No Return (The Internal Defense Series) (10 page)

“If I’m dead anyway, it doesn’t matter what I say, does it? So I can do what I’ve wanted to do since they sent me back.” Her eyes, bright with terror and determination, locked with Becca’s. “I can help you stop them.” She swallowed. “If you still want to kill me, I understand. I deserve everything you’d do to me. But… but let me do this first.”

Becca studied Ryann’s posture, the tilt of her head, the movements of her mouth. She replayed the girl’s words in her mind, analyzing every nuance.

Either Ryann was lying very, very well… better than anyone Becca had ever met…

Or she wasn’t lying.

Becca sank back into her seat. “What exactly are you offering to do?”

Ryann drew in her breath sharply. Hope sparked in her eyes. “I can help you find the others,” she said. “There are code words. Things they taught us to say so we could recognize each other. If someone gives the right response, it means they’re one of us.”

“And you’re willing to give us the code?”

Ryann hesitated. “It’s not that easy. They told us to always check back with Internal after someone gives us the code words. To make sure no one is… well… doing what you’re trying to do. If you find any spies that way, you’d have to keep them out of contact with everyone—and Internal would notice if they all started disappearing one by one.” She shook her head. “You need to make sure Internal doesn’t get suspicious until you can get rid of them all at once. Which means…”

“Which means you need to be the one to test them,” Becca finished.

And that meant…

It meant giving her
everyone
.

No one in the resistance had that kind of access. Not Meri, with her sprawling network. Not Becca herself. If she gave a self-admitted spy the names and locations of every resistance member, she might as well march down to 117 and turn herself in right now.

Ryann pushed on before Becca could stop her. “I know what it would mean for you give me that kind of access. And I’ve already shown I can’t be trusted. I know that. There’s nothing I can do to prove I won’t turn you all over to Internal. But I can at least prove I want to stop the other spies.”

Against her better judgment, Becca listened.

“I know one of the others already.” Ryann’s desperate words tumbled over each other. “I… I kept files. Everything he passed to Internal. All his plans for earning the resistance’s trust. I wanted to give it all to Liam—I almost did, a couple of times—but…” Her jaw worked. She blinked rapidly a couple of times before continuing. “But it would have meant telling him what I did, and then either he would have killed me or Internal would have. That doesn’t matter now—either you two are going to kill me, or Internal will once they found out I helped you.” She drew a ragged breath. “I’ll give you the files. You can have your people in Surveillance look at them—the stuff in there should match up with whatever they have on him.”

It wasn’t enough. Not to justify what Ryann was asking for.

But…

She’s telling the truth.

Probably.

She could save the resistance.

Or hand every last one of Becca’s people over to Internal.

Ryann waited for Becca’s answer, trembling.

Becca shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She moved to stand beside Ryann, blocking her escape in case she tried to run.

“It’s…” Ryann’s voice broke. It took her a moment to find it again. “It’s okay. I’ll go with you.” She tried to smile; the expression crumbled halfway through. “I knew it was going to happen eventually anyway. I just didn’t know whether it would be you or them.” She stood unsteadily, bracing herself against the table. “Just look at the file, okay? After? I’ll tell you where to find it. Just… just stop them. Please.”

Becca took a deep breath. Another. Another.

Do what you have to do.

“Becca.”

Becca jumped at the sound of Kara’s voice. She had almost forgotten Kara was there.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Kara. “Alone?”

Becca looked from her to Ryann. Right now it looked like Ryann was using all her strength just to stay upright, but it was only a short distance to the doors. Even a few seconds of inattention and they could lose her.

“I’m not going to run,” Ryann promised. She gave a short laugh that sounded almost like a sob. “Where would I go? Either you’d find me or Internal would.”

“It won’t take long.” Kara’s voice held too much urgency for Becca to ignore.

Without taking her eyes off Ryann, Becca pulled Kara a few steps back from the table, over to a large fake column. The Enforcers gave them a brief glance, then looked away, returning their attention to a man at the entrance who was fumbling for his ID.

