One Bad Day
Part Twelve: Finalising the Collection
[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Dallon Household
Manpower
"Carol," Neil Pelham tried yet again. "Seriously. Why aren't we out there, looking for Sarah and the kids?" He glanced at the head of the PRT security detail. "No offence, but what can these guys do that you and I can't, if someone kicks in the door to try to abduct us?"
The agent lifted his chin. "Be awake. Call for backup and hold the line."
"Hold the line." Neil snorted. "You're almost adorable."
"Which is part of the plan," Carol snapped from across the room. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, and Neil wasn't sure she was hitting on all cylinders yet. "We have to stay here, in the house. That way, we're in one place and they can protect us. And in the case of an abduction attempt, they can call in backup and capture the kidnappers."
Neil looked over at Carol, who had a female agent sitting by her. There were three women in the detail, along with the three men assigned to watch over himself. Two of the agents were in the living room, two were upstairs asleep, and the last two were patrolling the house. He still felt he was missing something.
"I get it that you're protecting us," he said to the guy. "But if the PRT's willing to send six people to help us out because we're affiliated with the Protectorate, why haven't you insisted that we come back to the PRT building with you?"
The agent frowned slightly. "They didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" The feeling of having come in halfway through the movie intensified.
There was the hint of an eye-roll, though the guy was clearly too disciplined to let it go all the way. "You're a hard target for abduction, for several reasons. Brandish must have been seen too problematic to take at the time, possibly for the same reason. Whoever it is that's after you doesn't want to murder you, or Brandish might not have survived her run-in with Redflag. So, you're being dangled out here to tempt the kidnappers to try again. We're here to make sure they don't succeed."
Goddamn Piggot! Playing games with our lives like this! "What!?" he demanded, not bothering to keep his voice down. "The Director's using us as bait? Carol, did you know about this?"
"It was my idea," she retorted. "I floated it to Director Piggot and got the okay. If we make ourselves too difficult to get to, they might give up. But if we're here …"
It all made sense now. Piggot had been under intense pressure to keep the Wards safe after the Shadow Stalker debacle—of which Neil was convinced he hadn't heard all the details of either—so she was clearly willing to bend all the rules to get Gallant back any way she had to. But while it made sense, it didn't mean he liked it. Not in the slightest.
"Seriously, what the fuck?" He stood up from the armchair, towering over everyone else there. Normally, he felt slightly embarrassed doing that, but right now he couldn't give a shit. "Carol, we could be out there right now kicking heads and finding out where our kids are, where your sister is, and you're staking everything on a play like this? You realise Director Piggot doesn't give a damn about us, or the rest of New Wave, right? She's just going along with it to use us as the damn sacrificial goat!"
"I went out there!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet and facing him. "I went to the only damn place I could think of to get more information! And I got Sarah abducted!"
He stared at the red around her eyes and bellowed right back at her. "And how sober were you at the time?"
The fury in his voice hung in the air between them, but he recovered first. "Now that you're sober, we'll have each other's backs if we go out there again. Plus, when you went to Gallant's house, you weren't expecting trouble. It'll be a whole different ballgame, this time around."
"No." She shook her head. "We're not doing that. We're sticking to the plan."
He set his jaw stubbornly. "Your plan. Not my plan."
"That's right. My plan. In Sarah's absence, I'm team leader. And if you go out there alone, you're asking to be scooped up, just like Sarah and Gallant were. Yes, I want to be out there looking. But what are two more sets of eyes going to do?"
"Trust me, we have agents sweeping the city as we speak."
The PRT guy couldn't have interjected at a worse time. Neil swung around toward him. "Butt out! I've seen how efficient your sweeps are, and every villain in Brockton Bay's still out there!"
"Neil!" Carol's voice cut across his. "Gallant's disappearance has hit the PRT right where it hurts at the worst possible time. They're doing everything they can to find everyone. Trust me, whoever it turns out to be is looking at Birdcage time."
Neil found it no problem at all to feel zero sympathy for whoever it was that had taken his wife and kids. "I don't care what they do with them, so long as they get our family back safe." Even now, after he'd gone over it so many times in his head, mentioning their absence out loud made a lump grow in his throat.
Carol stepped closer. "And they're doing that. In the meantime, why don't you go and have a shower or something? You know, cool off."
Neil felt the quiet desperation of a strong man made powerless by events outside his control. He wanted to scream at them, but knew it would be both pointless and counterproductive. Instead, he moved restlessly on his feet, not wanting to sit down again. Furniture in the Pelham household was just a little larger, to accommodate his outsized frame, and he was just now beginning to notice the difference.
