Page 90 of The Vigilante's Lover

The inside of the lobby is like any other. I glance at Jax as we enter the room. Red sofas are clustered around a large planter filled with flowers and leafy trees. A round marble desk holds a typical-looking security guy in a blue uniform. He blearily watches a few small screens.

It doesn’t look anything like a silo or Vigilante stronghold, which I guess is the point.

A long desk ahead is manned by three receptionists, all young women with sleek hair and headsets.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“Those are Phase Fours behind the desk,” Jax says quietly. “They’re letting the others know we’ve arrived.”

“What about that uniformed guy?”

“Phase Ten fighter,” Jax says.

Really? “He doesn’t look it,” I say.

“Isn’t meant to. He’d give me a run for my money, though,” Jax says. “He might yet.”

The man looks over at us.

“Should we talk to someone?” I ask.

“Let’s see how far we can get,” Jax says. “Up here where they try to appear normal, we can make our way safely, at least for a little while.”

He leads me over to a bank of elevators, then thinks better of it and moves toward a stairwell.

“What’s wrong with elevators?” I whisper.

“They are all fitted with gas,” Jax says. “Let’s not get trapped in our first sixty seconds.”

A scanner blinks as we approach the door. “I think I should go first,” I say, remembering how the Missouri silo worked. I had free run. “If it picks you first, you might get a dart.”

He grins, and I can tell he’s pleased with the way I’m working things out.

The lever on the door turns beneath my hand, and we go through.

“The War Room is several floors down,” Jax says. “I have no illusions that we’ll get anywhere near it without being stopped.”

“It’s just a question of what will stop us,” I say. “People or the security system itself.”

He points up. “Darts, cameras, the works.”

I peer at the ceiling. There are a number of ordinary-looking gadgets. A camera with its wide glass eye. A sprinkler head. I suppose you could hide all manner of tech in those.

We hurry down a flight. The next door is locked tight. “Open it with the pass key or go on?” I ask.

“Let’s go down,” Jax says. His eyes are everywhere, watching the walls, the ceiling, the corners of every turn.

We head down the next flight. Nothing about the environment changes. No alarms sound. No warning lights flash. No darts fly at us.

The next door is also locked.

“Isn’t the War Room six floors down?” I whisper.

Jax nods.

I take his hand and he squeezes it tightly. I have no idea when we’ll hit our first roadblock. Or what I’ll do if they dart Jax. Or me.

As we go down the third flight, the walls start to change. A clear acrylic covering sheathes the plaster. Jax stops us. “They’re going to ID us now, like when we walked into that first silo.”

I recognize the walls. They will project our information.

“Is there any way to fake this?” I ask.

“Heat signatures don’t lie,” he says.

But I have an idea. I take the dart gun out of my jacket. “Are they watching?” I ask.

“If they weren’t, they’re about to be.”

I point the gun at his face. “Then you come with me.”

Jax’s expression shows no change, but I can feel his shoulders relax. He gets it. He knows what I’m about to do.

I walk ahead, jerking on his arm, aiming the dart at him. I see the first scanner device. It’s like the one in the silo. I step into its range.

On the wall appears my screen, just my name, nothing else, same as always.

The dart gun is slightly behind me. As we walk forward, the scanner picks up on it. My screen goes red. “Special is armed” flashes below my name.

“I have a prisoner,” I call out. “I think you want him.”

We take another step forward. Now Jax is in range.

His screen lights up red. “Jax De Luca. Executed 10-16-2020 09:06 a.m.”

“That’s going to confuse it,” I say. Which was my intention. A human could make the leap that the information is wrong, but I’m not sure what a computer algorithm will do.

Heavy bold words flash on the screen. “Data system contaminated. Life signs present.” The line about the execution goes away.

“Keep going,” Jax says. “It won’t dart me if it’s trying to decide if I am dead.”

I move faster now. We’ve gone down three flights. The screens follow us on the acrylic wall as we descend.

Jax’s data alters as we go down. “Born 1984,” it adds, as if trying to puzzle him out. “Entered Phase One training 1996.”

We hurry along the stairs, assuming that we are safe until a human intervenes.

Four flights down.

A grid appears ahead. Jax grabs my hand. He jerks a cufflink from his sleeve and tosses it into the grid. It incinerates, like in the car.

“What now?” I ask.

“We go in,” he says.

We hurry back up to the previous door. Jax presses the pass key to the surface. The screen is now scrolling through Jax’s history, trying to find the moment where its data is corrupted. Phase Two. Phase Six. Vegas syndicate. Promotion. Silo director. Faster and faster it churns.

The door clicks open.

Jax pulls off the pass key and pushes through. We’re in a small receptionist area. Two exits. A woman sits behind a desk. She stands up, startled. “A special,” she says, glancing at the wall behind us.

I glance behind. My status hasn’t changed.

“I have a prisoner,” I say, sticking to my first plan.

“I’ll get someone,” she says and disappears through one of the doors.