Kara kept her eyes on the trembling Ryann as she spoke, pitching her voice too low for the girl to hear. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You think I should hand every member of the resistance over to a spy?”

“I don’t think you have a choice.” Kara wrenched her gaze from Ryann to lock eyes with Becca. “You’re not going to find the other spies fast enough without her. Look how much time it took to figure out that she was working against us. You really think you can find nine more before Internal makes their move?” Kara shook her head. “I’m not saying hand her a list of names right this second. But at least look at the file she mentioned. See if it checks out.”

A few feet away, Ryann lowered her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking with what might have been tears.
Don’t think about it.
“Just letting her walk out of here is a risk. She could go straight to Internal and tell them about this conversation.”

Kara’s face tightened. “You keep talking about risk. First in the meetings, and now here. Everything is too much of a risk for you. But do you really think doing nothing is any safer?”

“I’m only following your father’s advice. Something I should have done from the beginning.”

“And look how well it worked out for him!” Kara raised a hand, stopping herself only inches from hitting the column. It took her another few seconds to get herself under control. “You invited me in because I can see things you can’t. This is one of them. You’re so afraid of taking another risk like the liberation that you’re not looking at the facts. So look at them now.” She spoke her next words precisely, deliberately. “How hard have you all been looking for possible spies? How much has all that work gotten you? And how much more time do we have?”

The questions hit Becca like tiny bombs, exploding one by one.

I can’t risk it. I can’t give the entire resistance to a spy.

But if she did nothing, and the spies destroyed the resistance, would she be able to look the others in the eye and tell them she had done everything in her power to protect them?

I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t.

She crossed the few steps to the table and placed a hand on Ryann’s shoulder. The girl froze under her touch. Becca wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

Jameson would already have taken her out to the clearing and shot her. Quickly. Quietly. Like Raleigh Dalcourt executing a dissident.

Jameson was dead.

“Bring me the file,” she said in her hardest voice.

Slowly, hesitantly, Ryann raised her head.

Becca turned away. She didn’t want to see the relief in Ryann’s eyes.

“Bring me the file,” Becca repeated. “Then we’ll talk.”

Meri sat rigidly on the edge of Becca’s couch, arms folded across her chest. “Absolutely not.”

Becca walked over to the couch, but didn’t sit. “You said the information in the file checked out.”

Meri’s nod was as stiff as her back. “It checked out.”

“Then she told us the truth.”

“She told us the truth about this other spy. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t lying about everything else.” Meri spoke the words like they cost her something. She stared at the far wall with red-rimmed eyes. “Believe me, Becca, I want to trust her. I know what we’ll have to do otherwise. But what she’s asking for… what you’re asking for… you know how impossible it is.”

Of course I know. Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to risk everything—everyone—
Becca smothered the rising panic. She didn’t speak again until she knew Meri would hear only confidence in her voice. “I evaluated her. Everything I saw indicated that she was telling the truth.”

“Evaluations aren’t foolproof,” Meri reminded her. “Especially if someone is trained in how to beat them.” She gave Becca a pointed look. “You should know that better than most.”

Becca crossed her own arms to mirror Meri’s. “How many other potential spies have you found?”

“I’m still looking. So are the others.”

“We’re running out of time. We don’t know how long we have before Internal acts. It could be tomorrow.” All her subtle attempts to elicit information from Vivian had fallen flat, and she knew that if she tried Vivian’s files again she would only run up against the same problem as last time—but with less of an excuse if Vivian caught her.

“And if we hand this girl the entire resistance, and she turns around and gives the names to Internal, how much time will we have then? This is my
network
on the line, Becca. Even assuming she’s telling the truth, what if she’s interrogated? There’s a reason none of us has that kind of knowledge.”

“She won’t have access to everyone. Not at first.”

“No, she won’t have access to anyone else’s network, will she? Only mine.” Meri’s lips pinched like she had bitten down on something sour.

