Post by Admin on Nov 24, 2013 20:48:33 GMT
"Nothing is what it appears to be."
Caroline was having a hard time reading Adelle DeWitt. Usually she was good at that, but she could practically feel the lens of the security camera of the swanky board room looking at her back. She was sweating, and she was tired. God, why was she so tired these days? It was all that running. But Adelle had caught her. DeWitt was pretty enough, early forties with dark, wavy hair that stood high on her head. Her tongue added a clicking noise to her posh British accent when she was annoyed: and boy, was she annoyed.
"It seems pretty clear to me." Caroline retorted. She was proud that her voice didn't break.
"Because you're only seeing part of it. I'm talking about a clean slate."
"You ever try and clean an actual slate? You always see what was on it before."
Adelle pointed her lips into a smile without showing teeth, the smile of a weary mother. Despite the smile, Caroline got a hint of deflation. "Are you volunteering--?"
Caroline scoffed. "I don't have a choice, do I? How did it get this far?"
"Caroline, actions have consequences." That smile was still plastered to the bitch's face. Seeing it again made Caroline jump to her feet.
"Oh God, you're loving this, aren't you?!"
Adelle widened her eyes a fraction. "I'm sorry you don't understand what I'm offering here. But what we do here helps people. If you become a part of that, it can help you."
"Right. You're just... looking out for me."
"Perhaps better than you have." Adelle replied acidly. "We can take care of this mess. After your five year term, you will be free to--"
"I don't deserve this! I was... I was just trying to make a difference. Trying to... take my place in the world, like she always said, and now I'm ..."
Caroline sunk into the chair. Defeated. "I know," she said. "I know. Actions have consequences."
Adelle leaned forward so her words were merely a whisper.
"...what if they didn't?"
*
ONE YEAR LATER
Naomi loved the roar of the engine beneath her, the bright lights whizzing by as the motorcycle shot down the street. Matt was at her side, but there was no way he was winning. Not this time, not ever.
But Naomi caught a glint of red in her eye and saw Matt's bike speeding beside her own. He was gaining, and fast. Naomi saw an alleyway. It was reckless and stupid, but Naomi liked winning. She swerved into its red-bricked jaws, hoping to God it would prove a shortcut.
For a moment, she thought it had payed off, until she felt the wheels skidding. She lost her balance and the bike toppled. She barely hopped out of the seat and stumbled onto her feet before it clattered onto the sidewalk. Her leg scraped off the bike, but the thick leather protected her. She cursed and picked the metal beast back up. As she swung her leg over, Matt zoomed by, whooping. Naomi cursed. She pushed her helmet off her head, letting her tousled brown hair spill over her shoulders. She threw the helmet to the ground, not caring when the visor shattered and started driving.
After a few seconds breaking some serious speed limits, Matt entered her line of sight. She pushed harder, urged the bike to move forward. If she lost her balance at this speed, she was dead, but that thought just fuelled her further. They turned, and the curve helped her get a leg up. Neck and neck, Matt and Naomi saw the party lights coming into focus. People whooped and yelled for Matt. The two bikes roared through the huge oak doors, down the wide corrdidor and screeched to a halt on the ballroom floor. Music roared, party guests cheered and the "Happy Birthday, Matt!" banner fluttered from the wind.
Matt laughed and pulled his helmet off. Friends tried to talk to him, but Naomi pushed by. "No way, no way! you cheated!"
"What I do?" Matt asked innocently. His black hair was ruffled and his thin moustache was in a semi-circle, his mouth open.
"Something. That will prove to have been cheating. This isn't over!"
"Oh my god, you are a sore loser!"
"Wouldn't know, I never lost."
"That's ok, the first time you're always... a LITTLE bit slower--"
"Oh wow, that's funny coming from a cheater. Who's also a little bitch."
"Sure you didn't let me win?"
Naomi rolled her eyes. "Two outta three."
"Nah. Let's just dance."
*
It was at least three songs before Matt dragged Naomi off the dance floor. She appreciated that her dress was short enough to wear under her leather clothes for the motorcycle, and Matt's friends seemed to appreciate it to.
"You having a good time?" Naomi asked, panting.
"The best. Listen, uh, I know at the beginning of the weekend, we said no strings--"
Naomi grinned. "We also said no ropes, and look how long that lasted..."
Matt smiled. "Yeah, I remember. I remember it all. I always will."
"What, like I'd forget? You think this is a normal weekend for me?"
Matt's eyes dropped to the floor. "Maybe?"
Naomi suppressed a laugh. "I had no idea you were a moron."
Matt's hand disappeared into his pocket. "Look, it's... it's little, it's stupid, but... I want you to have it."
His hand resurfaced and took with it a silver necklace with a heart on it. He passed it to Naomi, and she couldn't help but smile. "You're an amazing guy, Matt."
"When you say it, I almost believe.."
"Thank you. For everything." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him lightly. As she pulled away, Matt checked his watch.
"It's getting late."
"You're not getting out of another dance--"
"Of course not. I'm just gonna go grab a drink. "
"Okay."
Matt smiled and disappeared in the sea of people. Naomi went to walk back to the dance floor, but then she remembered something.
It was time.
She left the building, twirling the necklace between her fingers. Sunlight was beginning to shine over LA. she walked down the road until the black van materialised. The door slid open. The man was sitting there. Early 50's, light brown skin and receding hairline. Big-built, a gruff man's man if ever there was. Boyd. That was his name.
"You ready for your treatment?" he asked.
"I think it's time."
Boyd helped her into the van. "Did you have a nice time?"
Naomi shrugged. "I met a guy..."
The door slid shut, and Naomi felt the wheels turn.
*
Naomi got out of the van, flanked by Boyd and the driver. They were in a vast underground parking lot. Boyd lead her to an open elevator, all fancy polished wood and carpet.
"Hey, you think you could take me back to the party after my treatment?" Naomi asked Boyd.
"I'll wait right here."
Naomi smiled. "You're good people." The doors shut, leaving her alone.
Upon leaving the elevator, Naomi was lead into a strange room. It was pretty bare except for a changing curtain. An Asian woman handed her a tank top and pants. Naomi stepped behind the curtain and began undressing, telling her story to a complete stranger.
"Maybe I shouldn't go back. The last thing I want to be is clingy, but you know when you just... you meet someone and... you know?"
The woman smiled and nodded before leading her into a small room, decorated only with a bunch of machinery and a strange looking reclining chair. A new man was there. He was very young, maybe mid-20s, with sandy blond hair, a long nose and a frankly huge chin. He was wearing a godawful shirt. The whole time, Naomi didn't stop talking.
"If I'm wrong, I'll know. I mean, Matt can't lie to save his life. If he gives me that look, I'll walk away. But I don't know, I think... he feels it, too. I think I found something real." As she finished the tale, she was led by Boyd into the chair. She rested her arms on the odd armrests - like coasters with light that pulsed beneath her palms - and caught her breath.
"I'm glad." the new man said. "This is gonna pinch a bit."
The man disappeared behind a computer as the chair reclined. Naomi looked around nervously before a jolt sent her body rigid. Her brain was on fire, but she couldn't scream, things were being torn from her head, memories, her childhood, friends, school, life, Matt, everything was being scrubbed away and then--
Echo sat up in the chair. The computer man, Topher, were standing looking over her.
"Hello, Echo." Topher said. "How are you feeling?"
"...Did I fall asleep...?"
"For a little while."
"Shall I go now?"
"If you like."
He smiled, and Echo smiled back. As she stood, something caught her eye. Something shiny was on the floor: a silver necklace.
Echo hadn't seen it before. She gave it one last look before leaving the room, wondering what to do with her day.
*
"The world is a very simple place." Adelle said. "At first. Then as we grow up, it grows around us. A dense thicket of... complication, and disappointment. Unbearable for some. And even for the luckiest of us still sometimes more than we can handle... less than we'd hoped. I know you've heard colourful rumours about what an Active is. Robots, zombie slaves, mostly people think they're just very good liars. They are, of course, quite the opposite. An Active is the truest soul among us."
"It all seems pretty clear to me." Mr. Dreyfuss said. They were both sitting in Adelle's skyscraper office, overlooking even more skyscrapers and little else.
"Does it?" Adelle asked, pouring some more tea.
"Whatever I want, right?"
"Within reason, yes."
Dreyfuss raised an eyebrow. "Reason? Well, the kind of money I laid out, just for the background check alone... well, I was under the impression that reason wasn't gonna be a factor."
"Where reason applies, is in the safety and well-being of our Actives."
"I got no interest in hurting anybody. I don't object to a little adventure, I'm a physical fellah--"
Adelle smiled, nodded. "Everest twice, I got that from Newsweek. Our Actives can keep up."
"You sure?"
She nodded. "The personality imprint extends to muscle memory as well. Whatever our Actives are called upon to do, they will, in effect, have spent their entire lives preparing for it."
Dreyfuss shrugged. "Doesn't seem possible."
"Would you be here if it did?" Adelle asked.
Dreyfuss sighed. "Suppose I just want someone to pretend they're in love with me--?"
"Then you are out of luck. If you engage an Active, then he or she--"
"She!" he exclaimed. Then, muttering "She..."
Adelle widened her eyes. "Then SHE will see you and totally, romantically, chemically... fall in utter and unexpected love with you. The imprint will make her your exact match, the girl who's waited her entire life to meet a man like you. Not the money: the man."
"And we're alone? I mean assuming that there's an... amorous side to the engagement... do we got the whole staff listening in on our business?"
Adelle was slightly taken aback. "Of course not. That's the point."
"But if you're supposed to protect--"
"A Handler monitors an Active internally for signs of danger or stress. If your engagement involves criminal activity, then the Handler might listen in, yes, but otherwise he has no idea what's happening. Nobody knows. This couldn't work any other way."
Dreyfuss finally looked interested. "The - what do you call 'em, Actives? - she knows. She's got all the secrets, you really telling me that she... forgets?"
Adelle smiled. "The moment the engagement is over, she will have an overpowering urge to return to our facility," she said. "Where she will be wiped of all memory of the event. What happens is always and only between you and her. Do you see? You're a man who can have everything he wants. If what you want is a girl to dress up like a cheerleader and ask you how big you are, you can hire a thousand women to do that quite convincingly for the price of one day with an Active. This is not about what you want. This is about what you need. An Active doesn't judge. This will be the purest, most genuine human encounter of your life. And hers. It is a treasure. One I can guarantee you will never, never forget."
*
Topher opened the doors of his office to see Boyd standing there. "Everything go all right with the wipe?"
"Why don't you just ask Echo?" Topher suggested mockingly. "Oh, that's right. Because she can't remember."
Boyd specifically remembered hating Topher to begin with, and not much had changed.
"Of course, it went all right!" Topher continued. "Imprint's gone. The new moon has made her a virgin again. Is there some reason it shouldn't have?Something happen during the engagement?"
Boyd shrugged. "I think she finally met the right guy."