The agent gave him a querying glance. "Sir?"
"Fine. I'm going to the bathroom. Anyone want to check it for booby-traps first?"
"No, sir." The agent's tone was dry.
He stomped away from them, knowing they'd be nearby, but he wasn't sure if this was to keep him safe or make certain he didn't sneak out anyway. He didn't want to ask; some answers were best left unspoken. Besides, if he did end up leaving to look for Sarah and the kids, he didn't want to give the PRT—or Carol—advance warning.
He headed through the house to the downstairs bathroom and locked himself in. Leaning back against the door, he closed his eyes and let out a gusty sigh. It wasn't that he even needed to use the facilities; he just wanted a moment alone so he could gather his thoughts and plan his way forward.
And then he heard something splashing in the toilet bowl.
Frowning, he took a step forward and looked down to see a rat, paddling around and around in a circle. But that wasn't even the weirdest part. That would be the fact of the tiny harness it was wearing, which allowed it to tow behind it a cell-phone sealed in a plastic bag.
"What the hell?" He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the words came out anyway.
"Is everything okay in there, sir?" It was one of the PRT agents, right outside the bathroom door.
Immediately, the rat shook its head vigorously, and looked like it was preparing to dive for the drain-hole. Worried it might leave and pissed off that the agents were shadowing him so closely, Neil gave vent to his frustration. "Fuck off! I'm busy!"
"Sorry, sir. Didn't mean to bother you."
But Neil wasn't listening. Leaning down, he reached into the toilet bowl; the rat, apparently divining his purpose, did something that cut the phone free of the harness and dived for the drain-hole. He scooped the sealed bag—it seemed to be just barely buoyant—from the water and stood there, staring at it. Inside the clear plastic was a note, wrapped around the phone.
He glanced once at the door, considering whether or not to let the PRT agents in on this latest development, then shook his head. They've been slightly less use than tits on a bull so far. Let's see what this is all about, first.
Opening the bag, he pulled out the note and unfolded it. The handwriting was Sarah's, he saw immediately.
Hi, huggy-bear …
Tears sprang to his eyes. That was the nickname she only used with him, and only when they were alone. It made her presence almost palpable, and he re-read the three words several times before going to the rest of the note.
First off: I am not a prisoner. I'm not a hostage, either. The kids are here, and we're all safe. Nobody's in danger. We are not being kept against our will.
He stopped, and stared at the wall. After the emotional roller-coaster of the last day, it was hard to take in. Not in danger? Not prisoners? Why haven't they just contacted us, then? Why all the rigmarole with a rat and a phone? And who trains a rat to deliver a phone, anyway?
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he looked down at the note again. Maybe there were answers to his questions there.
Do NOT tell Carol or the PRT about this note or this phone. There is something going on that we're trying to sort out, but it's nothing that the authorities can do anything about and involving them will make it actively worse. Carol can't know either, not until we're ready to bring her in on it. She will absolutely make it worse if she's told at the wrong time.
Honey, I know this all sounds very mysterious, and there's a certain lack of important details. That's deliberate, in case Carol or the PRT find this note. We're giving you twenty minutes from getting this phone to get somewhere you can talk without being overheard, then I'll be calling you to fill you in on the rest of the situation.
If you can't talk, decline the call and we can send texts instead.
Love you, huggy-bear.
Sarah.
PS: Carol, if you find this note, I'm sorry that we couldn't bring you in straight away but you're not exactly rational these days. It's all for a really good cause.
PPS: If it's Director Piggot reading this note: Emily, we both know that you'd do your best to take control of the situation, and that's exactly why I'm not contacting you. Gallant is safe and healthy, and is assisting us of his own free will, and that's all I can tell you.
He re-read the note three times, even turning it over to see if there was anything more, but that was it. Holding it up to the light didn't reveal any pin-holes over significant letters or other secret messages within the message.
His choice now was to either do what the note said or to hand both note and phone over to the PRT immediately. He knew what Carol and the agent in charge would want … but that wasn't what Sarah needed him to do.
If Sarah even wrote the note.
The handwriting, the phrasing, even the pet name … it all shouted Sarah! to him. And he could always go to them after the phone call, if he didn't like what he heard. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to himself.
Yeah. Trust, but verify.
Refolding the note, he slid it into his pocket along with the phone, still in its plastic bag. Then he flushed the toilet noisily and made a show of washing his hands and splashing water on his face. The latter he'd actually needed, though he hadn't realised it until now.
Emerging from the bathroom, Neil gave the agent a sour look. He hadn't forgotten the way he'd been right outside the door before. "I'm going upstairs to lie down," he said bluntly. "Seeing as how there's nothing else constructive I can do around here right now."
