Trained by Sansa Rayne

Chapter 22

“How would he know I’m alive?” I ask, pacing around our room.

Between Ingram’s heroics in freeing me and the might behind his organization, I’d forgotten that Anton wasn’t just going to wait around to be trapped and killed. Of course he would fight back.

“My guess is the implant containers,” says Ingram. “They probably didn’t have a chance to melt before the fire department and the rain doused the barn. Even with the self-destruct feature, it takes time for the containers to heat up enough to be destroyed. That was sort of the point: they were meant to contain a potential explosion.”

Damn.

“It couldn’t be helped. I’m sorry, Kate.”

“Don’t be. This is Anton’s fault.”

He shouldn’t have gone after Brendan. I did everything that was asked of me as a prisoner to protect my friends. Anton has no right to involve them. Even if he thinks I’m alive, what makes him think I’m not a captive of Anarchy, Inc.? Unless he has reason to suspect Ingram is behind everything that’s happened, but if so Anton never said anything about that to me.

Either way, he should have stayed away from Brendan. Right now, I almost wish Anton would try and attack us. We’d kick his ass yet again, and this time I’d get in on the fight. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from my training earlier, but I want to do my part. I want a taste of Anton’s blood. After everything he’s put us through, enough is enough. We have to protect Brendan — if that means launching a strike at Anton to keep him distracted, it’s worth doing.

Except, I’m not the one who’s going to be leading the charge. It’s fine for me to want to fight, but good people could get hurt. If Ingram has a plan, then I’m interested, but I can’t force him to risk people’s lives because I’m pissed off.

However, we can strike at Anton with more than guns and missiles. My weapon of choice has always been information.

“Ingram, what if I went on TV right now? I could tell the world I’m alive, and whatever message you want me to tell. It would make anything Brendan knows about me irrelevant.”

He’s watching aerial footage of a taxi, or what’s meant to look like one.

“With one phone call, I could go live on LPN and every other major network,” I continue. “I could tell them literally everything about Anton: keeping me prisoner, killing Madeleine, killing Sidney Traves… I could expose the Masters entirely.”

“What if no one believes you?” he asks. “As far as the world knows, you’ve been on a bender. You could be drunk or on drugs. It will sound utterly insane.”

Fuck.

“However, I do think you’re on the right track. We can put Anton back on the defensive using what we have on him, and we can keep you clear of it. Let me show you something. I’ve been waiting for the right time. You’re going to like this.”

He takes out the phone and holds the screen so we can both see. An open file folder shows numerous video thumbnails; Ingram opens the first.

A man sits at a metal table, backlit to hide his face in darkness.

“What’s your name?” asks Eyal, his voice coming from off-screen.

“Yusuf,” the man replies, his voice heavy with a thick Saudi accent.

“That’s not your real name, is it?”

“No.”

“Tell me how you came to join Anarchy, Inc.”

“I was recruited after the death of Hamza Bin Khaled,” he explains. “I chose to live, rather than die.”

“Tell me about the day of the attack,” says Eyal.

“We went to meet a buyer for an expensive new weapon. While Hamza and the buyer spoke, snipers opened fire, killing Hamza and many others without warning. The buyer escaped, and I was taken for interrogation.”

“Who was the buyer?”

The man answers without hesitation, “Anton Ford. CEO of Innovative AF.”

“Why was a tech CEO looking to buy weapons?”

“Hamza believed Ford was involved in something. It was bigger than his companies. Very secret.”

Holy shit. Imagine if Ingram hadn’t intervened. What if Anton had recruited an arms dealer like Bin Khaled into the Masters? The organization could have gone from subtly manipulative to straight-up tyrannical.

“We believe Anton Ford intended to couple his telecommunications technology with the missiles he tried to buy,” says Eyal. “He would have been able to target whoever he wanted with an untraceable weapon. In your opinion, would that have been possible if he’d bought those missiles?”

“Yes,” says the man. “Absolutely.”

The video cuts out, and Ingram loads another.

This one shows a woman in her early twenties, one I recognize immediately: Astrid Thor, who has been presumed dead since the attack at the Waterston ranch that killed her father, Timo.

“Their families,” I say. “Thor and Waterston’s; they’re alive?”

“Yes,” Ingram replies, pausing the video.

That’s good news. Wrapped up in my own situation, I’d forgotten about them.

“Why haven’t you told anyone?” I ask.

Like the rest of the world, I’d written them off as gone.

“For their safety,” Ingram says. “And so we could use them later.”

I nod.

The wives and children of two famous men went missing and in no time at all, the world moved on. The idea doesn’t sit well with me. Sure, they’re spoiled and rich, but are they necessarily bad people? Do they know about Timo and Lincoln’s crimes, or were they just living off the wealth in blissful ignorance? I’d like to think that if I’d been a real journalist, they wouldn’t have been written off so quickly. Was keeping the story away from the headlines Anton’s doing, or did he not have to lift a finger?

Ingram resumes the video.

“What did you think when you learned the truth about your father?” Eyal asks.

“I was ashamed,” she says.

“Why?”

Astrid sighs.

“I thought my dad was a little shady. He cut deals that I could tell were not above board. I didn’t say anything, because what was I supposed to do? Blow the whistle on my own father?”

“If you had known how corrupt he was, would you have done anything differently?”

