In the Heart of Babylon Page 3

  Hanna snatched a drink from a waiter's tray on her way to the elevator, ignoring the woman's startled gaze as she threw the paper umbrella to the mosaic-tiled floor and drank it in one gulp. Strawberry soda with lime. No alcohol. Well, at least the elevator was empty. She pushed the 3 and waited for the doors to slide closed. Why was everything taking so damn long today?

  Finally, the elevator began to move downward, from the first underground level to the third, and Hanna leaned against the granite and wood panel at her back and sighed in relief—just as the elevator stopped. She opened her eyes and looked around.

  HANNA.

  What the hell? The touch screen that normally advertised one of The Resort's many restaurants or spa treatments showed only her name. As she looked at it, the screen changed.

  THIS IS ADAM. TOUCH YOUR EAR IF YOU SEE THIS. DO NOT LOOK AROUND. SAY NOTHING.

  Adam? But Adam wasn't real. Father said I imagined him.

  And you were six, and confused, and so you believed him. Why would he lie?

  Who has an imaginary friend with no arms or legs, Hanna? That's right. No one.

  Hanna touched her ear, then immediately regretted it. What if some psycho was attempting to kidnap her somehow to demand a ransom? Would she be trapped inside this elevator until some terrorists got what they wanted from Father? Or worse?

  You never told anyone about Adam.

  YOU ARE IN DANGER. GO TO YOUR ROOM AND TURN THE MUSIC ON LOUD. I WILL CALL YOU. NOD IF YOU UNDERSTAND.

  Hanna nodded.

  The doors opened, and Hanna stumbled from the elevator, following the familiar silk-lined hallway to her suite past gilded mirrors and flower arrangements. Reminders of Father's pride in The Resort in every detail. She was careful not to look around, wondering as she did why she'd decided to believe a random message in an elevator. It made no sense, yet she was convinced something around her was very wrong.

  Evil is a living thing, Hanna. It has always been around you, growing, breathing. You know it even though you've chosen to ignore it—chosen to party instead of seeing what was right in front of you.

  Her thoughts filled with Adam as Hanna retrieved her keycard and entered her suite. His blue eyes. His laughter. Her best friend. He'd been her best friend.

  Is it really you?

  With a touch, she filled the room with music, then cranked it up loud. She flopped down into the chair near the desk and looked down at a magazine, pretending not to stare at the phone. Was someone watching her? It took every ounce of self-control not to search the ceiling above her for cameras. The idea that she'd never been alone in her suite all these years nearly made her vomit.

  Maybe everything is fine. Maybe this is a prank. You just need another drink…

  The phone began to ring, red light flashing even as the music drowned out the sound.

  “I don't think they can see you,” the voice said as soon as she picked up. “But just in case I'm wrong, laugh and smile.”

  Hanna laughed. It would sound false to anyone who heard it. She hoped it looked believable.

  “We don't have much time,” the voice continued, and Hanna nearly rolled her eyes. Seriously? Cliché much?} “I've managed to scramble surveillance down here for only a few minutes. Father—”

  “Wait,” Hanna said, not recognizing the voice. “Explain who you are, or I'm hanging up.”

  “This is Adam. Your brother? Don't tell me you forgot that easily.”

  Brother?

  “Look. Believe what you want about me. But something bad is going to happen at Banquet Night.”

  Hanna wasn't listening. “How could you be my brother? Father said—”

  “That I died.”

  “That you were never real,” Hanna whispered. “That I'd made you up.”

  Adam was silent for a long moment. “Well, I'm real,” he finally said. “And you need to stay away from that banquet. Get out of The Resort tonight if you can. Just run.”

  Hanna reeled at the wave of emotion she felt. A friend lost. Found. A brother she didn't know she had.

  “Where are you?” Hanna asked, already knowing he wouldn't tell her. But The Resort's phones were equipped with VoIP technology, a network router that encompassed the entire property, phones including hospitality platforms with advanced communication features. Hanna had connected her cellphone to it the first night she'd arrived. Now she touched the screen, retrieving and transferring the call, running it through the GPS tracking app Father had insisted she purchase ever since she'd received a call from a man he'd fired two years before.