"Understood, sir." The agent stood back out of the way as Neil headed for the stairs. Faintly, he heard the guy telling everyone on the radio net what was going on, but he didn't care at the moment.
Nobody followed him upstairs, and the spare bedroom had been checked over several times since he'd more or less moved into the house, so he expected no issues when he closed the door behind him. Still, he didn't want to be disturbed, so he picked up the chest of drawers and placed it up against the door, careful to make no noise.
Satisfied nobody was going to barge in, he kicked off his loafers and lay down on the bed. After a moment, he got up on one elbow and examined the clock/radio until he'd figured out how to turn the radio part on just enough to provide background noise. Then he rolled over to face the wall.
Carefully, he took the phone and note from his pocket again. The bedroom light was off, but there was enough light coming in through the window for him to read it. It was a tangible link to Sarah, and he lost himself in the handwriting while he waited for the twenty minutes to be up.
Please be true.
Please don't be a trick.
Taylor
One Block Away
"Ugh." I rubbed my temples. "That took forever."
"We can go now?" asked Aisha, clipping the side engine cover back on the motorbike and picking up the tools she'd strewn artistically around.
"Yeah." I took out my phone. "Just as soon as I make this call. But can we go slower this time?"
Aisha grinned. "No promises."
Coil's Old Base
Lady Photon
Lisa's phone rang and she answered it promptly. "Yeah. Okay, he has? He did? He is? Excellent. I'll let her know."
She ended the call and turned to Sarah, her usual secretive smirk now a beaming smile. "You'll be pleased to know that your husband is on the ball. He finally went into the bathroom, about five minutes ago. Taylor says it only took half an hour of nudging. If she gets headaches like I do, we might have to break out the extra-strength Tylenol."
"Well?" asked Sarah, as Lisa paused teasingly. "What did he do? Has he got the phone? Did he read the note?"
Lisa grinned, her snark back in full force. "Yeah, he's got it, and he's read the note. Taylor's power just registered him going upstairs. So, Operation Manpower Ahoy is a go."
Sarah checked the time on the phone she was holding. Fifteen minutes to go.
I hope he paid attention to the instructions. Carol means well, but she'd be like a wrecking ball to our plans right now.
Manpower
There wasn't any more than thirty seconds to go by Neil's estimation when he heard a light tap on the bedroom door. "Neil?" It was Carol's voice.
Shit. He debated inwardly what to do. If he didn't say anything or pretended to be asleep, she'd try to open the door anyway. "What?" Reaching over, he turned the radio down.
The latch clicked and he heard the door handle scraping against the back of the chest of drawers as it turned. "I just wanted to say I'm sorr—why isn't the door opening?"
"Because I put a chest of drawers in front of it. What do you want?"
"Why did you do that?"
"Because I didn't want to be disturbed. What do you want?"
He heard her take a breath to compose herself. "I came up here to apologise for yelling at you. Can you let me in so we can talk about it?"
"No." He felt that was a little curt, so he kept talking. "I'm trying to have a nap. Maybe when I wake up, I might feel like it."
"You're still mad at me, aren't you?"
Fuck, I do not need this conversation right now.
"You unilaterally floated this plan with the Director—involving my family—without consulting me. What do you think?"
There was a pause. "Okay, I'll leave you to it. I'm still sorry, and we'll talk later when you're feeling better."
"Yeah, you do that." He turned back to face the wall as her footsteps retreated down the corridor.
The phone in his hand buzzed just as he turned the radio back up again.
He froze, just long enough for it to buzz twice more, then he swiped the green icon and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he whispered. "Sarah?"
"Geez, I thought you were never going to pick up," she answered teasingly. Tears of relief sprang to his eyes as she continued. "Yes, it's me. I'm fine, just like the note said. The kids are fine too. Here, Eric. Say hi to your dad."
The phone was passed to someone else, then he heard his son's voice, cheerful and upbeat. "Hey, Dad. I'm good. Crystal's still Crystal, so that's a problem." There was a distant hey! and Eric blew a raspberry. "Uh, gotta go. Here's Mom. Bye!"
Sarah's voice came back on the line, laughter in her voice. "Me again. So yeah, the kids are all physically healthy, Amy and Vicky included. But Vicky's not actually okay, which is why all the secrecy and running around kidnapping people."
Neil could literally feel the tension leaching out of his body at the sound of his wife's voice. She was alive and well, and clearly in good spirits, and so were the kids. Thank God. Except Vicky, which didn't sound good. He'd never seen anything get through Vicky's shield.