“And I’m sorry to ask you to risk them.” Becca didn’t soften her voice. “But it makes the most sense for you to be the one to work with her. Your network is the most likely to have been infiltrated—it’s the largest, and it’s where we’ve found the only two spies we know about so far.” The second spy, a boy Ryann’s age, had turned out to belong to Meri’s network along with Ryann, although the two didn’t have any contacts in common.

“No.” Meri shook her head. “You know I want to save Ry— the girl. But not at that cost.”

“This isn’t about saving her. This is about saving the resistance. If we don’t do this, we’ll be sorting through useless surveillance reports until Internal—”
No.
She didn’t allow herself to finish the sentence, not even in her mind.
This will work. I will protect them.

And what if Ryann handed them over to Internal? How would she protect them then?

I don’t have a choice.

“This is our best chance,” she assured Meri.
This is our only chance.

“You need to bring this to the others,” said Meri. “This isn’t the kind of decision you can make on your own.”

Becca had gone over that question again and again in the days since Ryann had made her offer. Should she discuss this with the others or not? But the answer remained the same. “Alia will oppose it because it came from me. Sean will want to kill Ryann on the front steps of 117 to prove a point. Peter won’t be able to see beyond his idealism. And Jared will try to bully everyone else into agreeing with me, because that’s worked so well in the past.” She shook her head. “This has to be my decision.”

Meri’s lips tightened into a disapproving line. “That’s never been how we’ve worked. And when they find out you handed my network to a self-admitted spy, after you refused to risk a handful of lives to save the prisoners in that transport… you know how they’ll react.”

Becca’s chest clenched. She ignored it. “I stopped them from going after that transport to protect them. The same reason I’m doing this. They’ll understand.”
I’ll make them understand.

“Think about what you said a minute ago,” said Meri. “Think about your reasons for not bringing this to them. The resistance is already coming apart, and you know it. If you do this, you’ll lose them for good.”

“Then I’ll find something else to tell them. Something they’ll accept.”

Meri was looking at her with an expression Becca had never seen from her before. Something between disapproval and… and fear, she realized.

“Listen to what you’re saying.” Meri spoke too softly, like she was soothing a rabid animal. “You want to lie to them. Put their lives in danger. Do things you know they’ll object to. All for their own good. You’ve heard these justifications before.” She paused for breath, as if working up the nerve to say the rest. “You’ve heard them from Internal.”

This is different. This is necessary.

Was that her voice or her mother’s?

“If this doesn’t work, they’ll die.” The words came out harsh. Rough. Afraid. “I can’t—I don’t know what to—” She snapped her lips closed before the rest of the confession tumbled from her lips. Her ragged breaths filled her ears.

Stop.

She forced her attention to Meri. To the growing apprehension on Meri’s face.

This wasn’t the way to lead them. Not if it made Meri afraid of her. Not if it pushed her away.

Be who she needs you to be.

Carefully, she lowered herself to the couch. She counted her breaths; she didn’t allow herself to speak until they grew steady and even. “I think we need to do this,” she said. “I don’t think we have a choice. But I won’t force you. If you’re not willing to take the risk, we’ll find another way.”

Meri didn’t speak. She sat in silence, staring down at her hands.

Becca waited.

“Are you sure this is our best option?” Meri finally asked.

Becca clamped her mind down on her doubts. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“This may be the hardest thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”

“I know.”

Another long silence.

At last, Meri looked up at Becca. “No names. She can speak to them, but she won’t know who they are. And she’ll be supervised for every meeting.”

Becca let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Thank you.”

Judging by the tension still running through Meri’s body, she didn’t share Becca’s relief. “I’ll meet with her tomorrow.”

“We’re going to protect them,” said Becca. “Your network. Everyone. That’s why we’re doing this.”

Meri’s face showed all the doubts Becca couldn’t allow herself to indulge. “I hope so.”

