After receiving the message from the strange clown, Reina shifted to the right with her chair and moved forward to cover the monitor from the hidden cameras, which she assumed were in the corners of the room opposite the entrance-she hadn't looked for them specifically, they were perfectly camouflaged, and searching would have raised the suspicions of her employers.
Her first inclination was to turn off the computer and pretend that nothing had happened. But when she looked at the screen again, in place of the message was an open folder of books, the message had self-deleted. Breathing in and out, Reina poked randomly at the first file she could find - she had to act natural and pretend she was reading.
If this Dr. M. had managed to hack into the system and send a disappearing message, he must have taken care of the cameras, too. Or did he? Or is this a test and a report should be written that there's a renegade in Subject 326?
What nonsense. She's too small, it's easier to eliminate her than to check her.
But what if it is a routine inspection, and all the employees received such a report? Whoever reports, stays, whoever doesn't speak, gets scrapped. At such sites they took people of a certain type, studied the psychological portrait of each for a long time. She herself had a degree in psychology and for six months she held a post at the military academy - she tested the students to understand whether this man belonged in the ranks of certain troops.
It turns out that the renegade is also a good psychologist, since he counted her doubts. So he is watching through the cameras, analyzing every gesture. The superiors are watching, too; does that mean they've figured it out?
What to do? Who is the renegade working for? Russia? China? The Arabs?
Reina has long wanted to jump out, and now the opportunity presents itself. But won't her situation get any worse? Or is there nowhere to make it worse, and everyone in the operation, along with the children, will be destroyed? That makes the most sense. Reyna turned on the audio-it was impossible to imitate reading.
How would the experiment be curtailed? She would simply blow the gas at night, taking out valuable employees the night before. No one would be frightened or suffer. It would be too expensive to destroy the Object itself, there are tons of expensive equipment. Or there are no suitable systems that can be used to release the gas and everyone will be shot?
I craved a gas mask. Her imagination caught the sweet smell of acacia, and Reina felt dizzy. "Sarin," she thought, and prepared to die, but soon realized she was imagining things.
She'd buried herself more than once, but she still wasn't ready to die. She was only twenty-seven, all her life she had been doing someone else's bidding: first in obedience to her parents, then - numerous bosses. Now she finally realized that more than anything she wanted to live in a bamboo hut somewhere in the Philippines, collecting shellfish in the surf with her children, her own or adopted.
Her parents were trying to educate her to be a socially significant member of society, and she would teach her children to enjoy the simple little things. But first she has to learn how to do it herself. Will she be allowed to?
Time has turned into a thick, molten tar. A monotonous voice said something and said something - she did not understand. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling, trying to decide whether or not she should report Dr. M.'s message. In the end she decided that in all probability she had been written off, and it was better to take her chances and keep quiet.
But how could she prepare herself? The best she could do was to stay alert. And in order to stay alert and alert, she needed to sleep, which she couldn't do.
In the end, she managed to fall asleep toward morning, but woke up cheerful and did not take the stimulant.
The day began as usual: first a shower and a workout. Then - reception of the task from the chiefs, breakfast in the canteen with the children and tutors. One shift had to be sent to rest, the other to be collected and instructed.
There were no tasks for today. Although this had happened before, Reina was wary. She studied the children as she ate breakfast; there were thirteen five-year-olds, all of whom behaved normally, no child prodigies among them. Both Gia and the blond boy, Luca, sat at the table with two others-the Latino Miguel, the crybaby Marie. A fifth, a blue-eyed, black-haired boy from the first bedroom, who was alone and bored, was seated with them. What was his name, Rayna knew. It was either Raymond or Edward.
Most likely, the project is closed, because the children in whom the talent was awakened, very quickly died. But as long as the last child is alive, there is hope, which means there probably won't be a sweep anytime soon. After finishing her breakfast, Reina made up her mind and headed over to the children. They sat four at a time, picking at their porridge, some with gusto, some reluctantly.
Leaning over each table, Reyna asked if they tasted good, if no one was hurting them, and listened to mumblings in different languages. That left three blacks, three mestizos, two Asians, a Hispanic, an Arab, and three whites, six boys and seven girls. This was about the percentage of different races from the beginning.
But
nothing happened during the afternoon or evening, and the children
were still thirteen.
The restlessness subsided a little, and
Reyna managed to fall asleep. The next morning and afternoon brought
nothing special either, I wondered if the message of the mysterious
Dr. M. But in the evening, back in her room, in her underwear drawer
Reina found an orange ribbon and a note: "When you get a signal,
tie the ribbon on your arm, so that you can be identified by your
own.
A friendly... So Dr. M. works for the team, and where was security looking? Or is it not a team, but random people recruited on the spot, just like her? Still, you have to hand it to the renegade, he's an excellent psychologist, since none of the recruits reported upstairs.
Still, there will be a sweep. Or not a sweep, but an attack on the base?
Asked by anyone where the base was, Reina wouldn't answer because she didn't know. In signing the paperwork, she guaranteed that she would not inquire into her whereabouts and pledged not to try to break into rooms she didn't have access to.