Topher giggled. An actual giggle. "You're so jaded, and at such a middle age. She had fun, right?"
Another shrug. "She thought so."
"There's nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so, man friend. We gave two people a perfect weekend together. We're great humanitarians!"
Boyd leaned against the window of Topher's office and looked into the LA Dollhouse it over looked. The decor was reminiscent of Japan, with the polished wood and sliding doors, much like a spa. The mindless Dolls, or Actives or whatever they were called, roamed free. One of the handlers was leading Echo to a massage table.
"Who would spend their lives in jail if anyone ever found this place..."
Topher joined him at the window. "We're also misunderstood... which great humanitarians often are. Look at Echo. Not a care in the world. She's living the dream."
"Whose dream?"
"Who's next?"
*
"Ow!" Echo moaned as Doctor Saunders bent her leg.
"Yeah," she said. "this feels very tight. I think you fell on it with something heavy."
Echo thought hard. "I don't remember."
"Well, it's gonna be fine. And your blood work and internals are all shipshape. I'll just ask one of the staff to work on that knee. Would you like a massage?"
Echo smiled. "They're relaxing."
"Yes. I'll set that up."
Echo liked Doctor Saunders. She was nice. She was pretty, with shoulder-length brown hair that was all wavy and bouncy. Echo didn't understand why she always stayed in this dark office, filled with shelves and dusty old files.
"I don't remember what fell on me." Echo blurted out. She wasn't sure why.
Saunders' eyes widened. Sshe loomed over Echo, suddenly interested. "Does that bother you?
"...should it?"
Saunders sighed. "We'll look after you."
As Saunders leaned in, the light showed those strange lines on her face. One slashed across her forehead, another across her nose and the third up the side of her lips. Scars.
Echo motioned to touch them."Does someone look after you--?"
Saunders backed away, hitting her desk. It rattled, and a pen fell off. "Why don't you wait in the massage area, and I'll call for someone to work on that knee." Saunders didn't look her in the eye. She bent down to pick up the pens, and didn't say goodbye as usual.
Echo left the office and walked across the floor of the Dollhouse. Some of her friends were doing yoga in the center by the small pool. Some were in the art corner, painting and clipping leaves from their plants. There were others at the gym, lifting weights and running on the treadmills, and half a dozen or so were leaving the pool and heading for the showers.
Echo was about to walk to the massage area when she saw the light.
A flashing blue light was coming from upstairs, from the Topher man's room that overlooked the Dollhouse. She had heard them call it the Imprint Room. Echo looked around. No one was paying it any attention.
Slowly, hesitantly, Echo began to climb the stairs.
She pulled open the doors of Topher's office. There was a lot of computers, a sofa, video games, pinball, a refrigerator: it seemed like a little boy's room. There was another window overlooking the people below, but the light was coming from the Imprint Room, adjoined with the office. The blue light was pounding against the doors. Echo tilted her head. The light had neer been here before.
She opened the door.
It was the room with the chair, she knew that, and Topher was there, but there were more people, rushing round as the computers beeped and the woman in the chair screamed. She was a beautiful woman, around Echo's age, with long, dirty blonde hair, bronze skin, sharp cheekbones and perfect oval eyes. She was naked except for bandages that covered chest and her hips, acting as a skirt, and wires stuck to her sweaty body. She looked directly at Echo, her face straining as if to say something she couldn't...
"She's not asleep." Echo said. All the men stopped and looked at her.
"Woah!" Topher exclaimed. "What...?Just keep mapping the tissue," he told his scientist friends, and gave Echo a push back into his office. He came with her and closed the doors. The blue light still pulsed.
"Hey, Echo. What are you doing here?"
"She hurts." Echo observed.
Topher nodded. "She does. That's because it's her first time, and, uh, we have to do more extensive work on her."
Echo was confused. "Work?"
Topher sighed and covered his face with his hands. After a second, his face resurfaced. "We're making her better. In a little while, she'll be strong and happy, and she'll forget all about this, and you... will have a new friend living with you. Her name is Sierra."
"Sierra." Echo said dreamily. The word sounded nice.
"Mm-hmm. Hey, aren't you supposed to be getting your physical with Dr. Saunders far from here right now?"
One of the helper women patted her on the shoulder. "We're ready for your massage, Echo."
Echo turned to Topher. "Something fell on me." she beamed.
Topher smiled. "I bet it was something great."
*
"Agent Ballard," the man asked. "You were assigned to case designate 'Dollhouse' over 14 months ago. How would you describe your progress to date?"
"Slow." Ballard said. He didn't like performance meetings. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this particular meeting any more than he should.
"I'm actually very impressed by what I see here." the man replied, opening Ballard's file. "You've physically threatened a senator, disrupted a seven-year human trafficking investigation, been arrested for trespassing on Prince Amoudi's yacht. The only legal action you've successfully followed through on is your divorce." He leaned forward, hands clasped. "Paul, let me ask you: after all this, do you think the Dollhouse really exists?"
"I know it does."
"You've seen it then? You could, like, take us on a tour? Look, we all know this assignment is a joke--"
"If it's a joke, then pull me off it." Paul said, losing his patience. "Except you can't, because someone bigger than you thinks it isn't a joke."
"I'm a billionaire." the man said hypothetically. "I can hire anybody for anything, and I'm gonna go to an illegal organization and have them build me, program me, what: the perfect date? Confessor, assassin, dominatrix, omelet chef? I'm paying a million dollars for that? I can get that. I have everything I want.
"Nobody has everything they want. It's a survival pattern. You get what you want, you want something else. If you have everything, you want something else. Something more extreme, something more specific. Something perfect."
"Put it like that, it doesn't sound so bad."
"The only way to imprint a human being with a new personality--"
"Which we've yet to prove possible--"
" --is to remove their own. Completely. We're talking about people walking around who may as well have been murdered, which to me sounds pretty bad."
"Is that why you interfered with the Russians? The Borodin case?"
"They're the top of the heap in human trafficking. If people are disappearing--"
The man jumped to his feet. "That is an ongoing investigation! All right? We have a chance to dry up a major pipeline of girls being smuggled into this country, and you do not jeopardize that for a fairy tale! You will stay out of everyone's way, and you will stop pissing off powerful public figures without any evidence! You've been out of line, Paul. You have to back off. You need to keep away from the Borodin case. Do you understand? Are you able to back off?
Paul sighed. "That won't be a problem... sir."
*
Topher walked into Adelle's office to find the lady herself sitting on her couch, reading a file. The head of security, Laurence Dominic, 40's with poufy silver hair, stern face and pressed suit, stood a little but behind her.
"You wanted me?"
"Echo's been booked." Adelle said. "Has she been wiped?"
"Completely. I removed the Naomi imprint 'bout 2 hours ago. Echo's blankety-blank. What's the case?"
Adelle rose an eyebrow. "If only your security clearance was up a level or three. Just prepare an imprint. I think Eleanor Penn should do."
There was a knock, and Boyd entered the room.
"Mr. Langton."
"You needed something, Ms. DeWitt?"
"Echo has a case."
Boyd raised an eyebrow. "Which would be...?"
Adelle glanced at Topher, who smiled. She rolled her eyes. "Mr. Dominic?"
"The situation is a kidnap and ransom," Dominic said. "12 year-old girl named Davina Crestejo. The girl's supposed to be exchanged for $5 million, which her father is willing to pay--"
"And we are going to help him do that."
"Kidnapper's Latino, probably Mexican, refers to himself as 'Mr. Sunshine'. This is a high risk engagement so you'll have both eyes and ears this time. Audio off a wire, and we'll tap you into his security vid on the house and grounds."
"Anything goes wrong, you extract Echo immediately." Adelle said. "Her purpose is to facilitate the exchange, nothing more. No one is to be brought to justice We'll skip any ex-cop heroics, if you don't mind."
"Not a problem." Boyd said. "My only priority--"
"--is Echo," Adelle finished. "Good."
"So: who does she think she is?"
*
A maid opened the door, and Eleanor Penn walked into Gabriel Crestejo's mansion, pushing her spectacles up her nose. It was all glass and sculptures. She saw 3 different security systems in a matter of seconds. The maid disappeared as a man in a dark suit half-way up the stairs spoke into a Walkie-Talkie. A few seconds later, Gabriel Cretejo came down the stairs.
"Mr Crestejo?" Eleanor asked.
"I'm sorry, who are you?"
"You asked for me. Eleanor Penn. I'm here to help. Our mutual friend referred me."
Crestejo's forehead creased. "I'm sure he did. I'm a little surprised, though, that he sent you."
Eleanor shrugged. "I'm good with people. I put them at their ease."
"In my experience, a beautiful woman never puts anyone at their ease." Crestejo replied. "Fatherly types do that. They're warm and comforting, make people feel safe. A beautiful woman distracts people, makes them nervous, or jealous. I can't afford that. Not with what's at stake here. I think our friend sent the wrong person."
Eleanor strode to a metal sculpture of two lovers, intertwined. "Fatherly types."
"Like Edward James Almos. I hope there's no offense.l
"None taken." she turned back to him. "And I'm not leaving. You can hire someone else, give them my fee, but I'm the one best qualified to save your daughter. I've been doing this my whole life. Just this. You want people to feel comforted? We're past that. These men are stone professionals." Eleanor looked around at the high ceiling and fancy decor. "They took her from your house. Not on the way home from school, or in the park... they came inside your house, your seriously fortified house, in order to tell you that they could." She strode back to Crestejo. "I've dealt with the others... amateurs, men with a grudge, or an urge. You want a professional, a man who knows the business. Knows how high the stakes should or shouldn't go. The percentage of successful negotiations goes way up."
"And what's the percentage?"
"Not a hundred." She motioned to a room down the hall. "Is her room in here?"
Crestejo sighed. "I'll show you. "We haven't touched anything."
*
"Glasses, Topher?" Boyd said into him phone.
"She's nearsighted." Topher said exasperately.
Boyd sighed. Being stuck in this van all day wasn't doing wonders for his patience. "Is that supposed to make people take her seriously? Like the librarian thing is gonna hide the fact that she's--"
"Am I speaking Urdu?" Topher said. "She's nearsighted, Boyd."
"You can mess up her eyesight?"
"I can mess up the neural connections to her eyesight. Make her brain process the information it gets any way I want. As, for example, blurry."
"But why would you? Why handicap her in a job like this?"
Topher gazed down into the gym. The new Active, Sierra, was running on the treadmill. Her first examination.
"You see someone running incredibly fast, the first thing you gotta ask is, are they running to something, or are they running from something? And the answer is always both. So these personality imprints... they come from scans of real people. Now, I can create amalgams of those personalities, pieces from here or there, but it's not a greatest hits; it's a whole person. Achievement is balanced by fault, by... a lack. Can't have one without the other."
Topher looked across the House to Doctor Saunders' office. She was pulling open the screen door to sign something for a delivery man.
"Everyone who excels is overcompensating. Running from something. Hiding from something."
"The past?"
