As I approach their palace-sized building, I absorb the view in a new light. A sprawling network of old buildings dominates an entire district in the heart of the Sydney CBD, right by the Opera House. United World has preserved the Victorian-style heritage facades but fused them with sweeping glass panels and clean architectural lines, creating a seamless blend of history and modern design. Their headquarters gleams with quiet power.

  The Botanical Gardens serve as their private lunch and relaxation zone. Staff spill onto the lawns for sports and other after-work activities, all designed to keep their morale high and happy remaining in the job they have. It feels less like a workplace and more like a self-contained village, where Dad and Alonzo once worked in its centre. They have everything available to practically sleep at work if they never wanted to leave.

  There are no walls or gates enclosing the array of buildings, giving their headquarters the appearance of light security. What isn’t so obvious are the micro-security cameras covering every inch of their precinct. They use infrared technology to track where people are by their body heat and facial recognition software to verify every worker and visitor. This allows them to identify anyone who enters their district.

  What they do not do so well is actually monitor the cameras.

  Dad always complained about how United World’s trust in their secure technology blinded them on the people-requirement. There are only a few guards for the entire complex, and they are more likely chatting or gaming than watching the cameras. And in the event of a real threat? There are not enough people to defend against a planned attack. That is why he worried about what the permissions their self-learning AI might be allowed to do, such as wildly deploying drones to neutralize someone it mistakenly identifies as a threat.

  And this is where Roselyn feels the need to be tonight.

  On the left, against the side of a building, I see three figures in black crossing the invisible line into United World’s territory. A fourth figure stays back, as if guarding their entry point, but Roselyn and I both know the real security comes from insight the precinct. They all blend in with dark of the night in their dark attire, faces hidden behind what look to be ski masks to cover any facial features from the cameras.

  The awkward lead is not being careful at all. He rushes up to hide against walls and throws himself to the ground more for the thrill of acting the spy, rather than from any tactical motive. That will be Sam, the scapegoat. Close behind comes the real leader, watching for any concerning signs that Sam’s movements may have triggered. They stay near the third figure, a sleeker presence who moves with purpose and seems to be guiding them as the navigator. That makes the second intruder Dom, the third Roselyn, and Sabina electing to watch, rather than enter.

  I want to follow them and pull Roselyn back by her pretentious long hair, but I know I’m more likely to get her in trouble than keep her safe. It is better to watch and wait, like Sabina. She’s on her own now. All I can do is tell Dad what happened and show him where his blind favouritism has led his youngest daughter.

  The deeper they move into United World territory, the more I regret failing to call Roselyn back the moment I recognised her. It is too late now. She is beyond my help. All I can do is stand by until they return and then drill into them the full extent of how foolish their actions were, yet again. I’ll find out why they are here, and not even Dad will be able to ignore this. No matter how much he hates United World, he fears them too. After all, they did upend his life.

  So, I wait.

  Every minute they don’t return passes with an increasing anxiousness. What could they possibly be doing? They can’t have been caught, there would be some sign of activity. But being caught would explain their long absence. I pace back and forth, my mind conjuring one horrifying scenario after another about what could be holding them up. They could be lost, trapped, captured, injured, tortured. Lifeless bodies never to return.

  I will never get my interview. Ernie won’t be employed as an engineer, and Dad will remain stuck at home, unforgiven forever.

  Sabina’s body language is completely relaxed. She doesn’t even notice me pacing on the street or anything else that’s going on around her. She’s now pulled back her ski mask to take pictures of herself against the wall, aiming for a dangerous, sexy, elegant pose like that of a secret agent. She spends the rest of the time typing on her phone. I sure hope she is not sending those pictures to anyone.

  I sure hope she’s not sending her pictures to anyone. I reel my focus back to Roselyn and the others.

  Where are they!

  Despite sitting in the open for the past hour, my feeling of being watched hasn’t gone away. Surely, if someone was stalking me, now would be the perfect time to directly advance on me. It really must just be my imagination. No one would have the patience to stay hidden this long, watching me without taking the chance to reveal themselves when the opportunity is handed to them.

