Chapter 8 - My Sister Was Never the Target
Sienna vanished in three seconds.
That was how long the emergency lights took to activate.
One moment she was kneeling beside our wounded mother.
The next, there was blood on the floor, an open door, rain blowing into the cabin—and no Sienna.
“Sienna!”
I ran outside barefoot.
I didn't remember losing my shoes.
The dock stretched into darkness.
Dr. Shaw's boat was gone.
Another boat remained tied to the far side, rocking violently against its ropes.
“Sienna!”
Nothing.
Behind me, Renner shouted, “Clara, stop!”
I ran to the edge.
The lake was black.
No lights.
No visible wake.
No engine.
How could Shaw have disappeared that quickly?
She couldn't.
Unless—
I looked beneath the dock.
A maintenance platform ran underneath it.
“Renner!”
He understood.
We dropped to our knees.
A small aluminum boat was disappearing from beneath the dock.
Electric motor.
Silent.
Two figures.
Dr. Shaw.
And Sienna.
My sister's hands were bound.
“Boat!” I shouted.
Marcus staggered through the cabin doorway.
Blood ran down the side of his head, but he was standing.
“I'll drive.”
“You've been shot.”
“Grazed.”
“Mom?”
“Richard and Eleanor are with her.”
I looked back.
My mother was conscious.
Barely.
“Go,” she whispered.
That was enough.
Renner untied the remaining boat.
Marcus started the engine.
I jumped aboard.
Mercer followed.
“No.”
“You need me.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I know where Shaw is going.”
That changed things.
“Where?”
“Glass House.”
Eleanor appeared behind us.
Her face changed.
“No.”
Mercer looked at her.
“You know it?”
Grandma nodded.
“Charles's original facility.”
“Where?”
She pointed north.
“Old quarry.”
Marcus pushed the throttle.
The boat surged into darkness.
---
We followed the shoreline.
No lights.
No sirens.
No communication.
My phone had signal again, but I didn't call Cross.
He would know soon enough.
Maybe he already did.
I called Sienna.
Once.
Twice.
Third time—
Someone answered.
No voice.
Only breathing.
“Sienna?”
Silence.
Then Shaw.
“You should have stayed on the island.”
“Where is my sister?”
“Safe.”
“If you hurt her—”
“You still don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Sienna isn't leverage.”
I looked at Mercer.
He was listening.
“Why take her?”
“Because she came willingly.”
My blood went cold.
“Put her on.”
“No.”
“Put my sister on the phone.”
A pause.
Then Sienna's voice.
“Clara?”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did Shaw force you onto the boat?”
Silence.
“Sienna.”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why did you go with her?”
“Because she showed me something.”
“What?”
“I can't tell you.”
“You absolutely can.”
“No, Clara.”
Her voice broke.
“If she's telling the truth, everything we know about our family is wrong.”
“That stopped being surprising five chapters ago.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
Marcus looked at me.
I put the call on speaker.
“Sienna,” I said, “Shaw shot Mom.”
“I know.”
“And you went with her?”
“I had to.”
“No. You chose to.”
“Yes.”
That hurt more.
“What did she show you?”
A long silence.
Then:
“My birth certificate.”
I looked at Marcus.
“What about it?”
“It isn't real.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently none of ours are.”
“No. You don't understand.”
Her breathing quickened.
“Clara, Evelyn isn't my mother.”
The boat seemed to become quieter.
“Who is?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why believe Shaw?”
“Because Dad knew.”
Richard.
Of course.
“How?”
“She showed me a recording.”
“What recording?”
“Dad talking to Grandpa.”
“When?”
“Thirty years ago.”
Before Sienna was born.
“What did they say?”
Sienna hesitated.
Then:
“Dad said, ‘I won't raise another one.’”
Another one.
Me.
Or someone else.
“What did Grandpa say?”
“He said, ‘You already agreed.’”
I closed my eyes.
“Agreed to what?”
“I don't know.”
Shaw's voice returned.
“Enough.”
“Wait—”
The call ended.
I immediately tried again.
Phone off.
Marcus increased speed.
“How far?”
“Ten minutes,” Mercer said.
I looked at him.
“You've been there?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Before Operation Harbor Glass officially started.”
“Yes.”
Another secret.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Try again.”
“I was blindfolded.”
“By Cross?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Charles Sterling.”
My grandfather.
Alive.
Six months ago.
“You met him?”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was alive this entire time?”
“I suspected.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to throw him into the lake.
“What did he want?”
“To see me.”
“Why?”
“He knew Cross was recruiting investigators.”
“And?”
“He wanted someone inside.”
“You were Grandpa's source.”
Mercer nodded.
“That is why I joined the assault team tonight.”
Renner stared at him.
“You attacked us to protect Clara?”
“I needed Cross to believe I was loyal.”
“You fired at her.”
“Over her head.”
“Your partner didn't.”
“My partner wasn't with me.”
That stopped us.
“Who was he?”
“I don't know.”
“Cross sent someone you didn't know?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked back.
