Sister of Shadows, page 29
Where were Wilcox’s soldiers? It was hard to search them out without looking like she was looking for them. And with her hair covering one eye, she needed to keep focus on where she was walking.
A server stood behind the drinks table, hands clasped in front of him. He had a skinny black mustache and black hair plastered against his head with some sort of glistening gel. With a look of infinite patience firmly planted on his face, he asked if “the young miss” would like a soft drink. His tone was odd, as if he were talking to her and also about her at the same time. In a way, he reminded her of Mr. Justin. That didn’t make her like him much.
Jacey had no idea what a soft drink was, but she nodded. “Please. Something cold.”
He poured a clear fizzy liquid over ice and handed her the crystal tumbler. She sipped it and smacked her lips against the extraordinary sweetness of the drink. At least it was wet. She drained it and returned the glass to the server.
Keeping her head down, she turned and approached a group of five elderly women. All wore versions of the same tent-like dress over their boney shoulders. The nearest caught a glimpse of Jacey out of the corner of her eye and gave her a polite smile. She had a smear of red lipstick on her two front teeth.
“Hello, sweetie,” she said, “are you looking for someone?”
All but one of the other ladies stopped talking. The remaining one, a hunched little crone with mild eyes and severe brown wig canted to one side, continued as if she were relating the most important information anyone had ever heard. “And then Miss Kittyboots came into my bedroom—don’t ask me how, the door is always closed tight because of Dirk’s condition—and she climbed onto Dirk’s pillow. Well, I reached for Dirk, as I do sometimes in the middle of the night—you know, to make sure he’s still breathing, his heart and all—and my hand falls on kitty’s furry tail, right where Dirk’s bald head should be. I was still half sleeping. I didn’t know what it was! I just sat straight up and screamed. And that little cat shot straight into the air and landed on Dirk’s belly. He thought it was the Californians attacking again—he has such nightmares, you wouldn’t believe—and he starts bellowing, using all of his Army language by the way—and he takes hold of poor Kittyboots and gives her a fling across the bedroom. It’s so dark I don’t know what’s up or down and I’m reaching for the light and I knock the lamp onto the floor. The original Tiffany shade just shatters and with it my heart breaks into one hundred trillion pieces. I start to weep and I still can’t find my glasses. And poor Kittyboots! She’s crying, and I don’t know if Dirk has killed her or what. He’s still swearing and shouting that he can’t find his gun and who changed him into his pajamas and once he found out who did it Colonel Bishop would be hearing about it. And I said, ‘Dirk! Colonel Bishop’s been dead for years!’”
The little lady took in a deep breath, her first in the past three minutes it seemed, and continued. The sheer ferocity with which she delivered this narrative had done nothing to hold the other ladies’ attention, who all nodded and hummed at the appropriate places. Jacey guessed they’d all heard about Kittyboots before. In fact, they weren’t even looking at the lady. They were looking at Jacey. She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably.
With her lungs refilled, the little woman dove back into her story, absently flopping a tiny liver-spotted hand on her head to straighten her wig.
Finally the red lipstick lady blurted what all the other women were thinking, “My Lord God in heaven! You look just like a young Jacqueline Buchanan.”
The lady next to her leaned forward and squinted. “The spitting image.”
With gravelly murmurs and bobs of heads, the others agreed, and soon they were agreeing that they’d arrived at a consensus that Jacey did look like Jackie B (with the caveats that Jacey was “a bit bigger in the bones” and that Jackie B would have never been caught dead wearing “floozy jammies” like the outfit Jacey wore.)
Recalling Meow Meow’s coaching, Jacey said, “I get that all the time.” But she’d just about had it with all the big-boned talk. She kept her irritation concealed behind the friendliest smiles she could muster. “Did any of you know Jacqueline well?”
