The Determining (9 page)

Charlie fought to keep from slapping Ruth. She curled her hands into tight fists, focusing on holding them by her sides.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie spoke in a warning tone. “Get this straight, Ruth: just because you can’t find a man to deal with all your shit doesn’t mean you can take it out on me. The fact that you’re single is your fault, not mine.” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. But, after the night she’d had, she couldn’t bring herself to apologize.

Surprise and hurt played across Ruth’s face in quick succession before her features settled on rage. “Watch yourself, Charlotte. I’m not someone you want as an enemy.”

“Well, you clearly don’t want to be my friend. What other choice do I have?” Charlie spun on her heel, intent on walking away, when gunshots rang out over the music.

Frantic screams and panicked shouts pierced the air. She stood frozen in place. Her eyes darted around the room, seeing but not comprehending. Her mother’s face, Drew, colored skirts, guards rushing into the room, and then the man. When her eyes fell on him, her mind focused.

He stood on the bandstand next to a microphone. He held Councilman Zeidler in front of him, gun digging in the Councilman’s back. Dark circles framed the gunman’s resolute eyes and his cheeks looked hollowed out. A few days worth of stubble shadowed his face. Compared to the immaculately groomed men in the room, these details distinguished him but hardly made him stand out. If it weren’t for the weapon in his hand and the bulletproof vest beneath his dress jacket, he would have appeared normal. Forgettable.

The hand holding the pistol extended upwards, pointing toward the ceiling. He squeezed the trigger. A lantern overhead crackled with sparks. They rained down on the gunman, but it didn’t faze him. He looked down from the stage at the crowd of guests that ran about in a chaotic jumble. A frown crossed his face and he pulled the trigger again. The bullet hit another lantern, sending more sparks cascading to the ground.

“Be quiet and stand still,” he shouted, the microphone amplifying the command. In an instant, the guests slowed their movements, swallowing their cries. “Much better.”

The voice was wrong to be Nemo’s. It wasn’t deep enough. But that didn’t mean this man wasn’t connected to him. Charlie’s fists clenched. Betrayal pulsed though her as she watched the scene unfold. She’d been an idiot to believe the stranger. Now it was too late to do anything other than watch.

His eyes roamed over the crowd. Every few seconds he would pause over a single person. He seemed to be memorizing every detail, then without warning would look away. After a moment, his eyes fell on her. A wide smile pulled at his mouth, sending a chill rushing down her spine.

“Miss Grey, if you would join me on stage.” He waved her forward with his gun hand.

Charlie looked around for a guard. She spotted a group of them congregated by the door. They eyed the gunman, speaking in hushed voices. They couldn’t do anything until the man released Councilman Zeidler and they knew it.

She didn’t know how, but her feet carried her forward. The sea of guests parted, providing her with a straight path to the stage. She’d crossed half of the dance floor when someone called to her from the crowd.

She turned and saw Drew at the edge of the assembly. His face looked white and his eyes widened with fear. “Charlie … .”

She sent him a reassuring smile but didn’t stop, even when he reached out for her. Her feet carried her closer to the shooter despite the fear racing though her veins. As she was about to climb the few steps to the bandstand, a hand grabbed her. Charlie glanced behind her, expecting to find see Drew but finding a guard instead.

“I wouldn’t do that.” The shooter’s voice warned.

The guard didn’t seem to notice. “Miss Grey.” The words held a question, as if asking her what she was thinking.

Despite her fear, Charlie pulled her hand away. “I’ll be fine.” She could tell from his eyes that he didn’t believe her but he didn’t try to stop her as she continued up the steps. On the stage, she paused a few feet away from the man.

He frowned. “Closer, Miss Grey.”

Charlie inched forward and the man’s frown deepened, impatient. He moved toward her, released Zeidler, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her back with him toward the microphone. Zeidler didn’t spare a second to even glance at Charlie before scurrying off the stage and into the crowd.

“That’s better. You’re much prettier than that old bastard.”

This close to him, Charlie could detect the scent of charcoal, pine, and earth clinging to his clothes. “What do you want?” The microphone picked up her voice, throwing it out across the ballroom.