“That isn't task-force protocol.”
“Exactly.”
Another infiltration.
Another replacement.
“Did Cross know you met Charles?”
“No.”
“Does Charles know where Harbor Glass is?”
Mercer laughed weakly.
“Charles is Harbor Glass.”
The quarry appeared ahead.
Abandoned industrial buildings rose against the trees.
At the center stood a structure made almost entirely of dark glass.
Glass House.
No lights.
Shaw's boat was tied at the dock.
We landed.
I checked the weapon Renner had given me.
“Clara.”
Marcus caught my arm.
“What?”
“If Charles is inside, don't assume he's on your side.”
“He's my grandfather.”
“That means nothing tonight.”
Fair.
We entered.
The lobby was empty.
Dust covered the floor.
But two sets of wet footprints led toward an elevator.
Shaw.
Sienna.
The elevator still had power.
Basement level selected.
We descended.
The doors opened onto something that did not belong beneath an abandoned quarry.
A data center.
Rows of servers.
Climate-controlled air.
White lights.
Modern equipment.
Not abandoned.
Active.
Screens turned on as we entered.
One by one.
Names appeared.
Thousands.
Photographs.
Dates.
Statuses.
DECEASED.
REASSIGNED.
PROTECTED.
ACTIVE.
Sienna stood in the center.
Alone.
“Sienna!”
She turned.
Her face was covered in tears.
I ran to her.
“Where's Shaw?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Why are you crying?”
She pointed toward a screen.
A file was open.
SIENNA STERLING.
My sister's photograph.
Date of birth.
Medical history.
Then:
ORIGINAL IDENTITY: SUBJECT 7-B.
PLACEMENT DATE: 14 MAY 1994.
GUARDIAN ASSIGNMENT: RICHARD STERLING.
I stared.
“What does Subject 7-B mean?”
Sienna shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Another field appeared.
BIOLOGICAL MATERNAL LINE: CROSS.
My blood turned cold.
Cross.
Again.
I opened my own file.
CLARA ELISE STERLING.
ORIGINAL IDENTITY: SUBJECT 7-A.
PLACEMENT DATE: 02 FEBRUARY 1993.
BIOLOGICAL MATERNAL LINE: CROSS.
Sienna looked at me.
“We're related.”
“We always were.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Biologically.”
I searched further.
Maternal genetic relationship.
MATCH.
Probability:
99.87%.
Sienna and I were biological sisters.
But Evelyn wasn't our biological mother.
Anna Cross was supposedly mine.
Was she Sienna's too?
Impossible.
Anna died during my birth.
Unless—
“She didn't die,” I whispered.
Marcus heard me.
“Who?”
“Anna.”
I searched her file.
ANNA CROSS.
STATUS: DECEASED.
No photograph.
No death certificate.
No medical record.
Only one note:
MATERNAL SOURCE TERMINATED FOLLOWING 7-A DELIVERY.
I stared at the wording.
Not died.
Terminated.
“Jesus,” Renner whispered.
Then another screen activated.
A video.
A younger Charles Sterling appeared.
Grandpa.
The timestamp:
February 2, 1993.
My supposed birth date.
He looked directly into the camera.
“If you are watching this, then Harbor Glass has failed.”
Nobody moved.
Grandpa continued.
“Subjects 7-A and 7-B must never be returned to Nathaniel Cross.”
Sienna grabbed my hand.
“They are children, not assets.”
A door opened behind us.
We spun.
Dr. Shaw stood there.
No weapon visible.
“Keep watching.”
I aimed at her.
“Where is the filament?”
“Safe.”
“You shot my mother.”
“She'll survive.”
“You kidnapped my sister.”
“I asked her to come.”
Sienna whispered, “She did.”
“Don't defend her.”
“Clara, watch.”
Grandpa's recording continued.
“Anna Cross did not die giving birth to 7-A.”
I stopped breathing.
“She died eight months later.”
Shaw closed her eyes.
Pain crossed her face.
Grandpa continued.
“After discovering what her brother had done.”
“What did Cross do?” I whispered.
The recording answered.
“Nathaniel used Harbor Glass to create identities for children whose existence could compromise powerful people.”
Pictures appeared.
Babies.
Children.
Dozens.
“Some were witnesses' children. Some were the children of politicians, judges, criminals, intelligence officers.”
Then Grandpa's voice became colder.
“And some were created intentionally.”
Sienna squeezed my hand.
“What does that mean?”
Dr. Shaw answered.
“Genetic selection.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“This was thirty years ago. Crude compared with today.”
“For what?”
“To produce compatible biological identifiers.”
“For the archive?”
“For access.”
The video changed.
Anna Cross appeared.
My mother.
My biological mother.
I knew immediately.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
She held a baby.
Me.
“If Nathaniel ever finds my daughters,” she said, “he will tell them they are keys.”
Sienna began crying.
“He will tell them their blood belongs to Harbor Glass.”
Anna looked into the camera.
“It doesn't.”
She kissed the baby's forehead.
