The week passed quickly for the group. Between schoolwork, extracurricular activites and prepping for the mission, the girls saw very little of each other, maybe a quick question in the hallways or a texts here and there. The faster the weekend approached the more impatient they all became. Everyone except Elizabeth.
The youngest of the girls, she sometimes felt left out. The others were seniors about to leave for college and were selected for more missions than she was. She had been a bit resentful in the beginning to be perfectly frank. She loved the feeling of actually doing something, of going beyond the norm in such a spectacular fashion. She loved the fights and the adrenalin and even the little nicks and bruises after a successful mission, even the long and often monotonous planning.
But Lidia and Veronika had banded together to keep her on a tight leash. They said she was too reckless sometimes and occassionally even the twins agreed. The only one in the group amused by her antics and willing to be brutally honest was Melissa. Sensing a kindred mind, she had pulled her aside one day and asked her to disarm a few bombs. Elizabeth tried her best but had failed to disarm two and afterwards Melissa had unofficially taken her on as an apprentice of sorts. It had been a godsend.
Elizabeth was always torn between being disturbed and awed by the sheer amount of technical genius Melissa had. Bombs, hacking, robots, cameras, photography, pattern identification, symbolism in flowers, clothes, paintings even jewelry, multiple languages and behavorial tags and patterns. She was a terrifying powerhouse of memory akin to one of her supercomputers. The others sensed it, but Elizabeth was privy to all this and expected to learn it.
Melissa was harsh and strict, the kind of teacher who you wouldn't dare to question or lie to. She pushed and pushed and pushed with quizzes, tests, examples and projects. Failure was an option, but repeated failure was not. And Elizabeth loved it. The sort of responsibility she craved, Melissa gave and gave freely with the full consequences on her wallet, her time and her self-esteem. But she wouldn't change it for anything.
And that was why she was so worried as she and her sister drove to Lidia's house to meet up before the mission. Melissa had been acting strangely lately and her sister telling her about the flowers only confirmed it. Elizabeth knew that Melissa had a lot more secrets than she let on, especially considering she managed their finances so spectacularly well and she was the resident information specialist. But never before had she felt that something sinister was going on.
"What's on your mind, Polina?" Veronika asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at the nickname. "Must you call me that?"
"Absolutely. Now, answer the question."
She sighed. "It's nothing. I've got a bad feeling about tonight is all."
"Why?"
"I think Melissa's up to something."
"She's always up to something, Dove."
Elizabeth glared at her. "Why don't you like her?"
Veronika's hands tightened ever so slightly on the steering wheel. "I never said that."
"Then what, you've just developed a 'distaste' for her?"
"No. She's unpredictable. And in our work, that's the same thing as untrustworthy."
She scoffed. "Hardly! If any of you would get to know her-"
"How exactly?" Veronika demanded sharply, giving her sister a venomous look. "Perhaps, if you'd get over the idea of her being your teacher, then you'd notice a few key things. For example, for someone who's always talking, how is it she never talks about herself?"
"She does, she-"
"Says things about other people that involve her. Think about it, Polina. When have you ever heard her talk about her dreams or nightmares or hopes? Even Lidia has."
Elizabeth gave her a skeptical look.
"I said once."
The skepticism deepened.
"It was a stakeout."
Her face was stuck in permanent disbelief.
"No one else was there."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Of course, the selective mute strikes again."
Veronika slapped her upside her head. "Enough of that. If I wanted Melissa, I would speak to her. I'm talking to my sister."
She glowered but didn't respond, rubbing her skull. She settled back into her seat, looking moodily out the window. She had expected as much. Her sister was grand, but sometimes she could be so incredibly dense. She had asked Sarah once why Veronika and Lidia didn't like Melissa.
Sarah had shaken her head. "Oh no, Doll, you've got it all wrong. Lidia and Veronika like Melissa. Like her a whole lot. It's just Melissa's kinda...strange, to their way of thinking at least." Sarah had tucked away her homework temporarily to explain better. "Melissa ain't very practical. She's got a great memory and is the best at what she does, but she's a liability."
Sarah held listed things off on her fingers." She can't fight, her aim is iffy and she's distracted in tense situations. She belongs on the sidelines, you see. The others just gotta be on the front lines, or else they don't feel right and good about themselves. Now, Melissa knows this and if you ask me, kinda prefers it. Me and Taylor can switch between the two but Lidia and Veronika can't...well, they can, but it's not a good idea."
Sarah chewed the end of her pencil thoughtfully. "Honey, it's more like a personality clash than anything else. Melissa's just different and they haven't figured out how to accept it yet. They'll get there, don't you worry."
