A fine layer of dew had settled over the grass. The sky was dark, stars twinkling above in the sky. The moon was half-full, lighting up the dirt road just enough so that it was visible. There were no cars on the roads. It was both too late and too far away from the city for them to be seen.
I walked just off the road, down in the ditch on the left, where my footprints would be masked by the tall grass and natural debris. Even so, I kept my tread light, being careful to avoid areas where my prints would be noticed quickly. I was acutely aware of the fact that everyone would be searching for me by the time they awoke in the morning, but I was hoping to have bought myself a couple of hours before they rose from sleep.
Somewhere in the back of my head was a voice berating me for going off on my own. It was stupid and reckless and went against nearly every rule that I'd been taught during my four years at Oaks. Max and Lia and Tasha would be pissed at me. Brent and Lydia would be worried and disappointed. I had no idea what kinds of feelings the Ortiz's would be experiencing towards me though I had an inkling that Daniel, much like my friends, would not be happy about my solo mission, especially after the talk we'd had only hours prior.
Still, I couldn't risk anyone else. It was enough to know that I'd been the reason my parents were dead. Hard enough knowing that Wes was being tortured because of me and that they wanted to use me as bait to draw out Jack Briar, though that was in the off chance that he was still alive. With all of that in my plate, there was no chance in hell that I would risk the lives of my friends. They had their whole lives ahead of them. They shouldn't have to risk that on me.
This was the only path I could see for myself. A solo one. A path that could very well end in a dead end, emphasis on the dead part, in just over a day.
I'd already wasted one of the two days allotted to me by Scorpion listening to everyone argue and debate about the best way to get to my brother without involving me. They were planning on taking MI6 issued helicopters from the school to the outskirts of Paris at 04:00 hours. The trip would take, approximately three hours, giving them an hour to arrive and coordinate with the representatives from MI6 and the France Intelligence agency who were skulking about the catacombs tonight, preparing for the day ahead.
As a result, everyone had turned in early. By nine o'clock, the halls had been empty. By ten, everyone was asleep. That meant that it was relatively easy for me to sneak out. Lia, Tasha, and Max had left me alone in the training room, angrily throwing punches into the bag. They'd figured that I was just working out my frustration from the day. While that wasn't entirely untrue, mostly, I was just buying time.
I hadn't had to worry about anyone else. Lia's parents had gone to sleep around the same time as their daughter. The Ortiz's had conferred in one room, talking quietly to one another. Daniel had been with them which meant that I didn't even have to worry about stumbling into him. My ex-Professors, along with Rachel Trotter and Gregory Lauer, had all been in the dining hall, going over the schematics one last time before it we had to put the plan into action.
It had been relatively easy to slip out unnoticed. With nobody paying any particular attention to me, it didn't take long to grab the bag I'd filled with a few spare changes of clothes, cash, fake ID's, maps, a flashlight, and five-days worth of rations, just to be safe. I'd grabbed my knife which disguised as a pen, the only weapon I could afford to carry on me due to the travelling I would be doing. Nothing else, certainly not a gun, would pass through security.
From there, I'd simply gone to one of my favourite passageways in and out of the mansion—the one behind the statue of Jonathon Oak which led out to the garden decoration of an angel in the West Wing of the building. Coincidentally, it was the same passageway Max and I had used to sneak into the school only a few weeks before during the fire.
Strange how things went full-circle like that.
It was very late and, in just over eight hours, I would descend alone into the Paris catacombs to save my brother and face whatever it was that fate had in store for me.
Thirty-nine minutes passed before the lights of the small town near our school became visible down the road. Another four went by before I finally crossed into town limits. Five as I went in search of the bus which would take me to London. The last one to London left at eleven p.m.
I paid for my ticket with a fake credit card belonging to a Miss Leanna Wilson, a stocky-redhead with green eyes and a splattering of freckles across her nose. It wasn't a fake I used often which was why I'd chosen it. At the very least, it might slow Tasha down when she went hacking into the nearest bus stations to try and find where I'd departed from.
As I waited for the final bus to arrive, I flipped through a file I'd stolen from Professor McCarthy's office while sitting on a bench inside of the station. Inside were details of Jack Briar's life prior to and during his time at Oaks.
It wasn't a very exciting read. His transcripts, a couple of photos, detention slips—one of which was for setting an entire classroom on fire during a failed explosives test instead of the small area he was supposed to light up. There were a few familiar names listed near his on those slips, Brent Grimes and Carlos Patterson, who happened to be one of my old Professors, and, Randall Walker. The latter appeared more than once in Jack's file.
I expected to feel closer to him, more connected or something, like he could actually be my father. If anything, I felt even more alienated from him because, aside from a few physiological features, I couldn't find anything that connected me to this man. He was just a face and a name. Nothing more.
