The Stefan Mendoza Trilogy Boxed Set, page 73
part #1 of Stefan Mendoza Trilogy Series
It was about a mile to the apartment building. He took off toward it at a healthy pace. I followed.
After a bit, he said, “We are putting a new team together, but gathering the best available assets is slow.”
“Best on the market?”
“Best of LoDu. It is the same thing.”
I shook my head. I didn’t give a damn if he saw it. “Is that how you expect this to operate going forward? A huge group of people on the payroll, running operations all across the globe?”
“It is the new way. All of the metacorporations forming do the same thing. They steal, they sabotage, they kidnap. We adapt or fail. Already, we have operations running as you say: around the clock, across the globe.”
“This is the future for spies?”
“Until we can create something better.”
Something better. That sounded pretty twisted. “What about letting me try something?”
He turned. “What?”
“Well, if the money’s right, maybe I can get Danny to reconsider. He’s a better sniper than Suqing was, and he can handle drones.”
Du-ri thought about that. “Call him. I will discuss money with Hong-sik.”
“All right. What about Ichi?”
“The one we rescued?”
“She’s passed a physical. I think the psychological wounds are going to be the ones that take the longest to close. ”
“And she would do this?”
It was my turn to think a bit. “I’d rather she not, but that’s been my position from the start. I can’t force her not to. This is dangerous work; I don’t care how good you are. The weapons, the technology—it all keeps moving too fast for humans to keep up. You go up against machines, you lose.”
He cleared his throat. “And if she agrees, you would want to run the team?”
“You run the operation, I run the team. No more interference and delays. I talk to them directly.”
He took that better than I’d expected, merely flinching. “And for a driver?”
“If I can get Danny, maybe I can get one. The woman he’s with. She’s good. A little crazy but good. Would Pitsamai be open to working with that structure?”
Du-ri flinched again. “Pitsamai has been…reassigned.”
“It’s none of my business, but it’s a bad idea to sleep with someone on your team.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “This is something you follow as well as say? The way these two women have looked at you—”
“Chan is…” I sighed. “I could never take advantage of Chan, and that’s what it would be. I think I’m as close as Chan has ever come to a decent father figure, and that says a lot about how bad a childhood that kid must’ve had.”
“And the other one? She is very attractive.”
“And I’m her protector. Until she’s old enough to take care of herself.” I was beginning to wonder if she would live that long. “Take it or don’t. Pitsamai doesn’t have to work with us if you don’t want. It’s just a bad idea in my experience to introduce all the emotions and expectations that come with sex to something so high-risk.”
We walked in silence, leaning into the wind, neither admitting we would be fine if a cab pulled over and carried us the rest of the way. It was just who we were.
Broken, stubborn men .
Once we passed through the security gate, Du-ri said, “This Chan, if there is such a thing as the best Gridhound alive, then we must have such a person working for us. As you said, the machines are a danger.”
“No. The rehab. It still has weeks to go, and you said things are moving quickly. Did that change?”
“No. We expect Marshall to be moved any day now.”
“And we can’t just wait until they have him settled at the final destination to hit?”
“Security is always weakest during transport. There is also the problem that we are not sure where he will end up. Finding his transportation will be easier.”
I stopped at the entry. “Can you get another Gridhound or not?”
“We are trying, but our best are deeply engaged in equally important efforts.”
I wondered if they even had anyone as good as Pitsamai. “Can you get Dr. Kim to clear me? He said Chan was off-limits during this phase of the process.”
Du-ri smiled. “It will take a call. By the time you arrive at your room, it will be done.”
I left him on the sidewalk, talking to his data device. My stomach lurched at the idea of recruiting Chan. Dr. Kim said the rehabilitation was coming along far better than expected. He assumed the initial problems had been with a lack of will on Chan’s part, and now that will was there.
The will to get better for me.
I was the shittiest guardian in the world, a user, no better than Stovall. I knocked at my apartment door, then let myself in. Ichi had developed an annoying habit of walking around in just her bathrobe, and I felt like a heel even thinking of asking her to put some clothes on. She still walked with a limp, and all I had to do to avoid embarrassment was be careful around her.
It was warm inside, which meant she had been at the thermostat again. I knocked on the guest room door to be sure she wasn’t around, then dropped the heat back down to something humanly bearable .
The refrigerator had been restocked with beers—good ones. I took one out, popped the cap, took a long drink. Then another. Then another. Then I finished it off and grabbed another bottle.
I dropped onto my bed with a bounce that made me think of Ericka. When I’d talked to her earlier in the day, she had looked weak and sounded tired, but there had been a smile for me, a smile I had selfishly photographed to study later.
I hadn’t told her of Taliana, although it ate at me. Just part of the job rang hollow. We haven’t taken vows wasn’t any better. She had a lover when her marriage hit the rocks and is unapologetic about it …was only a little more meaningful.
Could I have an open view about that if we became more serious, took vows?
You’re delaying the inevitable.