“Dirk was in the bathroom having a private moment. He’d ‘soiled himself,’ as my nanny used to say when I was just knee high to a basset hound. Anyway, the California War just left so many scars that don’t show, if you know what I’m saying. Come to think of it, poor Kittyboots never acted the same either, traumatized as she was by being tossed about like I don’t know what. She never walked the same! She only made left turns from then on. It was like she didn’t even know right was a direction. If she was in the dining room when I called her to dinner, she’d have to go all the way up the servant’s stairwell and work her way through six rooms to finally get down the main staircase to the parlor where I put her food dish. Poor dear. She probably burned more calories than she ate just trying to get to dinner.”
“Hazel!” snapped the lipstick lady. “Say hello to our friend.”
“Oh. Hello.” She didn’t spare Jacey more than a rheumy-eyed glance before scratching her nose. “Where was I? Oh, I remember. So, Miss Kittyboots never liked cream, you know. Strangest cat that ever lived, save old Pooch Belly. Now there as a strange bird of a cat! Three-leggers are like that, in my experience.”
Sensing that this would continue forever, Jacey decided to risk the rudeness of ignoring the story about Pooch Belly. She held out a hand to lipstick lady. “I’m Jacey. I’m friends with Meow Meow. Do you know her?”
“Know her? I’m her mother!”
Jacey’s gut twisted. Why hadn’t the silly waif told her that her mother was there?
Suddenly all the old ladies were laughing and slapping at their thighs.
Fanning tears from her eyes, with one hand, lipstick lady grabbed Jacey’s elbow in the other. It was a pretty solid grip. “I can’t believe you fell for that old joke. Were you raised in a convent or something?”
Jacey laughed uneasily. “No. I just don’t know many people here.”
The soldier who had captured Jacey earlier rounded the side of the house. Jacey doubted he would call Dante to come fetch her this time. “Do you know where our host is?” Jacey asked, bending her knees so she wouldn’t be as visible. “I want to congratulate her.”
Lipstick lady swiveled her head. “Try that crowd.” She jerked her thumb toward a throng of young men and a few women. All were laughing too loudly. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with that one. And talk about the spitting image. I’ve seen pictures of Elizabeth at that age and Vin could be her twin.”
The soldier continued his patrol, but his eyes were scanning the crowd. His lips were moving.
That was odd. Nobody was close to him.
Jacey remembered the walkie-talkies the Scions used on campus. He must be using something similar—which meant he was talking to someone. She turned and searched the landscape around her.
Only the slightest movement gave away the man lying atop the observation plateau where she’d been captured before. He lay on his belly. Sunlight glinted from the front lens of his spyglass.
He’d been watching her the whole time.
The hair on Jacey’s arms stood up at the realization that she was being hemmed in. She didn’t bother searching for the other soldiers. They were probably hidden, but were no doubt all around the yard and pool area.
But if they knew she was there, why weren’t they just coming in and arresting her?
A laugh—high, girlish, and bubbly—answered the question.
Vin had shouldered her way out of the crowd of admirers, her face flush with all the good feelings that wealth, youth, and attention could bestow upon someone.
Then she spotted Jacey. Her laugh cut off and her face flashed to stony shock. But just for an instant.
“Jacey! Is that you?” Vin trotted toward Jacey, arms spread wide, laughing with delight.
Her arms wrapped and Jacey and pulled her into a tight hug.
Since this encounter was part of Meow Meow’s plan, Jacey was somewhat prepared for it, though not quite ready for such a public display of familiarity. She hugged Vin back, smiling the way she thought she would smile if she were hugging an actual friend. Vin, for instance, before being overwritten.
“Let me look at you!” Vin said, pushing away but holding Jacey’s arms. “I’m so glad you could make it, Jacey.”
“I wouldn’t miss it, I—”
“Everyone!” Vin shouted to the throng now encircling them, “This is Jacey. We grew up together.”
Everyone had quieted down. Faces of old and young alike were wound into looks of intense interest as they studied Vin’s “friend.”
Everyone except the cat lady. She kept talking: “I think I mentioned Dirk’s operation before. He walked like he had knees on his shins for three weeks. I had to change his diapers because he wouldn’t let our servants see him au naturale, if you know what I’m saying. Well, my little boy Dirk Jr. wasn’t any different. Modest to a fault. Why I remember when his teacher, Miss Unger, called to tell me he had a rash on his—”
Vin raised her voice. “Jacey had the top bunk for four years when we went to school at St. Francis Academy in Chicago. She would drop me notes written in glow-in-the-dark ink after lights-out.”