  And no one does.

  After an hour, my worries are validated by the urgent sound of approaching police cars. I move into hiding, not wanting to stand so obviously in the middle of the main entrance to the neighbourhood.

  Sabina is at least present enough to shift the focus of her photos from herself to the police cars. Although, she seems more entertained by the commotion than concerned. I count the vehicles as they arrive: seventeen sleek, dark navy patrol cars, each marked with a white checkerboard stripe near the rear, and three matching helicopters prowl overhead.

  It feels excessive for a few teenage intruders, but they do highly value the security of Australia’s main distributor of power. A night-time invasion might even be classified as a terrorist incident.

  Only a few of the police cars stay behind at this entrance to seal off the access points. Their operation is temporarily delayed by media teams pushing in to report the event live and be prepared to capture footage of any action. A fast swirl of orbiting lenses follows each presenter, collecting footage from every angle for live hologram feeds. It has never just been news. Every dramatic second is crafted to be felt.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  In the darkness, I catch a glimpse of movement. Along the side of the building where they crossed the invisible line, the three idiots reappear. The one-minute media distraction is luckily perfect timing to save them all from being caught.

  I notice that this time Dom leads the exit, purposeful like a hero in his own story. Roselyn follows, tight-limbed and overly poised, as if she is trying too hard to walk normally. Sam comes last, his body trembling with nervous laughter that he has not yet dared to voice. They casually walk away, heading directly back towards where we live, leaving the scene just as the police finish sealing off the exit.

  I follow them closely.

  They don’t manage to hold their silent escape for long before overemphasising their adrenaline in loud conversation and bursts of relieved laughter. Only Sabina maintains her composure, more out of disinterest than any real control over her emotions.

  This is what I am waiting for, and the only reason I have not confronted them yet. If I ask Roselyn what they did, she won’t tell me. But if I follow them and listen, they’ll probably tell the world.

  Sure enough, Sam bursts out in laughter, slapping Dom on the back before holding onto him to keep from losing his balance.

  “Hahahaha! They brought all of those police officers just for us!”

  Dom absorbs the slap on his back and flashes Roselyn a sly, very pleased with himself smirk.

  “Not only that. They’ll have to speak to every media outlet and convince all of Australia that they can still be trusted to manage the country’s power distribution. It’s a great first step toward a change to the power they hold and can manipulate. It begins with a loss of credibility, and before long, the country is asking questions about safer, less corrupt alternatives.”

  The realisation hits me. Ah, they did all of this, and stayed that long, to intentionally attract the police and the media.

  Wait, first step? What are they planning next?

  Sam finds his feet again and throws an arm around Sabina, who is typing on her phone. She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t look too pleased about it either.

  He adopts a dramatic tone and asks, “Did I look sexy, babe, with all my cool spy moves?”

  Sabina responds flatly, “It was dark, and I didn’t see.”

  Sam prefers this answer.

  “Let me paint the picture for you then. Where there was a pole, I moulded myself to fit the shape. Where there was a window, I flattened myself to the ground and slid under its view. When we needed to communicate, I used a secret language that’s surprisingly close to English to express that we were all clear to continue ahead.”

  Sabina turns to Dom. “So, he was trying to get caught?”

  Dom chuckles. “Haha, pretty much.”

  Sam pipes up. “Hey! I have the superpower of invisibility. No one can see me!”

  Sabina retorts. “Well, that much is true.”

  Sam stops with his mouth wide open, then shuts it as he catches up on the implications of what he just said.

  Roselyn takes her opportunity to speak to Dom and Sam, her tone deep and meaningful.

  “Thank you both for doing this with me. It will make such a difference to my Dad’s life. And as you said, Dom, it affects the credibility of United World at the same time.”

  Sabina looks a bit pissed at not being included in the thanks, but she really didn’t do anything to deserve it.

  I’m not able to hold myself back any longer. It takes just the sound of Roselyn's voice for me to feel whatever patience I had give way. I inject myself into the conversation.