Topher shrugged. "Sometimes."
"So what's in the past that you gave Echo?"
"That's her business, Boyd. She's right for the job. She's spent her life profiling and negotiating with kidnappers. That's the person they needed, so that's who Echo is. The expert."
"Who's nearsighted?"
"She also has asthma," Topher added meekly.
*
"Is this Mr. Sunshine?" Eleanor asked. She had put the phone on speaker immediately. Gabriel was leaning on the desk, listening intently.
"Where is Gabriel?" said the man on the other line.
"He's right here." Eleanor said. "My name is Eleanor Penn, and I'll be handling the transaction."
"I told him no cops! Put Gabriel on, I'm gonna cut his little girl so he can hear--"
Gabriel went to lunge at the phone, but Eleanor held up her hand, signalling to stop. "He can hear." she assured him. "I am not a cop, I'm not FBI, and I have no interest in justice. I'm here only to facilitate a private transaction and make sure no one is hurt during it."
"No, you're a federale! Think I'm stupid?"
"I think you knew Gabriel wouldn't call the authorities if you took Davina." Eleanor said calmly. "Which was not stupid. But Gabriel can't do this alone. He's afraid, and angry, and he knows those emotions are of no use right now. So you'll deal with me, and everybody will get what they want. You may call me Miss Penn."
"I may?" the man replied roughly. "I call you Miss? I think I call you Ellie, since we're becoming such good friends."
"I will not answer to Ellie. You may call me Miss Penn."
"Oh, so you're the schoolteacher now, huh? What, you gonna rap my knuckles if I'm bad?"
"It's unlikely."
"You telling me how it's gonna be?!" the man said, now raging. "Al diablo contigo y to nombre! I have the girl, okay? I make all the rules."
"You want five million?" Eleanor asked.
"That's right."
"Let's make it eight."
"What?"
Gabriel's mouth dropped open. "Eight million." Eleanor repeated. "That's two million apiece. Call back in 40 minutes and let Davina talk to her father."
"There's no way you're just gonna give me an extra three mil--"
Eleanor hung up, and looked at Gabriel to see his astonished face. She shrugged. "You have the money."
"It would have been polite to ask."
"They have to get used to doing it my way. Right now, they're getting very used to it."
"Or they think she's messing with them--" one of Gabriel's bodyguards observed.
"I am." Eleanor said simply. "But you'll give them the money. You have to get used to doing things my way, too."
The guard tried to argue with Gabriel in Spanish about her, but Eleanor interupted. "The last time a family's head of security let their daughter get kidnapped, she was recovered in three days. His body never was. Speak out of turn again and I will scold you."
Crestejo sighed. "How'd you know there was four of them? You said "2 million apiece." Guy didn't blink."
"You heard him not blink? Four's the median number in these cases: three guys with ambition, one with information."
"What more can you tell me about them?"
"I'll tell you when it's useful for you to know it."
"They better put her on."
"They will." she checked her watch. "In 38 minutes."
Crestejo sighed. "You're the boss, Ellie."
She raised an eyebrow.
"...Miss Penn..."
*
Lubov felt the gun on his neck and let out a small yelp. Paul admitted to himself getting him at the urinal probably wasn't the best decision, but he was surrounded everywhere else. Paul instantly pushed that thought out of his head at the sound of water, that probably wasn't water, hitting leather.
Lubov was a burly man in his late 20's, with poufy black hair and bad clothes. He would've been handsome if it wasn't for the awful smell, the endless partying and the fact he was a criminal.
"You're about to make a very bad mistake..." Lubov said in his thick accent, voice constantly changing pitches.
"Dollhouse."
"...what?"
"Dollhouse." Paul repeated. "Say it."
Lubov shrugged. "Dollhouse?"
"Say it again."
"Your brains are--"
Paul thumbed the hammer.
"Okay, dollhouse! Doll freaking house! I'll keep saying it, it's fun to say! Dollhouse, dollhouse, dollhouse, dollhouse!"
"You see the Borodins, you say it some more."
Lubov raised an eyebrow. "You think you want to mess with the Borodins?"
"No, but they supply girls, some of them very high-end, to fine, upstanding clients. There's one client I'm interested in. Find out who's connected to the Dollhouse, the Borodins won't be touched and you'll never see me again."
"I haven't seen you yet..."
"You will." Paul removed the gun, but Lubov still didn't turn around. "Wash your hands." His eyes dropped to the floor. "And your shoes."
*
"Hello." Eleanor said.
"You got eight million for us?" the man said.
"That's right."
"If it's that easy, I think we gonna make it an even ten--"
Eleanor hung up.
"What are you doing--?" Gabriel began, but Eleanor held up the hand, signalling silence. A moment later, the phone rang again.
"You hang up on me again, I chop her up right now, and I'll use her for bait!"
"Is Davina ready to talk to her father?" Eleanor asked, unfazed.
"You got one minute." Then the voice shifted to that of a small girl. "Papi? I'm scared--"
"Mija? Mija, I'm right here."
"Papi, I'm sorry."
"No, no, no, mija, it's not like that. You just do as the men say, I'm gonna bring you home. It's okay, it's gonna be okay--"
"I'm scared."
"All they want is money."
"They yell at me. Except the one with the mask, he doesn't talk. It's dark in the room, but I can hear the--"
"Davina," Eleanor interrupted. "I'm a friend of your father's. I need to know if they're hurting you."
"Not much. But they push me around."
"Did they feed you?"
"A little. And they wouldn't let me use the bathroom at first, but then they did. It's the small kind--"
"Your father wants to tell you something."
Looking at Gabriel, he obviously hadn't. "I, uh... I, uh, I want you to be strong, Davina. Remember that I love you, and I will never let anything happen to you."
"I love you, Papi."
"Please put the man back on." Eleanor asked.
There was a brief shuffle of noise on the other line as the phone was passed back. "The money tomorrow." the man said. "I call you at noon to tell you where."
"And she'll be there." Eleanor said.
"Maybe."
"There are only two ways for this to go: either everybody gets what they want, or nobody does. We will not pay if she's not there."
The man hung up.
"You told me you're good with people!" Gabriel exclaimed, stalking out to his office's balcony.
Eleanor followed him out. "I misspoke. I'm good at people."
"She was trying to tell me something!"
"And I needed her not to. Suppose they figured out what she was telling you before you did? Do you think this would endear her to them?"
"But if we could find her before they do something--"
"And what, rush in with tear gas? These people don't handle surprises well. They get their money or they dig a hole. You have to trust that I have done this many, many times."
"I have to trust that... right." Gabriel looked well and truly pissed off. "Yesterday, you weren't a nurse or a clown in the circus."
"What?" Eleanor was confused. This had never happened on a case before...
"You're the best, the best one they could send." Gabriel drawled, wandering around her in a circle. "Why is that? What makes you so good at this?"
"I don't have any hobbies--"
"No, no, no." Gabriel said, as of he had a different answer in mind. "You have to do better than that. You have to make me believe, believe like you believe. Who are you?"
"You want my résumé? I studied psychology, forensic science, profiling from former instructors at Quantico, been licensed seven years. Handled over 12 negotiations."
"Why, why, why?" Gabriel's face told Eleanor he was crazed. "What made you do all those amazing things? Did something terrible happen in your childhood? Did horrible men come and snatch you away--?"
"Yes."
This shut him up, but only for a second.
"You were kidnapped."
She nodded. "When I was nine."
"How long did that--?"
"Three months."
"And they did things to you. Unprofessional things."
"Is this helping you in some way?"
"You don't remember? Maybe it's all made up--"
"There was one." Eleanor began. She really didn't want to discuss it, but she couldn't find another way to end the conversation. "He got rid of the others after they were paid and..."
"All the terrible memories these men put in your head." Crestejo mused. "Why would they do that?"
Eleanor shrugged, shaking. "Sometimes the bad things just happen and no one can protect you from them..."
Her breath rattled. She could feel the beginnings on hyperventilation coming on. She plunged a shaking pocket into her suit pocket and thrust her inhaler to her lips. Crestejo held put a hand to steady her, but she pushed it away.
"I'm okay." she wheezed. "I'm fine, I'm okay..."
"I'm sorry--"
"Forget it. I-I'd like to get some sleep... We've got a long day tomorrow."
Crestejo nodded. "I'll have Maria make you up a bed."
Eleanor gave him an uneasy smile and nodded. She leaned against the balcony as Crestejo rushed from his office. She was still shaking. She took another swig from her inhaler of three.
*
"You look better than on the phone, chica," the man said. He had called at noon, telling them to meet on the docks. He was a fairly average Latino man, standing alone. No other people in sight.
"It's still Miss Penn." Eleanor said calmly. She was wearing her very best pants suit, Gabriel Crestejo at her side.
"Me disculpo." the man said. "The money."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Please, this is not your first time."
The man rolled his eyes. "Come on," the man yelled in the direction of a nearby yacht." "Let's go, let's go!
Three men emerged onto the pier, carrying a bound and gagged, squirming girl in blue pyjamas between them.
"Davina!" Gabriel cried. "Davina, it's okay, Papi's here!"
The man motioned to the bags in Gabriel's hands. "We take that on the boat, your daughter steps off. You don't move towards her until we are away."
Eleanor looked to the men holding Davina. One was wearing a leather mask, and the other was a gruff, ageing man with a silver hair and beard. He looked... heavy...
Oh God. No...
Eleanor coughed, a coughing fit that spiralled into wheezing. She tried to reach her inhaler, but all her energy had gone. She toppled into Gabriel, who lowered her to the ground, shocked.
"This is maybe your first time...." the man said, fingering his inside pocket, most likely for a gun.
"It's just a condition... we're not making trouble." Gabriel said. Eleanor could feel her heartbeat rising. It couldn't be him...
"Are you trying to blow this?" the man exclaimed.
"Don't let them on the boat..." Eleanor wheezed in Gabriel's ear.
He looked confused. "You said that's the way it is--"
"They're not gonna give her back..." she said. She would've screamed if she could. Why wasn't he moving?! "He's not gonna give her back--"
Gabriel finally looked up. The man was backing up towards the boat, gun in his hand. The money had found its way to the boat.
"No, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Gabriel yelled. "She gets off first!"
"Get the hell back!"
"You give me my daughter!"
The man fired. Gabriel took a bullet in the gut. He whirled and fell down beside Eleanor, blood leaking freely. The man turned on his heel, but a bullet from an unseen gun put him down. The three remaining men, frightened retreated to the boat. Eleanor tried to get to her feet and failed. The Yacht left the pier in a flash, Davina's screams quelled by the tape on her mouth.
Boyd was on his way to her in seconds: she realised he had shot the kidnapper. "We need an ambulance!" he yelled into his phone. "The client is shot!". Eleanor's breathing was still rattling, but relatively under her control. Boyd came within the last few metres, Eleanor turned to Gabriel and stuck her hand in his wound, sobbing. He had lost consciousness.
