Author: Snow Lynx 95
Title: The Time/Space Continium
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gallagher Girls series, Ally Carter does. And if I was Ally Carter, and I did own the series, I think I'd tell you.
A/N: Hey. Here's a longer chapter, though I still think I'm rushing things. Sorry about that. There's several things I need to mention before the good stuff starts, the least of which being that there's not much info on the Fujikara family, and that the CoC is very, very good.
Chapter 3
"Kiddo." My mother's voice was such that I knew she had been crying.
"Start talking," I said, not caring that I was almost yelling. "Macey was never the target, and you knew."
"Cameron, there's a time and place—,"
"I have the right to know! They were after me!"
"Cameron!" Her voice flicked like a lash, and I imediately dropped my head, shamefaced. "I don't..."
"Don't what?" I was suprised at how small my voice was, but even more suprised when mom seemed prepared to answer the question.
Her eyes bored into me, and more than ever I was reminded just who I was talking to. Not the caring, sometime overbearing mother, but the spy. The calm, determined person who shared the same name as my mother. "We couldn't be sure of what was happening. And by the time we knew what we were up against, it was too late."
"To late to do what? Know that Macey wasn't the target?"
"We didn't know for a long time. We knew it was a possibility…but it didn't seem viable," mom said, running her hand through my hair.
Suddenly something inside me broke, and my eyes watered as I whispered, "Aunt Abby? Mr. Solomon?"
"She's out of surgery. They think she'll make it," she paused, seemingly uncertain. "As for Joe…we don't really know. We're doing our best. The ports and borders have been notified. From what we can tell, they haven't gone far. They're still probably in D.C. and it's thought the farthest they may have made it is Pennsylvania."
"But…is he alive?"
"There's no was to know, but if they took him alive, they probably want him for interrogation. He has to hold out. Has to." A little more conviction entered her voice, and she appeared stronger as she said, "It's nearly time for the welcome-back-after-winter-break-breakfast. You'll need to change. I'll see you there." A dismissal is a dismissal, so questions unanswered, I walked back to our suite.
I walked into our suite, the one shared by myself, and my best friends, Liz Sutton (our resident genius-of geniuses/hacker aficionado), Bex Baxter (female version of James Bond, minus the party girls…and plus the party boys), and Macey McHenry (who hasn't heard of her?). I gulped, confronted by the stares as all three of them sat there, well...staring at me. Trying to avoid their eyes, I found myself very interested in the warping of the hardwood floor, and kept my gaze firmly downward as I crossed the short distance from the door to my bed. Eventually, and feeling their eyes on my back, I turned around, waiting to see who was going to say something first.
"Cam, are you—you know—okay?" Liz finally whispered in what had to be the longest silence of my life.
I nodded, running my hands over numerous bandages. Finding I couldn't say anything I just sat there, re-familiarizing myself with the room. The posters that lined the room, the jumble of wires that was Liz's computer station, the magazines stacked by Macey's bedside all served to remind me that I was home. Home. After so much, the word tasted odd on my tongue.
"So what happened?" Bex, not one for subtlety, asked. "I mean, the white van showed up, we fought them off, but then someone rushed us into a safe house. Nice Victorian construction," she added, almost as an afterthought.
"I- it-," I hesitated, taking a breath to steady myself, "I fought them off, as well. Then there were those agents…another van no one saw…and they got him."
"Wait. Start from the beginning. Who'd they get?"
Starting from the beginning, I recounted the whole story. My friend expressions would have been comical, had the situation not been so dire.
"They kidnapped him?" Macey, usually cool and distant, seemed shocked. "They got Solomon?"
"Yes! For the tenth time!" My grief morphed into anger, and I shouted at my friends— my best friends—"He's gone! Even Fujikara couldn't stop them."
Bex clarified, "You mean that person who shot at the van?"
"Yeah. I can't get over her eyes. So cold. And when she talked to those people, her voice was bland. As if she was just a machine…" My voice drifted off as I recalled her eyes, the deft motions as she emptied a clip into the machines tires. The only emotion she had showed was yelling 'no' but even that had seemed forced.
Liz's eyes' lit up as she said, "Why don't we hack into the CIA and search 'Fujikara'?"
Macey rolled her eyes, saying, "We're not in there, so why should she? We don't even know if it's a first name or a last name!"
"It's worth a try," she said, refusing to be put off as she logged into the Gallagher Academy system, and began hacking. For a while the only sound was that of Liz tapping away at her laptop, but then Macey grabbed her own laptop and started tapping away too.
"There," said Macey with a pleased expression, "that should do it."
"What should do it?" I asked.
Macey rolled her eyes like I was being purposely stupid, "I found one Taylor Fujikara, of course."
"Where?" Liz queried in a slightly hurt tone—she was very prideful of her hacking.
"On Google, of course. I knew I had heard the name before. Their family owns one of the most exclusive banks in the world. Minimum deposit is twenty million US. My parents considered them."
"What's the name of the bank? And did your parents choose them?"
