Read Online Enemy of Gideon by Melissa McGovern Taylor - Free Book Online Page B

each office, an officer works at a computer screen or talks with someone from the other side of a desk. At the end of the hall, it opens up into a waiting-room-like area with chairs on one side and a secretary’s desk on the other.
    The red-headed secretary’s face brightens when she sees Og. “Hey, Oggie! How are you?”
    “Hi, Ms. Estrada. Is my dad available?”
    “Go right in, sweetie. Oh, and before you leave, I’ve got a treat for you and your friend.”
    “Thanks,” he says, opening his father’s office door.
    “Oggie?” I echo.
    “She treats me like I’m still in elementary school,” he whispers.
    I follow him into the office. “Aren’t you?”
    He turns around and gives me a playful shove as Chief Penski stands from behind his desk.
    “How’s my boy? Everything okay?”
    Ogden straightens up at the sight of his towering father. “Yes, sir. Raissa needs to talk to you.”
    I approach the desk without hesitation. “Chief Pen—”
    “I know what this is about,” the chief says. He turns to his son. “Wait outside, Ogden.”
    Og nods and heads for the door. After it closes, Chief Penski continues.
    “There is nothing I can do about your sister. She’s been uncooperative.”
    How can such a word be used to describe Petra, the definition of cooperative? What happened to my model-citizen sister?
    “If you give me five minutes with her, I could get her to deny them,” I say.
    Chief Penski scoffs. “Deny them? I’m looking for their whereabouts, the enemy camps. I could care less about rehabilitating your sister. She’s an enemy. She’s only useful to me if she can give me information.”
    He drops down into his high-backed chair and returns his attention to his computer monitor as if he just gave some order to a subordinate or answered some simple question from his secretary. The coldness of his tone resonates with me. He doesn’t care about Petra. He has no sympathy for me or Mom. I thought our families were friends.
    “What if I could get you that inform ation?” I ask. “What if I could talk Petra into telling you what you want to know?”
    The chief looks back at me again. “Then we might be able to negotiate.”
    “Take me to her.”
     
    ►▼◄
     
    I sit at a wooden table in the center of the visitor meeting room. Under the fluorescent light reflected by white walls and flooring, the pencil lead under my fingernails becomes more apparent. My hands shake, and my pulse pounds. My heart has never drummed so hard and fast before. What do I say to her? What can I do to get Petra to reveal the location of the enemy camps?
    The door to the room releases a beep and creaks open. A CE officer enters with his hand hooked around a prisoner’s arm. The prisoner, dressed in all white, keeps her head down, back bent, and cuffed hands held in front of her. She hobbles and, although I recognize the wavy, brown hair, there must be some mistake. This is not my sister.
    But when the officer releases her arm and the prisoner lifts her head, my heart drops. It is Petra. Our eyes meet, and my stomach turns. One of Petra’s eyes is a black and blue bulge. Her top lip is swollen with smeared, dried blood in one corner.
    I jump from my chair and rush over to embrace her. She raises her cuffed hands to put her arms around me. Petra’s chest heaves against my own, and she lets out a painful cry. I suck in a breath, struggling to keep from crying.
    “What did they do to you?” I ask.
    She releases me. “I’m okay. What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”
    “I had to see you. Mom’s a mess. We need you out of here.”
    She drops into the other chair at the table and runs her hands through her disheveled hair. “I can’t get out. What they want … I can’t do it.”
    “Tell them where the enemy camps are. That’s all Penski wants,” I say, sitting at the table.
    “I can’t. I won’t. Don’t you see my face? They couldn’t beat it out of me!”
    My bottom lip quivers. I bite it