The Syndicate (3 page)

I shift my gaze to Petric, who’s leaning back in his seat. He smiles when we make eye contact. It’s a devious smile. That’s his weakness. He’s so confident that he barely does his homework on his assignments. It’s a dangerous way to think, but he says it’s the only way he finds fun in what we do.

The veterans are in their seats, with looks of boredom. Alexandru is messing with his manicure, and the others are either playing with their suit buttons or picking lint from their sleeves. They’ve heard this pep talk dozens of times, and there’s no mistaking…we all want one thing: to walk out of these doors so we can do what we’re born to do.

It’s seven o’clock when we adjourn. We’re permitted a few respectful hugs with the Readers and our Brothers, and then we’re whisked off to a dinner prepared by our house chefs. Elders, Readers, Shadows, Guards, and Scouts. It’s the one time a month that we’re all in one room together, and we feast and feast. And feast some more. It’s like Thanksgiving times ten.

Our dining room table fits all of us comfortably, and there’s enough food to feed an army. Then again, I guess that’s exactly what we are. Henri and Stefan take charge of the conversation as always—this time making jokes about the government. It causes me to reflect on something my father taught me: don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Stick up for yourself, but have respect and be grateful for what is given to you. Henri and Stefan seem to have missed that life lesson.

They take it upon themselves to protect society because that’s what’s in their blood. But they’re arrogant leaders. They have no problem demanding outrageous amounts of compensation from the government, because, without us, this world would be in chaos.

Tonight their stories consist of how worried the president looked at their last meeting, how he was nearly begging for us to get rid of every Hybrid in the world. That’s our goal, but it doesn’t work like that. Our families have been after them for years, and, just when we think they’re extinct, they reappear decades later, stronger, faster, and more adapted into society.

They’ve almost reached the point where you can’t differentiate them from an uninfected human. In fact, the masses couldn’t pick a Hybrid out of a lineup if their lives depended on it. The only reason we’re able to is because of our training.

There are subtle things, like the yellow hue in the whites of the eyes. It resembles jaundice, but more unnatural. Same thing with the fingernails. An unhealthy yellowing to them, and then the skin is extra dry. Aside from that, a Hybrid’s spine is wider than usual at the neck, but that’s not easily noticeable when clothed.

That’s what makes this generation of Hybrids so unsettling. Listening to Henri and Stefan joke confidently about the times really bothers me. Anxious to be dismissed, I head straight to my room.

Finally alone, I remove the papers from my pocket and unfold the thin sheets: William Simons Stafford III (VA) and Riley Lee Bennett (MD). I barely finish reading the names and locations when my sister bursts into the room.

“Ugh, those dinners are getting so annoying. How do all those egos fit in one room?”

I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “I know. It didn’t used to be like that.”

“How do you know? You’ve only been in the Circle for five months.”

My head tilts. “Come on, Rosie. You know I used to sneak around these halls when Dad was alive, always listening in on what I could. I looked up to the Circle. They stood for something.”

“They still do,” she says.

“Yeah, but I keep thinking it’s not about the people first. It’s about the glory now.”

She makes her way over to my bed and sits. “You might be right.” Looking at my hands, she sees the papers. “So, what did we get?”

I show her the names. “William and Riley. So an older guy and a younger guy.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

“Well, William is an older person’s name and Riley is definitely a cool name. It’s a shame. I bet he’s cute too.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying. He probably was, before he was infected.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Her shoulders sink. “I know.”

Rosie still has difficulty separating our assignments from the people they used to be, but we have to. We can’t worry about the person who was lost. They’re no longer human, no longer safe for society. They have to go.

She hands me back the papers. “Well. It’s still interesting. I bet I’m right, though.”

“Doubt it,” I say, giving her a nudge.

“Whatever. I’m always right. Anyway. I’ll find out. Which one do you want me to scout first?”

I can see that she’s bored and anxious to start her next challenge. She’s essentially my eyes and ears. The Readers give us a name and rough location, and we have to find them. I got lucky this time. Both of my assignments are nearby, so hopefully, not a lot of traveling. Rosie will find out exactly where they are and what they do. She’ll have their routine down to a science, and then I’ll decide exactly when and where to eliminate them. I look at the names.