"Gallant?" he asked quietly, having to swallow a couple of times to clear his throat. "Is he part of this, too? Because of Vicky?"
"Very much so," Sarah confirmed. "He's here and he's fine as well. So, here's the thing. Due to a series of catastrophic misjudgements that we don't need to go into right now, Vicky is now partially amnesiac. Basically, she's forgotten most of who she is. Fingers can be pointed and blame apportioned later, but to make a long story extremely short, we're gathering together everyone who knows her, so we can use our accumulated memories of her to rebuild her memories of herself, and bring her back."
Neil blinked, working through a series of deep breaths. Okay. That was … considerably different to what he'd thought was going on. "Who's the red-headed girl?" he asked. "Carol says she had some sort of sneaky Blaster or Shaker attack. And why can't we just put this in the hands of the PRT so they can make it happen without all the under-the-table stuff?"
"Because like I said in the note, they'll take charge and utterly screw up the whole plan that we've put together." Sarah drew in a deep breath. "Carol's not in possession of all the facts; neither do I believe that she's in her right mind at the moment. I love her dearly, but right now I wouldn't put her in charge of a lemonade stand. And as for the girl, she's an accidental ally, one who's as dedicated to fixing Vicky's problem as I am."
As much as Neil hated to say it, Sarah's summation of Carol's mental state was probably closer to reality than he wanted to admit. "What about Amy? I know she says she can't do brains, but maybe if she really tried …"
"She has, and she can't." Sarah paused for a long moment. "If we're going to do this properly, we're going to need you and your memories of Vicky. So, can you break away from your minders and come meet us?"
"Well, yeah …." Then he paused as inspiration struck. "No, no, wait a minute. I just had a better idea."
"What? What better idea? What do you mean?" Sarah sounded uncertain.
"You're gonna need Carol, right?" Of course they were going to need Carol. She would have the most memories of Vicky out of everyone. "And she's gonna be the hardest sell of them all. She'll argue until the sun goes down and still be defending her point when it comes up again. So, I'm gonna stay right where I am. When you come to get her, I'll be your guy on the inside."
There was a long pause on Sarah's end. "That's brilliant. I love it. I love you. Okay, yes, we can definitely do it that way."
He grinned crookedly at the happiness in her tone. "You realise, I'm still going to have to put you over my knee for scaring the crap out of me like that."
Her tone was pure sultry siren. "If we pull this off, you can do whatever you want to me … stud." Then she burst out laughing.
"What?" he demanded, working to keep his voice down. "What's so funny?"
She was still giggling when she answered. "There are six teenagers here, who all just mimed gagging at the same time. I've still got it."
Despite himself, a smirk crossed his lips. "You never lost it, babe."
"Nor did you, huggy-bear. Gonna hang up now. Take care, okay?"
"Always. Love you."
"Love you, too."
The call ended, and he shoved the phone deep into his pocket again and relaxed into the mattress. It was amazing what a difference a five-minute phone call could make in his life. Gone were the anger and fear occasioned by his wife and kids being abducted. There was still the worry about Vicky's well-being, but there was a plan that Sarah was involved with, so it had to be a good one.
He had no idea how they were going to access everyone's memories, but Sarah had sounded confident that they were and he trusted his wife implicitly, so there was clearly some way it was possible. All he had to do was keep his eyes open and make his move at the right time, and hopefully everything would turn out okay.
The trick, he decided, was figuring out how to get Carol away from everyone else.
That was going to be a problem, but he figured he had time to find a solution.
Taylor
"Okay, he's in." Sarah smiled broadly as she put the phone down. "And by that, I mean he's on board with what we're doing, but he's going to stay with Carol until the time comes to grab her up. The phrase he used was 'our man on the inside'."
"That's amazing," I said, and meant it. Everyone else had taken a certain amount of talking to before they came around to the idea. Mrs. Pelham had just … told her husband what was going on, and he'd gone right along with it. "How did you convince him so quickly?"
"Thank you, Taylor dear," she said with a beaming smile. "But there's no real secret to it. Neil and I have been married for twenty years. He knows when I'm being serious about something."
"Trust me when I say that's not always the case." Lisa raised her eyebrows briefly. "But I have to say, from what I've seen of your marriage, you've got the real deal there."
"Okay, yeah, great." Amy dropped into the seat next to mine. "Aunt Sarah's great, Uncle Neil's on board, literally nobody in the room is surprised. News at eleven."
"Whoa, whoa, Amy girl. A-game. Amester. Chillax, seriously." Aisha made time-out gestures. "I'm the one whose job it is to make with the dark snark. Don't go trompin' on my deal there. Okay?"