I was. I pulled out my data device, synced it to the display system on my dresser, and dialed up the treatment center. A middle-aged woman frowned at me. She didn’t even attempt English; the system translated for me.
“Dr. Kim has approved your visit, Mr. Mendoza.”
And then I was abruptly connected to Chan’s room. No chance for a half-hearted thank you, even.
Chan’s eyes were closed, and the black hair framing the tattooed face was damp, clinging to clammy, pallid skin. It was skin that had been cleaned up from the looks of it, with a thin gown leaving a lot exposed. I tried not to notice the scars that had never been in the VR simulations. At least there weren’t restraints anymore.
A tone chimed, then another, and the magenta eyes I always expected to see pain and resentment in opened. Sleepily. There was what appeared to be a struggle, a few blinks, then the eyes focused. “Stefan?” A smile.
How could someone forgive you for using them not once, not twice, but three times? “How’re you doing, kid?”
The patches of facial skin that weren’t tattooed darkened, and Chan looked down. “Lots of nausea. Kind of sick. Tired. ”
“It’s tough stuff, rehab. I don’t know if Danny told you or not, but when they cleaned me up, I could barely babble. I don’t remember much of anything.”
“I know. Saw you. Visited.” Chan looked away.
“I didn’t know about that.” Was that a comment about me not visiting?
“No one did.” It dawned on me there was a sheepishness in the reaction.
“Well, I really appreciate it. I hope you understand that I would visit more often, if I could.”
“Yeah. Dr. Kim said you call all the time. Thanks. Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’re looking better, by the way. Like they’ve helped you put some weight back on. You’re eating?”
Chan adjusted the gown. It was a shy kid behavior, not an adult. “A little.”
“How much longer you figure you have to put up with that crap?”
“Couple weeks.” A shrug. Another shy gown adjustment.
“You want to get a greasy burger and fries when you’re done?”
Chan giggled, then groaned. “My stomach.”
I took a high-quality capture of the giggling. “Okay. Hey, I might be jetting around the world again here—”
The apartment door opened, and Ichi shouted, “Stefan-san? It is cold. Did you change the thermostat?”
Chan’s magenta eyes darted around. “That Ichi?”
I bowed my head. “Yeah. She just got back.” From wherever.
Ichi limped into my room. Her skin glowed, and her face was flush. There were patches of sweat on her leotard. A cut had reopened on her leg. She craned her neck until she could see the display. “Chan? They are releasing you?”
Once again, Chan fidgeted with the gown. “No.”
Watching them, it hit me just how young they were and how worn down they already looked. If life was a race, Chan had already seen a lot of laps and was falling farther and farther behind the pack. Ichi now had her back to me. The bruises on her legs and butt might have been close to healed, but I knew what sort of beatings would have produced them and what sort of pain those beatings would have inflicted.
Who do you work for?
Memories of Tae-hee bending and twisting her own daughter, ignoring her screams and scolding her for being weak flashed through my mind.
Had there ever been anyone for the kid? Norimitsu? Me?
Chan’s image froze, and the nurse’s face reappeared. The system translated for her: “You have one minute remaining.”
And then Chan’s surprised face was there again. “Stefan?”
“We just got the timer warning from the wicked head nurse.”
Ichi stepped back from the display. “Hey, when you are done, maybe we start training again?”
That got another weak smile from Chan. “Yeah.”
I pushed off from the bed. “You get some rest, kid.”
Chan nodded, then a gleam flashed in the magenta eyes that had been staring at me. “Going somewhere?”
“Oh. Yeah. This operation. We just got back. I’ll tell you about it. Get better, okay?”
An enthusiastic nod, then Chan reached out toward the camera. “Thanks.”
The image froze.
The screen went black.
And I hated myself for even considering Du-ri’s request for a second.
Ichi crossed her arms. “You are going out again?”
“When they’re ready, yeah.”
“The team is mostly dead.”
“I know.” I began pacing. Stopped. “Where were you?”
She glanced down at her outfit, then looked at me as if I were an idiot. “The fitness center.”
“You just received clearance. That doesn’t mean you—”
She stormed from the room .
I followed her, catching her door with my hand before she could close it. “Ichi, you can’t push yourself too—”
She spun around, nearly lost her footing, then cocked her head. “I am an adult, Stefan-san. My choice.”
“Yeah, and I’m an adult, and I chose years ago to swear to your father that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
Her lips quivered, and her brow twisted. I couldn’t be sure if she was on the verge of crying or getting ready to scream at me. She did both. “That is an oath my father should have taken!”
“He was doing everything he could to protect you.”
She brushed the tears away angrily, then tore a tie from her hair and ran fingers through it. It was the first time I’d noticed how long she’d let it grow. Like Tae-hee’s. “There is more to being a father than feeding and clothing a child.”
“But it starts there. You have to do at least that and he did.”
She rolled her eyes and stopped untangling her hair. “Where was he when my classmates called me chosenjin ? Or when his wife told me I was not good enough to be Korean? Those are times where a father must be there, Stefan-san. Norimitsu-san…was not.”
