any Resistance,” I tell them. “Just to return a Favor.”

Carver and Livvy both nod.

I throw my pack onto the table and sit down. “Okay. How do I fit in?”

The Set

I walk around the apartment. Small but extravagant. Beautiful, even. Impressive. And that’s the point. To impress. Louisburg Square means as much now as it did when I lived in Boston, but I never set foot in one of these houses back then.

“How can they afford this?”

Xavier opens the bedroom door and waves me in. “I told you. They’ve sunk everything they have into you and finding him. The funds are drained. I probably don’t need to tell you the money didn’t come easy either. A lot of skipped meals for a lot of Non-pacts who wanted to contribute.”

I’m already feeling the weight of their hope on me.

“We only have the apartment until the end of next month. That’s when the real owners move in.”

End of next month? I don’t plan on playing this role for a week. I need to get on with my life, my plans, all the things that have been put on hold for too long. I need to figure out who or what I am. I need to live the life that Jenna wants me to live. I need to
hurry
and live it. Catch up. Is that possible? Can I ever catch up to Jenna?

“It shouldn’t take that long,” I say.

“Says you who’s never met the Secretary.”

I ignore Xavier and open a closet. It’s full of shirts and pants and shoes that are all equal to any of the expensive clothing that Gatsbro provided me. And it all looks like my size. They knew I would do this. I turn to Carver who has followed us into the bedroom. “Is all this really necessary? This expense?”

“We only get one shot at this. He has to believe that you are who you say you are. We have to get you in a position where he lets his guard down.”

All they need is for me to get close enough to the Secretary of Security to find out where he’s keeping Karden—that is,
if
he’s keeping Karden. I’ll be sneaking through files, reading lips, listening—any slip of information that will help us. They know Karden’s not in the usual temporary detainment center in the city, but there’s no record of any other facility. They’ve tried to find a way into the Security Headquarters to get information but it’s an impassable fortress. Besides, they think the Secretary and his cohorts have their own secret stash of prisoners that would never be in the official records—prisoners they keep for their own purposes.

“I still don’t see how having all this is going to get me into his house.”

“You have to play the part. Xavier will explain later.” Carver is distracted, shuffling through files at the table, one Vgram after another flipping up as he searches for the right one. “These files aren’t indexed,” he complains, shooting a glance at Xavier. “Ah. Here it is, File Twelve. Over here, Locke. I need to review this with you.”

I join him at the table. “This is the layout of his house—at least the last known records of it. It’s the Tudor Apartments. Don’t let the name fool you. His is a double unit and takes up two floors and eleven thousand square feet. He may have made interior changes, but it’s not likely, given the historical nature of the building. It’s going to take you a while so start memorizing the layout. Every inch of it. You won’t be able to bring this with you.” He slides a disk toward me. “Here’s your new ID.”

“I already have a new ID.”

He shakes his head. “That was just to get you here. There can’t be any traces of where you just came from. We have a new history for you. Besides, we decided using your own name is best. There’s no present-day record of a Locke Jenkins anywhere that we haven’t recently created, and we can’t afford slips. Your name is perfect. You’ll answer to it without hesitation. That’s what we need. You’ll be believable as Locke Jenkins.”

I listen as he methodically goes step by step through this new person I will become, even if he has the name Locke Jenkins. I’m the son of a Barrett Jenkins, a resource consultant currently on assignment in Bvlsavia. Livvy will play my mother as necessary. We’ve lived abroad for years but are returning home to complete my education and because of my mother’s undisclosed health problem. He tells me I will be believable because unlike other Non-pacts, I’m physically fit and already have the advantage of an advanced education, not to mention my other special abilities, which will come into play later.

“He’ll do a background check on you, and given enough time and enough digging, he’ll figure out you’re a fake, but before he digs too deep, you’re going to find what we need. That’s why we have to get you in and out as fast as we can.”

We can hope.

He reaches for my pack resting on the edge of the desk. I put my hand out to stop him. I may be on his “team,” but I still guard my own space.

“What’s in it?”

“Just a few things. Personal things.”

“We need to know.”

I hesitate and then reluctantly dump it out. My dad always told me,
Save your battles for the big ones.
This isn’t a big one. My few possessions tumble across the desk. Protein cakes. Water. The crumpled tissue and pit from the chocolate peach Allys gave me. The Swiss knife Miesha sent along with me. My phone tab. The green eye of Liberty. Kayla’s one-eyed elephant that she had insisted I take along.

