The Stefan Mendoza Trilogy Boxed Set, page 78
part #1 of Stefan Mendoza Trilogy Series
“So find out. See what they’ve got.”
“Uh-huh. And if you run into them when you go after Marshall, you plan on handing him over? Or is it going to be a bunch more dead people, Stefan?”
“I only kill people trying to kill me.”
“Really? That’s who you are now? Just some self-defense guy?”
Peter burst through the door with our food tray. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I looked to Ichi for support, but she shook her head and poured herself some more wine. I held out my empty shot glass but only got a snarl.
People stayed mercifully quiet throughout the meal, but I could tell that Lyndsey and Merkel were thinking everything over. I did my best to enjoy the lobster, but I ended up drowning it in butter. Ichi seemed to have a better time with her pheasant, finishing before everyone else.
As Lyndsey dabbed her lips with her napkin, she said, “I think you’ve got your heart in the right place.”
I patted my chest. “Still human.”
She smiled. “I’ll ask around, see if there’s a case open on this William Marshall. I’ve got the bandwidth to listen in if there is.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
“If I get something on any of the suspects, I’ll pass that along, too.”
“You have a charity you’d like me to contribute to?”
“The Lyndsey Hines Old Folks Home is my favorite.”
“Get me an account number.”
“Don’t you go raiding it. Not likely to find much there if you do.”
I turned to Merkel. “What about you, Agent Merkel? Any love? ”
“I can put you in contact with someone. There may be a licensing fee, but it’s not Agency property.”
“Favorite charity?”
“I’ve still got a job. Give a little extra to the Old Folks Home.”
“Done.” I pulled out my data device and established connections with Merkel.
Lyndsey scraped her front teeth with a fork. “What’s really behind this big change of heart? You feeling guilty over the SEC data?”
“A little.”
“Uh-huh.”
I glanced at Ichi. “It’s the insanity. They’re going crazy, all of them.”
“These billionaires? That’s nothing new. They have no idea what it’s like to be a normal person.”
That wasn’t it, but after a second, I realized what it was. “It’s not the individuals. It’s the organizations. They’re all going after Marshall—EEC, the company I work for, other metacorporations—and the ultimate goal supposedly has to do with getting humans into space. But if they get what they want, I think they’re just going to get us all killed.”
Chapter 15
The plane we took back to Seoul was a modest executive jet. Despite Du-ri’s explanation that it was all he could secure on short notice, I read more into it. He had run two operations and failed completely. This was a statement on his status within LoDu.
Seoul was a soggy, gray mess when we landed. The sky looked like a giant cotton ball that had been soaked in misery then whipped with blasts of cold anger. Rain pelted our limo with a constant, thundering beat, and the cool dampness sank deep into our clothes, leaving a chill that the stale heat of the limo couldn’t chase away. Du-ri stared out his window the entire drive through the reborn city, eyes locked on something farther away than the slick neon and steel towers.
When we reached the apartment complex, I let Ichi out.
She stood in the rain, frowning as I got back into the limousine, hoodie and cocktail dress getting soaked. “You are not coming?”
“I need to talk to Chan.”
“But Chan is still rehabilitating.” Ichi glanced around. “You said there were weeks to go.” Sad. Frightened.
“I know. We don’t have a choice. ”
The entire drive to the clinic, those words ate at me. We did have a choice, a far better one: Walk away.
I couldn’t.
This was the score we all needed if we wanted to make it in this fast-changing world. And it would probably be my best chance to get Stovall. Maybe my only chance.
I had the limo drop me off a couple blocks out from the clinic. I needed time to think. Miserable time. Self-loathing time.
The same angry nurse glared at me when I entered the clinic. “No visitors at this stage of rehabilitation.”
I dripped water on the reception desk. “I can make a call to Hong-sik Kang, if you want.”