Amy blinked as though trying to decipher Aisha's rapid-fire delivery, then slumped with a defeated sigh. "Right. Sorry. It's just …"
She didn't need to finish what she was saying. I put my arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder with something approaching a sob. "Hey, it's okay," I said quietly. "We've got this. Did you have that list of Vicky's friends we need to pick up?"
"Mm-hmm." She pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to me. "I was getting Vicky to tell me their names and addresses, and just listening to her …" Her voice broke again. There were definitely tears in her eyes by now.
"Well, we're going to get this sorted, and then she can yell at you all she wants," Lisa declared. "How many names on that list?"
Awkwardly, using one hand—my other arm was still occupied with comforting Amy—I opened the sheet and looked at it. "Seven. Doable tonight?"
"Definitely doable tonight," Lisa agreed. She shuffled through several sheets of paper in front of her, then tapped one with her fingernail. "Okay, so let's change things up. Manpower's resourceful, able to adapt to new circumstances, right?"
"He ought to be," Lady Photon said with a slight smile, buffing her nails on her blouse. "He married me, after all."
"Good." Lisa's tone indicated that she'd expected nothing less. "Message him. Let him know we're coming over now to pick him and Brandish up. Best case, he gets out of there without letting the agents call for help. The more hang time we have before they lock down the area—and once they find out we've grabbed the last two members of New Wave, they will have roadblocks from Downtown clear out to Captain's Hill—the better. We do not want Velocity peering in through the car window before we're halfway back here. Can do?"
Lady Photon nodded, her expression serious now. "Can do."
Lisa looked at me. "Taylor, how's your head?"
"It's fine," I said warily. "Why?" The headache that had closed down after I pushed myself to influence Manpower had eased off, thankfully. I no longer felt like a gorilla was clamping a vise down over my temples. This, I suspected, was not going to be the case for much longer.
She gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm going to need you to be riding in the vehicle that picks up Manpower." There were several such vehicles parked in an underground parking garage. "Anything you can do to dissuade pursuit would be useful."
"I can supply you with birds and rats to disable vehicles and distract them at the right time," Amy said quietly. "You can do birds and rats all day, right?"
"I can, yeah." Birds and rats were a much easier proposition than people.
Lisa nodded. "Okay, so that's the Manpower pickup sorted. Now, once we've got the kids secured, I'll contact Cranial. If her reputation's anything to go by, we'll be set up and ready to roll by four hours after that."
"The sooner the better," Amy warned her, straightening up from my shoulder. "Carol's going to need to be sedated just so she doesn't try to kill me once she finds out what's going on. I don't want to have to keep her under any longer than absolutely necessary." She looked around at the rest of us, then over at Gallant. "Also, the longer we take to finish this off, the higher the chance Director Piggot will decide to bring in the big guns to look for you."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Gallant—Dean—was actually a pretty nice guy, once I got to know him. He was friendly and self-effacing, and came the closest I'd seen yet to matching his personality to his cape persona. "I still think I could've dropped her a message on the quiet to let her know I hadn't been kidnapped for real."
"Wouldn't have worked," Lisa advised him, then looked over at where Lady Photon and Aisha had each said exactly the same thing. "Okay, you two. I know how I came to that conclusion. How did you guys figure it out?"
"Emily Piggot's an ex-assault trooper," Mrs. Pelham said bluntly. "She's been in the hot seat in the PRT ENE for ten years now, but when push comes to shove, she's military to the core. She doesn't do 'look the other way'. If you contacted her, she would flat-out refuse to take your word that everything's okay, until you came clean to her with everything. Then, because you're a Ward and you're involved, she'd do her best to leverage herself into the control seat, take over, and do what she figures is the right course of action. Which would be first to make sure there's zero backlash to the PRT. Secondly, to ensure that New Wave is beholden to the PRT. And Vicky's welfare would come last in line. Probably therapy to rebuild some kind of personality from what's been left behind. What she wouldn't do is go to a rogue who also deals with villains, especially if it would cost the PRT significant money in the process."
"Wow, huh," Aisha remarked. "I was just gonna say she's a bureaucrat, and they fuck everything up."
Lisa shrugged. "Well, you're not wrong," she conceded, then turned to Lady Photon. "Not a bad analysis. You just left out the bit where the Director hates capes, probably because a cape did her dirty back in the day. So, while she won't deliberately screw Vicky over with cheap therapy, she certainly won't go out of her way to make sure Vicky gets the best of the best, either."
