She sighs and looks past me. Out the window at something. Like she’s distracted by her own thoughts. “It sounds pretty complicated.”
“Yeah. I would call this complicated. And if you want to know the truth, think last night was a setup.”
“What do you mean? Why do you say that?”
“They have different accents, Sasha. It’s a major tell. Why would they make it so easy?”
“So you think they’re both in on it? That we’re all being played? That Donovan has been playing—”
“No. That Carter has been playing. I’m not sure about Donovan, yet. I can’t quite figure out his angle. That first night, Adam kind of explained that he needed Donovan to keep Indie sane.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“Yeah, I believe him. But what was Donovan getting out of it?”
“He said some research paper on Indie’s childhood… conditioning.”
“Which ended, right? She was a grown-up. And Adam said that after she was triggered to kill herself on her first job, Donovan cut the project off. So why was he still coming?”
“Obviously, she needed him.”
“That worked so well. I mean, if you ask me”—I pause here, looking Sasha in the eyes—“I don’t think Donovan helped her, Sash. I think he and Carter were working together.”
She bites her lip as she stares at me. This is something she does when she’s holding her tongue.
“What?” I ask. “Just say what’s on your mind.”
“No. It’s nothing.”
She turns back to the house before I can ask her anything else. And then, right inside the door, Nick and Wendy are waiting for us.
“You get everything?” Nick asks.
“One frequency generator, thirty-two ounces of Lectra.”
“That Lectra is a bold move. Hope it works.”
“Why wouldn’t it work?” Sasha asks.
Nick’s eyes don’t meet hers. But he answers her. “Because the body’s response to Lectra is highly selective and individualized. One person might be open to talking, another might get violent.”
“Hmm.” Sasha hums.
“You have a better idea?” I ask Nick. Since he’s a true Company PSYOP, he should probably be in charge. Even though I am schooled in the ways of PSYOP-ing, I can’t help but think that I got the on-the-job-training-for-an-emergency kind of information and not the here’s-the-tried-and-true-textbook-way-in-which-it’s-done information. “If you don’t think it’s gonna work—”
“Oh, it will work,” he says. “But it’ll be messy. There’s no way to predict how this drug might affect Donovan.”
“Is there a cleaner option?” I look at Sasha as she asks this question, once again wondering why she’s suddenly so interested. She must notice me noticing, because she hurriedly says, “If they get violent, Merc—” She cuts herself off and doesn’t finish the sentence. Just shakes her head.
“Yeah, I know. But,”—I snicker—“I’m pretty sure the people in this house can handle it, right?”
“If we can’t,” Wendy quips, “maybe we don’t deserve to be assassins.”
I make a panning-hand gesture that says, Precisely.
Wendy seems to be in a good mood. But then, why shouldn’t she be? She’s here to be cured. In her head she thinks this is the first day of the rest of her life. She’s excited.
Nick better hope this works because if Wendy comes out worse than when she went in, there aren’t going to be many choices left for her.
Personally, I think Nick is insane. Maybe even as insane as his insane brother, or whoever that Santos guy really was. I mean, if these Company kids are just copies of—whoever. Past generations of Company elites, probably—then they’re all crazy. It’s all genetic. And it’s really, really hard to fight genetics.
Nick is right. This day is gonna be messy. But the Lectra is only the half of it.
Our little group seems to have gone quiet while I was pondering the mental state of my peers, so I just walk away, go over to Donovan’s bedside, where Doc is looking at his chart, and say, “We need to take him off the meds.”
“Yeah. I figured you’d say that. I have a reversal cocktail ready.” Doc looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot red, like he didn’t sleep a wink while he was on the road, even though Sabella was driving.
Speaking of her, she’s still here too. Hasn’t gone to bed yet. She and Cerene are chatting quietly in the far corner by the massive stone fireplace.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” Doc says, snapping my attention back to him.
“Someone go get Adam and McKay,” I call out. “We’re about to get started.”
And ya know, for being the two men who put this whole plan in motion, they don’t seem too concerned about it.
No. Concerned isn’t even the right word.
They don’t seem very invested in it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - ADAM
It’s a nice breakfast. Maggie, and Indie, and yeah, even Nathan makes it nice. The five of us chat easily like families do. Like the brunches we used to have on Sundays when Indie and I would come home from church. McKay would have food waiting for us, always ready to make Indie smile.