  “I don’t see how causing one night of inconvenience for United World makes any difference to the situation Dad got himself into.”

  They all stop walking and look around in shock, with the exception of Sabina’s irritated indifference.

  I continue with what I want to say.

  “If anything, his ongoing punishment sets an example for others looking to cause trouble. They could make things worse for him. Not that he doesn’t deserve that either.”

  Roselyn’s speech shifts from heartfelt and meaningful to sarcastic and biting. Her posh English accent is her go-to.

  “If it isn’t Victorrria. Please, keep telling us what you think, Victorrria. It’s what we love most about you.”

  My forehead creases as I grimace. I really hate that accent. She breaks the law, causes more problems for our family, and somehow throws it back on me for trying to be responsible.

  Dom is facing me head-on now, walking toward me with the purpose of a predator. His shoulders are squared, arms loose and ready to pounce, like he owns the space between us. There is an intensity in his gaze that sets off every alarm in my already spinning mind. I am glad there are still plenty of people around in this fringe of the city. He addresses me, his voice cold and accusatory.

  “Why are you following us?”

  The nerve of that question.

  “I wasn’t following you! I am now, but I wasn’t!”

  The words don’t come out as clearly as I would like them to. He has a more dangerous look than I’ve ever seen on him before. The kind that says he would happily cause me harm to silence me, if it were to benefit him.

  He presses me further.

  “Who are you going to tell about what you saw and heard tonight?”

  Roselyn interjects.

  “She won’t tell anyone and doesn’t even know why we were really there. Well, she will tell Dad, but that’s fine because I’m going to tell him anyway.”

  She turns to me.

  “Don’t tell anyone else, not even Claudia. If this gets out to anyone, it will be on your conscience forever that you have put me in the same position as Dad.”

  It frustrates me to have so little control over this, but at least I can tell Dad. He will definitely take my side on this one!

  Dom advances toward me until he is right in front of me. With unblinking eye contact, he commands me with implied threat.

  “Promise you aren’t going to talk about this to anyone.”

  Frozen in the moment, I express myself with a slight tilt of my head in a nod.

  “Say it!” he snarls.

  “I promise,” I let out. Now is not the time for me to take my stand. That can be at home with Dad.

  “Let’s take you home. There you can be the first to share our news,” Dom tells Roselyn. He grabs her wrist, firmly but not roughly, and leads her forward at a brisk pace.

  Sabina calls after them, forcing sweetness into her voice. “See you tomorrow, Dom!”

  Sam adds in the voice of a TV show narrator previewing the next episode, “Will they hit up the mall, crash a party, or start a revolution? The Free’dom’ Fighters’ next episode drops tomorrow!”

  Sabina lifts Sam’s arm from around her neck and quietens him by walking off in another direction.

  Sam calls out, “Are you going home, babe?”

  She replies a curt, “Yes,” without hesitating or looking back.

  “Bye?” Sam puts out there, sounding confused. He stays frozen, eyebrows drawn and his frame slightly hunched, like someone benched in a game they thought they were winning. He receives no reply and does not move, stuck wondering what he could have done wrong.

  If I wasn’t angry at Sam too, I might actually feel sorry for him. Girls can be cruel and confusing when they want to be. Guys are usually more straightforward, but they can be more violent. I’m not sure which is better.

  I race to keep up with Dom, who continues power walking ahead, guiding Roselyn home with his right hand gripping her left wrist.

  Perhaps it is the pace I am keeping that makes the difference, but I do not sense anyone watching me all the way home.

  I don’t try to outrun my sister. I am not about to test Dom’s patience any further tonight. He leads her to the door first, then turns to block my entry with his firm body and a deathly stare. We stand in a tense, awkward silence for a few minutes before he paces toward me, and I have to step aside to let him pass so I can finally make my way in.

  Dad is standing by the couch, wearing light trackpants and a stretched beige t-shirt, the neckline slack from age. He stares at Roselyn with a stunned, sullen expression, his eyes opened by a truth he can no longer deny.

  It is as if he is seeing how dangerous she is for the very first time.