“I can’t believe you remember that,” Jacey said, following Vin’s lead. She smiled at the faces around her. “But I’m sure your guests have better things to do that hear about our days as schoolgirls together.”
“You’re quite right.” Vin did not let go of Jacey, though. She stood next to her and slipped her arm around Jacey’s waist. She rested her head on Jacey’s shoulder. “Has anyone bothered you with the whole Jacqueline Buchanan thing, yet?” She was still talking loudly, addressing the crowd through their conversation.
“Well—”
Lipstick lady crowed, “I’m afraid we did, honey. Now I feel bad for it. It gets tedious, I’m sure.”
“It’s no bother,” Jacey assured the woman. “Vin, perhaps we could chat a moment in private?”
“Certainly, come with me.”
Vin started to lead Jacey toward the mansion. But Jacey had no interest in being trapped in there. She pulled away, but grabbed Vin’s hand. “It’s such a beautiful day. Why don’t we go walk along the cliff.”
Vin laughed, but there was an edge to it. But she didn’t fight Jacey’s tug away from the crowd and the house.
Once they got some distance between themselves and the hangers-on, Jacey bent to whisper to Vin. “Captain Wilcox intends to take me prisoner. But his men have not made a move because they don’t want to disrupt your party.”
“Why would Wilcox want to do that?”
Jacey wasn’t about to tell Vin that she was still a Scion and not Jackie B. The guests were giving them some privacy, but not much. A dozen of them trailed behind, giving only the slightest few meters of gap. “I don’t know. Why did you and Ping have your bodyguards stuff me into a body bag and drive me toward the docks?”
Vin was too practical to waste time denying it. “We were trying to prevent what is currently happening from happening.”
“What, me walking free and breathing fresh air?”
“No. We didn’t want you being seen for the first time on the same day the world is seeing me for the first time.”
“Maybe you could have trusted me, rather than have your men smash my face.” Jacey kept smiling and even hugged Vin close as they walked. “But I know what your true aim was. It wasn’t about the world seeing me for the first time, it was the world seeing me ever.”
“We weren’t going to kill you, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“What were you going to do?”
“Remember Dante’s suggestion about his friend in Brazil, the facial surgeon? We were going to have your looks . . . altered.”
Vin spun out of Jacey’s grasp and turned on her followers. “Please wait here for a moment. I’m trying to have a moment alone with my friend.”
The stragglers stopped. Several decided to use the opportunity to curry favor. “Come on people,” said a young man in hideous red shorts and orange short-sleeved top. “Our hostess deserves a break from all of us fawning over her.”
“Donald is a prick and a half,” Vin said as she and Jacey continued toward the cliff. “I can’t wait until he takes his smarmy face and gets the hell off my island.”
Jacey spotted another one of Captain Wilcox’s men crouching in front of a thicket of wiry shrubs at the edge of the lawn. That made three so far.
All things considered, Meow Meow’s plan was going perfectly. The first test had been to see how brazen the soldiers would be in trying to catch Jacey. The next would be how brazen Dante could be.
But he’d have to hurry.
Apparently, Captain Wilcox’s patience was running out. His helicopter appeared, approaching fast. It didn’t head for the landing pad up on the bluff. It was descending toward the lawn.
Jacey craned her neck to look toward the stairs leading to the secluded beach. Even if she got to them, escape would be temporary going that way.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Vin said, shading her eyes with one hand and watching the helicopter descend. Without her sunglasses on, she looked very young.
“He’s coming for you, too,” Jacey said. It was a lie. Jacey didn’t know why, but instinct told her that if Vin was opposed to Captain Wilcox, it could only be good for Jacey.
“Why would he come for me?”
“Because Dante told me the truth about you.”
Vin’s head snapped around. For a split second Jacey thought she saw fear in Vin’s eyes. So there was a truth to be told. Jacey wondered what it might be. Whatever it was, it was putting Vin on her heels.