* * *

Two nights later, as Becca entered her mom’s apartment, her one consolation was that this would be easier than her conversation with Meri.

She hoped.

“I’m sorry about dinner,” she said. “Something came up at work.” Her mom couldn’t object to that, not after how many times she had said the same thing to Becca over the years.

“I’m just happy you made it,” her mom answered from the couch. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten about our talk.”

“There are still three days left until the end of the month,” Becca pointed out.

Her mom sighed. “This isn’t a chore, Becca. I don’t want you thinking of it like that. I’m on your side.” She patted the space on the couch next to her. Reluctantly, Becca crossed the room and sat.

The scene echoed with an eerie familiarity, bringing back dozens of similar moments from her childhood: the moon shining through the window, letting Becca know she should have been asleep by now; her mom, still dressed in her work clothes, relaxing on the couch before bed; Becca sitting next to her, ready to confide in her about whatever was weighing on her mind. Once, she would have squeezed in close and told her mom everything. Her mom would have stroked her hair and comforted her and given her a few bits of advice, and Becca would have gone to bed content.

Now Becca had come here for an interrogation.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” said her mom. “We’re just talking. That’s all.”

How many prisoners in 117 had heard those same words from her?

Don’t think about it. Give her something that will make her happy and get out.

Becca took a deep breath and launched into the story she had rehearsed.

“It started after the breakout.” She lowered her gaze, hoping her mom would see it as a sign of emotion. “Before it happened, I didn’t think what I did made that much difference. I went in every day and did my job, but it didn’t feel…” She gave a calculated shrug. “It didn’t feel important.”

She snuck a glance up to see how her mom was taking it so far. Her mom’s face was a careful blank as she listened.

“Then the prisoners escaped, and I started to understand.” Becca tried to inject a note of feeling into her voice. “The fight against the dissidents isn’t just happening out there, or down in the underground levels. It’s everywhere. It’s there in my evaluation room every day. I could turn in the wrong person. I could let the wrong person go. If I get it wrong, someone dies because of me.” She ran her hands along her pant legs, an imitation of a nervous gesture. “I hardly sleep anymore. Whenever I try, all these pictures start running through my head. Pictures of…” She let her voice trail off. “Every time I do an evaluation now, I wonder if this is going to be the one I screw up, and what will happen if I do.”

It was a good story. Plausible. Half of 117 had been on edge since the breakout. It shouldn’t take much for her mom to believe it had affected Becca too.

At least, that was what Becca was counting on.

“That’s close,” said her mom. “Now tell me the real reason.”

Becca’s heart plummeted to her stomach.

It hadn’t worked.

It hadn’t worked—and she had no other story to give. Nothing that would sound convincing, anyway.

She hesitated a little too long. Her mom sighed. “You promised you would talk to me, Becca. You promised me that you would be honest.” She paused. “But if you’ve decided you’re not willing to do that, the other option is still on the table.”

Talking to the directors. Telling them to watch Becca more closely, to take her support groups away. Cutting her off from the resistance.

No. I’ll make her believe me. I’ll make this work.

She tried for innocence. Prayed for her mom’s willful ignorance to kick in. “I don’t know what you—”

“Stop, Becca.” Her mom sounded simultaneously frustrated and disappointed—the kind of disappointment that only a mother could get right, the kind that could make Becca feel ashamed despite herself. “Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Becca’s blood froze in an instant of blind panic before her mom continued.

“You’re dancing around the edges of the truth, while carefully leaving out the most important parts. You’re giving me a story you rehearsed a hundred times at home. The prisoners try the same thing on me every day—did you really expect me not to notice?” She shook her head. “I thought you respected me more than that. I thought you trusted me more than that.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca’s mind raced. She had to give her mom something. There had to be
something…

Her mom straightened her back and set her jaw like she was preparing for battle. “I’m going to help you, Becca.” Something in her voice made the skin on the back of Becca’s neck prickle.

