Chapter 21
The Return
Drusa
The war room is full of men of various ages and levels of gaudiness sitting around tables and screens exhaling nicotine vapor into the air until it looks smoky in this room. I sit in one corner, listening to Ross whine about how you can't tell the "rich kids" anything. I listen quietly, keeping my cultivated look of neutral interest, even though I'm actually looking around, observing everyone, overhearing everything I can. "But enough about that – how are those babies of yours?" he asks suddenly. I pretend to be pulled out of my distraction.
"I'm sorry?"
"How are your children doing? Are they adapting to the city okay?" he asks. I'm surprised by the tenderness with which he asks – but I suppose I shouldn't be. I've seen how much he seems to be pained by his daughter's betrayal – I think it hurts him worse than any of the needling from the others.
"They're adapting better than their mothers," I answer with a smile. Following the rebel victory at District 11 and the retreat to surround the city, many of the victors were evacuated to the Capitol. Drusa and Aetius seem nonplussed by their new surroundings, but they're already back to a routine. It's Lucinia, Priscilla, and I who can't get used to the gaudy colors and the small but lush apartment we've all moved to.
"I'm glad to hear it – that they're doing well, anyway," he says. "What neighborhood do they have you put up in?"
"Shepherd Heights," I answer, remembering the sign on the entry to the little wooded area where my building and several others are. I hear the beginnings of a commotion – someone receives a message they're excited about.
"Ah," he says. It's a wealthy little neighborhood – all the buildings are these terrible shades of pink and there's a guard at the gate to make sure no "undesirables" make their way in. "You get used to it," he says.
"I'm hoping to be home long before that happens," I answer, which makes him smile. "We'll do our best."
And that's when I hear someone say, "We have to call the President!" That sets every nerve on edge and I allow myself to look up in interest.
"What's going on, Briggs?" Ross asks the man who spoke.
"General Schmidt is back," Briggs answers. A hush falls over the room. I glance around at the faces in the room – their expressions range from cautiously hopeful to openly excited. The name means nothing to me, but I know I should inform my handlers as soon as possible – surely someone in URF intelligence has a better idea of who he is or where he's been and why the gathered Capitol agents are so excited.
"I'm sorry Ms. Romanov, but you'll have to leave – the men and I have things to discuss. Things which are far above your clearance." I know what this means – we both stand up so that he can show me out.
My next opportunity to meet with my handler in two days. Let's hope that's soon enough.
Author's Note
Sorry this is a short one! And so late. I'm hoping to have a couple of longer ones next week (or at least one). I just wanted to show some progress on this subplot.