At my words, Wes gave me the same hard look he just gave Tim. I refused to flinch, refused to change my expression. He turned away first, but I saw how he closed his eyes for half a second, the deep breath he took.
Now he stands across from the bed, addressing all of us. “Alan Sardosky has been the president of the United States for the past five years, and is currently in his second term. Right now he is fairly well liked by the American public, but over the course of the next year, he becomes more and more of a recluse, and his paranoia increases to the point where he no longer leaves Hill House, this decade’s version of the White House. This campaign fund-raiser is his last public appearance before that starts happening. Which is why General Walker chose it for our first assassination attempt.”
Tim and I stand side by side, listening to Wes. It is information I already know: we’ve all been prepared for the events of tonight, and normally we would complete our task without discussion. But because it is my first time in the field—and most likely Tim’s—Lieutenant Andrews explained that we would be briefed again before the mission. I still find myself hanging on Wes’s words, knowing that the minute he is finished talking we will be sent down into the ballroom to kill the president.
“In a year and a half, Sardosky proposes, lobbies for, and signs an international nuclear arms act. Twenty other countries sign too, including Russia and China, all agreeing to disassemble their nuclear weapons and, ideally, end the threat of nuclear war for good. The two most problematic holdouts are North Korea and Iran. When the U.S. puts pressure on North Korea, threatening to invade if they don’t cooperate, the North Koreans retaliate by launching a series of nuclear attacks. Within a week, North Korea bombs Los Angeles, New York City, Boston, Chicago, and Washington, DC.”
“Sardosky and most of his staff live through the attack, and in response, the administration levels half of Asia. Millions die, and the radiation sparks a worldwide famine when crops fail,” Twenty-two adds. She sounds almost bored. “We need to prevent it from happening by bringing down the man who put all this in motion in the first place.”
“Even though he was trying to do something good,” I say without thinking.
All three of them turn to stare at me, and I press my palms into my sides, feeling the silk of my gown slide between my fingers. “I just . . . he didn’t mean to destroy the world. He was trying to help people. To end the threat of nuclear war.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Twenty-two’s expression is cold. “This isn’t our first mission to stop the aftermath of this treaty. The Project has already tried to get Sardosky out of office before his second term. We’ve tried to stop him from proposing the treaty, to stop him from signing the treaty—to stop North Korea from reacting to the United States’ pressure. Nothing has worked; every mission has ended in the same way: nuclear war. This is the next logical attempt to stop it from happening. Sardosky has to die.”
I do not respond. The Project makes calculated choices, weighs the odds and experiments until they create changes that have the smallest impact on the time line. Killing someone as important as the president has a large impact, and they wouldn’t do it unless they’d considered every option, unless this was the final choice.
But could this really be my destiny, as General Walker told me it was? Killing a man who’s trying to make the world a better place, even if he doesn’t succeed?
I don’t know if I believe in destiny anymore, but if I don’t go along with what the Project wants, then my grandfather will be the one who gets hurt. Either way, someone dies. It may sound heartless, but I will always save my grandfather over Alan Sardosky.
“If we fail to kill Sardosky on this mission, we’ll be sent back again and again, won’t we?” Tim asks. He is standing straighter than he was before, looking more like a recruit than he did when we were alone together. “And what if killing Sardosky doesn’t even work? What if we still end up with a nuclear war?”
Wes gives Tim a grim look. “We don’t know yet if killing him will stop the war, but it’s the only viable option left. The Project believes this is the solution, so we need to do our best to succeed tonight. If we can’t kill the president, then we’ll come back again until we do. It’s our job.”
Tim doesn’t answer.
“Remember that as soon as we leave this room, I am thirty-year-old Michael Gallo, a financial analyst at an international shipping company. I’ve been invited because one of the president’s friends, a Mr. Tierney, is trying to set up an export business in Washington and he wants to do business with the company Michael Gallo works for.” Wes glances at me, but when our eyes meet he looks away. “Seventeen is Samantha Greenwood, my fiancée. Twenty-two is Bea Carlisle, Samantha’s cousin, and Thirty-one is posing as a waiter. Everyone is clear on this?”
We nod.
“Twenty-two is a dead ringer for Sardosky’s mistress, who’s been away from the capital for weeks. She’ll seduce the president, and try to convince him to meet her in a private room.” He gestures at the other girl’s small, dark features, her petite frame. She doesn’t smile at Wes—she probably hasn’t smiled in years—but her mouth parts slightly, her head tilts down and to the side, and suddenly I believe she’s capable of seducing anyone. It makes me inch toward Wes, though I refuse to let myself think about why.
“Thirty-one can’t hold on to the poison; the guards physically search the waitstaff. Seventeen and I