Excuses ran through her mind.
I still haven’t gotten over Micah.
No.
It’s just work. You know how it is.
She had tried that already, a dozen times over.
Working so close to the prisoners scares me.
Her mom would see through that. Her mom would see through all of them.

Her mom softened her voice. “I happened to read through the records from the breakout the other day. I thought I might find something that would help me with one of my prisoners.” She spoke slowly, carefully, as if her words walked a tightrope. “I never knew, back then, who had handled the evaluation of the dissident responsible for the security breach.”

For a second, Becca’s heart stopped. Then it slammed against her ribcage so hard her body rattled.

She doesn’t know anything.
She brought her breathing under control.
She doesn’t know the part that matters.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Becca couldn’t read her mom’s voice, couldn’t tell whether that tone she heard was concern or accusation.

Becca stared down at her hands, willing them not to start shaking. “There wasn’t any reason to. The investigation didn’t go anywhere.”

“The investi…“ Her mom wrapped her arms around her belly like someone had punched her in the gut. “I could have helped you through it. I could have told you—you and everyone else—that you weren’t responsible. I never even knew you were being investigated.” That strange note had returned to her voice. “I would have put a stop to that so fast—”

“I told you. It didn’t go anywhere.”

“That’s not the
point
—” Her mom stopped herself. Becca could almost see her forcing back the naked pain in her eyes, replacing it with sympathy. “All this time,” she said. “All this time, you’ve been imagining it was your fault, haven’t you?”

It took Becca a second to realize what had just happened. What her mom had just done.

Her mom hadn’t discovered the truth. No—she had handed Becca a better excuse than Becca could ever have dreamed up on her own.

“I don’t have to imagine.” Becca said it like the simple fact it was. “I caused the breakout.”

Meri, of all people, had come up with the plan.
I have an idea,
she had told Becca one day, face pale with excitement and guilt.
I think we can rescue the prisoners from 117.

Which prisoners?
Becca had asked.

All of them.

Convincing the rest of the resistance had taken a month of arguments and pleas. Convincing the resistance member whom Meri had suggested for the mission had taken no time at all.
We’re considering you for a special assignment,
Becca had told her.
Your contact recommended you highly. This will be the most important thing the resistance has ever done—and you’re our best chance of making it work.
The girl had eaten it up. Younger than Becca, passionate in her idealism, she had been ready and willing to help the resistance however she could.

She had been ready and willing to die.

The plan hadn’t been that complicated, really.
You’ll go to 117 and apply for a job. After your interview, they’ll send you to me for your initial evaluation. Read this. Memorize it. This is what you’re going to say to me.
The girl had read back the script exactly as Becca had prepared it. She had said everything necessary to justify Becca classifying her as a potential threat and recommending her immediate arrest.

When you’re interrogated, you’ll need to hold out as long as you can. Long enough to make it believable.
She had held out for two full days, in the end. Longer than Becca would have been able to manage, if it had been her.
You’re going to confess to being part of a plot to bomb 117 to the ground. We’ll provide the evidence. Internal will think they can’t stop it in time. They’ll evacuate the prisoners—and we’ll intercept the transports.

One life in exchange for almost a thousand.

An easy choice.

“Oh, Becca.” Her mom stroked Becca’s hair, like Becca was five years old again. Becca stiffened, but didn’t let herself pull away. “I wish I had known. I wish you had said something.”

It’s okay,
Becca wanted to say.
It’s over. It doesn’t matter.
But that wouldn’t help her here. She needed her mom to believe that this guilt haunted her.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully.” Her mom cradled Becca’s face in her hands. “I read the evaluation transcripts—someone trained that girl very well. Yes, she tricked you, but if it hadn’t been you it would have been someone else.” Becca braced against the assault of sympathy in her eyes. “Sometimes the dissidents win, Becca. Sometimes we do everything we can, and they still win.”

“It didn’t have to happen. If I hadn’t made that one mistake, everything would be different now.” Her pulse beat jaggedly against her mom’s hands. She forced herself to keep still.