“Find William first.”

She rolls her eyes. “I knew you were going to say that. Fine. Old boring guy it is.”
I give her a light shove off my bed and she leaves with her shoulders low, but I know she’ll pick up her step once out of my room. She loves her job.

There’s nothing like a nosy girl getting the green light to dig into someone’s business. She’ll probably have all the info I need on William Stafford III before the week is up. Then, I’ll get rid of him and move on to our next target.

Four days go by before Rosie has what I need. She comes in my room just as I’m about to fall asleep.

“Okay,” she says. “This William guy is a tough one.”

I almost want to ask her to come back in the morning, but knowing she’s put in a lot of hours, I sit up and turn on the small table lamp.

“What’s up?” I ask, my eyes still adjusting to the light.

“Well, he’s a freakin’ senator.”

My eyes widen. “You’re pulling my leg.”
These Hybrids are stopping at nothing.
Turning such a public figure is risky.

“No I’m not. Trust me. William Stafford III lives in Northern Virginia with his wife and two teenage sons, and he travels to D.C. every morning on the Metro.” I make a face, and she says, “Yeah, I know.” And then she continues, “He eats a BLT sandwich and a diet coke everyday—”

I put my hand up to stop her. I’ll get the details later. First I need to take in the major one.

“A senator, you say?”

“Yes.”

“How the hell are we going to make him disappear without drawing too much attention to it?”

“No clue,” she says. “That’s your job.”

I ignore the convenient way she pulls herself out of the challenge. “You’re sure this is our target?”

“Yes, I’m sure. And it wasn’t easy. I ended up having to sit right behind him on the subway to try to get a glimpse of his neck for confirmation. He’s definitely one.”

I give her a hug for her effort, and that’s rare for me. I’m not an affectionate person, but she deserves more than one of Henri’s lame pats on the back.

“Thanks,” I tell her.

She leans into me. “Sure.”

“We’ll talk more about Mr. Senator tomorrow, and I’ll map out my plan.”

She nods and then gives me a look of worry. Almost like it’s just hit her that all this work she’s done to find William will end with me going up against a high-profile Hybrid.

“What? Little sis. You don’t think I can handle an old guy?”

She laughs. “No. Well, yes, I know you can handle him. I’m just not sure when you’ll get a chance. He always has people around him. There’s barely a window…”

“Okay stop. I’m tired and just want to sleep and figure this out tomorrow. You can tell me what you know then.
After
breakfast.”

“You’re sick. How can you think about food and a Hybrid at the same time?”

I shove her head, but she elbows me in my ribs and jumps up before I can counter.

***

The following morning, I’m eating breakfast alone when Henri enters. It’s early, so I know it will just be the two of us for a while, because my brothers won’t wake until at least eleven.

He sits with his coffee and a muffin, which he eats with a fork and knife.

“Good morning, Henri.”

“Yes. It is.” He looks at me and begins stirring in the cream and sugar. “Any progress on your Hybrids?”

I finish chewing. It’s unusual for him to want a progress report. “Yes,” I answer, trying not to frown.

“Good. Because reports of completion are already coming in.”

I get the feeling he’s challenging me. The Guards don’t talk amongst themselves about their assignments, so I never know who my brothers have or when they’ve completed their tasks. For some reason, Henri feels the need to rush me. And I don’t like it.

“That’s good news,” I respond with a nod.

“Yes,” he answers dryly, taking a sip of his coffee.

I make finishing my breakfast a priority, although Henri doesn’t seem to have the same plan. He pulls out a newspaper, but, instead of reading, he keeps talking to me.

“You’re close, I assume?”

I nod.

“Good.”

I’m finally done with my eggs and toast, so I stand to put my plate in the kitchen.

“Remember what I told you,” he says.

We make eye contact, and I can’t help feeling like he wants to say something else. But I nod again and walk away.