Her chubby face pinched, but she opened the glass door sealing the reception area off from the main clinic. My shoes squeaked on the polished tile floor. I felt like something that had climbed out of the sewer to terrorize an innocent kid, except this kid’s family had been so horrible, I probably seemed like a savior, despite the blood and guts covering me.
Chan’s room was empty except for a cute, young attendant. She smiled and in broken English said, “She is at pool.” She pointed down the hall. “Right side. Follow signs.”
The smell of chlorine hit me even before I opened the door. The pool was Olympic-sized, with sparkling aquamarine water. Chan struggled through a lap at the far end, stopped for a second as if there might be some sort of problem, then came toward me with renewed energy, kicking and splashing like a riverboat.
I extended a hand when Chan reached the poolside. Delicate hands that were free of the ever-present black nail polish wrapped around mine. It took more effort than I expected getting the Gridhound out of the water, and I nearly went in. There was more heft now to a body that had started wasting away under the Chinese’ care. A black one-piece that was cut high did a nice job accentuating Chan’s narrow hips.
The Gridhound’s smile reached bloodshot, magenta eyes. “Went swimming? ”
“Feels like it. I think someone’s trying to wash away the mess we’ve made.”
Chan laughed and scooted toward a table where a long, white towel had been tossed. Drying away the water highlighted the scars on limbs that seemed painfully lacking in muscle after spending the last few days with Ichi. “Just get back?”
“Yeah. Big thrills in the States. Did I make the news?”
A shrug. “Not watching. Not allowed to.” Chan switched to drying hair that looked like it could use a trim. It was all black now, still thick, but past the shoulder blades. “Cleanse the body, cleanse the mind.”
“Is it working?”
“Yeah. Feeling—” Chan wrapped the towel around soft shoulders, covering small breasts and shivering. “I’m feeling good.”
I turned, sneezed.
Chan held out the towel. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“I deserve to.”
“No.” Chan moved closer, shivering, rubbing my hair uncertainly with the towel.
I took it and dried my hair, staring at the crook of both arms—needle marks old and new, razor and knife scars. I hated myself for even thinking what I was going to ask. “What would you think about a chance to make a big run? A big payday? Maybe just ride shotgun on a junior Gridhound?”
Magenta eyes widened. “When?”
“Soon. Sooner than you should. You’d have to re-enter this program, finish it up. That would be one of my demands. You’re looking good. Really good. I want to see you clean.”
The shivering became shaking, and Chan turned away, head down. “You think so? I look…good?”
“Healthier, yeah. Happier. You feel happy?” I set the towel over Chan’s shoulders and turned the Gridhound around. “Chan? Are you happier?”
“Y-yeah.” Still shaking.
I pulled Chan against me and hugged tight. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, and I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.” The same damned lie I’d told myself before. “This gig would be enough for us to retire. All of us. And once you’re clean, you could see someone. About what’s happened to you. Get those demons out of your head.”
Chan squeezed me back. Fingers that had long ago mastered virtual interfaces dug into my flesh. “I—I’d like that, Stefan.” Soft sobs.
I left it like that, let the tears mix with the rain, breathing in the chlorine scent, rocking Chan until the crying stopped.
“I’ve got a meeting to go to.” I pushed Chan away. Gentle. Slow.
“When…” Chan dabbed the towel over a face now damp again. “When will you—”
“I’ll call you the second I know. Either way, I expect I’ll be visiting you a little more often.”
Chan hit me with that crazy, uncomfortable mix of sniffling and smiling that always left me flummoxed. “Okay.”
I patted the Gridhound’s shoulders.
Then, before I knew what was happening, Chan stretched out, wrapped arms around my neck, and kissed me. Intensely.
And then the Gridhound pulled away. “Sorry.”
Chan ran for the door, leaving faint footprints on the tiled floor.
There was another complication I would have to deal with.
