Trained by Sansa Rayne
Chapter 10
I shower and dry my hair, but there are no fresh clothes in my size or makeup on board.
“It’s fine,” Anton says. “I want you to look like you just survived a kidnapping attempt.”
They set me up with a laptop and sit me in the passenger cabin. Anton has me read the script and recite it out loud three times before he lets me record.
I should be furious about the lie he’s making me tell, but this is nothing new. I’ve practiced for this moment for six months. Only now I know I’m not crazy for holding onto hope. In the end, I was right.
Colette was too: things are going to change. I can stay strong.
Sorry it’s been so long.
After eight months, it’s the first thing he said to me. There was no time to tell him that I don’t blame him for not coming sooner. I understand completely: he needed a plan. The last time we challenged Anton, we were reacting to his moves, trying to position ourselves to succeed but always playing defense. Winning means figuring out how to stay on offense, and breaking Anton one branch at a time. If Ingram came back from nearly dying only to fail once more… it would have been better if Anton had killed him the first time around.
And if we succeed, it will have been worth the wait.
“Whenever you’re ready, Kate,” Anton says.
I summon up the sense of relief I’ll feel when he’s dead and open my eyes.
“This is Kate Atwood, and I’m okay. I wanted to send this out as soon as possible to let everyone know that I’m safe and unharmed. As most of you know, I survived an attempt on my life earlier today. Three men who have been my personal guardians were killed trying to protect me. I owe my life to the amazing members of my security team, who quickly found me before I was harmed. Due to the ongoing investigation, I’m not supposed to divulge information about what happened, but the world deserves to know the truth: this attack was carried out by Anarchy, Inc.”
If not for the last sixth months of spewing bullshit, I’m not sure I could do this. Now it’s as routine as making coffee in the morning. Playing this twisted version of Kate Atwood has become ingrained.
“They intended to execute me live on camera because they are extremists and they hate me for telling the world the truth. This was an attack not just on me, but everyone who refuses to accept the lies that these terrorists have spread.”
Anton may think this is a smart move, and maybe it is — but for once he’s on the defensive. He’s reacting to what Ingram did. This wasn’t in his plans, and he can’t even make a smart move because he has no idea what’s coming next. I nearly broke out laughing when he ruined his knuckles punching that car door. He’s losing and he knows it.
“But I won’t be silenced,” I continue. “I will be back on the air soon and I will bring you the same expert analysis you’ve come to trust from me. I’m not afraid of Anarchy, Inc., and you shouldn’t be either. They’re murdering cowards, not heroes, and that’s not what we stand for. Together, we will stop them — the truth will stop them. Thank you all. I love you and I’ll see you soon.”
I stare at the camera until its LED goes off and Anton takes away the laptop. Once it’s off, I effect a deep, relieved sigh.
“Can I be alone now?” I ask, shutting my eyes and lying back. “I’m still… it’s too hard right now. I…”
“Kate, the authorities will want to talk to you. You need to be ready to feed them the right story.”
I nod.
“Yes, sir. I will be. I promise.”
He turns on a television to LPN; one of our helicopters hovers over Vinegar Hill, broadcasting live coverage. I have never seen so many police cars in one place in my life. They’re obviously keeping the reporters pretty far back, but the chyron reads, AT LEAST TWENTY DEAD IN BROOKLYN.
Will Anton be able to hide that these were his mercenaries? Will he be able to kill the investigation into what happened?
If I were Ingram, I’d want to keep Anton off-balance — I’d want to throw up obstructions. It probably won’t be easy to escape being connected to the shooting if he’s also trying to avoid targeted attacks from Ingram.
“Good. Take her to her cell,” he says to Nick.
—
Hours of marinating in pure adrenaline leave me beyond exhausted. The jet’s holding cell consists of a hard, linoleum floor and nothing else, but I lie right down and curl into a ball. I want to sleep, but they’re watching me. I have to stay up and pretend to be traumatized. It wouldn’t be hard for me to cry a little, although they’ll be tears of joy.
Ingram is alive! No matter how many times I’ve thought it in the last few hours, it’s still hard to believe it’s real. It’s too good to be true. Though it likely would have been impossible, I wish he could have killed Anton today, and taken me home with him once and for all. But, if he doesn’t remove my chips first, I’ll die. We have to be patient. Except, what happens if Anton refuses to let me out of his sight? What if Ingram can’t reach me again? Anton’s definitely going to keep a tighter lid, probably double my guard.
