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Chapter 17
I wasn’t sure I could do it. After all the time I’ve invested in Kate Atwood, triggering her implants wasn’t an easy decision. If not for our conversation about rationality and discipline, I’m not sure I’d have had the stomach to say, “Vetiver.”
In the past I would have sent a team with explicit orders not to harm her, but there was no way that would have been feasible. Anarchy, Inc. is too well-armed. Unless they left Kate behind, we wouldn’t have gotten close. So, there was only one realistic choice: kill her and put the blame on Death. She was in their possession at the time; of course the public will blame them for killing her.
The difference between someone like me and someone like Kate couldn’t be any clearer to me now. She tried to explain how one could act so irrationally, and I understood her point — now she’s demonstrated it. For all the progress she made in such a short time, learning incredible discipline, she reverted to her old ways in the end. She stupidly tried to escape, even though she knew this would happen.
Did Death make her some false promise of safety? Did he convince her he could save her, preying on her desperation? Maybe he legitimately tried to save her and realized he couldn’t. I’d like to think that’s the case, that he overestimated himself and failed. Odds are he didn’t care, though. She was just a news reporter turned TV clown — and a prisoner. She held no strategic value, other than as a media puppet.
I wish I’d gotten to enjoy one last twist of the knife. If I’d known she wouldn’t survive the day, I might have found one more way to watch her break a little. Despite the hell I put her through and the despair of knowing there was no hope for her future, she never tried to take matters into her own hands — she never attempted to injure herself or say something on air she wasn’t supposed to. To have her not reach the end of her rope almost feels like a failure on my part, like I didn’t push her hard enough.
Of course, it’s not that I needed to see her break to achieve some sort of satisfaction with her torment. Making her suffer wasn’t some means to an end — the torture was the point. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to add to her punishment. After all, people always become accustomed to hardship. It’s simultaneously one of humanity’s greatest strengths and weaknesses. They learn to endure brutal conditions — but then they become inured to them and accept pain and defeat as normal, rather than fighting to improve their lives. Kate was no different.
Unless…
She had learned so well. She hadn’t made any serious mistakes since Ingram died. What if she didn’t make one this time?
She must have considered the possibility that Death could win this war. He could have told her so when he kidnapped her and promised her a way out. She knows plenty about the Masters, after all — Timo and Lincoln might have already talked but how much did they spill before they died? Kate knows plenty; she could fill in the gaps. She’s wanted to tell the world everything ever since Ingram first kidnapped her. Could she have struck a deal with Death? She could tell them about the Enclave, who the Masters are, the truth about Victor Sovereign’s death… And what better public figure to convince the world that Anarchy, Inc. is killing bad men and has been the good guys all along?
With her as an ally, that could very well be the last nail in my coffin. They would find our island.
And what if Kate’s not dead? Could they have a way of removing the implants safely? Timo and Lincoln could have told Death all about the chips, giving Death some time to figure out how to extract them… but was it enough? They would have had days, at most. They definitely would have needed prior knowledge of the devices. But how? Did someone successfully get out a secret message?
You know who else would have known…
Fucking hell.
It’s not possible.
He knew everything about the implants, and now he could have Kate…
If Ingram is somehow alive… it would explain a lot.
Forget what Kate could tell my enemy — if Ingram is the enemy, he knows everything. More than I do, in fact.
“Sir, the site we tracked Kate to just exploded,” Nick says via intercom. “Two vehicles are leaving the scene — including a van similar to the one back in Brooklyn.”
I shudder at the memory of that day.
“Destroy them,” I say. “And don’t fuck around. That van will be heavily armed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Also, send a team to Kate’s location, top priority — put out the fire and recover her body. I want those implants and I want to know how she died.”
“Understood.”
I load up the helicopters’ cameras on my tablet, then pour myself a whiskey.
Wind blows in from the west, a storm bearing down on Manhattan. Rain batters the windows of my penthouse. Lightning flashes over the skyline. Thunder claps overhead.
I pour myself another drink when the first helicopter goes down. Death’s using my fucking missiles. Within minutes he’s wrecked both helicopters and several cars — at least a dozen more of my mercenaries killed.
It’s another bloodbath — of course it is. Why did I expect anything else? Death is too well-armed. They knew we’d try to retrieve Kate and didn’t hesitate to blacken my eye. Plus, with the storm moving in we can’t track them via satellite. Did they check the weather reports before hatching this plan, or is it just my bad luck this worked out? On the other hand, the storm will suppress the fire at the farm. Death no doubt aimed to burn it to ash like the Waterston ranch, but this time we could recover some actual evidence. Luck can work both ways.
At least now I know they have Hamza’s missiles. It’s going to pose an interesting challenge, but if Death can buy armored vehicles so can I. The range on those missiles isn’t very far — if we can take out the launchers before they get close, they’ll be useless.
My hand shakes as I sip my drink. And what if Death has already incorporated this idea into his strategy, and is ready to hit me another way next time? For all I know, Kate could show up on television at any moment to tell the world about the Masters.