“And what about her interrogator? What about the analysis team that reviewed the evidence? Yes, you made a mistake. But you didn’t make it alone.” Her mom gripped her hands harder. “You are part of Internal, but you are not Internal. You can’t win—or lose—this fight on your own. None of us can expect that of ourselves, and no one expects it of you.”

She pulled Becca into a hug. Her familiar smell enveloped Becca—the smell of soap and skin and the underground levels. For a moment, Becca could almost forget that this was an interrogation.

But she couldn’t allow herself to forget.

“You don’t have to hold on to this anymore,” her mom murmured. “You can let go.”

Let go.
The same thing Micah had said.

Becca wrenched free.

“I’ll try.” She gave her mom the best imitation of a smile she could manage. “Thank you for talking with me. It helped.”

“Hold on.” Her mom reached for Becca again. “What happened just now?”

Becca shifted aside before her mom could touch her. “Nothing happened. I said I’d try.”

“We were getting somewhere. And then you just… shut off again. Like someone flipped a switch.” She paused, scrutinizing Becca’s face with narrowed eyes. “You have no intention of letting go of this, do you?” The sympathy in her voice had changed to helpless frustration. “You’d rather let this eat away at you until you collapse.”

“We talked. It helped. I don’t know what else you want.” She cut off her defensive tone. Replaced it with another smile.

“I want you to be the Becca you used to be!”

The outburst startled both of them into silence.

Her mom spoke first. “You can’t go on like this, Becca. You can’t go through life as this… this zombie you’ve become. You need to come to terms with what happened, and you need to let—”

“And what about you?” Becca interrupted. “When are you going to let go of what happened to you three years ago? When are you going to even admit that something is wrong?” She met her mom’s eyes, waiting for her mom to look away.

But her mom held her gaze. “Yes, I was arrested. I was interrogated. I was nearly executed. But I don’t bear any grudge against Internal for that. They did the right thing, given the information available to them at the time—I would be a hypocrite if I said I wouldn’t have done the same. They offered their apologies three years ago, and I accepted. It’s over, Becca, and it’s been over for me for years.” Her voice didn’t waver; her eyes were sincere.

Becca could almost believe she was telling the truth.

“Right,” said Becca. “That’s why you don’t sleep anymore. That’s why you punched the wall so hard it left a dent.” Her voice rose. “You think the only reason I don’t come here anymore is that I don’t want to hear you asking me what’s wrong? Sometimes I see something in your eyes that I don’t even—” She clamped her mouth shut. Took a breath, and another.

When she spoke again, her voice was clipped. “You can’t tell me to let go until you’re willing to do it yourself.”

Her mom went utterly still. Like a statue carved from ice, like a snake poised to strike.

“This has nothing to do with me,” she bit out, each syllable as cold as the night outside. “This has nothing to do with three years ago.” Her voice dropped another few degrees. “Do I make myself clear?”

Becca barely stopped herself from nodding against her will.

Her mom continued as if Becca had agreed. “Now drop these childish attempts at changing the subject and listen to me. This has gone far enough. You’re going to sit right there on that couch until we work this out. You are not leaving this apartment until I see my daughter—my real daughter—sitting in front of me again, do you understand?”

Becca’s phone buzzed.

Her mom glared at the phone as if she could shatter it with her gaze. “Don’t answer that.”

Becca looked down at the screen. She didn’t recognize the number.

“Don’t answer that, Becca. Are you listening to me?”

The phone buzzed again.

Becca stood. Ignoring the daggers of frost her mom shot after her, she stepped into the kitchen.

Her mom’s voice followed her. “I’m warning you, Becca, don’t answer—”

Becca answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Um… hello?” said a mousy-voiced woman Becca didn’t recognize. “Is this Becca Dalcourt?”

“Who is this?”

The woman cleared her throat nervously. “You run the support groups? At 117? I’m, um, I’m thinking of joining.”