When she flew into Tucson, she drove to Green Valley, where they were waiting for her, got into a windowless van, and was driven for about an hour. Then, blindfolded, she was transferred to another vehicle, judging by the sway and sound of the engine, a helicopter. They flew for about half an hour. The blindfold wasn't removed until the elevator underground.
The base could be anywhere, either in the middle of the prairies or in the mountains, or on the outskirts of the city among residential homes. It could also be in Mexico. It either has no windows or is partially or entirely underground.
Before, before acting on her own, Reina had tried to foresee all the details of the operation, to think through the basic plan and a few backup plans, but now nothing depended on her, all that was left was to trust the mysterious Dr. M.
The thought of something happening to him and the whole thing going down the drain was a chilling horror in my insides. What are you doing, Rayna? Have you lost your mind?! There's still time to turn in a renegade who's definitely on base somewhere, otherwise how did he get access to the home network?
And since he risked a confrontation, it means this man can do something, and has such connections that the agents managed to infiltrate the heart of the metacorporation.
A conceited thought occurred to him that MANGA was a young organization, only six months old, and therefore poorly protected, without an extensive network of informants and agents of influence. And if the betrayal is uncovered, you can make a career and get a salary with many zeros. The prospect opened turned her head, Reina sat down at the computer, created a document and got ready to write another report, which was due by eight pm.
You miscalculated, you renegade. The CIA takes people of a certain breed. She smiled and started the report, but with every letter she wrote the smile slid off her face.
Let's say she turns in the doctor, but what does she get in return? She has no connection with the founders. The man to whom she sends the reports would get the laurels, and she wouldn't even get a thank you or a bonus. Probably wouldn't change their minds, either.
She grinned. No, mysterious renegade, you are not mistaken, and all perfectly calculated, because you too are a man of a certain type.
Thinking about what he was, this unknown puppeteer, and what forces he served, Reina imbued with immense respect for his intelligence and logic, she wanted to be part of this force, because the fatigue and anxiety was replaced by the excitement of a wild beast, ambushing the hunter.
If only she knew where the weapons were.
The lights flickered and went out, then came back on a moment later. The doors swung open with a sigh. The cameras were probably out, too. Was that the signal? Reina stared at the screen and cursed: there was no connection to the home network. How was she supposed to get orders? She darted to the underwear drawer and tied an orange ribbon around her shoulder so they could identify her. She glanced at the screen again and was dumbfounded; there was the text message:
"Wait in your room."
Perfect! It was 7:30 p.m. sharp. Exhausted with anxious anticipation, she tried to figure out how this order had leaked, and found a new home network. Out of a long-standing habit, she suppressed her curiosity, didn't look for who she was linking, praised the renegade hacker for his promptness.
Something banged upstairs, making the walls shake. Shouting and clattering sounded. A pistol with a silencer coughed three times, a sound Raina could never mistake.
So it was an armed raid after all, not a sabotage from within, a renegade lied about liquidating Project Awakening.
The guards ran past, out of touch with the center and unaware of what was going on. Reina thought gloatingly of the good old radios - relying on new technology, they had neglected them and paid the price for it. Base security should be shot!
Activity
had ceased nearby-obviously, the guards had scrambled upstairs. I
wonder what's up there? Have those who communicate with the center
been neutralized? But even if the alarm was transmitted, it would
take at least half an hour to get here. So the time is running out:
the clock is nineteen twenty.
Footsteps were heard again. The
man was not running, walking confidently, but in a bit of a hurry. He
slowed at the door... A middle-aged man in jeans and a T-shirt, with
an orange bandage on his arm, looked into Reina's room. The doctor
who had tried to drain the girl healer, Reyna recognized him by his
gray hair.
- Are you Dr. M? - she inquired, and the man shook his head. - What is our function?
- To bring the children out, they're very valuable," he answered. - You're wearing bedroom eight, I'm wearing bedroom six. We have forty minutes, then they'll blow the base.
That's how it is...
- Shall we go?
- Not yet. We wait for the signal.
Sighing, Reina said:
- I suppose it's no use asking what's going on upstairs, you've been recruited recently, too.
- Exactly," he nodded and walked into the room, letting the elderly caregiver Lucia in, wiggling her leg.
- What's going on? - she asked, trying to sound concerned, her monobrow quivering, the black hairs above her lip rising like antennae, but her voice ringing with metal-another person of a certain kind.
Reina shrugged, covering her blindfold because Lucia didn't have one.
- Shooting. Probably an armed raid, need to take the guards' weapons and fight back.
- When do we wait for backup? - Again there was a falsity in Lucia's voice.
- How should I know? There is no contact with the outside world. If you can find out, we would be most grateful.
Her aunt hurried down the corridor. She wasn't coming from the staff quarters, but from the children's quarters--she must have left her wards behind. Reina called out to her:
- Which bedroom are you in charge of? The third? Are the children unsupervised now?