Dean grimaced. "Are you sure you aren't being a bit unfair on her? I mean, sure she's a hardass but she needs to be, with her job."
"I admire your loyalty," Lisa said, sincerely as far as I could tell. "But there comes a time when you need to look at things realistically. And realistically speaking? Vicky's well-being is nowhere near as important to your boss as the PRT's image is. She'll do what looks good, not what's best for Vicky. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."
"I can't." Dean shook his head. "But what if I contacted my family to let them know I'm okay? They could pass it on to the Director."
"Even I can tell that one wouldn't work," I said. "She wouldn't take it seriously unless she was speaking to you directly, and then she'd work at pressuring you to tell her exactly what's going on, or just extracting you from the situation. Because no adult likes to think they couldn't do a better job at being in charge than some kid." I glanced at Mrs. Pelham. "No offence."
"None taken," she said serenely. "I'm not sure what sort of arrangements I could've made if I'd come into this blind, and I still have reservations about dealing with rogue capes, but I can't think of a better way to bring Vicky back to us. You and your friends have done an impressive job so far of arranging matters, so I'm willing to pitch in and make sure your plan works."
I felt Amy relax against me, very slightly. "And that's why I love her," she murmured in my ear.
For my part, I could definitely see why she had the nickname 'Photon Mom'. If anyone possessed the suitable temperament to be the mother of teenagers, it was Mrs. Pelham. "Yeah," I agreed.
"Okay," declared Lisa. "If you want to send that message now, Mrs. Pelham, Taylor can go out with Crystal to pick up your husband. They can take the silver SUV. It's the one that's least like Danny's car. Crystal?"
"Sure," said Laserdream from where she was sitting with Vicky. "Can someone come relieve me here? We're in the middle of a game of pattycake, then I think she'll want her hair braided."
"I can do that," Aisha offered with a grin. "Nobody braids her hair like I do. Do they, Vicky?"
"No, Most Esteemed Aisha," Vicky agreed. "I like how you braid my hair."
Eric, sitting near me, shook his head slightly. "That will never not be weird," he murmured.
It seemed Laserdream was of the same mind. "We'll be done by this time tomorrow, right? We'll have her back?"
"That's the plan." Lisa's voice was confident, but I could see the way she had her fists clenched, the knuckles showing white. The tension was getting to her as well. "We'd better get what sleep we can, and once you two get back, you'd better do the same. We'll be heading out after sundown to do the collections, and then we've got to make sure nothing gets in the way of what Cranial is doing. It's going to be a very long night."
I wished Dad was there for extra support, but we couldn't risk him not being contactable even once if the PRT turned up for a random sweep, so he was at home for the duration. Hopefully, once we had Vicky's situation sorted out, we could then get to work on mine.
Just so long as nothing else goes wrong.
Circus
The torsion bar lost its purchase inside the lock, and Circus cursed luridly under her breath as the mechanism snapped back into place. The lock was just a little bigger than she was used to, with extra security mechanisms that made it harder to seat the torsion bar just right and to move the rake properly. She almost suspected Coil of having had the cells designed to make it harder for people who might smuggle in lockpicks and the like.
Did he specifically plan to have me locked in here at some point, or was he just preparing for the possibility?
Sending the picks back to her personal hammerspace, she considered the other items within it. Road flares, not so useful right now; a spare set of clothing, which would come in handy if she could ever get out of here but not until then; a set of throwing knives, which she could absolutely carom through the feeding slot to nail whoever brought her food, though that wouldn't be totally wise if she then couldn't get the keys ...
I've got no real choice.
Taking out the picks again, she inserted them into the lock. If she kept trying, sooner or later she'd get the damn lock open. And then, Tattletale was going to find out why nobody stiffed Circus.
Nobody.
The Dallon Household
Ten Minutes Later
Manpower
Careful not to scrape the wall or damage the chest of drawers, Neil picked the heavy piece of furniture up and moved it back to its original position. The phone was back in his pocket, and he'd figured out what he had to do. Carol was going to be utterly pissed with him after the fact; but as the saying went, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
Ironically, the solution to his problem had been supplied all unaware by Carol herself. Sarah had given her sister a bunch of sleeping pills a few years ago when she was having issues with pushing herself too hard day after day, but to Neil's understanding Carol hadn't been taking them. According to Sarah, they were still sitting in the master bedroom ensuite medicine cabinet, in the original packaging.