Elizabeth had thanked her and then gone back to fiddling with some gears. It made sense, but it wasn't the whole picture. It had also become stunningly clear that the only reason Lidia and her sister let Melissa teach her was because they were trying to shelter her and keep her safe. They wanted her to do Melissa's job in the future, so that they'd have someone 'predictable' they could depend on.
Elizabeth had never sounded out her suspicions but she had the uncanny feeling Sarah and Melissa knew how she felt. Sarah paid way too much attention sometimes. Those odd looks she'd give people and her funny little smiles set Elizabeth's teeth on edge sometimes. The quieter twin and resident psych specialist, she was one to watch out for if you ever got on her bad side. And Melissa talked to her more than anyone else, meaning she had her fair share of information she was keeping under wraps.
They pulled into Lidia's driveway. Melissa's truck was already there and Taylor's motorcycle was next to it. Veronika popped the trunk and they pulled out their two duffel bags a piece. They went in through the side door, passing by Mr. Cooper at work in his study. He paused in his work to give them an intense stare and then nod at them before he went back to whatever it was he was doing.
Elizabeth repressed a shiver. Lidia was intense, but her father was a category unto himself. They continued down the hall and went into the Rec room. Melissa was typing furiously away with one hand while talking into her phone with the other, parked in a blue beanbag chair. Taylor was suiting up into her racing suit in the middle of the rug, Sarah double checking a few of her knives. Lidia was cleaning out a pistol at the coffee table and was the first to notice their arrival.
"Help the twins," was all she said, focused on the cleaning brush in her hands. Veronika dropped her things and went to braid Taylor's hair. Elizabeth reached into her bag and started pulling out the small cameras she had worked on for the past few days. Melissa snapped her laptop shut and walked over to help. They threaded the camera's into her helmet and one of her pockets. Two seperate wires were threaded into her seams. Satisfied, the two stepped back and surveyed their work.
"That should be sufficient," Melissa said, opening up her laptop. "Vigorous movement, if you please."
Taylor stretched and danced a bit, trying to jiggle them loose. The picture stayed clear and focused despite the movement.
"All right," Elizabeth said, putting on her modified headset. "Start talking. Let's test these new mics."
Taylor grinned. "We have clearance, Clarence."
"Roger, Roger," Elizabeth replied.
"What's our vector, Victor?"
"2939-er, Clarence, over."
"Enough you two,"Sarah said with a giggle, "It sounds like it's working just fine."
"Everyone sync up," Lidia said. The girls put in their ear mics and and checked their watches and phones. "Elizabeth and Veronika, you're with Melissa. Sarah, you're with me. Taylor, you're on point. No slip-ups, no explosions, quick and simple. We've got Habitat for Humanity tomorrow at nine."
They filed out and got into their assorted vehicles. Taylor took off down the street, popping a wheelie at the stop sign and headed out through the city. Melissa turned the key and her truck rumbled to life. She took the highway route, having to get there first and drop off Veronika so she would be in position. Lidia took the residential route, Sarah chattering about HFH and how she just knew, "Brian is going to flake out".
Melissa had recieved the course layout the night before at ten. Technically, none of the contestants were supposed to know the course beforehand, but money was very, very convincing and no one wanted to get on the bookee's badside. You might never see your cash again. And in an illegal race like this, there was no such thing as an honest participant.
Taylor zipped down the lane, weaving in and out of the clubbers and drunks and college kids. The motorcycle thrummed in her blood, metal and leather clutched beneath her thighs, she perched on air, flying without wings.
The asphalt blurred into a black rock river, boiling with leftover oils and water and other unnameable liquids. It flowed underneath her, yellow lane markers blurring into long stretches of color. She was flying, fighting the wind and winning.
Heart singing, both cradled and crushed by the wind, she flew. Past the cars, past the semi trucks, past the exits and the flashing yellow signs. She was pure speed, faster than light. Giddy with adrenalin and only warming up, she screamed down the highway, fearlessly taking overpasses and bridges at dangerously fast speeds. She cut close to cars, moving as little as possible one moment and then whipping dangerously fast turns the next.
Finding the exit, she was looking for, reluctantly she slowed to legal speeds. Winding her way through the inner city's financial district, stopped at a red light, she briefly wondered where the financial branch of the CIA was. She knew it was somewhere in the city. But somewhere was not here and she took off again as the light turned green.
Veronika's voice broke into her musings, helmet mic loud and clear. "I'm in position."
Taylor must have just reached the signal boundry. The race was only ten miles away now.
"I read you loud and clear," Melissa said. "We have reached our mark and are about to embark on the usual routine of ceasing all cerebral activity once the mission has begun. Oh, aren't we lucky."
"A bit of caution, when you round the electric plant our signals will be scrambled for about ten seconds, so don't panic if any of us drop off the grid," Elizabeth said.