“Sure,” says Astrid. “Maybe I could have saved part of my inheritance by coming forward.”

“That’s your concern?”

She shrugs.

“Dad was an asshole. He destroyed my life. What am I supposed to say?”

“Before he died, did your father mention Anton Ford?”

“Yeah,” Ingrid snaps. “He said that’s who we were hiding from.”

Ingram shuts off the video.

“I have lots of these,” he says. “All of them pointing to Anton’s crimes. They’re all time-stamped and archived in thousands of hidden data caches, ready to be distributed at a moment’s notice, thanks to Brendan.”

My cheek trembles as tears threaten to fall.

“When the time comes for you to prove you’re not a crank, and that everything you have to say about Anton is true, you won’t be alone. You’ll have many corroborating accounts from people who have never met you and have no reason to lie for you.”

Unbelievable.

Speechless, I stare at Ingram, a smile growing on my face.

“By the time this is over, we’ll hopefully have even more. From the Masters themselves,” Ingram adds. “But for now, we could send what we have to Anton as a threat, to tell him to stay the hell away from you, or else this all goes to the press.”

“Let’s do it!” I say. “Fuck Anton. Let’s just send this to the press now! The whole fucking world will be beating down his doors, and the Masters will be totally fucked too. It’ll be the end of all of them.”

Ingram takes my hand and sits us down on the bed. He takes one last look at the aerial footage, then slips the phone into his pocket.

“Kate, I understand this might upset you. There’s only one thing keeping me from doing it: I’d like to help Jamison and Colette.”

Oh.

I should have known.

“If not for them, I never would have gotten off the island alive. Protecting you is my top priority, but I owe them.”

He’s right — that is upsetting. If it wasn’t for Jamison, Anton never would have taken control of the Masters. Jamison could have kept this all from happening in the first place — and that says nothing about his many abuses of power, as well as his abduction and imprisonment of Colette. Shouldn’t he be punished for a lifetime of exploitation and crime?

“What are you going to do for them?” I ask.

“Give them a chance to disappear. The world will know what they did — I won’t keep their secrets, but they helped me — us. They deserve something in return.”

Yeah, like a comfortable jail cell instead of a shallow grave.

“If we go after Anton too soon, Jamison and Colette could die. So could all of the Masters. I want to take them alive, so we can make them answer for their crimes. Isn’t that what you want?”

That’s true. They deserve extensive public trials and life sentences, not a quick death from their implants. But Jamison shouldn’t be let off the hook.

“I get that Jamison means a lot to you and that we wouldn’t be here if not for him. But think of all the thousands of people who were hurt because of what he’s done. Should they be denied justice?” I argue. “If we shield him from the consequences of his actions, we’re no better than he is.”

Ingram crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What about Colette?”

“What about her?” I reply. “She’s an innocent. She should go free — her and all the other courtesans.”

“Colette won’t go anywhere without Jamison. She loves him. If he goes to jail, she’ll have nothing.”

“She’ll have her freedom.”

“She doesn’t want that!” Ingram huffs. “She wants her master.”

“That’s too bad! Jamison’s crimes can’t go unpunished. He can’t get away completely.”

Ingram sighs.

“Jamison isn’t like the others. Colette sees the good in him.”

Yeah, but she’s lived like a prized pet for most of her life. She’s grown used to it, including overlooking Jamison’s misdeeds. Even as a prisoner, she’s benefited from his empire.

“Has he ever bribed a politician to get his way?” I ask.

Ingram nods.

“Hundreds of times.”

I ask, “Has he used his power to avoid prosecution?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever killed someone?”

“No,” says Ingram. “Not to my knowledge.”

I rephrase, “Has he ever had someone killed?”

He hesitates, then nods.

“Yeah.”

“Then he has to pay too. There are no excuses. What’s wrong is wrong.”

“Then what about me, Kate? Who do you think Jamison asked to do the deed when he wanted someone dead? Who do you think handed off those bribes, or threatened the attorneys and investigators? I’ve been the gun in Jamison’s hand for years. Anything he’s guilty of, I am too.”

I want to say that’s different — that he was the gun, but not the shooter. However, he’s not done.

“In addition, Jamison was grooming me to take over — to do what he has done for decades into the future, to turn some other young operative into the new me. How can you excuse what I’ve done, but not him?”

“I’m not,” I say, though there’s no conviction in it. He’s right. I’m holding him to a different standard. “I shouldn’t. But, have you killed anyone innocent?”

“Kate, maybe I’ve only killed mercenaries and assassins and people like myself who chose this life, but I’ve still hurt innocent people. I can’t undo any of it. Can my good deeds erase the bad ones? And if they can, why can’t Jamison’s?”

I want him to shut up. I want him to stop making sense. How am I supposed to love him and be with him, when he’s guilty of everything Anton has done? He’s still one of the Masters. If they go down, so does Ingram.

Even if I wanted to make an exception for Ingram, how would that actually work? If we take down men like Griekin and Locke, they’ll sell each other out for a chance at leniency. They won’t hide the fact that Ingram was one of them — even if they still think he’s dead, his name will be associated with the Masters.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say.

“Don’t worry. I do. But, what does this mean for us?”

When I look into his eyes, I know I love him. I want to be with him. There has to be an answer. Whatever it is, though, it escapes me.

“Where do we stand, Kate?” he asks.

I wish I knew.