Caleb wished they could delete the clip off the internet, but that wouldn’t do any good now. It was out there. Picked up by every news service in the world. At first, Einar had been practically giddy that his message was getting boosted by the mainstream media.
Now, though, Einar realized his error. They all did.
He looked like a crazy person.
Which, Caleb supposed, was pretty accurate.
The clip froze on a still of Einar where a bit of spit flecked off his lips. That image stayed in the top corner of the screen as the broadcast cut back to the studio, where a prim newscaster sat behind a desk.
“The Garde terrorist known as Einar would go on to describe humanity as ‘leeches’ before he and his minions, one of which is believed to be an actual Loric alien, murdered the inventor and philanthropist Wade Sydal. Earth Garde assured the BBC that steps are being taken to bring these perpetrators to justice and to prevent further incidents. Two weeks have gone by and the rogue Garde remain at large . . .”
“Terrorist!” Einar shouted, drowning out the rest of the broadcast. “They didn’t even mention the substance of my argument. They didn’t listen at all.”
“I am not a minion,” Number Five grumbled.
The Loric sat on the couch, arms folded, curled in on himself, draped in the same baggy sweat suit he always wore, grass stains faded on the knees from the brawl in Switzerland. Caleb couldn’t swear to it, but he thought Five looked thinner since then. Honestly, he tried not to look in the Loric’s direction too often. Five was sensitive about the inky splotches that disfigured him, had a shorter temper than Einar and had nearly killed Caleb two weeks ago. He wasn’t eager to provoke the Garde.
An accused terrorist and a psychotic Garde. That’s who he had ditched Earth Garde for. In the heat of the moment, after that bloody battle, it had seemed to make so much sense . . .
Caleb caught himself fingering the vial of black ooze that he had pocketed back in Switzerland, hidden now in his coat pocket. Sydal had been buying a whole suitcase of the goo from Bea Barnaby—Nigel’s mom, a member of the Foundation; he still couldn’t get his brain around that one. The substance had driven Five into a rage, which Caleb supposed wasn’t surprising, as it appeared to be the same gunk that had disfigured him and still writhed beneath his skin. Caleb hadn’t told the others that he’d swiped a vial. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it in the first place. Only Isabela knew and she kept quiet about it.
“Also, we weren’t the ones who blew up Sydal,” Einar continued. “Not that I’m sorry it happened. But these journalists are getting everything wrong.” Einar noticed that Caleb was in the room and glowered. “If only our plan hadn’t been derailed . . .”
Caleb stared at him, saying nothing. It was Caleb who had broken Einar’s psychological grip on Wade Sydal and the others, preventing him from taking them prisoner. Einar was still obviously bitter about that, and about the beating that Caleb had put on him. Also, the fact that Caleb could use his duplicates to work around Einar’s emotional manipulation Legacy surely didn’t sit well with him. Einar was used to being in control.
“Caleb,” a soft voice said. “Can you come here?”
With a sigh of relief, Caleb turned to look at Ran. Here, at least, was someone he could depend on to not do anything crazy. If Ran hadn’t stepped forward to join Einar’s crew back in Switzerland, Caleb didn’t think he would’ve found the courage to do the same. Caleb knew that, for Ran, this alliance was a matter of convenience. She wanted out of Earth Garde and Einar had transportation and the skills to evade their pursuers.
Caleb understood Ran’s position. She’d been treated horribly—tagged with an Inhibitor chip and forced into a spy program with the mission to bring down Einar. Caleb thought it was odd that Earth Garde hadn’t bothered trying to take down Einar until he started killing members of the Foundation. Didn’t they know about Einar when he was going around kidnapping healers for the Foundation? Had the Foundation simply covered their tracks or had Earth Garde turned a blind eye? Judging by the symbiotic relationship between Earth Garde, Sydal Corp and the Foundation, Caleb thought it was a little of both.
Every day since Switzerland, Caleb dreaded that Ran would decide she was better off on her own. He swallowed as he followed her out of the living room and back down the hallway she had emerged from, hoping that they weren’t about to have that conversation. She glanced in his direction and must have read the worry in his expression because she reached out to touch his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing, I—” Caleb checked behind him to make sure they were out of earshot. “Just wondering what we’re doing here.”
“In Italy?”
“With these people.”
“Ah.”
“Do you think we made a mistake?” Caleb asked. “Two weeks and we haven’t made any progress. Heck, I’m not even sure what progress would look like . . .”
“They are a means to an end,” Ran replied. “I will never trust Einar after what he did to Nigel. But he is right about one thing: We have a better chance surviving together than apart.”
Caleb nodded and fell silent. He reflected on the speech Einar had given, the one they were now using clips of on TV to label him a terrorist. The funny thing was, Caleb actually agreed with what Einar had said about the Garde needing to find their own way, about them not being able to trust the people in power. It had actually inspired Caleb to take Einar’s side.
Not that he would ever tell Einar that. It was the right message coming from the absolutely worst messenger.
Ran led Caleb through the dining room and out onto a wide terrace that overlooked a cobblestone backstreet. The villa was only a few blocks from the tourist-filled Piazza di Spagna, but here it was quiet. Nestled across the street were a small café and a pasta shop, neither of them crowded. The midafternoon sun was shining and Caleb took a deep breath of the brisk air. A bell tolled in the distance.
“It’s nice out here,” he said. “Too bad the rest of the place sucks.”
“At the café,” Ran said quietly. “Do you see that woman? Careful, do not make it obvious we have noticed her.”
Caleb edged closer to the terrace’s railing, peeking down at the café’s outdoor seating. Of course he saw the woman—she was the only one there. She was middle-aged, dark-haired, dressed in pants and a heavy knit sweater. Totally ordinary.
“What about her?” Caleb asked.
“She has not ordered anything,” Ran said. “Before her, there was a man sitting there. He also did not order anything. He left and she came minutes later. Sat in the exact same spot.”
“Hmm,” Caleb grunted.
He took a closer look at the woman and, as he did, her eyes flitted in his direction. Caleb edged back so she couldn’t see him.
“Definitely weird,” Caleb said. “But I’ve felt paranoid nonstop since leaving Earth Garde. So maybe let’s not jump to any conclusions about some lady.”
“If the Foundation knew enough to evacuate the people we’ve been looking for because of Einar, would it not stand to reason that they would post sentries here to trap him? To trap us?”