"Is it bigger than your thumb?" Eleanor wheezed. "Is it... is it bigger than your thumb..."
Boyd asked, trying to replace her hands with his own. "Echo! Miss Penn, look at me!"
Eleanor looked at him.
"You can't fight a ghost..."
Boyd didn't understand. "Are you ready for your treatment?"
"You can't fight a ghost..."
*
"It's so dark." Eleanor said. It was dark in Boyd's van, but that wasn't what she meant. "Of course it's dark. It's better. You don't see, you don't make a sound. You forget his face.."
"Whose face?" Boyd asked.
"He's all thumbs..."
"What happened on the dock? What went wrong--?"
"He doesn't give them back."
"Who, the man in the mask?"
"He's old now. He's the same age. I am proportionately similar to a girl, a small girl..."
Boyd finally seemed to realise. "The older man." he said. "You know him. He's the one that took you, they never found him.
Eleanor gave a tiny nod. "He said he was a ghost. You can't fight a ghost... but he was heavy, the weight of him... Ghosts aren't heavy. Ghosts are sheets with holes cut out..."
"He took you away. And now..."
"It's unprofessional--"
"He's taken Davina."
"She's proportionately similar to a girl. He won't touch her until he's taken care of the others."
"The other two men?"
Eleanor stood up. It was time to get back to work. "They'll be dividing the money and make sure there's no tracers, no dye pack. They'll get excited. They won't see him coming. Six hours."
"Before he kills them?"
"And takes her away."
"On the boat?"
She shook her head and took the map they used to get to the docks from her suit pocket. "It's been seen. They were planning to beach it anyway."
"It's a Houlberd, 30-footer. It's got a decent range."
"And it was riding high."
"They haven't bothered to fuel it, good," Boyd said. He took the map and spread it on his lap. "Let's place them anywhere from here... to here. Still a lot of choices."
"I'm missing something... the man on the phone, what did he say? The mask."
"Only one man wore a mask."
"Because she knows him. He doesn't just have information. He's in her life. We find him, we find the ghost."
The van stopped, and she and Boyd got put in a huge underground parking lot.
"How does she know him?" Boyd asked.
"Something the other one said. We need to do my treatment now, and we need to do it fast." She strode into the elevator, followed by Boyd.
"Miss Penn--"
"Come on, Langton," Dominic said, appearing from nowhere and holding Boyd at bay. "A client's in critical, weapon's discharged. You think I'm gonna let you hold her hand while Topher scrubs her?"
"Two minutes."
"You have any idea of the crap that's raining down on us?" Handler intervention triggers an immediate debriefing to make sure that we weren't exposed. -
"We're close," Eleanor said, walking into the elevator. "As soon as I finish my treatment, we'll find her. He won't do this again."
The doors shut, leaving Boyd with Dominic.
*
"Barging in here isn't to help your situation, Mr. Langton." Adelle barked as Boyd came into her office.
"Echo can find the Crestejo girl!"
"I'm sorry," Dominic said, walking in after Boyd. "He's faster than you'd think..."
"You cannot wipe her right now." Boyd said.
"I can do any damn thing I see fit! Echo botched the engagement, she jeopardized this entire operation--!"
"You botched it, Miss DeWitt!" You gave her the memory of an abused girl, and you put her face to face with her abuser. She recognized one of her kidnappers, she can find him again. She's the only one who can."
"Ma'am," Dominic said. "We need to distance ourselves from this. We don't know if the client's going to live. This is becoming news.
Adelle almost seemed regretful. Almost. "I'm sorry, Mr. Langton, but this is complicated."
"No, it isn't. Echo's in pain, but she's the right girl for the job, and she knows the territory. She can find Davina before that man lays a finger on her. You wipe her, you've lost all of that."
"We do not have a client!"
"We have a mission!"
Adelle was taken aback for a split second before sticking a smile on her face. "We prefer to call them engagements. You have not been here as long as some of the others, so I will overlook the error."
"I've been here long enough to know that you like to tell yourself what we do helps people. Let Echo help this girl."
Adelle bit her lip. She was thinking.
*
Boyd ran for the Imprint Room, hoping to God Topher hadn't wiped her yet. He had gotten the go-ahead, but if she was Echo again--
He reached the room to see Echo sitting up in the chair, Topher at her side. Boyd sighed. He was too late--"
"Where are my glasses?"
Topher passed them to her. Eleanor, not Echo, slipped them on.
"I know how to find her."
*
"It was the first call." Eleanor told Boyd. "The kidnapper said, 'You're the schoolteacher now'. He stressed 'you're', like there's already a teacher in the mix."
"The one in the mask?"
Eleanor nodded. "Check her school. See who's missing. He's been close to her. He's probably not Latino."
A previously unknown man walked up to them both. "Ms. Penn, I'm Lawrence Dominic."
"Security contractor?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have a chopper standing by."
"I'll need a radio contact while we're en route."
"That'll be Mr. Langton. He's staying here."
Boyd obviously hadn't been told this. "She needs backup."
"Not from you."
"I'm her handler!"
"Miss DeWitt will decide what you are." Dominic started walking, and Eleanor reluctantly left Boyd.
"James Shepherd," Dominic confirmed. "Caucasian male, out sick twelve consecutive days. Has a sister with an isolated house six miles from the dock."
"I'm going to need a clean and quiet touchdown with zero chance they'll see or hear our approach."
"With respect, the last time you went head to head with these people, you folded. My man's fully--"
"Your man gives me ten minutes, or Davina will die."
Dominic said nothing.
*
"How is she?" Boyd asked Topher, hovering over a computer that showed Echo's readings.
"See the blue areas?" Topher said, motioning to her cerebral patterns. "That's fear."
"It all looks blue."
"That's where I'm going with this. Uh, the persona we developed? Bunch of different people--"
"Yeah. And one of them was abused by the guy she ran into."
"I know."
"Yeah, I looked her up. She killed herself. Last year. She never got away from him."
"What are we playing at...?"
*
"I'm alone." Eleanor said, rapping hard. "Please open the door."
The house was more of an abandoned shack than a house. Overgrown fields surrounded it as far as she could see. Middle of nowhere.
Shepherd, or Mr. Sunshine, opened the door and pulled her in. The man from the phone was at the table counting money, while the Ghost emerged from the kitchen. Eleanor averted her eyes as soon as she saw him.
"Who knows where we are?" Shepherd demanded.
"Everyone's going to know very soon, Mr. Shepherd," Eleanor said, with only a hint of fear. "You left a wide trail, but that's not your problem." Finally, she turned to the Ghost. "He is."
"Hell you on about?!" he said gruffly, causing Eleanor to take a step back.
"Soon as that money's counted," she continued. "He's going to kill both of you.
"You think we fall for that crap?" the Ghost said. "Turn us on each other? You tell us how long till they come, you talk," he ordered, grabbing Eleanor's chin. "Or I find something to stuff that mouth up."
"I think I'm a little old for you," Eleanor spluttered, and she slapped his hand away. "The man that shot Mr. Crestejo is dead. You will be identified as the ringleader. You two haven't killed anyone, you can let me leave with Davina and get out of the country very rich men."
"The girl's not here--"
"She's in the fridge." Eleanor said, speaking from experience. "You unplugged it and pulled out the shelves. You had to rope it shut, of course, 'cause these days, they don't lock."
"We were gonna tell people where she was--" Shepherd began.
"You were gonna die." Eleanor said. She turned to the Ghost. "'Cause there's something this man wants even more than eight million dollars..."
He was royally pissed off now. "Shut your mouth--!"
"Hey!" the only unnamed kidnapper said. "Lady seems to know a lot..."
"I know everything." Eleanor said defiantly, looking the Ghost straight in the eye. "All the girls he kept, till he was through with them. Till he got bored, or just... broke them down. I even know about the one he dumped in the river before he was sure she was dead."
The Ghost had finally caught on. All of them have. "It's over." she finished. "You can't hurt me anymore."
The Ghost slapped her hard across the face, sending her glasses flying. Blood oozed from her forehead and her cheek was on fire, but she just looked at him again.
"You can't fight a ghost."
The Ghost lunged at her but, with a deafening sound, Mr. Shepherd and the kidnapper put dozens of bullets in his chest. Eleanor took this opportunity to run to the kitchen. She dived down beside the refrigerator and tugged mightily at the ropes until they snapped. She pulled open the door to see Davina, wearing filthy pyjamas, eyes wide."
"We're going now."
She took Davina in her arms and walked from the kitchen.
"Go now." Shepherd said. She nodded. On her way out of the room, Eleanor took one last look at the Ghost, on the floor no longer breathing, covering Davina's eyes.
She didn't make it to the door before it was kicked open.
A beautiful Nepalese woman with dirty blond hair, sharp cheekbones and bronze skin dived into the room, filling Shepherd and the other kidnapper with lead in a matter of seconds. Eleanor fell to the floor in shock, Davina with her. After a moment, the woman looked at her, eyebrow raised.
"I told you to wait."
"There were shots." the woman said simply. "We made a call."
"We were coming out!"
"Is she injured?"
Eleanor looked to Davina. "Are you hurt?". Davina shook her head frantically.
The woman shrugged. "Then get over it." She inspected the table. "The money's here." she called. Within seconds, a team of men in suits were swarming the house. "I want it bagged, and our presence swept in three minutes." a man tapped the woman on the shoulder.
"Sierra, would you like a treatment?"
"After this train wreck of a mission, hell yes."
Eleanor followed them out of the house, Davina clinging to her. "You're okay." Eleanor said. "You're okay, okay? You're free. You're free..."
*
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, get that thing out of my face!"
Echo sounded so lovely when she was annoyed. She sounded lovely even when she wasn't. Echo was always lovely. Alpha missed her.
"It's for the video yearbook," the man filming said. "Say hi to your mom."
The teenage Echo sighed. She was sitting by her school water fountain. "Okay. Hi, Mom! Are we done?"
Alpha was glad he had found this video it was a poor substitute, but just seeing Echo reminded him of how much he missed her...
"Is there someone you'd like to say good-bye to?"
Teenage Echo screwed her face up in thought. "Ditra and Meg, life without you will be meaningless and bleak, my dormies. Oh, and the girls of Sigma Tau, sisters forever. Let's hope those venereal diseases make you all sterile, you snobby-ass pack of hoes!"
"Oh, that's definitely going in. So, what are you planning on doing after graduation?"
"Yeah, I probably should have thought about that!"
Echo was wonderful, but what a por substitute this was. This was before Echo was complete. This was when she was Caroline Farrell. Echo was better now. But she still wasn't perfect.
Alpha picked up the envelope and wrote the message on the front:
'Paul Ballard: Keep Looking'.
"I'd like to take my place in the world," Caroline continued. "Like Mrs. Dundee taught us. Global Recovery, Doctors Without Borders. The world is in need of some serious saving. And I want to travel! Travel around the world as I save it, in a private jet that I pilot and design! Okay, go ahead and laugh, yearbook monkey, I know, I'm such a cliche. What can I say? I want to do everything. Is that too much to ask?"