Rosie meets me in my room and we talk about William. She tells me everything, from what time he wakes up, to what Metro line he takes, to when he gets home, to when he takes out his garbage. I can’t kill him on the Metro, and, since his wife takes him to and from the station every day, I can’t get him in his car. I’m certainly not going to kill him at the Capitol. And according to Rosie, he’s a straight-up family man. Never goes out without his wife or one of his kids.
He must be newly turned
, I think. No signs of violent, erratic behavior yet. So how do I kill a family man with a ticking time bomb inside him?

Contemplating, I focus on her last detail.

“It’s trash night, you say?”

Her eyes get wide. “Yes.”

“Well then. William, our Hybrid, is going out with his own trash tonight.”

Rosie smiles and nods in approval.

I get dressed right after dinner, choosing my black fatigues for comfort and camouflage after dark. Next, I decide on my black Timberland boots, more for traction than speed. William will need to be taken down at close range, so I also head to our weapon room.

Hidden behind a floor-to-ceiling wall painting of a Romanian mountain range is the entryway. Through it is a narrow hallway that leads to our underground training room and weapons chamber. I choose knives, and at the last minute decide on a handgun in case he gets away, which I don’t anticipate.

He lives in a cul-de-sac along with three other homes. His house sits farthest from the road, and his driveway is long, which gives me a lot of leeway. At just after dark, I’m waiting in the tree line that borders William’s property. The only thing I’m hoping is that other neighbors don’t take out the trash at the same time as he does. Other than that, this should be an easy kill and removal.

I make myself comfortable and sit up against the base of a tree with my knife in my lap. Not knowing how long I’ll be here, I decide to take out a power bar and start snacking. Not because I’m hungry or need energy, but because it relaxes me. I don’t like to overthink things, especially right before an attack. I do the thinking beforehand. Now, I prefer to let my instincts take over.

I’m down to my last bite when I hear the garage door open. Quickly, I stuff the wrapper in my pocket and wrap my fingers around the knife.

As he makes his way down the driveway, he brings with him the grinding sounds of the trash bin’s plastic wheels on asphalt. I decide to wait until he’s dropped the bin off at the curb and is on his way back.

I’m taken by surprise when he starts whistling. Either these Hybrids are really evolving, or this guy has really
just
been changed. But, it can’t be too recent. His spine is already changing. Rosie saw it. He is one.

He makes his way back up the driveway, and all that’s left between us is the black of night. I make my move. At first, his eyes widen, as he doesn’t know what’s pouncing from the trees.

He’s unsure whether to scream or shout. I’m intruding on his property.
What am I? Is it a deer or a fox? No,
I think,
the black haze coming for you is your death.

He’s so shocked, I almost think he’s human. His lips part in confusion. I’m about to hesitate until I notice his incisors advance from his gums. Nearly drooling in preparation for a defense, he prepares himself to do what the Hybrid nature in him wants to do, except it’s too late. I slice my saber across his throat, deep enough to silence any potential noise.

I swing myself around him, grabbing the top of his hair, being sure to hold his head still so he can’t bite me. He jerks back and forth and tries to growl, but the only sound that comes is gurgling. Wildly, his hands grip at my arms, scratching and digging as his nails extend.

Wasting no more time, I finish him by severing the base of his neck.

His body goes limp immediately. I return my knife to my pant-leg pocket and stuff him in a special sack that tonight, ironically, resembles a trash bag. I then hoist him over my shoulder and carry him to the trunk of one of our “family cars.” This one is a dark grey Lincoln, resembling an unmarked police car. All of this occurs within forty seconds from the time I initiated the kill.

I drive off, leaving it to the police to figure out the mystery of what happened. His family will be distraught at first, I’m sure, but they’ll be better off in the long run—not really knowing
what
he was.

I
pull into the garage as Dani is unloading his own trash bag.

“Waz up, bro?” he says.

“Nothing much. You?”

“Nothing here.”

We drag our bags over to the incinerator, where the Hybrids disappear from a world we won’t allow them to live in. Neither one of us discusses any details about our targets. The Guard is not about bragging or telling tales. What we do is about upholding a code, not boasting about it.