With his free hand, he leaned toward the microphone, speaking into it. “I want to make a point. Answer one question for me.”

Charlie glared. “Fine.”

“Are you happy with your Determining?” He held the microphone in front of her mouth, waiting for her answer.

Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. She looked out at the party guests, all who watched her with horrified fascination. She spotted Richard in the crowd, his jaw tense. He gave a slight twitch. “Of course.” Her voice came out strong and steady.

The gunman shook his head in mock disappointment. “Come now, Miss Grey, let’s be honest with each other. Let me ask you again.” He lifted the pistol, pointing it at her head. “Are you happy with your Determining?”

Charlie turned and looked past the weapon, straight into his eyes. “You already know the answer.”

“Yes, I do.” He watched her for a moment then lowered the gun, but kept it trained on her. “And now they do, too.” Charlie looked out toward the guests. Every one of them stood frozen with eyes riveted on her and her captor. She looked back to him when he spoke again. “Would you like to hear a secret?” Charlie didn’t respond. “I’m not happy with my Determining, either. But there is nothing to be done about it. It’s legally binding.”

“What use is holding me at gunpoint if you know nothing will change for you?”

“The future isn’t written in stone. Nor is it encoded on a chip.” Something close to sympathy filled his eyes, catching Charlie off guard. “Our lives are Determined, but that won’t stop a change from coming.”

“And how is this going to help?” She nodded toward the gun.

He startled her by pushing the microphone, stand and all, down on the stage. The loud thump crackled over the speakers. He leaned in, whispering in her ear: “I’m not the one making the change. I’m the diversion.”

Suddenly, he pushed her to the ground. In the hand that had held her moments before, he held a smoke grenade. Before any of the guards could react, he pulled the pin, throwing the grenade into the crowd. In seconds, the room filled with red smoke.

The gunman squatted next to Charlie. “Nemo thanks you for your help.” Then he disappeared into the red cloud.

“Nemo thanks you for your help.”

The words distracted Charlie from the frantic shouts echoing from the smoke. She needed to know what was going on, what Nemo had planned. But the gunman had vanished.

“Miss Grey.”

Charlie focused on the woman crouching in front of her. She looked a few years older than her and wore the dark blue uniform of a medic.

“Are you hurt?” Her eyes traveled over Charlie, looking for any sign of injury.

“No, I’m fine.”

The smoke began to clear behind the woman. Charlie could just make out the forms of City Guards and medics swarming into the room.

“I need to check you. Just in case.” The woman laced her voice with a soothing tone.

Charlie glanced back at her. “I told you, I’m fine. I just want to find my family.”

“They’re being taken care of. This will only take a moment.”

She held a scanner in her hand. Before Charlie could react, the woman reached out and grabbed her arm. A pulsing blue light illuminated her skin. Not only did her chip contain all her medical records, it also monitored her body for any irregularities. It would know if her blood pressure was high, if she was pregnant, whether she had sustained any internal injuries, and a number of other pieces of information that would be vital in a trauma situation.

The smoke dissipated enough for Charlie to clearly make out other people in the room. She watched a nearby medic as he went from person to person, scanning their chips and moving on. Her eyes flicked back to the woman before her, an uneasy feeling curling around her stomach.

“Is it supposed to take this long?”

The medic shot her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, the scan is almost complete.”

“Why is my scan taking so long?”

“This scanner has been acting up; it must need a software upgrade.” The woman gave her an apologetic smile. “Damn technology.”

Charlie looked back to the other medics. Their scanners were all working fine. Then she noticed that the light their scanners emitted was red, not blue. Something wasn’t right about this. Charlie tried to pull her wrist back, but the woman wouldn’t let her go.

“You aren’t a medic.”

The reassuring expression faded. “No, I’m not.”

Panic made Charlie’s heart race. She fought harder to escape from the woman’s grip. “Let me go,” she hissed.

“I can’t do that, Miss Grey.”

“You’re working with Nemo.” The medic gave no reply, didn’t even flinch at the accusation. “What are you doing to my chip?”

The scanner beeped and the blue light disappeared. “Thank you again, Miss Grey.”