I called a car and took it back to the apartment. Ichi had cranked up the heat and ordered something that had turned the place into a giant garlic press. She reclined in a chair in the modest living room, looking more comfortable in black gym shorts and a tank top. An empty beer bottle rested on a coaster atop the coffee table next to her, and she had a half-empty bottle squeezed between her thighs.
She glanced at the dining room table, where white boxes sat beside a grease-stained plate and chopsticks. And another empty beer bottle. “I ordered food.”
“Smells like garlic with a heavy garlic sauce.”
“The taste is good.”
“I’m not hungry.” I pulled my jacket off, kicked off my shoes, and padded to my room.
She followed. “How is Chan? ”
“Never looked better. Putting on weight. Swimming, actually.” My clothes came off with sucking sounds.
Ichi leaned against the door jamb and took a long drink. “Stefan-san, what if we do something different?”
“Like respect my privacy?” I pulled clean underwear from a drawer.
“What if we take jobs for ourselves. Not Agency or metacorporate jobs. Safer jobs with less pay. We could make money over time, without the risk.” She moved to the bathroom door as I set my underwear on the sink countertop. “Right?”
I turned the shower on to let the water heat up. “I’m getting too old for this, Ichi. I’ve got one good operation left in me.” I remembered Yulia’s dead eyes. “Bullets don’t care how good you are.”
Ichi studied her beer bottle, then took another drink. “Did Chan say yes?”
“Yeah. A deal sealed with a kiss.”
“Chan kissed you?” A strange look.
“I know. Bad idea. We’ll have to talk about it. I already brought up the need to see a shrink to deal with…all the problems. Now if you don’t mind, I feel like I’m freezing to death.” I pushed the door shut, stripped the rest of the way, and got under the hot water.
Even at full blast, I couldn’t wash away the feeling that I was betraying them all.
Du-ri stared out the window that Hong-sik had turned transparent when we’d entered his apartment. That thousand-yard stare left me to the attention of the old man and his bodyguards. There was a cool, stoic vibe about Du-ri, a distance that had settled in after Omaha. He was back to his plain black suit, with a sling to match, but he seemed uncomfortable, his brow damp with sweat despite the apartment’s cool air. Hong-sik responded to Du-ri’s behavior by staring at the one display that was still showing video. Jerry Li, the old Korean’s partner, frowned at me from that display .
Hong-sik plucked a slice of some sort of pickled treat from a brown, ceramic jar, using fingers that were far too nimble for someone his age. He bit into the treat, releasing the sharp scent of vinegar and garlic.
Jerry shook his head. “Twenty-five million dollars, Mr. Mendoza? Isn’t that just a little outrageous, especially considering you’ve given us nothing but failure?”
I let that wash over me. I wasn’t a natural at negotiation, but I’d sat in on sessions before. Outrage, lies…it was part of the process. Honesty had long ago fallen out of the DNA of businessmen. “How much would you value what I took from Bogotá, Mr. Li? Because I could have kept that for myself and sold it to you.”
Hong-sik snorted. “We would have hunted you down like a thief!”
Jerry ran a hand through his hair. “The price point is too high. We have elite teams around the world. We could assemble the best of them and finish this operation for half the cost.”
“Then do it. But before you make that decision, keep this in mind: SunCorps knows the stakes now. It’s not just us, and it’s not just EEC. T-Corp is putting something together. I’m sure others are doing the same. If this is as big as you claim, everyone’s going to want it. And something tells me having the dead-end bio-software tech won’t mean a damned thing without someone like Marshall.”
Jerry’s jaw dropped, and he blinked, then he laughed. “Your profile depicts you as a murderous Neanderthal, Stefan. I should have been more careful and done my own assessment.”
“Maybe. So what’s the decision?”
He held his hands out, palms toward me. “It’s too much, I’m afraid. We’ve already invested more than budgeted.”
Du-ri flinched, and his eyes came around to the display for a second, then he returned to whatever he had been watching through the window.
I had been sure they would budge, but I was getting a sense it wasn’t a bluff. They seemed willing to throw it all away over the money. “All right. Twenty-five is too high. What’s your ceiling?”