The downside was that I had no idea how to draw him out. If Max was right, and he usually was, then Briar might be the only person who could help us take out Scorpion. No one else in the world had as much knowledge as he did about them without actually being in the group. But, he'd been missing-in-action for so long. It was impossible to know what he'd been doing or where he was or if he was even still alive. And if he was, could I even trust him to help us?
That was the important question. Sure, he was my flesh and blood, but he was a stranger to me. He'd given me up with good intentions but how was I to know if his intentions were still pure? How was I to know if, after my mother's death, he hadn't gone rogue for real?
Simply put, there was no way to know unless I talked to him and the possibility of that happening was looking increasingly slim.
I stared down at the picture of him in the file. It was the same picture Lydia had shown me in London only days ago. Jack Briar's eyes, the same as mine, stared up at me, piercing and unyielding. "Where are you?" I murmured.
Unsurprisingly, I didn't receive a reply.
There were only four people on the bus from Bishop's Stortford to London. One was an elderly woman dressed in bright-coloured clothing, who promptly fell asleep the moment he sat down in her seat. The other was a young girl, about fifteen or so, with her hood drawn up over her face, casting dark shadows over her eyes. She avoided looking anywhere except out the window and ignored me entirely. I was the third person, sitting at the very back of the bus, watching carefully for any signs that I was being followed—both by friends or foes. The last person was the bus driver, a stout, balding, middle-aged man who looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else but driving the three of us to London.
The bus rumbled to life and the driver pulled away from the station. It was just shy of an hour long ride from the small town to the city and it passed rapidly. Before I knew it, the city scape had appeared in the distance and we were pulling up to the station.
It was just past midnight. My phone was still silent, not a beep or a buzz coming from the little device. I was waiting though, for one was certainly coming. It was only a matter of time before everyone realized that I was missing. Since they would all be waking early to leave by four a.m., I knew that the call would be coming sooner rather than later.
As soon as I was off of the bus, I maneuvered my way towards the ticket booth where I purchased a one-way ticket with another fake idea, Kyra Hendricks, to Paris, France. It was a two-and-a-quarter-hour long train ride on the Eurostar but the first train wasn't set to leave for another three and a half hours. I hunkered down in one of the hard plastic chairs of the station and, after setting the time on my watch to go off precisely fifteen minutes before I had to board, fell asleep.
When I woke, it was to see a hoard of messages lighting up the screen on my phone. Most were from Lia, a couple from Max and Tasha. There were three missed calls from Brent, one from Lydia. There were a few unknown numbers as well, ones I didn't recognize but understood to mean Daniel or his parents. I'd disabled the GPS on the little device, though, and wasn't planning on making any calls or texts which could allow my friends to pinpoint my location. I turned the phone to silent and stuck it in my pocket. I wasn't planning on using it unless I absolutely had to.
I boarded my train without difficulty and before I knew it we were speeding off to Paris. I settled down into my seat, staring blankly out the window. The car was near empty, just a few people who were carrying heavy backpacks and looked to be in the middle of a trip at the opposite end from where I sat. They paid me no mind and I did my best to pretend that they weren't there.
I tried to sleep again but an anxious knot of worry had pitted itself in my stomach. It was a little after five in the morning and all I could think of was my brother. In just under three hours, we would be face to face. He would be safe, I'd make sure of that, and if the cost of his life meant giving my own, well...
At least it'd been a good run.
Paris loomed in the distance about two hours later as the train sped into the city, pulling to a stop at the Gare du Nord—the North Station. Despite the relatively early hour, the station was packed, bustling with people as they sped around to catch the train that would take them to work or wherever it was that they were going. All around me people spoke in fluent French, their tones lilting and sweet.
I'd been to Paris only a twice before. The first time had been with Lia and her parents. They'd been trying to establish a connection with an MI6 asset and Lia and I had gone along to observe from afar as they made contact. The second time had been more of a vacation and sight-seeing endeavor. It was the first trip my friends and I had gone on without parental supervision. It'd been an entertaining trip, watching as Lia and Max finally made it official as a couple and as Tasha and Henri flirted awkwardly, as only two super-geniuses could do. And while my friends had played that little flirty dance with one another, I played my own with Patrick.
It'd been over a year now since I'd last seen Patrick Callaghan. Sometimes, though, I still felt myself wondering where in the world he was. It hadn't been too long ago that he'd left on his mission for the Global Centre for Covert Operatives. I wondered idly how it'd gone and wished him well. While the two of us hadn't exactly ended on the most pleasant terms, he'd stormed off and departed for Switzerland the next day where the head office of the GCCO was located, and I hadn't seen him since.
Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, I hoped he was safe and happy.
I exited the train station and began walking. I used my burner phone to find the address of the catacombs and followed the map on my screen to lead me there. By the time I arrived, it was quarter-after-seven. The catacombs themselves didn't open until ten a.m. which meant that the catacombs would be bear empty. I'd need to be careful when sneaking in—mindful of the security guards.
