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He opens and closes his mouth in exaggerated delight. Like a Muppet, Tony. Not easy to rattle. I’m smiling despite myself.
“Funny, J. Now tell me what the fuck happened out there? Forget shutting us out or lying to your unit—you don’t do recon anymore? You pop into Jordan and attack the Brothers like you’re taking down a massage parlor in the middle of nowhere?”
Sheesh. Even when not on the mission, he critiques me. I hate this. But until I know who the traitor is, until I know I won’t risk him by telling him the truth, until I’m able to explain to him why I had to lie, I have to keep this truth to myself.
I go with the story Momma and I concocted when we spoke on the plane. “I was doing recon, but I saw an opportunity and took it.”
Spreading his hands wide like someone describing the big fish that got away, he shakes his head. “You left that fucking sadistic, crazy-as-shit brother alive. He’s got no control, not even of his own people.”
“That’s why I went for it.” This part, at least, isn’t a lie. “His people had terrible training. They practically sent me an invite.”
“No, shit. I told you all…” Tony exhales and rubs at the back of his neck. “So’s y’know we gotta go after that fucker, right?”
Gawd. The situation seems so much worse when summarized with curses, hand gestures, and South Philly. “Yeah. Well, at least he isn’t the smart one. Any thoughts on how to get at him in Mexico?”
As if I’ve physically hit him, Tony jerks back. “You mean other than the detailed plan I laid out to Momma about getting the brothers separately? The plan I put in a heartfelt and detailed letter that I sent to her before you even left?” Tony glares. “Did Momma even tell you?”
Yikes. Tony’s so sensitive about what he interprets as the family ignoring his opinions.
True, I haven’t seen it, but that has a lot to do with other factors. Like the opportunity with Sandesh and his charity. All of which, I can’t get into with him without exposing the truth. “It was my mission. I said all along we had to take them out together to keep one from alerting the other.”
“Yeah. Well, that worked out great.”
“I know, Tony. I was there. And so was Sandesh. Which is the problem. I have to talk to Momma about him.” I run a hand through grimy hair and breathe through my agitation. “Sorry. I’ll catch you later. Okay?”
Suspicion and hurt fill his eyes. “Sure, J. Later.”
Without another word, I stride to the middle of the corridor and turn right at the elevators. Once out of his line of sight, I relax and lean against the wall. This lying to my siblings is going to kill me.
Knowing Momma will be in her office, I slam the UP arrow on the elevator. I’m not going up. There’s adingand the doors slide open. Inside, four round yellow buttons indicate three floors and one basement level. Not accurate. There are three more extensive floors deep below ground.
I lift my wrist above the number pad. Nothing happens. Oh. Right. That’ll take getting used to. I lift my other wrist, the one with the chip I inserted on the plane. There’s a beep of recognition. Yes. Welcome back to Elevator-X.
I say, “Subfloor 4B.”
The smooth feminine automation responds, “Access is not operational. Two unauthorized personnel remain within unacceptable distance of the elevator. Please enter via another route.”
Gah. She’s probably talking about a cleaning person or chef lurking nearby. Sometimes, the security here is over the top. As if these already well-vetted people, who are probably up to their eyeballs in work, are going to be aware if the elevator doesn’t arrive where it’s supposed to. No. Hell no. I’m not going back out and through the garage. “Override.”
“Wait for verification.”
I tap my finger beside the pad as I wait for the system to check that the unauthorized personal aren’t standing outside the elevator doors on any floor.Come on. Come on.
“Override accepted. You have been processed and cleared for Subfloor 4B. No cameras, cell phones, or unauthorized electronics permitted.”
Bracing my feet wide, I wait for it. And even though the waist-high handholds are tempting, it’s been a family challenge since childhood not to hold on.
“Proceeding.”
The elevator plunges down.
My stomach slaps into my esophagus along with my heart. My teeth clench. Sheesh. No matter how many times I do this, the velocity of this drop twists my stomach.
When this elevator was first put into operation, it went at a normal pace. Or so I’ve been told. It was modified right before my arrival. Apparently, it really freaked people out knowing just how deep underground they were going.
After the sinking freefall, the elevator slides to a weighted stop. I lock my knees into place.
The automated voice intones, “Subfloor 4B. Welcome. You are being monitored. Entering unauthorized areas will result in immediate expulsion.”