I have to trust that Ingram knew that when he chose to take me today. It was part of his plan, there’s no doubt.
Maybe it’s for the best that he didn’t tell me more. I’ve learned to put on a show these past six months, but I’m not exactly a trained actor. What if I fuck up and give something away? But I suppose if Ingram trusts me enough to keep secret that he’s alive…
When we’re together again, I have so many questions. Where are his people headquartered? How many people does he have working for him? What did he do with Timo Thor and Lincoln Waterston’s families? How did they pull off the attack on the ranch? How did they manage to kill Hamza Bin Khaled? That couldn’t have been easy.
More importantly, how the hell did Ingram survive getting shot? Did someone on the island help him escape? If so, who? When Colette came to me the other night, she knew something — but how much? Does that mean Mr. Hardt was involved? And what about the crash of his jet? Are his operatives alive? I might not have had a close relationship with any of them, but they were loyal to Ingram. I hated believing they were likely dead too.
I can’t know for sure, but I have a strong suspicion they’re alive — and that they were the other men in the van with Ingram earlier. I thought I recognized the accent on one of them — was that Eyal? Either way, he had help today — and they must have been with him in Saudi Arabia and Kentucky.
Soon my mind races at all the implications that Ingram is behind Anarchy, Inc. Anton was at that meeting with Bin Khaled, wasn’t he? Was Anton there to buy something, or sell it? If he was buying, then did Ingram get it?
When Ingram and I had our plan to expose Anton fall through and we knew we were in trouble, I believed that as long as Ingram is alive and had access to a phone, there’s no place on Earth where Anton could be truly safe. I was right. Ingram’s put together a powerful force.
Anton ought to be afraid. He has no idea who he’s dealing with — literally.
—
Nick wakes me up in the morning and informs me that the FBI would like a word. We’ve long-since landed at the Enclave, so he leads me to the harem and takes me into a private room. As we walk, every guard we see stares at me. They must have seen the news, but have they been told that Anton got almost thirty of them killed? Are any of them thinking of quitting? Probably not — there’s only one way to leave the Masters’ employment on short notice.
Along the way my stomach roars, seeing as how I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Even Nick can hear it, so he has Colette bring me plain oatmeal and water once we arrive. As I eat, Nick coaches me on the story I’m going to tell. For two hours, he quizzes me on the details as well as the delivery.
“Your phone has been ringing all night,” Nick explains. “The FBI is going to be surly. You need to act like you do on TV: combative and overconfident.”
“Okay.”
That shouldn’t be a problem. Even when I was a serious journalist, I was never a great friend of the FBI: they’re too good at keeping secrets.
When we’re ready, Nick calls in Anton. When he enters, he sets his cell on the table. It rings within two minutes. He nods at me; I nod back. He activates the speakerphone and takes the call.
“Is this Kate Atwood?” says a deep, male voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Special Agent Mason Cole from the FBI field office in Manhattan. We’ve been trying to reach you since last night. Are you okay?”
“Sorry, yes. I had my phone on silent. I needed some time.”
He sighs.
“Well, we need to talk about what happened to you yesterday. Can you come in to our office to be debriefed?”
“Absolutely not,” I snap. “I am in a safe place right now with people I trust. We can talk over the phone.”
“Ms. Atwood, if you’re in danger, we can send a car to pick you up. We can keep you safe.”
I fake a derisive laugh.
“Oh, like you kept me safe yesterday? If it wasn’t for my very expensive security detail, I’d be dead! Are you really going to tell me you had no clue they were coming for me? What is it you all do, exactly?”
“Okay, Ms. Atwood,” Cole groans. “Do me a favor and tell me what happened.”
“What do you mean? You saw it. Anarchy, Inc. tried to assassinate me! They killed three of my bodyguards!”
“What about the men who abducted you? We have security footage of you being taken away.”
“Those were my bodyguards too,” I lie. It’s a crime to do that, but seeing as how I don’t have a choice…
“Excuse me, what?”
Yeah, I’m sure that’s not what Cole expected to hear.
“They were there for backup. Ever since this Anarchy shit started I knew I’d be on their list. So I got an extra detail, one that stayed undercover. They took me to a safehouse and we waited until the coast was clear.”
Cole pauses for so long, I’m not sure he’s still on the line. I picture him holding a hand over the receiver and frantically ordering his subordinates around; either that or banging his head against the desk.
“So you were never actually taken by the kidnappers?” he asks at last.
“I told you, they were assassins. They were trying to murder me.”
