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That meant they were expecting trouble from Garde. But who?
The sun was going down. The snow on the mountains was tinted pink and dark purple, the clouds in the sky a wispy ripple. Taylor’s breath misted in the cool air, but this was nothing compared with the temperatures in Mongolia.
A nice night. Too nice for a fight.
They rounded the corner and approached a clearing near the mountains. Taylor spotted two people up ahead, not military by the look of them. Civilians. The woman, with her close-cropped blond hair and her long winter overcoat, Taylor recognized immediately as Bea.
But the guy next to her made Taylor gasp and stop in her tracks, causing one of the mercenaries to bump into her with a grumble.
Nigel.
Taylor forced her feet to plod forward, her mind racing. The last time she’d seen Nigel had been on New Year’s Day. He’d gone to London to bury his father and never returned. His shady disappearance had propelled Taylor to this point and now . . .
The resemblance clicked into place. Bea and Nigel. Mother and son.
Jesus Christ. If Nigel was Foundation, that would mean her cover was completely blown and she was walking right into a trap.
No. He couldn’t be. Not Nigel. That wouldn’t be punk rock at all.
But Miki had said they had ways. Ways of manipulating you. Turning you.
His own mom.
The distance between them was closing. He stared at her. Bea smiled warmly. Taylor didn’t know what to say, how to play this situation. If only they had a minute alone so she could feel this out.
Hell with it, Taylor thought. Be natural. Be yourself.
Being herself meant rushing the last few steps up to Nigel and hugging him.
“Oh my God, Nigel! You’re okay! They told us . . . well, they didn’t tell us anything,” she gushed. “We thought you could be . . .”
He didn’t hug her back. Instead, Nigel extricated his gangly limbs from under Taylor’s arms and took her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length.
“Oi,” he said with a sneer. “Getting the stink of sellout all over me.”
“Oh, do calm down, dear,” Bea said. “Not everyone can be as hopelessly righteous and naïve as you.”
“Been bitching about how unhappy you were for months,” Nigel said to Taylor, ignoring his mom. “But I never thought you’d actually go through with this shit and join these craps.”
Taylor had to stifle a smile. He was playing along. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She’d forgotten what it was like to have an ally. It took some effort to cock her head defensively and raise her voice.
“You never understood how much was wrong with that place,” she said sharply. “Do you know what happened to Ran and Kopano, huh?”
Nigel turned away as if he couldn’t stand the sight of Taylor.
“Now, now,” Bea said, clapping her hands twice. “There will be plenty of time to smooth out these squabbles later. For now, we must present a unified front. Our guests are arriving.”
Taylor and Nigel both looked to the sky as a silver vessel sliced through the clouds and descended. The thing looked like a giant Frisbee. No. More like a B-movie flying saucer.
“The shit is this, then?” Nigel asked. “The martians invading?”
“That,” Bea replied, “would be Mr. Wade Sydal.”
Taylor knew the name. The weapons manufacturer and inventor. The one who designed the gear the Harvesters had used against them. She glanced at Nigel. His face was screwed up and he chewed his bottom lip. He was confused. So, his mom hadn’t filled him in on every detail.
“You’re selling him the stuff we brought from Siberia,” Taylor stated to Bea.
“Indeed,” she replied.
They formed up around Bea as Sydal’s saucer landed across the clearing. Nigel and Taylor stood on either side of her, the XO next to Taylor, his men fanned out in a loose half circle behind them.
An entrance ramp extended from the saucer and a trio of dark-suited security guards filed down the ramp. They didn’t look nearly as fearsome as the Blackstone mercenaries—they were lacking body armor, blasters, and a great deal of facial scarring. They looked warily at Bea’s gang, but eventually called the all clear back into the ship.
Moments later, a boyish man with jet-black hair and a wide smile sauntered down the ramp. He extended his arms in cheerful greeting as he crossed the grass.
“Bea, you old hellcat, what a dramatic location you’ve chosen for . . .”
Taylor didn’t hear the rest of his words. She was too distracted by the three people who made their way out of Sydal’s saucer.
Melanie Jackson, Taylor had never met but she knew from all the magazine covers and YouTube videos. She was the face of Earth Garde.
Daniela Morales, Taylor had encountered briefly before. She was one of the first to develop Legacies. One of the only ones to fight alongside John Smith.