Jerry chuckled and shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Then tell me your minimum conditions. ”
He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward. “We must know this operation is a LoDu operation.”
“I’ve worked through two of those. Your people aren’t ready for this.”
“And your people are a washed-up has-been, a junkie we’re paying to clean up, and two people who were ready to retire.”
“Yet we’re still your best option.”
“We have the best—”
“I don’t do chants and mantras. Your people aren’t the best, and saying they are is just going to end up with a pile of LoDu corpses from here to Colombia.”
Jerry’s brow furrowed. “We have recruited from the most respected intelligence—”
“Jerry, stop. This is a big, fucking mess. You’ve gone into two operations understaffed and underprepared. You want this to be a LoDu operation, let Du-ri run the connections between my team and you.”
Hong-sik slammed the lid down on the jar. “Du-ri has shown his failures with the KSS were not something to be ignored, Mr. Mendoza.”
“Really? Because what I saw wasn’t a problem with the way he ran the operation. The problem is with how the entire organization treated it. We went into Colombia without a good read of the threat level. Was that Du-ri’s problem, or your best intelligence experts ?”
One of the beefy bodyguards launched from his seat but froze when the old man shouted something in Korean.
Hong-sik set the treat jar on the table at his side. “You speak with little respect for someone in my position.”
“That should have been identified in my profile.”
“It should.” Irritated. Dark eyes slitted. “Du-ri runs the operation.”
I turned back to Jerry. “My Gridhound rides shotgun with yours. Pitsamai just lacks experience. With guidance, she’ll do fine, and you get a better Gridhound out of it.”
Jerry tilted his head back. “It’s a better deal than before.”
“It’s the only deal I’m going to make.”
“Let me make a counteroffer. Du-ri runs the operation, you run your team, but we insert a team of our own. If you come away with Marshall, we pay you five million dollars plus expenses. If our team comes away with Marshall, we only pay your expenses.”
“That’s insane. How do we know you won’t just double-cross us and take Marshall?”
“You don’t. Isn’t that part of the business?”
It was. “All right. One change to that, though. If we get Marshall, you pay us ten million dollars plus expenses—otherwise, you pay us nothing.”
A smile split Jerry’s face, and he clapped. “Double or nothing. You are a gambler.”
“Not really. Do we have a deal?”
Jerry turned to Hong-sik, who nodded. “It’s a deal, Stefan. I look forward to seeing it to its conclusion.”
“So do I.”
The display went dark, and Hong-sik waved us away. Dismissed.
When we reached the elevator, Du-ri slid his mirror shades on. “You have angered Hong-sik.”
“Yeah, well, he pissed me off, too.”
The doors opened, and Du-ri waved me into the car. As the doors closed, he said, “You are a gambler, as he said.”
“No. I just let my pride get the best of me.”
I got off on my floor and hurried to my apartment. Ichi was stretching out on the living room floor. It looked agonizing. I walked past her, trying not to acknowledge the questioning look in her eyes.
She followed me into my room. “The offer, they did not take it?”
“They did not.” I connected my data device to the display on my wall and initiated a connection to Danny and Katy. It would be a crazy hour in South Dakota, but I was sure they would be up. What else would they be doing?
A connection was initiated—dark, grainy. Katy’s face. Rubbing sleep from her eyes. There were bags there that seemed out of place. She was in her early thirties, only a little older than Danny, but she had always seemed ageless.
It was stress. Anxiety.
“Stefan?” Her voice was husky with sleep .
“Is Danny there?”
“Yeah. She twisted around, revealed a bed piled with blankets. Danny’s bare shoulder. She shook him. “Wake up, babe. Business.”
He twisted around, bleary-eyed. The beard was gone. A wet cough. “Stefan?”
“And Ichi.” I waved her in closer. “We’ve got Chan onboard. That’s the good news.”