Xavier walks closer to take a look. “A stuffed elephant?”

“A farewell gift from a four-year-old.”

He smirks and I think I’m going to smash his teeth in right there but then he catches sight of something else on the desk that interests him more. “Where’d you get that knife?”

“Miesha gave it to me. It used to belong to—”

“I know who it belonged to.”

Carver picks up the knife and looks it over. “It’s the one Karden left at my house the day before he disappeared. He came over while I was gone, and forgot it there. I gave it back to Miesha when she got out of prison.” He runs his thumb over the red enameled casing. “It’s a crude tool. An older model at that. I don’t know why Karden was so attached to it.”

“His father gave it to him,” Xavier says.

“It’s come in handy for me,” I add, without going into details of amputated CabBot fingers.

Carver rolls his eyes. “You can keep it. Just say your dad gave it to you if someone sees it.” He picks up the phone tab. “But this has to go.”

I argue bitterly with him. This is a battle worth taking on. It’s my only connection to Jenna and Miesha. I promised them I would stay in touch. He concedes one last phone call to them when I say they’ll show up in Boston if they don’t hear anything from me—but one call and that’s it. He doesn’t budge on the fact that it must go. “No past connections. I told you. We can’t afford one slip. Besides, this will peg you as a Non-pact. Only the poor use phone tabs. We have an iScroll for you. Here, give me your hand.”

I never thought I’d get another iScroll. My hand is healed where the last one was slashed away. This tattoo is a different color than the last, a swirl of blue and silver. They teach me the basics. One light swipe across the tattoo with a finger to bring up the Assistant. Two swipes and he’s a three-dimensional hologram in my palm. Three swipes and he’s life-sized. The Assistant can connect me with anyone of my choosing within the allowed directory. For communications, they’ve already disallowed anyone outside a two-hundred-kilometer radius. This is how they will contact me most of the time.

He allows me to keep the eye of Liberty. Of course, only because I tell him it’s just a talisman, a bit of green sea glass I picked up in California, which it is, even if it means more to me than that. “Sea glass is pretty rare these days, but you can say you picked it up at an antique store. Go ahead, keep it.” Like it’s a favor.

When the grand inquisition is over, they allow me to go into the bedroom to make a last call to California before they confiscate my phone tab. I only get to talk to Miesha. Jenna is putting Kayla to bed.

“Everything okay?” Miesha asks.

“Yeah. Fine.” My heart pounds knowing what I do about Karden, but I can’t tell her. It would be too cruel to give her hope if it does turn out to be just a rumor. Or worse, what if he did just take off with the money and leave her to rot in prison? I can’t get that possibility out of my mind. And even if he is alive, we may not be able to find him. She lost him once. I can’t let her lose him twice.

“You don’t sound fine. You want me to come out there?”

“
No!
I mean, no, that’s what I need to tell you. This Favor requires that I lie low for a while. I won’t be able to call. Maybe not for a month—”

“What?”

“Don’t shout, Miesha!”

“I think I should come out there. I don’t like the way—”

“Miesha, stop. I’m not a kid. I’m way older than you, remember?” I laugh, but it comes out forced.

I hear her grunt. She knows she’s powerless right now and would do me no good here anyway. She’s weak and still recovering from being hit with Gatsbro’s tazegun.

“Tell Jenna,” I say. Silence slips between us. Only with Miesha can it mean so much. “Is she all right?” I finally add, almost hoping the answer is no.

“Jenna’s fine, Locke. Fine.”

I’ve always hated that word.

More silence and a knock on my bedroom door.

“I have to go, Miesha.”

She hates good-byes more than I do. “Remember Dot,” she says. “If you get a chance, that is. And you’re in a Cab. And—”

“Got it. Dot.” She didn’t need to remind me. I would never forget Dot. Our words dwindle away but the word
good-bye
never passes over our lips. We both need practice at that.

I walk to the door to go back out with the others but pause instead, leaning my head against the cool slick wood, looking at my feet, my hands against the door like I’m holding the world out. Maybe I am for just a few minutes. I see my mother, my father, my old bedroom, a quick flash. A letter fading on granite.