Edging the door open, he peeked around the jamb, finding to his relief that nobody was in the corridor. This could change at any moment, so he stepped out and pulled the door closed quietly behind him. As a large man in the superhero game, he'd long since learned how to move quietly; the last thing he wanted was for the bad guys to hear him coming before he could get his hands on them. The floorboards creaked under his weight, but not unreasonably so. Still, by the time he got to the main bedroom door, he was imagining Carol and the PRT agents peering at the ceiling and wondering what he was doing up there.
As he laid his hand on her door handle, he worried for a moment that she might've locked it. This wouldn't stop him for more than a second or so, but breaking the lock would make noise that he couldn't afford. Holding his breath, he turned the handle. It moved smoothly and the door clicked open.
He breathed again.
Pushing the door open, he ducked inside and pulled it shut behind him. Now he was on the clock, in more ways than one. His pickup was on the way; but he also didn't dare get caught in Carol's bedroom. In order for the plan to work, he needed to be in and out before anyone saw him.
Moving through to the ensuite, he flicked the light on and opened the wall cabinet. Minor household medications met his gaze, but no sleeping pills showed themselves. "Come on, come on …" he murmured to himself. "Where are you?"
Shoving a bottle of aspirin and a tube of antiseptic cream aside, he reached deeper into the cabinet. A jar full of Q-tips was in the way, so he nudged that to one side as well. For a moment, he thought his search was in vain, then he spotted the corner of a box that had been pushed all the way to the back.
Stretching his hand over the intervening obstacles, he snagged the lurking box with two fingers and lifted it out. The logo of a popular brand of sleeping pill met his eyes, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Shoving the box into his pocket alongside the phone, he closed the cabinet again and crept back to Carol's bedroom door. Though to him it felt like he'd been in there searching for hours, it could only have been a matter of minutes.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and he jolted into action. Stepping smoothly out through the door, he closed it as quickly as he dared, letting the lock tongue slide back into the slot without a sound. As the noise reached the top of the staircase, he took three long strides to the door of the spare room. Grabbing the door handle, he opened it quickly, then pulled it shut with a distinct c-click.
The PRT team leader came around the corner and nodded to him. "Feeling better, sir?"
"Much," he acknowledged. "Sorry for that display, earlier. That wasn't exactly a good look for the team."
The PRT guy shrugged sympathetically. "We're all under a certain amount of stress, sir. It happens."
"Well, I'm going down to make myself a cup of coffee." Neil tried to make his tone casual. "Would you and your people like some, too?"
"I wouldn't say no to a cup of joe, sir." The agent nodded in appreciation. "We need to be as alert as we can."
"That's true. We do." Firmly quashing any and all qualms of guilt—according to Sarah, the PRT did not have the full story and would absolutely screw things up if they did—he headed downstairs.
Making the coffee was a calming ritual for him. Halfway through, Carol wandered in to see what was happening. "Hey," she said quietly. "I just want to say sorry for … well, you know."
He shrugged, much as the PRT agent had. "Stress happens. Want one? I can bring it out to you."
She paused for a moment, looking at him, and he feared she had seen something in his expression or heard it in his voice. But she tilted her head slightly and smiled. "I'd like that, thanks, Neil. That would be very nice."
After she wandered out again, he took out the packet of sleeping pills. It was still sealed, never opened despite how long ago Sarah had given them to Carol. Opening it quietly was easy; popping the pills out of their plastic-and-aluminum prisons took a little more care.
He didn't bother crushing them with a spoon; squeezing them between finger and thumb did the trick. Stirring the powder into each of the five cups out of the six he was making was easy. One pill went into each, then he frowned and went around the cups putting a second one in. Then a third. Finally, recalling how fit and healthy the PRT agents were, he crushed a fourth one into each cup, hoping the extra sugar he was adding would mask the taste. He couldn't put any more in, as that was the end of the packet and he wasn't about to head upstairs and look for more.
"Coffee's up," he announced, heading out into the living room with a tray holding five in one hand, and his un-dosed cup in the other.
The PRT agents converged on him, each taking a cup. Carol favoured him with a smile as she took the last one, then sipped it and rolled her eyes. "Wow, do you always prefer it this strong? Do you sleep at night ever?"
"I want to be on the ball if they come for us," he said seriously.
After a moment, she nodded in agreement and took another sip. "Well, you're not wrong. And this does have a definite kick to it."
Neil took the tray back to the kitchen, then forced himself to sit in the living room and pretend to watch TV while surreptitiously keeping tabs on his sister-in-law and the PRT agents in the room. It seemed to take forever before Carol started to yawn and stretch, but soon after the agents began to droop a little as well. When the first snore arose, Neil slid the phone from his pocket and sent a single text. Now.