Caroline was having a hard time reading Adelle DeWitt. Usually she was good at that, but she could practically feel the lens of the security camera of the swanky board room looking at her back. She was sweating, and she was tired. God, why was she so tired these days? It was all that running. But Adelle had caught her. DeWitt was pretty enough, early forties with dark, wavy hair that stood high on her head. Her tongue added a clicking noise to her posh British accent when she was annoyed: and boy, was she annoyed.
"It seems pretty clear to me." Caroline retorted. She was proud that her voice didn't break.
"Because you're only seeing part of it. I'm talking about a clean slate."
"You ever try and clean an actual slate? You always see what was on it before."
Adelle pointed her lips into a smile without showing teeth, the smile of a weary mother. Despite the smile, Caroline got a hint of deflation. "Are you volunteering--?"
Caroline scoffed. "I don't have a choice, do I? How did it get this far?"
"Caroline, actions have consequences." That smile was still plastered to the bitch's face. Seeing it again made Caroline jump to her feet.
"Oh God, you're loving this, aren't you?!"
Adelle widened her eyes a fraction. "I'm sorry you don't understand what I'm offering here. But what we do here helps people. If you become a part of that, it can help you."
"Right. You're just... looking out for me."
"Perhaps better than you have." Adelle replied acidly. "We can take care of this mess. After your five year term, you will be free to--"
"I don't deserve this! I was... I was just trying to make a difference. Trying to... take my place in the world, like she always said, and now I'm ..."
Caroline sunk into the chair. Defeated. "I know," she said. "I know. Actions have consequences."
Adelle leaned forward so her words were merely a whisper.
"...what if they didn't?"
*
ONE YEAR LATER
Naomi loved the roar of the engine beneath her, the bright lights whizzing by as the motorcycle shot down the street. Matt was at her side, but there was no way he was winning. Not this time, not ever.
But Naomi caught a glint of red in her eye and saw Matt's bike speeding beside her own. He was gaining, and fast. Naomi saw an alleyway. It was reckless and stupid, but Naomi liked winning. She swerved into its red-bricked jaws, hoping to God it would prove a shortcut.
For a moment, she thought it had payed off, until she felt the wheels skidding. She lost her balance and the bike toppled. She barely hopped out of the seat and stumbled onto her feet before it clattered onto the sidewalk. Her leg scraped off the bike, but the thick leather protected her. She cursed and picked the metal beast back up. As she swung her leg over, Matt zoomed by, whooping. Naomi cursed. She pushed her helmet off her head, letting her tousled brown hair spill over her shoulders. She threw the helmet to the ground, not caring when the visor shattered and started driving.
After a few seconds breaking some serious speed limits, Matt entered her line of sight. She pushed harder, urged the bike to move forward. If she lost her balance at this speed, she was dead, but that thought just fuelled her further. They turned, and the curve helped her get a leg up. Neck and neck, Matt and Naomi saw the party lights coming into focus. People whooped and yelled for Matt. The two bikes roared through the huge oak doors, down the wide corrdidor and screeched to a halt on the ballroom floor. Music roared, party guests cheered and the "Happy Birthday, Matt!" banner fluttered from the wind.
Matt laughed and pulled his helmet off. Friends tried to talk to him, but Naomi pushed by. "No way, no way! you cheated!"
"What I do?" Matt asked innocently. His black hair was ruffled and his thin moustache was in a semi-circle, his mouth open.
"Something. That will prove to have been cheating. This isn't over!"
"Oh my god, you are a sore loser!"
"Wouldn't know, I never lost."
"That's ok, the first time you're always... a LITTLE bit slower--"
"Oh wow, that's funny coming from a cheater. Who's also a little bitch."
"Sure you didn't let me win?"
Naomi rolled her eyes. "Two outta three."
"Nah. Let's just dance."
*
It was at least three songs before Matt dragged Naomi off the dance floor. She appreciated that her dress was short enough to wear under her leather clothes for the motorcycle, and Matt's friends seemed to appreciate it to.
"You having a good time?" Naomi asked, panting.
"The best. Listen, uh, I know at the beginning of the weekend, we said no strings--"
Naomi grinned. "We also said no ropes, and look how long that lasted..."
Matt smiled. "Yeah, I remember. I remember it all. I always will."
"What, like I'd forget? You think this is a normal weekend for me?"
Matt's eyes dropped to the floor. "Maybe?"
Naomi suppressed a laugh. "I had no idea you were a moron."
Matt's hand disappeared into his pocket. "Look, it's... it's little, it's stupid, but... I want you to have it."
His hand resurfaced and took with it a silver necklace with a heart on it. He passed it to Naomi, and she couldn't help but smile. "You're an amazing guy, Matt."
"When you say it, I almost believe.."
"Thank you. For everything." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him lightly. As she pulled away, Matt checked his watch.
"It's getting late."
"You're not getting out of another dance--"
"Of course not. I'm just gonna go grab a drink. "
"Okay."
Matt smiled and disappeared in the sea of people. Naomi went to walk back to the dance floor, but then she remembered something.
It was time.
She left the building, twirling the necklace between her fingers. Sunlight was beginning to shine over LA. she walked down the road until the black van materialised. The door slid open. The man was sitting there. Early 50's, light brown skin and receding hairline. Big-built, a gruff man's man if ever there was. Boyd. That was his name.
"You ready for your treatment?" he asked.
"I think it's time."
Boyd helped her into the van. "Did you have a nice time?"
Naomi shrugged. "I met a guy..."
The door slid shut, and Naomi felt the wheels turn.
*
Naomi got out of the van, flanked by Boyd and the driver. They were in a vast underground parking lot. Boyd lead her to an open elevator, all fancy polished wood and carpet.
"Hey, you think you could take me back to the party after my treatment?" Naomi asked Boyd.
"I'll wait right here."
Naomi smiled. "You're good people." The doors shut, leaving her alone.
Upon leaving the elevator, Naomi was lead into a strange room. It was pretty bare except for a changing curtain. An Asian woman handed her a tank top and pants. Naomi stepped behind the curtain and began undressing, telling her story to a complete stranger.
"Maybe I shouldn't go back. The last thing I want to be is clingy, but you know when you just... you meet someone and... you know?"
The woman smiled and nodded before leading her into a small room, decorated only with a bunch of machinery and a strange looking reclining chair. A new man was there. He was very young, maybe mid-20s, with sandy blond hair, a long nose and a frankly huge chin. He was wearing a godawful shirt. The whole time, Naomi didn't stop talking.
"If I'm wrong, I'll know. I mean, Matt can't lie to save his life. If he gives me that look, I'll walk away. But I don't know, I think... he feels it, too. I think I found something real." As she finished the tale, she was led by Boyd into the chair. She rested her arms on the odd armrests - like coasters with light that pulsed beneath her palms - and caught her breath.
"I'm glad." the new man said. "This is gonna pinch a bit."
The man disappeared behind a computer as the chair reclined. Naomi looked around nervously before a jolt sent her body rigid. Her brain was on fire, but she couldn't scream, things were being torn from her head, memories, her childhood, friends, school, life, Matt, everything was being scrubbed away and then--
Echo sat up in the chair. The computer man, Topher, were standing looking over her.
"Hello, Echo." Topher said. "How are you feeling?"
"...Did I fall asleep...?"
"For a little while."
"Shall I go now?"
"If you like."
He smiled, and Echo smiled back. As she stood, something caught her eye. Something shiny was on the floor: a silver necklace.
Echo hadn't seen it before. She gave it one last look before leaving the room, wondering what to do with her day.
*
"The world is a very simple place." Adelle said. "At first. Then as we grow up, it grows around us. A dense thicket of... complication, and disappointment. Unbearable for some. And even for the luckiest of us still sometimes more than we can handle... less than we'd hoped. I know you've heard colourful rumours about what an Active is. Robots, zombie slaves, mostly people think they're just very good liars. They are, of course, quite the opposite. An Active is the truest soul among us."
"It all seems pretty clear to me." Mr. Dreyfuss said. They were both sitting in Adelle's skyscraper office, overlooking even more skyscrapers and little else.
"Does it?" Adelle asked, pouring some more tea.
"Whatever I want, right?"
"Within reason, yes."
Dreyfuss raised an eyebrow. "Reason? Well, the kind of money I laid out, just for the background check alone... well, I was under the impression that reason wasn't gonna be a factor."
"Where reason applies, is in the safety and well-being of our Actives."
"I got no interest in hurting anybody. I don't object to a little adventure, I'm a physical fellah--"
Adelle smiled, nodded. "Everest twice, I got that from Newsweek. Our Actives can keep up."
"You sure?"
She nodded. "The personality imprint extends to muscle memory as well. Whatever our Actives are called upon to do, they will, in effect, have spent their entire lives preparing for it."
Dreyfuss shrugged. "Doesn't seem possible."
"Would you be here if it did?" Adelle asked.
Dreyfuss sighed. "Suppose I just want someone to pretend they're in love with me--?"
"Then you are out of luck. If you engage an Active, then he or she--"
"She!" he exclaimed. Then, muttering "She..."
Adelle widened her eyes. "Then SHE will see you and totally, romantically, chemically... fall in utter and unexpected love with you. The imprint will make her your exact match, the girl who's waited her entire life to meet a man like you. Not the money: the man."
"And we're alone? I mean assuming that there's an... amorous side to the engagement... do we got the whole staff listening in on our business?"
Adelle was slightly taken aback. "Of course not. That's the point."
"But if you're supposed to protect--"
"A Handler monitors an Active internally for signs of danger or stress. If your engagement involves criminal activity, then the Handler might listen in, yes, but otherwise he has no idea what's happening. Nobody knows. This couldn't work any other way."
Dreyfuss finally looked interested. "The - what do you call 'em, Actives? - she knows. She's got all the secrets, you really telling me that she... forgets?"
Adelle smiled. "The moment the engagement is over, she will have an overpowering urge to return to our facility," she said. "Where she will be wiped of all memory of the event. What happens is always and only between you and her. Do you see? You're a man who can have everything he wants. If what you want is a girl to dress up like a cheerleader and ask you how big you are, you can hire a thousand women to do that quite convincingly for the price of one day with an Active. This is not about what you want. This is about what you need. An Active doesn't judge. This will be the purest, most genuine human encounter of your life. And hers. It is a treasure. One I can guarantee you will never, never forget."
*
Topher opened the doors of his office to see Boyd standing there. "Everything go all right with the wipe?"
"Why don't you just ask Echo?" Topher suggested mockingly. "Oh, that's right. Because she can't remember."
Boyd specifically remembered hating Topher to begin with, and not much had changed.
"Of course, it went all right!" Topher continued. "Imprint's gone. The new moon has made her a virgin again. Is there some reason it shouldn't have?Something happen during the engagement?"
Boyd shrugged. "I think she finally met the right guy."
Topher giggled. An actual giggle. "You're so jaded, and at such a middle age. She had fun, right?"