- Asleep," she answered as she went.
After waiting for the woman to leave, Reina said:
- "I think it's about time we made a move. I have a feeling it might be too late.
- We're waiting for the man with the gun," the doctor said.
- What if he's been killed? I told you, we'd lose the mission if we ran out of time. Besides, the time is running out! Nineteen-thirty... it's thirty-two! Well, suit yourself.
She went around the room looking for something to use as a weapon, but she couldn't even find a fork. She had to take a round cleaning robot that she could throw at her opponent, and it weighed about five kilograms.
Reina looked out of the room and staggered down the empty corridor, turning her head to look for places to take cover. She didn't seem to be in any danger: her own didn't know she was a traitor, the raiders must have been informed of the bandages, but there was no telling how things would turn out. The doctor looked at her back.
The electronic locks were out, and all the doorframes parted - hide behind any one.
Turning. Now the only ally was out of sight. Another turn. Squeeze between the half-open sashes - there's the right block. In the children's bedrooms, the doors are plain, hinged. On one side are the bedrooms with even numbers two through ten, on the other - odd numbers. The children live in the third, seventh, sixth and eighth bedrooms. There's one boy left in the first, or Edward... never mind
When she reached bedroom number eight, Reina pressed the knob, the door clicked open, and a whiff of danger wafted in from inside. It made her want to lean against the wall, but Reina peered cautiously into the room.
There was a bathroom and toilet right next to the exit, then the playroom, and then the bedroom. There was a dead silence, though after dinner and until nine o'clock at night the children should be frolicking and making noise. Holding the robot in front of her, Reina stepped over the threshold. The adrenaline rush made her heart race, and the blood pulsed loudly in her temples, drowning out other sounds.
Did the caretakers have instructions on how to act in case of danger, and they moved the children elsewhere? Most likely.
Assured that the bedroom was empty, Reina dared herself, stepped over the crumpled rug, slowly opened the door separating the bedroom from the playroom, but didn't go in right away. Two cribs were open to her view, where the children lay motionless... too motionless. They must have reacted to the door opening!
Something clicked, and a silhouette darted across the bedroom toward the exit. Reina rebounded, stepped on the rug, and it slipped out from under her feet. Falling, she regrouped, rolled back to the bathroom, and threw the robot at the head of the tutor, two-meter Berta. She threw her hand up with a clenched knife, knocking the robot away with her forearm, cursed, and blocked the exit to the hallway with a giant carcass.
Reina knew she was going to lose: first, she was half the size, and second, Bertha had the knife.
On the edge of her consciousness, the thought slipped into her mind that since the children hadn't run out at the rumble, they must be dead or on sleeping pills.
Berta made a deceptive lunge, a straight shot, but Reyna miscalculated and rushed toward her, hanging on to her hand with the knife, pressing it to her chest, ducking, evading the blow with her left, kicking Berta's supporting leg with all her might, but the giantess did not stagger, striking at random.
She
couldn't dodge it this time, and her fist snapped into her temple.
And then again. Her eyes went black with pain, and she danced in
colorful circles.
Just don't let go of the hand with the knife!
If you let go, it's over. One thing pulsed in my fading
consciousness: hold on! Berta's scolding erupted. My body grew
weaker, disobedient, the sounds and sensations distant.
And then something changed. Reina fell to the floor, heavy things piled on top of her. Though her vision and hearing were out, her mind was in no hurry to go out. Reina tried to climb out from under the heavy thing, but it didn't work. Fear flashed through her that the areas of her brain responsible for vision and hearing had been damaged, and she howled.
Then she was grabbed under the arms and pulled out. Still unable to see anything, she sat up, leaning against the wall. The darkness was no longer absolute, and the silhouette of her savior loomed, began to take shape.
- The children..." Reina murmured. - The caretakers have instructions...
The silhouette disappeared into the bedroom, and Reina followed him along the wall, almost fell again, but her vision returned almost completely. She turned around, squinting: Berta was lying in a pool of blood.
- Do you have one gun? - Reina asked.
- Yes," answered the espagnol-clad doctor as he paced from bed to bed, pulling down the sheets, under which, with their necks unnaturally turned, lay the dressed children. Unbelieving her eyes, Reina stepped toward the red-haired girl, reached out to feel for the pulse on her aorta...
Her vision was finally restored, and Reina lowered her hand. The girl's face was distorted in agony, her lips turned blue, her eyes rolled back, only the whites were visible. Berta snapped the children's necks like chickens, without remorse. Delay was like death.
- Bitch! - Through clenched teeth the doctor hissed.
- To the third bedroom! Maybe there's someone alive," Reina commanded, heading for the exit and guessing that all her efforts had been in vain: the nurse she had met had done her job and was leaving the scene. Stepping over Berta, she picked up the dropped knife - against a gun, of course, it's zero, but at least it's something.
But what if Lucia's hand shook? Reina was like them, but she could not have finished off the children by strangling them or wringing their necks like chickens. What if she wasn't the only one with a heart?