My heart raced. The way her nostrils flared, the fury in her wet eyes—she was hurting, but she was talking about my best friend. “Did you ever talk to him?”
Once again, her lips trembled. She turned away and her breath caught; she was fighting tears. “No. To be weak in his eyes would have been too much.”
I wanted to hug her, to reassure her it wasn’t like that. Not with me.
There had been a time when we’d been visiting—when I’d been visiting Norimitsu’s place. Ichi had just turned thirteen. She had been fighting with Tae-hee, and the fighting had made life miserable for Norimitsu. I hadn’t suspected their marriage was such a wreck at the time, so I’d done as he’d asked and taken Ichi out for a walk. It had been a summer day, with kids running around with their parents. Japan was so different from America but similar in some ways, mostly just seeing mothers watching over their children .
I noticed Ichi wasn’t holding my hand the way she always had when I’d visited before, and she kept some distance from me. Her eyes had been on the other kids, the older ones, the ones who watched me and giggled.
“Hey,” I remembered saying. “What’s got you so upset?”
“I am not upset.” She glared at me at that point. It was the sort of look Margo used to give me when I’d screwed something up, like forgetting to buy her something for Valentine’s Day.
“Okay. You’re not holding my hand. I just thought—”
That got a groan and an eye roll. Those were apparently universal. “You are too much older than me!”
“Much older than you, not too much.” I had laughed at the way that had come out. Of course I was too much older for her. I’d told her that every time she’d said as a kid that she wanted to marry me when she grew up. “I’m too old for you. Much too old.” I’d laugh and tousle her hair and she’d get mad and punch me.
That had been before I knew she liked women.
She had looked ready to punch me that day, to punch the kids laughing at me, to punch the whole world. One of the older kids had shouted something, and Ichi ran. Even then, she’d been fast. I’d lost her and panicked, thinking I’d already failed Norimitsu, and she was barely a teen.
But I’d found her later, alone in a small park a mile or so away in a mostly empty commercial area. She’d been face down on a concrete bench, making the same noise she was making now.
Fighting the same tears.
I’d set a hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Ichi? I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. You okay?”
And she’d turned bloodshot and puffy eyes on me. “Do not touch me ever again, Stefan-san! You hear? Ever!”
Even at that age, I’d known what I should have done was tell her I was her guardian, that I would never hurt her, and that I would always be there for her, so she would just have to hate me for the rest of her life.
I’d wanted to but couldn’t. Instead, I’d asked, “Why? ”
“Because I hate you! Hate you!”
And I’d let that hurt me when it shouldn’t have. She was a kid turning into a teen. She had no idea what she was saying. I’d pointed to a bench at the far end of the park and said, “Well, when you’re ready to go home, I’ll be over there.”
And I’d sat on that bench for an hour while she worked her way through the little crying fits and everything else, then we’d walked back to her parents’ place, never coming closer than the width of the sidewalk allowed us.
Because I’d missed that little kid who loved me and said she wanted to marry me, even though I went around the world and killed people I was told to kill. She didn’t care that I ended people. Destroyed them.
It was an innocence I knew was gone that day, although maybe I hadn’t understood why.
It hadn’t been about me; it had been about being an outsider.
And I hadn’t been there for her.
I put my hand on her shoulder.
She pulled away.
I moved in closer and put both hands on her shoulders. “Ichi.” I didn’t let her pull away. “Listen. I understand. I remember. I never figured it out before, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She turned tear-filled eyes to me. “You do?”
“About being different. About being an outsider. I get it. I went through that myself. But that never meant a damned thing to your father. He loved you. He never stopped thinking of you. All he wanted to do was make you happy. And I promise you, I know what you’re feeling. I feel it too. All the time.”
She put her head against my chest and hugged me. “Thank you, Stefan-san.”
And then she cried.
Chapter 12
Sleep was slow in coming. I spent most of the night listening to the soft murmur of the heater, imagining I could hear Ichi’s gentle breathing down the hall. I padded to the kitchen, uncaring that she had turned the place into a sauna again, grabbed another beer and thought about hanging around outside her door in the dark, listening to be sure she was sleeping, then thought better of it. That was pretty creepy. Plus, she’d cried pretty hard, and that usually took a lot out of a person.
So I drank my beer and checked on my earlier communications to Abhishek. He’d sent a few follow-up messages, mostly encrypted texts, but nothing solid. The big question that was eating at me now was: Who the hell was behind the Colombia operation? It had been huge, expensive.
I finally just called.
Abhishek accepted the connection on the third ring. He wore a stained yellow shirt and an irritated glare that only his hyper-magnified eyes could manage. Smoke curled up from off camera. When he leaned forward, I could see the countertop with the overflowing elephant ashtray behind him; he was in his shop. “Stefan? This is coming from Korea? What time is it there?”
“Late.” I finished the beer off. “I need updates. Anything?”
He took a drag from a dying cigarette, realized that it was nothing but ash, and stamped it out, kicking up a small, gray cloud from the tray. “If I had something solid, you would know by now.”
“Maybe you’d like an update from me.”