“Phase Five and still gets rattled,” Jax murmurs. “That’s why she’s behind a desk.”

“I don’t think we should wait,” I say to Jax. His screen is now at Ridley Prison, going through his activities there. It’s slowed down, as if it thinks this is where the data no longer matches.

It gets to his escape and the red “FUGITIVE” blinks like it did when I met him.

We hurry to the opposite door. I don’t even need the pass key because this one clicks on its own.

Inside is what appears to be a data center, a dozen men and women manning the big glass screens with information splashing across their surface.

“Pass through,” Jax says. “Keep your gun on me, as that makes the computer think I’m under your control.”

The people in the room still as we walk by. On a far screen, I see Sam and Colette’s images. I hurry toward it.

“They’re detained,” Jax says. “Drag on the door on the map below them and it will unlock it.”

But the boy by the screen turns with a fierce expression.

“I can’t let you do that,” he says.

I don’t think twice, but shoot a dart into his arm. “What was that you said?” I ask Jax.

The boy crumples to the floor as the others gasp. I hear murmurs.

“What do we do with her?”

“She’s a special.”

Jax clears the door on the map and shoves the body of the boy aside as he types a few commands on the screen. Colette and Sam’s images blink out. “They won’t be followed for a while,” Jax says.

The screens throughout the room begin to change. Jax’s image takes over them all. “Fugitive. Kill order. Execution failed. No body cremated.”

It’s figured it out.

A couple of Vigilantes move toward me like they’re going to do something, but I point at everyone who approaches. “Snuff dart,” I say, knowing I’m lying but also knowing that the boy at my feet looks close enough for it to count. Only we know that he’ll wake up in two hours.

Nobody comes toward us.

“Back door,” Jax says.

We hurry past the screens and out the opposite door.

We enter a small lobby with only an open elevator car. “Going to have to risk the elevator now,” Jax says. “I don’t think they’ll gas us. They’re not touching you. And as long as the computer thinks you have me, we’ll be fine.”

We step in. “Fuck, I hate elevators,” he says.

The doors close. There are no buttons inside.

“How does it know where we want to go?” I ask.

“It takes us where it wants us to go.” Jax’s eyes dart around the corners.

Then he says, “Shit.”

“What?” I ask.

“I was wrong. They’re gassing us.”

I’m about to sharply inhale with shock, but Jax kisses me.

His mouth is hot and roving and doesn’t let up.

I can’t breathe, wanting to cry, not sure why he’s doing this, as we’re not fooling the computers anymore.

But maybe it’s a good-bye kiss. He knows the gas, and we’re done for, and he doesn’t want to say it.

It goes on and on and my lungs feel like they will burst. I become aware that he’s pulled out the pass key and placed it on the door. There’s an explosive burst of light, and a funnel of smoke curls around us.

Still, he won’t break this kiss. He’s passing air into me, keeping me calm. I want to panic, but the kiss won’t let me. I feel my vision wanting to go, stars on the edges. He reaches behind me and forces open the doors, straining.

I sense a different sort of air coming in. Jax’s hands come around my waist and he lifts me, shoving me up onto the floor that is revealed halfway up through the door.

I want to close my eyes, to sleep, but he keeps pushing until I fall back.

My knees come high as he forces my feet up and out of the elevator. I’m lying on the ground, a cold marble. Above me is a chandelier, bright and crystal.

The doors start to close and this gets my panic to rise. My adrenaline bursts and I sit up, moving to stop the doors, trying to make them stay open.

But they shut tight. I bang on the panels, but nothing moves in there. The elevator is still closed. I jump to my feet, looking for buttons to open the door, but there aren’t any.

I want to wail and scream and cry. “JAX!” I call out, pounding on the door.

“You don’t need to worry about him anymore,” a voice says.

I turn around.

It’s Sutherland.

I still have the dart gun. I aim it at his face. “I’m not going to go for your body armor,” I say, willing my voice not to shake.

Sutherland holds out his arms. “It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” he says smoothly. “You’ve caused quite a stir, bringing your captor right to our door.”

My mind buzzes. Are they falling for the ruse? What could they know? That Jax kidnapped me, obviously. Then ditched me.

But then they took him from our hotel room.

So no, they aren’t falling for it.

I aim the laser square on his forehead. “I hope you have an antidote for this new dart,” I say.

Sutherland’s expression wavers for just a second.

“System. Scan the gun,” he commands.

A green beam cuts across the weapon.

“Under development,” a computer voice says. “Technology unrecognized.”

His lips twitch. “You’re getting mighty big for your britches, Ms. Morrow,” he says.

“Get Jax OUT of that elevator,” I hiss. “I’m going to count to three.”

“System. Take her out,” he commands.

We’re alone in the room. Is he talking to the computer?

Nothing happens.

“System,” he commands. “Take out the special.”

“System requires override by the committee for this command,” the voice says.

“Send in my guards,” he says.

I can see this isn’t going to go my way. As soon as real people are involved, it’s like Jax said, they can reassess the situation.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I shoot him.