“Let’s keep walking. Calmly,” Jacey said. She had taken Vin’s hand again, so she turned and headed along the cliff, toward the stairs. Still nothing from Dante. Jacey hoped he hadn’t changed his mind and taken the opportunity to slip away.
Vin’s body had stiffened, ruining the illusion that she was happy to be with Jacey.
That simply wouldn’t do. Jacey squeezed Vin’s hand. “That whole we-went-to-school-together bit was some quick thinking. As was the Jackie B question. Get it out there so it seems like I’ve been dealing with it my whole life. Nice touch.”
“You are a brilliant actor. I knew you’d follow along. Where are you taking me?”
Jacey was improvising now. The helicopter had landed, but it was 100 meters behind them.
How fast could Captain Wilcox and his soldiers run?
Jacey glanced back. Captain Wilcox had gotten out of the helicopter, alone. He was marching toward them, hands empty and loose at his sides.
“Can you slow that man somehow? Buy some time?”
“I can do better than that.” Vin waved at her admirers. “Come here!”
Given permission to approach, they swarmed around Jacey and Vin. Vin pulled a young woman out of the crowd. “It’s time for your exclusive.”
Seemingly from nowhere, the woman produced a microphone. She fussed with her short-cropped black hair and flipped open a tiny clamshell mirror. Jacey had never before witnessed such instantaneous vanity. Just as quickly the mirror was stowed—in a handbag slung over the woman’s shoulder—and she tossed a black ball the size of an apple into the air. It unfolded into a hovering drone with eight tiny propellers blurring and holding it fixed in space. The bottom sprouted a silver stalk that poked out like an alien proboscis.
And suddenly the woman was talking into her microphone. “This is Yvonne Kellar with Survivor News Network. I’m on a private island formerly owned by the legendary Elizabeth Burnell. In a shocking announcement aired just minutes ago, Ms. Burnell’s previously unknown granddaughter stepped into the public eye. At the age of eighteen, she has now come into the entirety of her inheritance, which includes all of Elizabeth Burnell’s huge fortune. Vin Burnell is here with me now for an exclusive SNN interview.”
Vin was smiling, clearly enjoying the moment, despite the approach of Captain Wilcox.
Jacey went up en pointe to see over the heads of the guests. Captain Wilcox had stopped just a dozen meters short of the throng. His face was stony, but he clearly wasn’t happy. Jacey doubted the man could ever be happy.
Vin’s genius was obvious. There was no way Wilcox could barge in and apprehend Jacey while this interview was being broadcast around the world.
“But first,” Yvonne Kellar said, “introduce the world to your remarkable friend. Does she or does she not look exactly like a young Jacqueline Buchanan?”
Vin’s face fell.
Yvonne was staring at Jacey. The camera drone skittered close, silver stalk aimed at Jacey’s face.
She mustered a smile. “I get that all the time.”
62
Silence Made Her Squirm
A rectangle on Dr. Carlhagen’s pixel wall showed the SNN video broadcast. The rest of the wall had gone completely black at Dr. Carlhagen’s command.
He sat on the leather sofa, legs crossed, hands clenched together in his lap.
Seeing Jacqueline—no, Jacey—there, sun on her face, wind rustling her loose hair, eyes sparkling like the sea itself, made him both anxious and proud.
He fumbled in his pants pocket and found an andleprixen tablet. Just to take the edge off.
Maxine was showering, cleaning off her bodyguard’s blood. Soon she’d present herself to him and he’d have to give her all the details about the ATR supplement she would require for the rest of her life.
That would be enjoyable. But not nearly as enjoyable as when Dr. Carlhagen finally had Jacqueline—no, Jacey—under his thumb.
The interview was focused mostly on Vin, though the camera drone had positioned itself to keep both Vin and Jacey in the frame. That Vin was allowing . . . Jacey . . . to share the attention was quite shocking. Perhaps Dr. Carlhagen had underestimated Vin’s intelligence.
After all, she and Dante and Ping had to have reasoned out his true aim by now. He couldn’t have staged a better moment if he’d planned it.