“Kate, I hope you’ll understand my confusion, because in the statement you released to the press you said they were going to execute you on television.”
“And they would have, if they’d had the chance!”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” Cole thunders.
I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. This shouldn’t be so much fun. I could get in serious trouble if I wasn’t already subject to Anton’s whims.
“Ms. Atwood, I’m going to have someone come out to speak with you-”
“Tell them to speak with my lawyers,” I interrupt.
“You can think about what you’d like to say on the record,” Cole continues. “And consider telling the media the truth about what happened to you. If you don’t, we will.”
Anton drags a finger across his neck.
“Okay, thanks so much! Go fuck yourself.”
Smirking, Anton ends the call.
I have to admit — I enjoyed that.
“Good,” he says. “Now, let’s go. You have one more task. The Masters would like to see you and I would like them to shut up, so you’re going to see them.”
Interesting. What could they want with me? I do what Anton says. Their concerns don’t matter.
Then again, Anton’s in uncharted waters here. The other Masters have no doubt faced challenges to their power before. Maybe honoring their request is some subtle way of seeking out their advice.
Once I’ve been stripped and bound, Anton and Nick take me to the pavilion and bind me to a pillar with chains and shackles.
“Okay,” Anton says when he’s done. “Tell them we’re ready.”
Within a few minutes they all trickle in, taking their seats without speaking. I can’t help noticing that Timo and Lincoln’s chairs have been removed.
“I think you all know why we’re here,” says Anton. “We have a problem with Anarchy, Inc. They’ve already killed two of us, and they’re not done.”
“What are you planning to do about it?” asks Evo Griekin.
“All of our security contractors are either jacking up their rates like crazy or canceling our contracts entirely,” adds Karthik Pai. “They know we’re likely targets. They’re not willing to take the risk.”
“Pay them whatever they want,” says Anton. “Now’s not the time to get stingy.”
“All the money in the world won’t help if they don’t take the job,” argues Griekin. “We need to end their threat immediately. And by we, I mean you, Anton. Since you’re in charge.”
Anton glowers at them for a time. He gets up and paces.
“Let me make something clear,” he says. “If Anarchy, Inc. kills some of you, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to live with. If I happen to save some of you, it’s because it suits my interests.”
Griekin shies away, though he doesn’t hide the disgust on his face.
“Seeing as how this is a new and unusual situation we find ourselves in, you shouldn’t be surprised that I am currently working on a solution. I have all of my agents and operatives analyzing the evidence we have, but make no mistake: Anarchy, Inc. is serious and capable. Their leader communicated with me in their van. He called himself Death. He’s clearly confident in his ability to destroy us, so we can’t afford to take this threat lightly. If any of you have a good idea of what to do, I’m open to suggestions.”
They all turn to Mr. Hardt.
“I do,” he says, rising from his seat.
“Go ahead,” Anton replies. “I’m listening.”
“Use Ms. Atwood,” says Hardt. “Have her reach out to Death. We can use her to uncover who they are.”
They haven’t paid me any attention since the meeting started, but now their gazes train on me.
“Do you think you can do that, Ms. Atwood?” Hardt asks.
The irony is, I could uncover who they are right this second. But how do I refuse without sounding like I’m refusing?
“What makes you think they’ll reveal their identity?” I say. “They’re too smart for that.”
“And if they wanted to talk to a real journalist, it wouldn’t be Kate,” Anton adds. “They only abducted her to get at me.”
“They don’t care about journalistic integrity,” Hardt argues. “They want attention. Ms. Atwood can deliver in that regard. And if it doesn’t go well, who cares? If she dies, she dies. What do you have to lose?”
Who’s side is Hardt on? I wish Ingram had told me if I could trust him or Colette.
“Forget about it,” Anton growls. “That’s not an option.”
“Mr. Ford, this is a matter of survival. Not just ours — yours. I understand that you enjoy tormenting Ms. Atwood in lieu of Ingram, but right now she’s an asset we can use. Ingram is dead. Whether you torture her or let Anarchy, Inc kill her, he’s not going to know the difference.”
I still can’t tell if he’s pretending or if he legitimately means every word.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few decades, it’s that if you want to rule the world, sometimes you have to sacrifice a few personal pleasures,” Hardt concludes.
Anton sneers, but after a moment his contempt fades.
“Fine,” he grunts. “Kate, you’re going to make a public request to interview their leader.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. “I’ll do as you wish.”
In this case, with pleasure.