  “Where I am is not important, Hanna.” Adam was saying. “Listen, you—”

  Smiling as if her friend had said something clever, Hanna rested her feet on the bocote desk and pulled the phone toward her, pretending to text with her right hand. Within seconds she had the caller's coordinates. A few more clicks and she had a meaningless number. L9-588X23.

  Laughing again, Hanna leaned forward and hung up without moving the phone from her ear, entering the number on the touchscreen.

  “Welcome to The Resort,” the recorded voice of a calm female said. “Please enter your employee code to continue your call.”

  Hanna hit a few keys, shrugging.

  The screen flashed, then: L9–Error. Employee Code Denied.

  The line went dead.

  “L nine,” Hanna said, looking down at the floor. “Level nine.” She had no clue what was down there—or even that there was a Level 9—the guest elevators didn't go that far. But she would find out. She knew Father and the others wouldn't be back for at least five hours. If anyone caught her snooping around, Hanna could pretend to be lost and drunk. It wouldn't be the first time The Resort staff had to help her find her way.

  Leaving the music blaring, Hanna stuffed the tiny .22 pocket revolver Connor had gotten her for her birthday into her bikini top and left the suite. If this so-called Adam turned out to be some psycho trying to undermine Father's business, well, he was in for a surprise if he thought she was only some ditzy vacationer.

  Hanna was happy to discover that the service elevator tucked away at the end of the hallway had the same non-existent security features as The Resort's others. The doors slid open with a touch, granting her access. The space had none of the luxuries of those used by guests, however. No chandeliers and granite, no soft music and tastefully muted artwork. She pushed the 9 on the simple panel and the metal cage ground downward, the sound of its gears growing louder as it descended, as if the machine itself were crying in protest.

  Hanna shivered as she felt the temperature drop. She wrapped her sarong around herself as best she could and wished she'd thought to wear shoes.

  The elevator came to a grinding halt, and with a clang, the doors slid open to reveal a dark corridor of rough cement and exposed pipes stretching the distance of a city block, illuminated by dim red lighting. The whole thing seemed a bit much, as if whoever designed the space had been purposely trying to scare visitors away.

  “Okay,” she said out loud to no one. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the cold floor, her feet numb in a matter of seconds. “This is not creepy at all.”

  There were two doors along the corridor. The first one was locked, and the other appeared to be a hospital storage room. Beds leaned up along one wall, and medical equipment gleamed in the dim light. Hanna noticed the beds had restraints built into them and flinched back, closing the door.

  Beginning to question her judgment of coming down here—leaving the bright comfort of the upper floors and deliberately destroying her ignorance—Hanna forced herself to walk farther along the hallway, trying more locked doors until she came to one that looked different. It was wide, made of brushed steel, and had no doorknob. A keypad to the right glowed green, inviting her to approach.

  Hanna stood staring at the keypad for a few seconds then shrugged, knocking. The thick steel swung open almost immediately, and a male voice—the same voice from the phone—called, “Why don't you just write the code do
wn, Peggy?”

  Hanna stepped through the door and searched the room for the owner of the voice, seeing only an enormous chair in the shadowy glow of what looked like at least fifty computer monitors.

  “Just put it on the table, I'm not hungry yet.”

  “Hello…?” Hanna called, taking another step forward.

  The chair swiveled, and she was face to face with her imaginary friend. Adam. Seeing him again, the memories came back to her with full clarity, her mind filling in ten missing years.

  And in that moment, there was no doubt. She had a brother.

  He was nearly the same, his blond hair—exactly like her own—was longer, his pale features sharpened. Where his legs should have been was only chair, but now prosthetic arms extended from his torso, complex metal and wire attached at his chest, gleaming in the monitor's glow.

  There was a rattling noise as he moved an arm, and Hanna jumped back as a chain moved across the floor, and she twisted to see where it attached, finding only darkness. What the actual fuck?

  “Hanna,” he said, paling. “You shouldn't—”

  “Adam,” she said, stepping forward into the light.