Standing up, he moved over to where Carol was slumped on the sofa beside the female agent. Picking her up, he headed toward the front door. Without pausing in his stride, he opened the door and stepped outside, just as the silver SUV pulled up at the curb.
Crystal leaned across from the driver's side seat and waved through the window, and he smiled.
Later That Night
Holland Household
Stella Holland was upstairs doing her homework and wondering where Vicky Dallon was—she was usually the life of the party when they gathered in the cafeteria at lunch, and she hadn't shown up for days—when her mother called from downstairs.
"Stella! There's someone here to see you!"
There was a note of excitement in her mother's voice that she'd rarely heard before, so she closed her books and trotted down the stairs to see what was going on. In the living room, she was surprised to see not Vicky or even Amy, but the other New Wave kids and their mom. She didn't know Crystal or Eric anywhere near as well as she knew Vicky, but she'd met them a couple of times. And of course everyone in Brockton Bay knew Lady Photon.
"Oh, wow, hi," she said, trying to be chill but fully aware she was anything but. "What's up? Is this about Vicky?"
Lady Photon smiled, as though Stella had just passed a test she hadn't known she was taking. "As a matter of fact, it is," she said. "You might have noticed she hasn't been around the last few days?" Pausing, she gave Stella an expectant look.
"Well, yeah." Stella paused, not sure what else to say. "What's going on? Where is she?"
"I'm glad you asked." Lady Photon lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She's been getting ready for an upcoming event, one that she's specifically invited you to attend. It's a cape thing, which is why we couldn't spread it around that it was happening."
"Is it a birthday party? I bet it's a birthday party." Stella had heard chapter and verse about how capes tried to hide their ages, especially among the Wards. She'd never been invited to one of these before. Shit, what am I going to wear?
"Good guess." Lady Photon beamed at her. "Now, I'm really sorry at the short notice, but it's actually tonight." She rolled her eyes almost theatrically. "Blame the organisers for moving up the schedule without telling anyone."
"T-tonight?" Stella stared at her, then turned to her mother. "Mom, can I still go? Please? This is the first cape birthday party I've ever been invited to."
"Hmm ... I don't know." Her mother looked dubious. "Have you finished your homework?"
"Totally," Stella replied, lying through her teeth. She could always do it on the bus into school, in the morning.
Still, her mother didn't look convinced. "When does the party finish? And how many people are coming? Are there going to be chaperones?"
Lady Photon fielded the questions with grace and aplomb. "We'll be done by ten at the latest. And no more than twenty people, all told. Most of these will be capes, showing up for the event. As for chaperones, if you wanted to come along yourself, you're welcome to do so."
"I ... suppose." Suddenly flustered, Stella's mother looked down at herself. "I'm hardly dressed to attend a party."
"It's due to start when everyone is there," Lady Photon explained. "If you wanted to take a little time to get ready, I still need to speak to everyone else on the invitation list, then we can come back and pick you up. Would that be more acceptable?"
Stella didn't dare speak, but she stared at her mother, willing her to say yes. Please, please, please, please ...
Eventually, her mother nodded. "I don't suppose it will do any harm, just this once." She smiled. "It's been awhile since I've been to a birthday party. Are we expected to bring presents?"
"Oh, no, no." Lady Photon shook her head with an answering smile. "Just being there is all the present they'll need. It's a very private affair."
"Oh. That's nice. So, you'll be back to pick us up in ..." Her mother's eyes went introspective for a moment. "... An hour?"
Lady Photon nodded. "An hour would be just fine." She beamed at Stella. "We'll see you then."
Stella watched as they went out through the front door, then took off into the night sky. She turned to her mother. "Thank you thank you thank you!" she enthused. "You're the best mom ever!"
"Well, it's not every day we get invited to a cape birthday party, dear." Her mother raised her eyebrows. "We've got an hour."
"Crap!" Stella turned and dashed up the stairs. Time to see just how fast she could get ready for a party.
Laserdream
As they flew away from the house, Crystal turned to her mother. "No offence, Mom, but I am never going to trust another word out of your mouth again."
"Speak for yourself." Eric laughed out loud. "That was the coolest thing I ever saw. You just lied your head off without saying a thing that wasn't true."
Sarah chuckled a little as well. "Children, take a lesson. The best way to get away with lying is to cultivate a reputation for being up-front and straightforward. So, who's next on the list?"
Crystal pulled the folded paper from her pocket and played light from her fingertip over it. "Britney Matheson. I know where she lives."
"Excellent. Take us there."
And away they soared, into the night.
Down below, a block away from the Holland house, Aisha's motorcycle pulled away from the curb and followed along behind.
End of Part Twelve