Another shrug. "She thought so."
"There's nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so, man friend. We gave two people a perfect weekend together. We're great humanitarians!"
Boyd leaned against the window of Topher's office and looked into the LA Dollhouse it over looked. The decor was reminiscent of Japan, with the polished wood and sliding doors, much like a spa. The mindless Dolls, or Actives or whatever they were called, roamed free. One of the handlers was leading Echo to a massage table.
"Who would spend their lives in jail if anyone ever found this place..."
Topher joined him at the window. "We're also misunderstood... which great humanitarians often are. Look at Echo. Not a care in the world. She's living the dream."
"Whose dream?"
"Who's next?"
*
"Ow!" Echo moaned as Doctor Saunders bent her leg.
"Yeah," she said. "this feels very tight. I think you fell on it with something heavy."
Echo thought hard. "I don't remember."
"Well, it's gonna be fine. And your blood work and internals are all shipshape. I'll just ask one of the staff to work on that knee. Would you like a massage?"
Echo smiled. "They're relaxing."
"Yes. I'll set that up."
Echo liked Doctor Saunders. She was nice. She was pretty, with shoulder-length brown hair that was all wavy and bouncy. Echo didn't understand why she always stayed in this dark office, filled with shelves and dusty old files.
"I don't remember what fell on me." Echo blurted out. She wasn't sure why.
Saunders' eyes widened. Sshe loomed over Echo, suddenly interested. "Does that bother you?
"...should it?"
Saunders sighed. "We'll look after you."
As Saunders leaned in, the light showed those strange lines on her face. One slashed across her forehead, another across her nose and the third up the side of her lips. Scars.
Echo motioned to touch them."Does someone look after you--?"
Saunders backed away, hitting her desk. It rattled, and a pen fell off. "Why don't you wait in the massage area, and I'll call for someone to work on that knee." Saunders didn't look her in the eye. She bent down to pick up the pens, and didn't say goodbye as usual.
Echo left the office and walked across the floor of the Dollhouse. Some of her friends were doing yoga in the center by the small pool. Some were in the art corner, painting and clipping leaves from their plants. There were others at the gym, lifting weights and running on the treadmills, and half a dozen or so were leaving the pool and heading for the showers.
Echo was about to walk to the massage area when she saw the light.
A flashing blue light was coming from upstairs, from the Topher man's room that overlooked the Dollhouse. She had heard them call it the Imprint Room. Echo looked around. No one was paying it any attention.
Slowly, hesitantly, Echo began to climb the stairs.
She pulled open the doors of Topher's office. There was a lot of computers, a sofa, video games, pinball, a refrigerator: it seemed like a little boy's room. There was another window overlooking the people below, but the light was coming from the Imprint Room, adjoined with the office. The blue light was pounding against the doors. Echo tilted her head. The light had neer been here before.
She opened the door.
It was the room with the chair, she knew that, and Topher was there, but there were more people, rushing round as the computers beeped and the woman in the chair screamed. She was a beautiful woman, around Echo's age, with long, dirty blonde hair, bronze skin, sharp cheekbones and perfect oval eyes. She was naked except for bandages that covered chest and her hips, acting as a skirt, and wires stuck to her sweaty body. She looked directly at Echo, her face straining as if to say something she couldn't...
"She's not asleep." Echo said. All the men stopped and looked at her.
"Woah!" Topher exclaimed. "What...?Just keep mapping the tissue," he told his scientist friends, and gave Echo a push back into his office. He came with her and closed the doors. The blue light still pulsed.
"Hey, Echo. What are you doing here?"
"She hurts." Echo observed.
Topher nodded. "She does. That's because it's her first time, and, uh, we have to do more extensive work on her."
Echo was confused. "Work?"
Topher sighed and covered his face with his hands. After a second, his face resurfaced. "We're making her better. In a little while, she'll be strong and happy, and she'll forget all about this, and you... will have a new friend living with you. Her name is Sierra."
"Sierra." Echo said dreamily. The word sounded nice.
"Mm-hmm. Hey, aren't you supposed to be getting your physical with Dr. Saunders far from here right now?"
One of the helper women patted her on the shoulder. "We're ready for your massage, Echo."
Echo turned to Topher. "Something fell on me." she beamed.
Topher smiled. "I bet it was something great."
*
"Agent Ballard," the man asked. "You were assigned to case designate 'Dollhouse' over 14 months ago. How would you describe your progress to date?"
"Slow." Ballard said. He didn't like performance meetings. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this particular meeting any more than he should.
"I'm actually very impressed by what I see here." the man replied, opening Ballard's file. "You've physically threatened a senator, disrupted a seven-year human trafficking investigation, been arrested for trespassing on Prince Amoudi's yacht. The only legal action you've successfully followed through on is your divorce." He leaned forward, hands clasped. "Paul, let me ask you: after all this, do you think the Dollhouse really exists?"
"I know it does."
"You've seen it then? You could, like, take us on a tour? Look, we all know this assignment is a joke--"
"If it's a joke, then pull me off it." Paul said, losing his patience. "Except you can't, because someone bigger than you thinks it isn't a joke."
"I'm a billionaire." the man said hypothetically. "I can hire anybody for anything, and I'm gonna go to an illegal organization and have them build me, program me, what: the perfect date? Confessor, assassin, dominatrix, omelet chef? I'm paying a million dollars for that? I can get that. I have everything I want.
"Nobody has everything they want. It's a survival pattern. You get what you want, you want something else. If you have everything, you want something else. Something more extreme, something more specific. Something perfect."
"Put it like that, it doesn't sound so bad."
"The only way to imprint a human being with a new personality--"
"Which we've yet to prove possible--"
" --is to remove their own. Completely. We're talking about people walking around who may as well have been murdered, which to me sounds pretty bad."
"Is that why you interfered with the Russians? The Borodin case?"
"They're the top of the heap in human trafficking. If people are disappearing--"
The man jumped to his feet. "That is an ongoing investigation! All right? We have a chance to dry up a major pipeline of girls being smuggled into this country, and you do not jeopardize that for a fairy tale! You will stay out of everyone's way, and you will stop pissing off powerful public figures without any evidence! You've been out of line, Paul. You have to back off. You need to keep away from the Borodin case. Do you understand? Are you able to back off?
Paul sighed. "That won't be a problem... sir."
*
Topher walked into Adelle's office to find the lady herself sitting on her couch, reading a file. The head of security, Laurence Dominic, 40's with poufy silver hair, stern face and pressed suit, stood a little but behind her.
"You wanted me?"
"Echo's been booked." Adelle said. "Has she been wiped?"
"Completely. I removed the Naomi imprint 'bout 2 hours ago. Echo's blankety-blank. What's the case?"
Adelle rose an eyebrow. "If only your security clearance was up a level or three. Just prepare an imprint. I think Eleanor Penn should do."
There was a knock, and Boyd entered the room.
"Mr. Langton."
"You needed something, Ms. DeWitt?"
"Echo has a case."
Boyd raised an eyebrow. "Which would be...?"
Adelle glanced at Topher, who smiled. She rolled her eyes. "Mr. Dominic?"
"The situation is a kidnap and ransom," Dominic said. "12 year-old girl named Davina Crestejo. The girl's supposed to be exchanged for $5 million, which her father is willing to pay--"
"And we are going to help him do that."
"Kidnapper's Latino, probably Mexican, refers to himself as 'Mr. Sunshine'. This is a high risk engagement so you'll have both eyes and ears this time. Audio off a wire, and we'll tap you into his security vid on the house and grounds."
"Anything goes wrong, you extract Echo immediately." Adelle said. "Her purpose is to facilitate the exchange, nothing more. No one is to be brought to justice We'll skip any ex-cop heroics, if you don't mind."
"Not a problem." Boyd said. "My only priority--"
"--is Echo," Adelle finished. "Good."
"So: who does she think she is?"
*
A maid opened the door, and Eleanor Penn walked into Gabriel Crestejo's mansion, pushing her spectacles up her nose. It was all glass and sculptures. She saw 3 different security systems in a matter of seconds. The maid disappeared as a man in a dark suit half-way up the stairs spoke into a Walkie-Talkie. A few seconds later, Gabriel Cretejo came down the stairs.
"Mr Crestejo?" Eleanor asked.
"I'm sorry, who are you?"
"You asked for me. Eleanor Penn. I'm here to help. Our mutual friend referred me."
Crestejo's forehead creased. "I'm sure he did. I'm a little surprised, though, that he sent you."
Eleanor shrugged. "I'm good with people. I put them at their ease."
"In my experience, a beautiful woman never puts anyone at their ease." Crestejo replied. "Fatherly types do that. They're warm and comforting, make people feel safe. A beautiful woman distracts people, makes them nervous, or jealous. I can't afford that. Not with what's at stake here. I think our friend sent the wrong person."
Eleanor strode to a metal sculpture of two lovers, intertwined. "Fatherly types."
"Like Edward James Almos. I hope there's no offense.l
"None taken." she turned back to him. "And I'm not leaving. You can hire someone else, give them my fee, but I'm the one best qualified to save your daughter. I've been doing this my whole life. Just this. You want people to feel comforted? We're past that. These men are stone professionals." Eleanor looked around at the high ceiling and fancy decor. "They took her from your house. Not on the way home from school, or in the park... they came inside your house, your seriously fortified house, in order to tell you that they could." She strode back to Crestejo. "I've dealt with the others... amateurs, men with a grudge, or an urge. You want a professional, a man who knows the business. Knows how high the stakes should or shouldn't go. The percentage of successful negotiations goes way up."
"And what's the percentage?"
"Not a hundred." She motioned to a room down the hall. "Is her room in here?"
Crestejo sighed. "I'll show you. "We haven't touched anything."
*
"Glasses, Topher?" Boyd said into him phone.
"She's nearsighted." Topher said exasperately.
Boyd sighed. Being stuck in this van all day wasn't doing wonders for his patience. "Is that supposed to make people take her seriously? Like the librarian thing is gonna hide the fact that she's--"
"Am I speaking Urdu?" Topher said. "She's nearsighted, Boyd."
"You can mess up her eyesight?"
"I can mess up the neural connections to her eyesight. Make her brain process the information it gets any way I want. As, for example, blurry."
"But why would you? Why handicap her in a job like this?"
Topher gazed down into the gym. The new Active, Sierra, was running on the treadmill. Her first examination.
"You see someone running incredibly fast, the first thing you gotta ask is, are they running to something, or are they running from something? And the answer is always both. So these personality imprints... they come from scans of real people. Now, I can create amalgams of those personalities, pieces from here or there, but it's not a greatest hits; it's a whole person. Achievement is balanced by fault, by... a lack. Can't have one without the other."
Topher looked across the House to Doctor Saunders' office. She was pulling open the screen door to sign something for a delivery man.
"Everyone who excels is overcompensating. Running from something. Hiding from something."
"The past?"
Topher shrugged. "Sometimes."
"So what's in the past that you gave Echo?"