And Caleb Crane. Her friend. Her fellow fugitive. He looked as shocked to see Taylor and Nigel as they were to see him.
“Christ, one reunion after another,” Nigel muttered.
The two groups stood on opposite sides of the clearing, not getting too close. Caleb awkwardly raised a hand and waved. Nigel gave him a too-cool up-nod. Taylor just stared.
Of course, the adults were talking. They loved talking.
“Is that my acquisition your man has there?” Sydal asked, gesturing at the XO.
“It is,” Bea replied. She took a smartphone out of her coat and checked the screen. “Haven’t seen the transfer clear yet, Wade.”
Sydal took out his own phone and pressed a button. “There. A whole metric butt-ton of moola was just transferred to your daughter’s trust account, like you asked.”
That caused Nigel to give his mom a look. Bea checked her screen and, satisfied with what she saw, gestured for the XO to bring Sydal the case.
As the XO marched across the field, Sydal took a closer look at Bea’s group. His forehead creased in consternation when he noticed Taylor and Nigel. Maybe she was mistaken, but Taylor thought he recognized them.
“Bea, light of my life . . .” Sydal said, his voice tense despite the levity. “Are those Garde I see at your side?”
Bea glanced at Nigel and Taylor, as if just noticing them. “Why, yes,” she said. “Only two, I’m afraid. Couldn’t acquire my third in time. You’ve got quite the entourage yourself.”
“These three are lawfully assigned to me by Earth Garde,” Sydal responded, a note of righteousness in his voice. “Yours . . . forgive me, Bea, but you aren’t authorized to have them, as far as I know.”
Taylor hated this. She hated these two talking about the Garde like they were things, like they were accessories. Yet, through her annoyance, she also sensed something important playing out. If Sydal dealt with the Foundation, then he already knew they had Garde at their disposal. But Bea had put him in the same space as them, with witnesses. She’d implicated him and now he was trying to play it off.
“My son and his friend are here of their own free will,” Bea replied, her haughty tone goading. “Are you going to go tattle on me, Wade?”
Sydal’s face twisted like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He snatched the reinforced briefcase containing the Mogadorian ooze away from the XO and handed it off to Melanie. Poor girl. She looked more confused than anyone and now she was stuck handling something truly toxic.
“As a law-abiding citizen, it’s my obligation to report you,” Sydal said. “This was very stupid of you, Bea. Very, very stupid. Our whole relationship . . .” He paused, as if trying to rein himself in from saying more. “Our whole relationship is based on discretion. You’re ruining s
omething gre—”
Case delivered, the XO had started his way back to Bea’s group. The soldiers looking on weren’t very tense. They probably interpreted this whole thing the same way Taylor did—as a pair of rich assholes showing who could piss the highest.
That’s why none of them reacted initially at the sudden whoosh through the air.
Just like that, the XO was flattened by a giant mass. He lay on his back, writhing, one of his legs twisted, his arm bent awkwardly over his head.
At first, Taylor thought that a rock had fallen off the mountain and struck him.
But then the rock stood up.
The XO’s attacker wore a baggy hooded sweatshirt that did little to hide his hideousness. His skin was an abnormal patchwork—mostly, it looked to be the consistency of gleaming steel, but then there were islands of cancerous black that reminded Taylor of the puddle of ooze she’d stepped in. The guy had only one eye and he swung it back and forth to take in both Sydal’s group and Bea’s.
Nigel took a half step back. “Five,” he breathed.
“Anyone who shoots,” Five shouted, “gets their head ripped off.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
CALEB CRANE
ENGELBERG, SWITZERLAND
SECONDS AFTER FIVE LANDED ON ONE OF BEA Barnaby’s mercenaries and flattened him like a pancake, a Mogadorian Skimmer began its descent from above. The ship looked nothing like the sleek disk Sydal had built using its technology. This vessel appeared to have been through a war and was barely holding together—scorch marks on its sides, pieces hanging loose where they shouldn’t, a visible crack in the windshield.
As spaceships went, it was a junker.
“You know who that is, right?” Daniela whispered to Caleb.
“Yeah, of course,” he replied, trying to simultaneously watch the Skimmer descend and keep an eye on Five.
Unreal. This had to be the we Isabela had been referring to. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
“I don’t,” Melanie hissed at them. “Who is he?”
“Five,” Daniela replied.
“The Loric?” Melanie snorted. “Shut up. He’s dead.”
