Tom ripped to his feet and hurled a dumbbell, sending it crashing into an equipment rack. Yuri jumped to his feet, startled, when it all came crashing down in an earsplitting jumble. Wyatt just sat frozen on the weight bench.
Yuri’s mouth hung open. “Do you feel better now, Tom?”
“No!” Nothing was going to be better. Not until he tore them all apart. Until he ripped Dalton’s face off and clawed out Karl’s guts.
Tom clamped his fists over the steel bar of the bench, feeling like he could break it apart with his hands. Fury pulsed through him, and his fingers tightened on it until they hurt. He was so angry he felt sick. So angry he—he didn’t remember something. But then he did. He remembered it.
He released his grip on the bar, the shock of it clearing his head. He looked at Yuri.
“You called me Tom. You said it. Just now. You used my name.” The implication raced through his brain.
The mother of all firewalls.
“Wyatt,” Tom breathed.
Yuri sighed, and looked at Wyatt. She nodded stiffly.
“I have this firewall, too, Tom,” Yuri said.
“I tested it on him last night.” She folded her arms. “I had to see if it would neutralize sophisticated malware like Yuri’s, so I’d know if it would work on yours. And afterward, well, I couldn’t just take it away from him again.”
“You unscrambled him,” Tom said, shocked.
“He’s not a spy,” Wyatt said heatedly.
“I am not, Tom,” Yuri pledged.
He must’ve seen the apprehension on Tom’s face, because his big, broad-shouldered body stirred uneasily on the weight bench.
“I was born in Russia, yes, but I have lived here many years now. I always wanted to be a cosmonaut, but no people go into space now. So when my father moved us here, I tried to join the US Intrasolar Forces in case that changed one day. My father’s friend, he heard about this ambition and helped me come here …”
“Vengerov.” Tom spat the name, remembering the man from the Beringer Club.
Yuri dipped his head, conceding it. “He has influence, because when my country began experimenting with neural processors, Vengerov defected with this technology to America. He helped develop the program, so out of friendship to my father, he was able to get me in here. I have always tried to be a good trainee. Even when I did not get promoted after two years, I stayed, and I tried harder. Why would I spy? It is one thing if I believed I was fighting for Russia, and you for America, but my parents, they are always saying this is not the case with this war. War is not about countries now.”
Tom thought suddenly of what his dad always said. “It’s about companies.”
“Exactly,” Yuri agreed. “So what is it to me who wins? It has never mattered.”
Tom rubbed at his pulsing forehead. He wasn’t sure what to think of this. He couldn’t really think right now.
Yuri grabbed hold of Wyatt’s hand, and she jumped, startled, like she’d forgotten for a moment that he was there.
“At least I know your name now,” Yuri told her.
There was a wistful note in his voice that made Tom feel like a terrible person. Yuri saw everything now for the first time, and he knew his friends had gone along with it, too.
“Look, I’m sorry, man.”
“To be very honest”—Yuri’s gaze dropped to his fingers, linked with Wyatt’s—“I almost wish I’d stayed that way. It was very strange to realize I did not know the names of any of my friends.”
Wyatt stood there, rigid, for a few moments, then reached out and gave Yuri a few rough taps on his shoulder. Tom realized after a moment that she wasn’t halfheartedly punching him, she was trying to comfort him.
“You can’t tell anyone, Tom,” Wyatt said severely. “Yuri and I would both get charged with treason.”
“I won’t. I owe you both.”
“Thomas will not tell.” Yuri leaned forward, his eyes gripping Tom’s. “I know he will keep our secret.”
“I would die before I’d tell anyone.” And he meant it with every fiber of his being.
CHAPTER TWENTY
WHEN TOM STEPPED into his bunk, he had twenty minutes left until morning meal formation, and his brain was still a mess. He couldn’t stop thinking of the video Karl had sent him, the video of him crouched on the floor, barking like a dog.
Tom settled onto his bed, the images of Karl laughing at him over the video camera and Dalton wreathed in cigar smoke burning his brain.
Vik stood by his bed, getting dressed. He threw Tom a sullen look, then turned away from him. “What, not gonna gel up your hair and make yourself pretty today?”
“Nope.” Tom’s chest felt like it was going to explode. He scrunched the bedsheets with his clenched fists, trying to think through the blinding rage that kept morphing and twisting into confusion and this bone-deep misery.
“See you later then, Spineless Disgrace to Mankind.”
Tom saw Vik head toward the door, about to disappear back into the hallway. Despair crashed over him like a living force of its own. Out it came, one word: “Doctor!”
Vik halted, his shoulders drawing up like some alert predator. He turned, a strange gleam in his black eyes. “Doctor?”
“Doctor,” Tom confirmed.
Hope leaped into Vik’s face. “Seriously? Seriously, Tom?”
Tom nodded, and swallowed hard. “So as it turns out, some Dominion Agra people have been planting stuff in my head to make me a good little boy. I need vengeance. I need blood-vendetta, massacre-style vengeance.”
Vik bellowed a sudden laugh. To Tom’s shock, his roommate leaped forward and crushed him in a fierce bear hug before hurling him back down onto the bed. “Good to have you back!” Vik dropped down next to him. “So, vengeance, huh?”
Tom gazed bleakly at the wall across from him. “Vik, I’m supposed to see the Dominion Agra people on Saturday. I have until Saturday to figure it out. Vik, right now I can’t even think of a revenge scheme that won’t get me sent to prison for the next forty years.”
“That’s why there are two Doctors of Doom, buddy. Can’t think? I’ll think for you.”
“Right. Right.” Tom scraped his hands through his hair over and over again. He rose, fumbling in his drawer for his uniform.
“Forget that.” Vik knocked Tom’s drawer closed with his heel. “We’ll skip morning meal formation. Tell me what happened. And then we’ll plot some glorious revenge.”
TOM AND VIK had the time of their lives in the days leading up to the Dominion Agra soiree. The first thing they did was check the limit of the credit card Dalton had given him. It was fifty thousand dollars.
Good little Zombie Tom was trustworthy enough not to abuse it.
Regular Tom was delighted to.
He convinced Wyatt to hack the credit card company’s database and change Dalton’s contact information so he wouldn’t find out what Tom was doing in time to stop it. She didn’t want to be party to credit card fraud beyond that, so Tom had to spend fifty thousand dollars without her help.
Vik nobly offered to help.
Tom put down ten thousand dollars for his father the next time he stayed at the Dusty Squanto Casino. Then he and Vik decided to have some fun of their own.