"That's her business, Boyd. She's right for the job. She's spent her life profiling and negotiating with kidnappers. That's the person they needed, so that's who Echo is. The expert."
"Who's nearsighted?"
"She also has asthma," Topher added meekly.
*
"Is this Mr. Sunshine?" Eleanor asked. She had put the phone on speaker immediately. Gabriel was leaning on the desk, listening intently.
"Where is Gabriel?" said the man on the other line.
"He's right here." Eleanor said. "My name is Eleanor Penn, and I'll be handling the transaction."
"I told him no cops! Put Gabriel on, I'm gonna cut his little girl so he can hear--"
Gabriel went to lunge at the phone, but Eleanor held up her hand, signalling to stop. "He can hear." she assured him. "I am not a cop, I'm not FBI, and I have no interest in justice. I'm here only to facilitate a private transaction and make sure no one is hurt during it."
"No, you're a federale! Think I'm stupid?"
"I think you knew Gabriel wouldn't call the authorities if you took Davina." Eleanor said calmly. "Which was not stupid. But Gabriel can't do this alone. He's afraid, and angry, and he knows those emotions are of no use right now. So you'll deal with me, and everybody will get what they want. You may call me Miss Penn."
"I may?" the man replied roughly. "I call you Miss? I think I call you Ellie, since we're becoming such good friends."
"I will not answer to Ellie. You may call me Miss Penn."
"Oh, so you're the schoolteacher now, huh? What, you gonna rap my knuckles if I'm bad?"
"It's unlikely."
"You telling me how it's gonna be?!" the man said, now raging. "Al diablo contigo y to nombre! I have the girl, okay? I make all the rules."
"You want five million?" Eleanor asked.
"That's right."
"Let's make it eight."
"What?"
Gabriel's mouth dropped open. "Eight million." Eleanor repeated. "That's two million apiece. Call back in 40 minutes and let Davina talk to her father."
"There's no way you're just gonna give me an extra three mil--"
Eleanor hung up, and looked at Gabriel to see his astonished face. She shrugged. "You have the money."
"It would have been polite to ask."
"They have to get used to doing it my way. Right now, they're getting very used to it."
"Or they think she's messing with them--" one of Gabriel's bodyguards observed.
"I am." Eleanor said simply. "But you'll give them the money. You have to get used to doing things my way, too."
The guard tried to argue with Gabriel in Spanish about her, but Eleanor interupted. "The last time a family's head of security let their daughter get kidnapped, she was recovered in three days. His body never was. Speak out of turn again and I will scold you."
Crestejo sighed. "How'd you know there was four of them? You said "2 million apiece." Guy didn't blink."
"You heard him not blink? Four's the median number in these cases: three guys with ambition, one with information."
"What more can you tell me about them?"
"I'll tell you when it's useful for you to know it."
"They better put her on."
"They will." she checked her watch. "In 38 minutes."
Crestejo sighed. "You're the boss, Ellie."
She raised an eyebrow.
"...Miss Penn..."
*
Lubov felt the gun on his neck and let out a small yelp. Paul admitted to himself getting him at the urinal probably wasn't the best decision, but he was surrounded everywhere else. Paul instantly pushed that thought out of his head at the sound of water, that probably wasn't water, hitting leather.
Lubov was a burly man in his late 20's, with poufy black hair and bad clothes. He would've been handsome if it wasn't for the awful smell, the endless partying and the fact he was a criminal.
"You're about to make a very bad mistake..." Lubov said in his thick accent, voice constantly changing pitches.
"Dollhouse."
"...what?"
"Dollhouse." Paul repeated. "Say it."
Lubov shrugged. "Dollhouse?"
"Say it again."
"Your brains are--"
Paul thumbed the hammer.
"Okay, dollhouse! Doll freaking house! I'll keep saying it, it's fun to say! Dollhouse, dollhouse, dollhouse, dollhouse!"
"You see the Borodins, you say it some more."
Lubov raised an eyebrow. "You think you want to mess with the Borodins?"
"No, but they supply girls, some of them very high-end, to fine, upstanding clients. There's one client I'm interested in. Find out who's connected to the Dollhouse, the Borodins won't be touched and you'll never see me again."
"I haven't seen you yet..."
"You will." Paul removed the gun, but Lubov still didn't turn around. "Wash your hands." His eyes dropped to the floor. "And your shoes."
*
"Hello." Eleanor said.
"You got eight million for us?" the man said.
"That's right."
"If it's that easy, I think we gonna make it an even ten--"
Eleanor hung up.
"What are you doing--?" Gabriel began, but Eleanor held up the hand, signalling silence. A moment later, the phone rang again.
"You hang up on me again, I chop her up right now, and I'll use her for bait!"
"Is Davina ready to talk to her father?" Eleanor asked, unfazed.
"You got one minute." Then the voice shifted to that of a small girl. "Papi? I'm scared--"
"Mija? Mija, I'm right here."
"Papi, I'm sorry."
"No, no, no, mija, it's not like that. You just do as the men say, I'm gonna bring you home. It's okay, it's gonna be okay--"
"I'm scared."
"All they want is money."
"They yell at me. Except the one with the mask, he doesn't talk. It's dark in the room, but I can hear the--"
"Davina," Eleanor interrupted. "I'm a friend of your father's. I need to know if they're hurting you."
"Not much. But they push me around."
"Did they feed you?"
"A little. And they wouldn't let me use the bathroom at first, but then they did. It's the small kind--"
"Your father wants to tell you something."
Looking at Gabriel, he obviously hadn't. "I, uh... I, uh, I want you to be strong, Davina. Remember that I love you, and I will never let anything happen to you."
"I love you, Papi."
"Please put the man back on." Eleanor asked.
There was a brief shuffle of noise on the other line as the phone was passed back. "The money tomorrow." the man said. "I call you at noon to tell you where."
"And she'll be there." Eleanor said.
"Maybe."
"There are only two ways for this to go: either everybody gets what they want, or nobody does. We will not pay if she's not there."
The man hung up.
"You told me you're good with people!" Gabriel exclaimed, stalking out to his office's balcony.
Eleanor followed him out. "I misspoke. I'm good at people."
"She was trying to tell me something!"
"And I needed her not to. Suppose they figured out what she was telling you before you did? Do you think this would endear her to them?"
"But if we could find her before they do something--"
"And what, rush in with tear gas? These people don't handle surprises well. They get their money or they dig a hole. You have to trust that I have done this many, many times."
"I have to trust that... right." Gabriel looked well and truly pissed off. "Yesterday, you weren't a nurse or a clown in the circus."
"What?" Eleanor was confused. This had never happened on a case before...
"You're the best, the best one they could send." Gabriel drawled, wandering around her in a circle. "Why is that? What makes you so good at this?"
"I don't have any hobbies--"
"No, no, no." Gabriel said, as of he had a different answer in mind. "You have to do better than that. You have to make me believe, believe like you believe. Who are you?"
"You want my résumé? I studied psychology, forensic science, profiling from former instructors at Quantico, been licensed seven years. Handled over 12 negotiations."
"Why, why, why?" Gabriel's face told Eleanor he was crazed. "What made you do all those amazing things? Did something terrible happen in your childhood? Did horrible men come and snatch you away--?"
"Yes."
This shut him up, but only for a second.
"You were kidnapped."
She nodded. "When I was nine."
"How long did that--?"
"Three months."
"And they did things to you. Unprofessional things."
"Is this helping you in some way?"
"You don't remember? Maybe it's all made up--"
"There was one." Eleanor began. She really didn't want to discuss it, but she couldn't find another way to end the conversation. "He got rid of the others after they were paid and..."
"All the terrible memories these men put in your head." Crestejo mused. "Why would they do that?"
Eleanor shrugged, shaking. "Sometimes the bad things just happen and no one can protect you from them..."
Her breath rattled. She could feel the beginnings on hyperventilation coming on. She plunged a shaking pocket into her suit pocket and thrust her inhaler to her lips. Crestejo held put a hand to steady her, but she pushed it away.
"I'm okay." she wheezed. "I'm fine, I'm okay..."
"I'm sorry--"
"Forget it. I-I'd like to get some sleep... We've got a long day tomorrow."
Crestejo nodded. "I'll have Maria make you up a bed."
Eleanor gave him an uneasy smile and nodded. She leaned against the balcony as Crestejo rushed from his office. She was still shaking. She took another swig from her inhaler of three.
*
"You look better than on the phone, chica," the man said. He had called at noon, telling them to meet on the docks. He was a fairly average Latino man, standing alone. No other people in sight.
"It's still Miss Penn." Eleanor said calmly. She was wearing her very best pants suit, Gabriel Crestejo at her side.
"Me disculpo." the man said. "The money."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Please, this is not your first time."
The man rolled his eyes. "Come on," the man yelled in the direction of a nearby yacht." "Let's go, let's go!
Three men emerged onto the pier, carrying a bound and gagged, squirming girl in blue pyjamas between them.
"Davina!" Gabriel cried. "Davina, it's okay, Papi's here!"
The man motioned to the bags in Gabriel's hands. "We take that on the boat, your daughter steps off. You don't move towards her until we are away."
Eleanor looked to the men holding Davina. One was wearing a leather mask, and the other was a gruff, ageing man with a silver hair and beard. He looked... heavy...
Oh God. No...
Eleanor coughed, a coughing fit that spiralled into wheezing. She tried to reach her inhaler, but all her energy had gone. She toppled into Gabriel, who lowered her to the ground, shocked.
"This is maybe your first time...." the man said, fingering his inside pocket, most likely for a gun.
"It's just a condition... we're not making trouble." Gabriel said. Eleanor could feel her heartbeat rising. It couldn't be him...
"Are you trying to blow this?" the man exclaimed.
"Don't let them on the boat..." Eleanor wheezed in Gabriel's ear.
He looked confused. "You said that's the way it is--"
"They're not gonna give her back..." she said. She would've screamed if she could. Why wasn't he moving?! "He's not gonna give her back--"
Gabriel finally looked up. The man was backing up towards the boat, gun in his hand. The money had found its way to the boat.
"No, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Gabriel yelled. "She gets off first!"
"Get the hell back!"
"You give me my daughter!"
The man fired. Gabriel took a bullet in the gut. He whirled and fell down beside Eleanor, blood leaking freely. The man turned on his heel, but a bullet from an unseen gun put him down. The three remaining men, frightened retreated to the boat. Eleanor tried to get to her feet and failed. The Yacht left the pier in a flash, Davina's screams quelled by the tape on her mouth.
Boyd was on his way to her in seconds: she realised he had shot the kidnapper. "We need an ambulance!" he yelled into his phone. "The client is shot!". Eleanor's breathing was still rattling, but relatively under her control. Boyd came within the last few metres, Eleanor turned to Gabriel and stuck her hand in his wound, sobbing. He had lost consciousness.
"Is it bigger than your thumb?" Eleanor wheezed. "Is it... is it bigger than your thumb..."