Macey shrugged, "I don't know if my parents chose them." She paused, scanning the computer screen. "The bank is called 'Fujikara Industries' though. Is this the person who held the gun?" Macey turned the screen towards me, and a picture appeared of a fairly regular kid, Asian (Japanese, probably) with hard features and a slight smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Yeah. That's her. And that's weird…" I frowned slightly, thinking.
"What?"
"…she's wearing exactly the same clothes as when I saw her." Same white tank top, same fashionably worn jeans, same combat boots. Same expensive Rolex wristwatch.
"You'd think she'd have more than one outfit," Bex pointed out.
"Yeah, you'd think so…" Liz said thoughtfully.
"What'd you find?"
"I finished my hack into the CIA, and it turns out they do have a file on the Fujikara family. Including their servants. Taylor Fujikara, her brother, parents, a cook, and a bodyguard. But just the amount of money they move—it's amazing! They invest billions of dollars a day, but it doesn't look like they've ever been investigated. Usually people worth that much have a file opened by some government agency; IRS, SEC (A/N: or is it supposed to be SCC? I'm too lazy to look it up), FBI, something. But no file exists other than a CIA file, and that file contains basic information."
"Are you sure there's nothing?"
"I don't know. I can't tell. I have a feeling there's more to this file, but the encryption is so complex I can't do much more than access the file. It's hard to manipulate."
"Keep trying."
Then I broke the silence, "We're going to be late for breakfast." Hurrying downstairs past the mahogany banisters and elegant portraits we were confronted by the usual sights: mom taking the podium to make her speech, students taking their seats, teachers taking their seats. But there were the irregular parts as well: the nervous aura, Mr. Solomon's empty seat, the jittery movements of the teachers.
"Good morning," began Headmistress Morgan, "and welcome back. There's not much to say about the rest of the year, so I'll jump to the meat of the matter. For those of you that didn't hear, Joe Solomon was kidnapped following an attempt on Cameron Morgan's life." She nodded slightly towards me, then took a deep breath, steeling herself to continue, "The best agents in the CIA are working on the matter. We'll get him back. One way or the other. For now though, Professor Buckingham will take Covert Ops., and I will take History of Espionage. Now, more than ever, what we are fighting for—and fighting—is closer to home. We will prevail. We must keep the sisterhood strong. Thank you."
Stepping down from the podium, people applauded lightly, but it was clear everyone's minds were elsewhere. While eating breakfast, I could feel eyes dart from me, to Mr. Solomon's empty seat, and back again. This was seriously not good.
I cautiously entered History of Espionage with Bex and Liz, wondering what to expect. Fortunately mom wasn't there, but I still got my share of questioning glances.
Tina Walters leaned forward, a question on her lips. After far too many years fielding the brunt of her questions, I began to say something to head off the tirade. Much to my suprise, she paused, the shook her head and sat down. More than anything else, her reaction served to remind me that the situation was far from normal.
A few seconds after everyone sat down, mom strolled into the room (reminiscent of a certain teacher who happened to be MIA) and slipped into the seat in the front of the room.
"Sorry ladies. Paperwork's a pain. Do you know how many trees I went through to get a temp teaching permit?" she paused, picking up a sheet of paper, "Ah, look. Patricia left a very detailed plan for the lesson. Well, this should be easy."
The lessons were just like with Mrs. Buckingham, and soon I fell into an easy half-doze, listening to mom talk about the Vartinelli crime family and their takedown in the late 1930's.
Then it all started coming back. The van, the Circle of Cavan. Images flashed before my eyes as I relived those horrible moments, movement for movement, word for word. I tried to pull myself from the memories, that awful waking dream, but at the same time I wanted to see it, wanted to remember. There must have been something they did, something that gave them away. Unconsciously I gripped the edge of my desk, breathing harder and harder until with a start my eyes flew open and I remembered where I was, back in History of Espionage. Glancing around I wondered nervously if anyone had noticed, but if they had, they didn't show it. I sat there, thinking hard, until the bell rang. As everyone hurried out of the classroom, I sighed shortly, annoyed. The Circle of Cavan couldn't beat the CIA! They were just too damn good, I thought angrily.
Forever
A word I used to say
Forever
A place to keep my fears away
Forever
Now beholden to me
Forever
Nevermore to be
A/N: So what do you think? I hope things are moving along. This is a conversation-driven plot, not a descriptive plot, so I'm hoping that everyone comes up with their own ideas of where people are and what they look like (not that I've had any new places...maybe I'll do something about that *coughs*). So review. Please? Begging you here. Pretty please with a cherry on top? MANY thanks to kittykatkitkat and Giggelsrocksodoi for reviewing. First reviews *lone applauder*. And to make it a little cooler (and since I consider myself a slightly better poet than story writer...not that either skill is particularly good), I've added a poem at the end. I don't know that it concerns any character, but it seemed right for the situation, with Solomon and all, so I though I might include it in the chapter. Thanks for reading! I'll try and keep up the chapters.