The catacombs were a small part of the ancient Mines of Paris tunnel network, located beneath the Rue de la Tombe-Issoire. The access down into the tunnels was located at the Place Denfert-Rouchereau, a public square located in the 14th arrondissement of Paris. It was in the Montparnasse district and was one of the largest squares on the left bank of the Seine. According to the reviews on my phone, the place was known as the "World's Largest Grave," holding the remains of more than six million people.
Whoop-di-freaking-do.
I watched the entrance to the catacombs from across the street, trying to identify any malicious individuals. None appeared. That didn't surprise me much. I figured that Scorpion would have found another way in, somewhere undetectable where they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. The last thing they would want to do was draw a scene.
After patrolling around the building for about half an hour, I was finally ready to approach the scene. Before I went; however, I pulled my actual phone out of my jacket pocket. By now, it was too late for my friends to do anything to stop me. No one had shown up yet, no one I could see anyways, which I could only attest to mean that they were letting me do this as I wanted.
But that didn't mean I was going to be stupid about it.
I'd received another few missed calls and messages but I promptly ignored all of them as I scrolled through the contacts. I found the one I was looking for as I started across the street, heading towards the back of the building where I'd earlier found an area of fence that I'd been able to loosen enough where I figured I could shimmy under to get inside the premises. When I reached the fence, I glanced around, made sure that no one was watching, and then dropped to the ground. I lifted up the edge of the fence and crawled underneath it. Then, firmly on the other side, I dialed and pulled the phone to my ear as I started across the street towards the catacombs.
She answered on the first ring.
"Mel? Where the bloody hell are you? Do you know how worried we've been?" Her voice rang higher with each word. I could hear voices in the background—voices that fell silent the moment she started talking.
"Sorry, Lia. But this was something I had to do on my own. Surely, you understand that." I pitched my voice low, scarcely above a whisper. I walked with quiet steps, slowly making my way towards the entrance to the catacombs.
Grumbling, she replied, "I do. But I'm still pissed off at you."
"I get that. Look, I'm in Paris and am about to enter the catacombs. I'm going to keep you on the line but on silent. You'll be able to hear everything said but I won't be able to hear you on my end. Record everything so that you can run voice recognition software on the people I'm meeting with on the chance that everything runs south. Okay?"
"Copy that. Just...just try and make sure that everything does not go south, all right? My parents have MI6 strike teams in position that are ready to come in as soon as you give the word. Once you're inside, they're going to block all exits so that no one will enter or leave without their knowledge."
"Your parents are here and they're not trying to stop me? I'm impressed with their self-restraint." I ducked around the side of a building and flattened myself into the shadows as a few security guards passed a hundred feet away. Once they'd disappeared from view, I started creeping forward again.
"Everyone is here, Mel. Max, Tasha, the Ortiz's. Blimey, even Daniel is here."
"They let him come? Seriously? This is definitely not the time or place for someone with absolutely no training."
"Believe me, we all tried to keep him from coming but he's very stubborn. He said that he, and I'm quoting here, 'wasn't going to be left behind again.' Whatever that means."
My lips pursed into a grimace. "I know what he means."
The entrance to the catacombs loomed twenty feet in front of me. There was a green building with large doors, behind which I knew there was a steep descent that led down into the depths of the catacombs. It was a long decline down into the earth and one I was more than ready to take.
I checked to make sure that there were no security guards around and then I slipped over to the entrance, passing through the doors with an ease I hadn't expected. Everything was going much more smoothly than I anticipated. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
"Lia," I said. I was happy to note that my voice sounded much stronger than I felt. I was standing in front of the entrance, staring out into the dark cavernous path which led down to the catacombs. My body felt suddenly very cold and heavy, as if I were laden with lead.
"Yes?"
"I'm going in now."
"Be careful. And for the love of all that is holy, please make sure that you come back out again. All right?"
"It's a long way down," I remarked. "The phone might not keep up. I did my best to modify it but I'm not Tasha. It might cut out."
"Understood."
"If it does," I took a breath, "if it does and something happens down there, just make sure my brother gets out, okay? You make sure that he's safe first before anything else."
She was silent on the other end for a moment. Then, her voice thick but true, "I promise."
With that understood between us, I turned the phone to silent and tucked it into my front pant pocket. I retrieved the flashlight from my pack, and took a long, deep breath. Then, I grabbed my knife and, finally ready, took a few careful steps forward, passing through the door and into the darkness beyond.
It was a quiet walk down, the only sounds being that of my breath and my footsteps, which echoed across the walls and back to my own ears. With every step, I felt my heart-rate increasing, beating faster and faster until I was certain that it was going to burst from my chest.
I didn't have the option to turn around and go back. I couldn't do that to Wes, but there was no denying that I wasn't sure that I wanted to keep going. For all of my bravado, there was that little voice in the back of my mind going 'You're only eighteen. Let the more experienced agents handle it.'
And then there was the other voice, the louder, more dominant one, which said, 'He's your brother. No one can do this but you.'
I kept going.