Unbreakable. Elizabeth Norris
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From the stairs, I yell that it’s okay, that it’s just Barclay, but no one listens.
The Marines move into the apartment, sweeping into position to cover any possible escape and to make sure no one else is here. Their guns are pointed at Barclay, their eyes only on him.
Deirdre shouts at Barclay and advances on him swiftly but cautiously. The look on her face is absolutely feral—this is Deirdre Rice, FBI agent, and Deirdre Rice, widow and mother of two kids, all in one. Deirdre, who’s not about to lose anyone else. If I was Barclay, I’d be scared.
As she moves in, Barclay keeps his hands raised. He’s relaxed, but with a clear look of annoyance on his face, as if this is inconvenient for him.
He doesn’t even flinch as Deirdre moves in and disarms him, taking a gun from the base of his spine.
“Do you have any other concealed weapons on you?” she says, her voice thick with venom.
“Gun at my left ankle,” he says.
Without taking her eyes off him, she bends down to retrieve the backup gun, and once she has it, orders a Marine to move in and frisk him.
I can’t help holding my breath. I’m worried Barclay has another weapon. He’s the kind of guy who would have a backup for the backup and the kind who would keep something to use to escape. Plus, with the technology he has access to, he could have something innocent looking like a pen that’s actually a lightsaber.
The last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt—Deirdre, the Marines, even Barclay.
“Can we put some of the guns away and maybe sit down and have a rational conversation?” I say.
Deirdre doesn’t turn to look at me, but I can see the anger sweep across her face. I know how much she blames Barclay for everything that’s happened—because he betrayed the Bureau, because he lied, because he was, in a lot of ways, too late.
“Taylor Barclay is wanted for questioning,” she says. “And I plan on doing just that.”
I nod because I know it’s true, and if Struz were here, I’m sure he’d be going through the same precautions.
“Cuff him,” Deirdre says to the Marine who’s just frisked Barclay and come up empty.
I hear a creak from the hallway upstairs and look up to see Jared. “You okay?” I whisper.
He nods. “Are you?”
I couldn’t be more proud of him. Deirdre and the Marines are here because Jared used the walkie-talkie in Struz’s bedroom to get in touch with them. Jared reacted, even though no one told him to, and now he’s watching me with fierce protectiveness.
It’s a little like looking in a mirror.
“I’m good, I’ll be up in a minute.” Again he nods, and he goes without having to be asked twice. He’s going to be a great man someday—he’s going to be a lot like our dad.
When I look at Barclay, Deirdre is maneuvering him to the couch. His hands are behind his back, and he’s not actively working against her, but he’s a pretty solid guy, and he’s not exactly helping her either.
“Where have you been, Taylor?” Deirdre asks.
He snorts. “Not anywhere you’d be familiar with.”
“So you just went home to your own universe and left us to clean up the mess you left behind?” she asks.
Barclay’s eyes shoot to mine, and I see the flicker of surprise, like he’d assumed I’d kept the multiverse and everything that went with it to myself, before he covers it with a shrug of feigned indifference. “Wasn’t exactly my mess.”
“And whose was it?” she asks, even though I told her—several times—the same story I told Struz. She knows it was Reid.
Barclay smiles. “That’s classified.”
I’m not sure why he’s trying to piss her off, but when she backhands him across the face, he must know it’s working.
Deirdre’s questions are focused and specific. She asks Barclay about everything from his life in his universe to the recent disappearances here in ours. She’s unyielding and determined—even I feel a little off guard at the way she fires questions at him.
But Barclay doesn’t once seem fazed. A few times he lets out little quips or snide remarks. Once he answers her question with, “That’s a little above your pay grade.” But mostly he’s just silent, wearing a heavy-lidded expression of smugness with his lips curved in an arrogant smile.
He doesn’t flinch the couple of times she slaps him, but his lip is bleeding when Struz finally comes home. He opens the door slowly and scans the room without a single expression coming over his face. His eyes meet Deirdre’s, and after whatever silent communication passes between them, she nods and steps aside.
“Take him to a secure location and confiscate everything he has on his person,” he says to the Marine in charge. “Keep three people on him at all times. Someone has to take a piss, they radio for someone to cover for them first.”
“Yes, sir,” the Marine says.
Two of them haul Barclay up, as Deirdre whispers something to Struz. He nods.
As they’re pulling him out the door, Barclay turns back and looks at me. “You’re smart, Tenner. Just like your father. You know you should come with me.”
My face feels hot at the mention of my dad. I wonder what he would think of all this.
But Barclay has no right to bring up my dad. If Barclay had just come clean with him, maybe my dad would still be here. Which means I’m not about to feel bad for Barclay.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that he didn’t want to tell me his plan, and I wasn’t going to blindly follow him. I remind myself I can’t do anything to help.
“You should come with me,” Barclay repeats. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
What he means, though, is Ben.
Ben СКАЧАТЬ