“They belong to themselves.”
My throat closed.
Then she said:
“Clara. Sienna. If Charles succeeded, those are the names you know.”
Sienna collapsed against me.
Anna knew both of us.
Before Sienna was supposedly born.
Before Anna supposedly died.
“This doesn't make sense,” I whispered.
Shaw answered.
“Sienna wasn't born in 1994.”
Sienna looked at her.
“What?”
“You were born eleven minutes after Clara.”
Silence.
Twins.
Sienna and I stared at each other.
All the differences we had been taught.
Different birthdays.
Different childhood stories.
I was older by nearly two years.
Except I wasn't.
We were twins.
Richard knew.
Evelyn knew.
Grandpa knew.
Cross knew.
“Why separate our birthdays?” I asked.
“To hide the genetic link.”
“From Cross?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the archive requires two living biological authentications.”
I understood.
Not one.
Two.
“Sienna and me.”
Shaw nodded.
“The capsule identifies the archive.”
“And we open it.”
“Together.”
Renner looked at the servers.
“Then Cross needs both sisters.”
A voice behind us said:
“Correct.”
Nathaniel Cross.
He stepped from the far corridor.
Six armed agents followed him.
My task force.
People I had worked beside for six months.
Cross looked exactly as he always did.
Gray suit.
Silver hair.
Calm eyes.
The man who had taught me how to interrogate suspects.
The man who was apparently my uncle.
“Hello, Clara.”
I raised my gun.
His agents raised theirs.
Sienna stood beside me.
Cross smiled sadly.
“You look so much like Anna.”
“Don't say her name.”
“She was my sister.”
“She was afraid of you.”
“She was confused.”
“Grandpa recorded her.”
“Charles recorded many things.”
“Where is he?”
Cross's smile disappeared.
“Dead.”
Mercer stepped forward.
“Liar.”
Cross looked at him.
No surprise.
“So Charles did recruit you.”
Mercer said nothing.
Cross returned his attention to me.
“You have questions.”
“I have ammunition.”
“You won't use it.”
“Why?”
“Because you still think this is about corruption.”
He looked at Sienna.
“Or money.”
Then at Shaw.
“Or stolen identities.”
“What is it about?”
Cross sighed.
“Survival.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
He took one step forward.
My gun remained trained on him.
“Anna didn't hide you from me, Clara.”
He pointed toward the screen.
“She hid you from Charles.”
Dr. Shaw shouted, “Don't listen!”
Cross ignored her.
“Charles Sterling created Subjects 7-A and 7-B.”
“No.”
“He selected Anna.”
“Stop.”
“He selected Julian.”
“Stop.”
“He designed both of you to open Harbor Glass after his death.”
Sienna whispered, “Why?”
Cross looked at us.
“Because he knew no ordinary password could survive decades.”
The servers around us began changing.
Files disappeared.
One after another.
Someone was remotely deleting them.
Cross spun toward his agents.
“Stop the purge!”
They ran toward the terminals.
Shaw smiled.
“What did you do?” Cross demanded.
“Not me.”
Then a new image appeared on every screen.
Charles Sterling.
Live.
Not a recording.
Older.
Much older.
But unmistakably my grandfather.
He sat somewhere dark.
Alive.
Cross stared at him.
For the first time, Nathaniel Cross looked afraid.
Grandpa smiled.
“Nathaniel.”
Cross whispered:
“Charles.”
“I told you thirty-two years ago.”
Cross stepped toward the screen.
“Where are you?”
Grandpa ignored him.
His eyes seemed to look directly at Sienna and me.
“My girls.”
My chest tightened.
“You're alive.”
“For the moment.”
“Where are you?”
“No time.”
“Grandpa—”
“Listen carefully.”
The server alarms began sounding.
Cross shouted orders behind us.
Grandpa continued.
“Do not let Nathaniel authenticate the archive.”
“He says you're the one we should fear.”
Grandpa smiled sadly.
“He would.”
“Who is telling the truth?”
“Neither of us.”
That answer terrified me.
“What?”
“Harbor Glass became something none of us could control.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“And there is one truth Nathaniel will never tell you.”
Cross shouted, “Kill the connection!”
Grandpa spoke faster.
“Clara, you and Sienna were not the only children.”
Sienna froze.
“What?”
A photograph appeared.
Four newborn babies.
Not two.
Four.
Each labeled.
7-A.
7-B.
7-C.
7-D.
I stared at the screen.
Cross's face had gone completely white.
Grandpa said:
“Anna gave birth to quadruplets.”
My hand went numb around the gun.
“Where are the other two?”
Grandpa's expression broke.
“One is dead.”
“And the other?”
He looked directly into the camera.
“Has been beside you since Operation Harbor Glass began.”
The connection died.
Every screen went black.
I turned slowly toward the agents standing behind Nathaniel Cross.
People I had trusted.
People I had worked with.
People who knew my habits, my investigation, my family.
One of them was my sibling.
And somewhere in that room, someone already knew exactly who it was.