Boyd asked, trying to replace her hands with his own. "Echo! Miss Penn, look at me!"
Eleanor looked at him.
"You can't fight a ghost..."
Boyd didn't understand. "Are you ready for your treatment?"
"You can't fight a ghost..."
*
"It's so dark." Eleanor said. It was dark in Boyd's van, but that wasn't what she meant. "Of course it's dark. It's better. You don't see, you don't make a sound. You forget his face.."
"Whose face?" Boyd asked.
"He's all thumbs..."
"What happened on the dock? What went wrong--?"
"He doesn't give them back."
"Who, the man in the mask?"
"He's old now. He's the same age. I am proportionately similar to a girl, a small girl..."
Boyd finally seemed to realise. "The older man." he said. "You know him. He's the one that took you, they never found him.
Eleanor gave a tiny nod. "He said he was a ghost. You can't fight a ghost... but he was heavy, the weight of him... Ghosts aren't heavy. Ghosts are sheets with holes cut out..."
"He took you away. And now..."
"It's unprofessional--"
"He's taken Davina."
"She's proportionately similar to a girl. He won't touch her until he's taken care of the others."
"The other two men?"
Eleanor stood up. It was time to get back to work. "They'll be dividing the money and make sure there's no tracers, no dye pack. They'll get excited. They won't see him coming. Six hours."
"Before he kills them?"
"And takes her away."
"On the boat?"
She shook her head and took the map they used to get to the docks from her suit pocket. "It's been seen. They were planning to beach it anyway."
"It's a Houlberd, 30-footer. It's got a decent range."
"And it was riding high."
"They haven't bothered to fuel it, good," Boyd said. He took the map and spread it on his lap. "Let's place them anywhere from here... to here. Still a lot of choices."
"I'm missing something... the man on the phone, what did he say? The mask."
"Only one man wore a mask."
"Because she knows him. He doesn't just have information. He's in her life. We find him, we find the ghost."
The van stopped, and she and Boyd got put in a huge underground parking lot.
"How does she know him?" Boyd asked.
"Something the other one said. We need to do my treatment now, and we need to do it fast." She strode into the elevator, followed by Boyd.
"Miss Penn--"
"Come on, Langton," Dominic said, appearing from nowhere and holding Boyd at bay. "A client's in critical, weapon's discharged. You think I'm gonna let you hold her hand while Topher scrubs her?"
"Two minutes."
"You have any idea of the crap that's raining down on us?" Handler intervention triggers an immediate debriefing to make sure that we weren't exposed. -
"We're close," Eleanor said, walking into the elevator. "As soon as I finish my treatment, we'll find her. He won't do this again."
The doors shut, leaving Boyd with Dominic.
*
"Barging in here isn't to help your situation, Mr. Langton." Adelle barked as Boyd came into her office.
"Echo can find the Crestejo girl!"
"I'm sorry," Dominic said, walking in after Boyd. "He's faster than you'd think..."
"You cannot wipe her right now." Boyd said.
"I can do any damn thing I see fit! Echo botched the engagement, she jeopardized this entire operation--!"
"You botched it, Miss DeWitt!" You gave her the memory of an abused girl, and you put her face to face with her abuser. She recognized one of her kidnappers, she can find him again. She's the only one who can."
"Ma'am," Dominic said. "We need to distance ourselves from this. We don't know if the client's going to live. This is becoming news.
Adelle almost seemed regretful. Almost. "I'm sorry, Mr. Langton, but this is complicated."
"No, it isn't. Echo's in pain, but she's the right girl for the job, and she knows the territory. She can find Davina before that man lays a finger on her. You wipe her, you've lost all of that."
"We do not have a client!"
"We have a mission!"
Adelle was taken aback for a split second before sticking a smile on her face. "We prefer to call them engagements. You have not been here as long as some of the others, so I will overlook the error."
"I've been here long enough to know that you like to tell yourself what we do helps people. Let Echo help this girl."
Adelle bit her lip. She was thinking.
*
Boyd ran for the Imprint Room, hoping to God Topher hadn't wiped her yet. He had gotten the go-ahead, but if she was Echo again--
He reached the room to see Echo sitting up in the chair, Topher at her side. Boyd sighed. He was too late--"
"Where are my glasses?"
Topher passed them to her. Eleanor, not Echo, slipped them on.
"I know how to find her."
*
"It was the first call." Eleanor told Boyd. "The kidnapper said, 'You're the schoolteacher now'. He stressed 'you're', like there's already a teacher in the mix."
"The one in the mask?"
Eleanor nodded. "Check her school. See who's missing. He's been close to her. He's probably not Latino."
A previously unknown man walked up to them both. "Ms. Penn, I'm Lawrence Dominic."
"Security contractor?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have a chopper standing by."
"I'll need a radio contact while we're en route."
"That'll be Mr. Langton. He's staying here."
Boyd obviously hadn't been told this. "She needs backup."
"Not from you."
"I'm her handler!"
"Miss DeWitt will decide what you are." Dominic started walking, and Eleanor reluctantly left Boyd.
"James Shepherd," Dominic confirmed. "Caucasian male, out sick twelve consecutive days. Has a sister with an isolated house six miles from the dock."
"I'm going to need a clean and quiet touchdown with zero chance they'll see or hear our approach."
"With respect, the last time you went head to head with these people, you folded. My man's fully--"
"Your man gives me ten minutes, or Davina will die."
Dominic said nothing.
*
"How is she?" Boyd asked Topher, hovering over a computer that showed Echo's readings.
"See the blue areas?" Topher said, motioning to her cerebral patterns. "That's fear."
"It all looks blue."
"That's where I'm going with this. Uh, the persona we developed? Bunch of different people--"
"Yeah. And one of them was abused by the guy she ran into."
"I know."
"Yeah, I looked her up. She killed herself. Last year. She never got away from him."
"What are we playing at...?"
*
"I'm alone." Eleanor said, rapping hard. "Please open the door."
The house was more of an abandoned shack than a house. Overgrown fields surrounded it as far as she could see. Middle of nowhere.
Shepherd, or Mr. Sunshine, opened the door and pulled her in. The man from the phone was at the table counting money, while the Ghost emerged from the kitchen. Eleanor averted her eyes as soon as she saw him.
"Who knows where we are?" Shepherd demanded.
"Everyone's going to know very soon, Mr. Shepherd," Eleanor said, with only a hint of fear. "You left a wide trail, but that's not your problem." Finally, she turned to the Ghost. "He is."
"Hell you on about?!" he said gruffly, causing Eleanor to take a step back.
"Soon as that money's counted," she continued. "He's going to kill both of you.
"You think we fall for that crap?" the Ghost said. "Turn us on each other? You tell us how long till they come, you talk," he ordered, grabbing Eleanor's chin. "Or I find something to stuff that mouth up."
"I think I'm a little old for you," Eleanor spluttered, and she slapped his hand away. "The man that shot Mr. Crestejo is dead. You will be identified as the ringleader. You two haven't killed anyone, you can let me leave with Davina and get out of the country very rich men."
"The girl's not here--"
"She's in the fridge." Eleanor said, speaking from experience. "You unplugged it and pulled out the shelves. You had to rope it shut, of course, 'cause these days, they don't lock."
"We were gonna tell people where she was--" Shepherd began.
"You were gonna die." Eleanor said. She turned to the Ghost. "'Cause there's something this man wants even more than eight million dollars..."
He was royally pissed off now. "Shut your mouth--!"
"Hey!" the only unnamed kidnapper said. "Lady seems to know a lot..."
"I know everything." Eleanor said defiantly, looking the Ghost straight in the eye. "All the girls he kept, till he was through with them. Till he got bored, or just... broke them down. I even know about the one he dumped in the river before he was sure she was dead."
The Ghost had finally caught on. All of them have. "It's over." she finished. "You can't hurt me anymore."
The Ghost slapped her hard across the face, sending her glasses flying. Blood oozed from her forehead and her cheek was on fire, but she just looked at him again.
"You can't fight a ghost."
The Ghost lunged at her but, with a deafening sound, Mr. Shepherd and the kidnapper put dozens of bullets in his chest. Eleanor took this opportunity to run to the kitchen. She dived down beside the refrigerator and tugged mightily at the ropes until they snapped. She pulled open the door to see Davina, wearing filthy pyjamas, eyes wide."
"We're going now."
She took Davina in her arms and walked from the kitchen.
"Go now." Shepherd said. She nodded. On her way out of the room, Eleanor took one last look at the Ghost, on the floor no longer breathing, covering Davina's eyes.
She didn't make it to the door before it was kicked open.
A beautiful Nepalese woman with dirty blond hair, sharp cheekbones and bronze skin dived into the room, filling Shepherd and the other kidnapper with lead in a matter of seconds. Eleanor fell to the floor in shock, Davina with her. After a moment, the woman looked at her, eyebrow raised.
"I told you to wait."
"There were shots." the woman said simply. "We made a call."
"We were coming out!"
"Is she injured?"
Eleanor looked to Davina. "Are you hurt?". Davina shook her head frantically.
The woman shrugged. "Then get over it." She inspected the table. "The money's here." she called. Within seconds, a team of men in suits were swarming the house. "I want it bagged, and our presence swept in three minutes." a man tapped the woman on the shoulder.
"Sierra, would you like a treatment?"
"After this train wreck of a mission, hell yes."
Eleanor followed them out of the house, Davina clinging to her. "You're okay." Eleanor said. "You're okay, okay? You're free. You're free..."
*
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, get that thing out of my face!"
Echo sounded so lovely when she was annoyed. She sounded lovely even when she wasn't. Echo was always lovely. Alpha missed her.
"It's for the video yearbook," the man filming said. "Say hi to your mom."
The teenage Echo sighed. She was sitting by her school water fountain. "Okay. Hi, Mom! Are we done?"
Alpha was glad he had found this video it was a poor substitute, but just seeing Echo reminded him of how much he missed her...
"Is there someone you'd like to say good-bye to?"
Teenage Echo screwed her face up in thought. "Ditra and Meg, life without you will be meaningless and bleak, my dormies. Oh, and the girls of Sigma Tau, sisters forever. Let's hope those venereal diseases make you all sterile, you snobby-ass pack of hoes!"
"Oh, that's definitely going in. So, what are you planning on doing after graduation?"
"Yeah, I probably should have thought about that!"
Echo was wonderful, but what a por substitute this was. This was before Echo was complete. This was when she was Caroline Farrell. Echo was better now. But she still wasn't perfect.
Alpha picked up the envelope and wrote the message on the front:
'Paul Ballard: Keep Looking'.
"I'd like to take my place in the world," Caroline continued. "Like Mrs. Dundee taught us. Global Recovery, Doctors Without Borders. The world is in need of some serious saving. And I want to travel! Travel around the world as I save it, in a private jet that I pilot and design! Okay, go ahead and laugh, yearbook monkey, I know, I'm such a cliche. What can I say? I want to do everything. Is that too much to ask?"