  The kindness she remembered in his eyes was gone now.

  “How is Father?” Adam said, turning back to the screens. “No. Don't answer that.”

  Hanna shook her head. None of this made sense. “He told me I'd dreamed you.”

  Adam laughed. “Yeah? I guess the fact that he murdered Mother was all just a dream, too.”

  “He—what?” Hanna couldn't feel her limbs. She felt reality shift, fall, shatter. No. No, it wasn't possible. And yet, here sits Adam. Your brother.

  Evil. A living thing. Growing, spreading.

  “Didn't tell you that part either, did he?” Hanna could do no more than shake her head. “Let's just say Mother didn't think I was an abomination who needed to be destroyed.” Adam spoke as if he were commenting on the weather. “She tried to get away from him and his twisted beliefs. So Father arranged a little accident for her. I was given to Kaiser, and it was done. Just another business transaction.” He looked at her, his eyes flat. The laughter Hanna remembered was gone. “Lucky you were young enough to forget it all.”

  Hanna realized she'd backed away only when her back hit the door, startling her.

  “Don't,” Adam said. “You aren't allowed to look at me like that. Like you pity me. I might be chained up in this place, but you're the one who's been living with that fucking monster all these years. I'll take this over your life any day.”

  Hanna didn't want to know anything else. She wanted to run away and hide forever.

  She didn't want to know. She had to know.

  “Where are we? What is this place?” Her voice sounded like a whine to her own ears, a pleading child. Please, don't tell me. Let me stay in my blissful, kind ignorance.

  Adam turned his chair to face her, and Hanna saw a flash of his old kindness. He extended one robotic arm, its movements slow and lazy as the metal fingers pulled a section of chain off the floor, twirled it in a circle. “Please, tell me my sister is smarter than she looks.”

  “It's a hotel,” Hanna said, hearing how wrong the words sounded even as they left her mouth. The whole place was literally under the ground. Why? Who builds a hotel and hides it? But still, she partied and shopped and enjoyed lazy meals surrounded by luxury, never thinking it could be anything else. Never thinking.

  The definition of stupid.

  She shook her head and tried to sound more confident. “It's a resort. People come here to relax, to—”

  “Nope,” Adam said, shaking the chain. “The delusional come here to experience absolute power over human beings they actually believe in their twisted little underdeveloped brains are beneath them,” Adam said. “They don't come here to relax. They come here to experiment. To work, work, work until they reach their goal of righteous racial cleansing.”

  “But…” Hanna's mind was scrambling. “No, you—”

  “Me?” Adam laughed again. “They're watching everything I do. They're probably watching me right now. They're always watching, Hanna. Never forget that.”

  “But how…” Hanna was aware she sounded like a lobotomized child, but she couldn't reconcile this knowledge with the man she knew as her father.

  Oh, can't you? I think you can. Some part of you knows the truth. Some part of you has always known. Hanna pictured her father. Only ever associating with those who looked like himself. Pale skin and expensive suits. Laughter that fell silent when she entered the room, conversation turning to the weather as if it were the most pressing topic of the century. Papers swept off of desks and locked away before she could cross the room. Secrets. Lies.

  Adam was still talking and Hanna struggled to focus on his words.

  “Dr. Kaiser lets me in here because I'm good with computers. Better than him. And he's fascinated by how a mind can work so efficiently in a body so limited by indecorous deformities. It goes against his theories, you see. He's trying to make sense of it, and eventually he will. He'll find an explanation that suits his actions, and that day will be my last. What Kaiser doesn't know is I've been able to hack the system and discover a little more every day, just enough to begin to see what he's up to.”

  Hanna looked around at the ceiling for cameras, but Adam shook his head. “They can't watch me constantly. Eventually, they get bored, change the channel. If they were watching now, someone would've sent the guards in here already. That doesn't mean it's not beyond stupid for you to be in here. Peggy will be here any second with lunch, and it wouldn't do for a non-passport holding guest to be found wandering around down here unattended.”