"We're in position and getting parked right now," Sarah said. "Ready to rumble, y'all?"
"Enough chatter," Lidia broke in," We've got a race to win."
"Guess that means it's time to party," Sarah grinned at Lidia. She rolled her eyes and got out of their car to walk towards the sounds of throbbing techno and the dirtiest form of rap possible. She briefly paused to consider if her outift would be out of place, but then discarded the thought. Her combat outfit was perfect for these kinds of situations.
Lidia slipped out of the car garage to mingle with the crowds of almost naked teenage girls and women and the thugs with bizzare taste in fashion. This was so not her scene. She was never one to complain, something she prided herself on, but she felt that this was overkill. She knew that this mission was nothing more than Melissa's elaborate and borderline insane attempt to punish her for interfering with her business.
She had done a bit of research on her own, looking over the clips, checking her sources for information and of course, discussing it with her father. And they had both agreed that while it was a noble cause to aid the police in stopping the drug trafficking, this was a very strange way of doing it. There was something else at play here and even if she had to beat it out of Melissa, she was going to get some answers.
Veronika was of the same opinion. But she had said that Taylor would mutiny if not given the chance to prove herself and that Sarah would follow. Whatever one did, the other followed, for better or for worse. It was a wonderful thing about 90% of the time, but the other ten percent left Lidia wishing for electric shock collars. She shook away the amusing thought and focused on the greasy-looking pothead in front of her.
"Hooo-eee! Lookie what we got us here! Looks like we got a real lady for our entertainment tonight, boys!" he grinned nastily, displaying crooked nicotine-stained teeth. He smacked his lips, looking her up and down. "And damn, if she ain't fine!"
He circled her, jaunting his steps to try and keep his pants from falling even further. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor of marajuana, sweat and cheap beer.
"What say you come home wit' me and see if we can't work out a lil som'thin'-som'thin'," he leered suggestively.
Lidia reigned in her quickly rising temper, to fix him with a cool look. "I'm here for Kimawari. Move, or I will move you myself."
The druggie's eyes widened and he took a step back, almost tripping over himself. "$hit, girl! Why didn' you say so! I ain't gonna mess wit' that bat-$hit crazy mother-f*****! No, suh! He one creepy ass f***er, tell you da truff right der, yeah," he backed away, holding his hands up. "Go on wit'ch'er bad self, then girl, I ain't stoppin' you. $hit."
Lidia rolled her eyes and moved closer to the racers leaving the idiot mumbling to himself, noting the bouncers and the groups of supporters. She scanned out the area, finding Kimawari's distinctive blue suit easily. There were ten racers here so far, a total of twelve were due to race.
"Where are you?" she muttered unhappily.
"Keep your panties on," Taylor shot back, "I'll be there in two minutes tops."
Lidia clenched her teeth in annoyance. "Hurry up."
A parting of the crowd caught her attention. The tenth racer had arrived. A punk in pink, a drag queen with a need for speed, Jorge Diaz. Lidia fought the urge to grimace. Men in pink gave her a stomach ache for some reason. Even she had no idea why.
One of the other racers was entirely too friendly with Mr. Diaz, one Evan Blackhill. A lanky suburban kid who was most likely a sex addict. They chatted comfortably as the two racers watched and the others studiously ignored them. The two watching were Rodrigo Valdez and Joshua Sweet. Two black office workers for competing companies who shared the same father. They had a running betting pool on how long it would take Evan to seduce Jorge.
There were two more Latino's, one female, one male. Selena Hernandez and Mario Fuente. Three Caucasians. Jack Plum, Ferris Smith and Milo Carter. Gang member, racing shop employee and undercover cop, in that order. The girls had been very surprised at 'Milo's' success in getting into the race. His first deep cover assignment and he'd already convinced most of the people here he was actually who he said he was. Props to a great actor, but judging by the way the guards and the one's in charge were watching him, this might be his last race.
That left one racer missing. Lidia frowned. Melissa had assured them that everyone would be present. Taylor was on her way, but where was racer number twelve? Anyone who didn't show forfeited his entry fee and his life.
"Melissa," she said quietly. "A racer is missing."
"Really, now. Who might that be?"
"Arnold Greyson. He's not here."
Elizabeth cut into the line. "He's on his way. I've been monitoring the traffic cameras in the surrounding area. He should get there just as Taylor does."
Lidia didn't have to wait long. With the screech of burning rubber, two motorcyles drifted into the docks, seconds behind each other. Taylor's distinctive red motorcycle was hard to miss, as well as Arnold's apparent obsession with purple. They dismounted, took off their helmets and gave each other approving looks.
"You're good," Taylor said.
"So are you," Arnold replied with a grin, tenor voice almost laughing.
"Let's get registered, wha'dya say?"
"After you."