Free Counterpart by Hayley Stone Page A

vanishes. “I asked after you in Medical, but they said you’d left.”
    “Well. You know. Can’t keep the Red Menace down for long.” I manage a smile for only a few seconds before the elevator crashes into my mind again.
Tell my wife I love her. And I’m, I’m—I’m sorry.
I don’t know what expression shows above my mask, but Camus’s arms tighten around me.
    Someone clears their throat.
    Three others are with Camus: two council members who have been standing around awkwardly during our reunion—and Ulrich. The throat clearer. I reach for the German next, and am pleased when he doesn’t object to my embrace. Nevertheless, I can’t resist teasing him. “Ssh. Just let it happen,” I say, squeezing Ulrich tight and ruffling his blond hair a little. He mutters something in German, but when I pull away, I swear his cheeks have lifted in a smile.
    Worry blows into his blue eyes like a sudden storm. “Zelda?” he asks me.
    “Down in Medical. She’s pretty banged up, and cranky as all get out, but she’s going to be fine.” He closes his eyes and slouches with relief, whispering thanks to God. “I know she’d like to see you.”
    “Later,” Camus cuts in. “For the time being, we need him with us. From now on, you go nowhere without an escort.”
    For once, I agree with him. In all the chaos, I forgot to get my gun back from Zelda. As we walk, I sandwich myself between Camus and Ulrich, who both appear to be armed. “Are all the machines accounted for?” I ask.
    “Yes.” It is not a happy-sounding yes.
    “I sense a but.”
    “Big one,” Ulrich says, without missing a beat. I can’t tell whether it’s a joke or not.
    “We still have no explanation for how they managed to plant two bombs in two separate locations without anyone noticing,” Camus says, “nor how they got into McKinley in the first place.”
    “Zelda told me the Chinese were bringing them in.”
    “The Chinese? I hadn’t heard, but it’s worth looking into. I’ll put someone on it as soon as we can access the security logs.”
    “What? We can’t access them now?”
    “Unfortunately, not at the moment,” says one of the other council members. Renee Hawking, a transplant from Churchill. Her short, dark afro is in wiry disarray, and she looks tired. Streaks of ash have climbed her high-collared shirt, painting her brown chin grey. On an ordinary day, she’s the kind of woman who seems like she grinds her teeth in her sleep. Always thinking, always tense. It makes me glad she doesn’t know the truth about my origins; it’d probably give her an aneurysm. After proving myself to McKinley’s original council, we decided it was best for future inductees to be left in the dark, including Hawking. The fewer people who know my secret, the better. “We had to divert all power to life-support systems, but Clarence has promised we should have access to the security archives shortly.”
    “What are you thinking?” I ask Camus, who looks lost in thought.
    “I think the machines had help. I think they couldn’t have managed this otherwise.”
    Cold seeps into my chest. “You believe one of our allies planned this?”
    “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
    How could I forget? Evelyn Meir, former commander of Churchill base, orchestrated an attack on me by a machine just last year. She wanted to convince me McKinley wasn’t safe, so I would transfer to her base. I don’t just bring the party, I bring prestige and an unlimited access to resources and allies. Good thing her strategy failed. Churchill base was destroyed only a few months later.
    “So, who do you suspect? Kozlov?” It’d make sense. He was pushing hard for relocation of primary operations to Lake Baikal.
    “Given that Kozlov’s dead, no. I don’t suspect him.” Camus hesitates at my puzzled look. “You didn’t know?”
    “No,” I admit quietly. And now I feel bad for thinking the worst of a dead man. I scratch at my head bandage, feeling another