  Passport holding? Hanna was reminded of something Connor and Garrett said about passport-holders as they came out of a restaurant and before they saw her the week before.

  ‘Yeah, well, his opinion on the matter ain't shit. He's not even a passport-holder.’

  ‘Yet,’ Connor had answered, his steps faltering as he caught sight of Hanna, his smile false.

  “I'm not leaving you like this,” Hanna told Adam. “We can get out of here. Take the next transport and—”

  “Stop.” Adam clapped once, the sound of his metal hands like a gunshot in the enclosed space. “You don't get it, do you? What's happening here is bigger than us. Bigger than Father, even. I called because I wanted to warn you about Banquet Night. That's it. No warm reunion. No fuzzy happy escapes to rainbow pony land. They will fucking kill us if they think we aren't on board with their honorable and righteous fight for purity. Dead. Just like Mom.”

  “I don't care,” Hanna said, raising her voice. “I'm not leaving you like this. Tell me what to do to get us out of here, and I'll do it, but I won't just—”

  “What you will do,” Adam said, “is figure out how to get out on your own. Right now. Tonight. Because I've tried to find a way out for years, and I still haven't come up with anything that doesn't involve getting me and a lot of other people killed.”

  Hanna shrugged. “You didn't have me before.”

  “And I don't have you now.” Adam shook his chains at her. “There's no way out of these without guards rushing through that door. I've tried.”

  Hanna realized she was crying only when she felt tears dripping off her chin.

  “Just go, Hanna,” Adam said softly, turning away from her. “Get as far away from this place and Father as you can, and never come back.”

  “That's what you think of me?” Hanna stepped forward and yanked his chair around, ignoring the pain as the chains dug into her feet. “You think I would leave my own brother down here to be tortured by fucking Nazi psychos while I do, what? Sail off into the sunset and pretend none of this happened? Pretend everything is fine?” She leaned toward him. “Fuck you, Adam. I'm. Not. Leaving. You. Here.”

  Adam smiled at her with so much love in his eyes that Hanna forgot her anger. “That's the Hanna I remember,” he said. “But it won't work. I've tried. I've gotten further in
to their system within the last couple of days, but I need you to trust me that I can't get out, not yet. The best thing you can do for me right now is to go back. Pretend everything's the same as always, that you're on vacation with a regular dad, in a regular hotel. Then, when everyone goes to bed, get the hell out. Say nothing about this place to anyone.”

  His eyes held hers, and Hanna nodded slowly.

  She would go, but only in order to come back more prepared. It didn't matter that she'd never done anything useful for anyone in her entire life. She would think of something.

  “What's going to happen at Banquet Night?”

  Adam shook his head, raising his shoulders in frustration. “I don't fucking know, not exactly. Nothing good, that's for sure. If you can't leave, at least find some excuse not to go. Anything. Promise me.”

  After tonight's torturous formal dinner, Hanna would be more than happy to skip Banquet Night. “Fine,” she said. “I promise.”

  She glanced up at the hidden cameras again, and turned to leave. She was almost to the door when Adam said, “And Hanna?”

  “What?”

  “It's July.”

  When she only shrugged, he added, “I haven't figured out much, but I figured out closing means it's over for The Resort's non-white staff. Someone should warn them.”

  Nadifa pushed the damaged MRE packet—vegetarian chili with beans—and four hydro orbs closer to his grandmother. “You have to eat, Ayeeyo,” he said in Somali. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  “I am strong enough,” she answered, somehow managing to look regal in her green uniform, transforming her bunk into a throne. “You worry about your own strength, missing prayers six days in a row.”

  Nadifa started to recite his excuses, to remind her he always caught up after dark, but Ayeeyo cut him off, switching to English as she turned to Darnell, who was sitting by himself a few bunks away, still looking dazed. “I am Sahra Duale. Do you listen to your elders, young man?”

  “Uh, yes, ma'am,” Darnell said, clearly embarrassed.

  She waved a hand at Nadifa without looking at him. “This one here thinks I survive civil war, two refugee camps, build a life in America from nothing just to have a disobedient grandson tell me what and when to eat.”