Charlie wasn’t going to let her get away. She launched herself at the imposter. They ended up on the floor in a heap of arms and legs. Charlie tried to pin the woman to the ground, but the fabric of her dress limited her range of motion. She ended up face down with the assailant sitting on top of her. Charlie bucked wildly but couldn’t unseat her.

“Tell me what you want from me.” The woman’s weight cut off Charlie’s air supply, making her voice come out strained.

“Be a good girl and don’t say anything to the City Guard.”

“Don’t count on it,” Charlie spat.

The woman leaned down, hissing in her ear. “The only reason you’re still alive is because we were given orders not to kill you. If you tell anyone what happened tonight, those orders won’t mean anything. Keep that in mind when the detectives question you.” Charlie felt a sharp pain in her head and her vision went blurry. When her sight cleared, the woman was gone, replaced by a man. A real medic this time. The nametag pinned to his uniform read
Nolan Smith
.

“Are you hurt?” He reached for his scanner. Within seconds, it processed the information on her chip.

“My head hurts.”

Nolan glanced down at the tablet attached to the scanner. “You aren’t registering a concussion. The pain will subside.” Something on the tablet made him pause. He looked back at her, eyes wide. “You’re Miss Charlotte Grey?”

“Yes.” Charlie answered tentatively.

“I need you to come with me.” He reached for her. She shrunk back. She’d been grabbed one too many times tonight. He pulled his hand away. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Where do you want to take me?”

“The City Guards need to question you about the gunman. We were given orders to bring you to the commander if we found you.” He grabbed his pack, gesturing for her to follow him.

Charlie scanned the crowd, trying to spot familiar faces as they walked toward the exit. She saw no sign of Drew or her parents, but she knew they had to be there. Ruth sat at a table with a few other women. She expected Ruth to glare, but when their eyes met she saw only shock in her friend’s eyes.

At the ballroom doors, two intimidating City Guards stopped Charlie and Nolan. “You can’t leave until you’ve been processed.”

“This is Charlotte Grey,” Nolan explained.

Both guards turned to Charlie. “I still need to scan you for identification,” one said, studying her.

Charlie offered up her wrist to the guard nearest her. He scanned her chip, then nodded. “You’re all set, Miss Grey.”

The scene outside the ballroom mirrored the one inside. Medics tended to anyone with injuries while the City Guards took statements from the few guests and staff who hadn’t been inside the ballroom during the incident.

Nolan stopped one of the guards. “Where is the detective in charge?” The guard nodded to a man standing across the room speaking with one of the private security guards. “I’ll be right back.”

Charlie watched Nolan walk across the room. He spoke to an older man for a moment before turning around and pointing to her. He received a pat on the back before the man ambled over to her.

He stood no taller than Charlie, but his commanding presence made her feel like he towered above her. He extended his hand. “Miss Grey, I’m Detective Benton.”

She gave his hand a firm shake. The fake medic’s warning still lingered in the back of her mind. “Should we get down to business, detective?” She spoke with self-assurance, refusing to be intimidated.

He nodded. “If you’ll follow me.”

Charlie pointed a remote toward the television. The screen hummed and came to life. She started surfing through the channels, searching for any news about her party. After a minute of clicking from channel to channel, she stopped. A female anchor spoke. On the right of the screen was a picture of Richard with the caption, “Political or Personal Attack?”

Settling into the couch, her eyes remained glued to the broadcast.

“…Guards were called to the Portestas Country Club. The club, which was hosting the coming-out ball for Councilman Grey’s daughter, Charlotte, was stormed by a group of armed terrorists.” Clips of terrified guest stumbling from the country club replaced the anchor while she continued speaking. “Although the exact number is unknown, eyewitnesses have confirmed that at least one gunman managed to gain entry into the ballroom where the party was being held. A number of personal security guards were subdued during the incident, leading officials to believe the gunman had additional help when he entered the ballroom.”

The screen changed to a shot of the City Guards surrounding the club. “Witnesses tell us the man, who is still unidentified, held Miss Grey at gunpoint before utilizing a smoke grenade to escape. Officials are still attempting to uncover the motive behind the gunman’s actions. If anyone has information pertaining to this investigation, you are encouraged to contact authorities.