by R. M. Olson
“I—please. Leave them alone.” Tae’s voice was a desperate rasp. “They’re just—they’re kids. They—”
“They need you?” Zhenya asked softly. They held Tae’s gaze, and he couldn’t look away, like he’d heard you couldn’t look away from a sand snake before it struck. “Yes, Tae. They do. They need you to keep them alive. Your crewmates don’t. If this plan of theirs goes badly, they lose a chance at revenge, perhaps, but that’s all. Grigory will still come for them. He’ll always come for them. I may be able to keep him from coming for you, because you weren’t involved, thanks to me. You didn’t blow up his ship and ruin his chances. But your crewmates either stay under Olyessa’s protection, or they die, and pulling this off won’t affect that one way or the other. Your street friends, though, Tae. The ones who do need you. I’m holding them in the palm of my hand right now, and all I’d have to do—” they brought one hand up, palm open, and then clenched their fist in an abrupt motion.
Tae closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing back the sickness in his throat.
“What do you want?” It was his voice, but he couldn’t remember saying the words.
Zhenya studied him, their face almost sympathetic. “I want, Tae, to know what your friends here are doing. I want to know how Grigory can beat them.”
Tae took a long breath, then another.
Zhenya had found Caz and Peti. They could kill the street kids as easily as they’d said they could, he had no doubt of it.
But …
Lev’s worried face, Ivan’s concern, Jez, haunting the hallway outside the room while they were discussing strategy, even though he couldn’t imagine it not driving her completely mad.
He opened his eyes at last. He didn’t have to fake the haunted look on his face. “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell you.”
Zhenya smiled. “I’m glad.”
“They—Masha is trying to get a pleasure house going, you’re correct.” He still wasn’t sure how he was talking, how the voice that sounded like his was coming from his mouth. “She—plans on sabotaging the Strani House and all the other houses that pay a cut to Grigory. There was that explosion in the pleasure district—that was us.”
“We’d assumed that,” Zhenya murmured with some amusement.
“And we’ve been able to get some ins with the wealthier politicians. She figures if enough of them take their business to our pleasure house, she’ll be able to hurt Grigory enough to cause the Strani House, at least, to go under.”
Zhenya nodded slowly. “That is what Grigory had assumed,” they said. “But Tae. I’m surprised at you. You’re going along with operating a pleasure house? That’s not something I would have assumed you’d agree with, with what I know of you.”
“There’s a lot of things Masha does I don’t agree with,” he said, and he didn’t have to fake the bitterness in his voice. “But at least this one won’t use disposable entertainment. Maybe it’s bad, but it’s not as bad as the Strani House, and if it means the Strani House closes …”
Zhenya smiled slightly. “You always surprise me in the best of ways. I wish more people had your morals. This world would be a better place.” They paused a moment. “How is Masha funding this? That must take a staggering amount of credits.”
Tae nodded. “It does. And she has to undercut Grigory’s prices, so there’s no way she makes it back. Olyessa’s helping, and she put in the funds. Masha put in all her own funds, including the ones she stole off Vitali.”
“And that was enough?” Zhenya prompted, their eyebrows raised delicately.
Tae sighed and shook his head. “I—I can’t—”
“Who are you more loyal to, Tae?” asked Zhenya softly.
Tae closed his eyes.
The thing was, it wasn’t a question of who he was most loyal to. That question didn’t have an answer.
The only question now was, did he trust that Lev and the others could pull this off? Because if he answered what they’d planned for him to answer, they pulled it off, or Caz and the others died.
He took a deep breath. “No,” he said at last, his voice sounding distant in his own ears. “Olyessa’s wealthy, but not that wealthy. We’re—Masha’s opening an account with the Svodrani National Bank, asking for funds. She has the account set up as an investment, and she’s hoping someone with deep pockets will come along. She’s got a block on the account, so you can only buy in if you have sufficient credits. She needs it all, not something coming in a trickle at a time, and she thinks that will protect us.” He didn’t have to think about the words, he’d practiced them so many times. But when he’d practiced them, his voice hadn’t trembled, like it was now. “If the Strani House goes down, and if she can sabotage the Pleasure District with a few well-placed explosions, sew some terror—well, she’s the only game in town, really. It’s not that risky of an investment, as investments go.”
Zhenya was looking at him, eyes narrowed in thought. “I see,” they said at last. “And you say she needs those funds.”
Tae hesitated a moment, then reluctantly nodded. “Yes,” he said at last. “She’ll need those funds, or she goes under.”
“When?” asked Zhenya, still watching him.
He hesitated again. Zhenya shook their head, a faint smile on their face. “Tae. I know this is hard for you. But I will find it out, sooner or later. I’m very clever. And if you tell me, you’ll be giving me all sorts of reasons to keep Peti and the others safe. I know you don’t agree with this pleasure house anyways.”
He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Soon,” he said, his voice barely audible. “She’ll need it soon. Probably within the next couple of weeks. Certainly not long after the convention.”
Zhenya nodded slowly.
“Are you going to try to block her account?” he asked. He didn’t have to fake the dull hopelessness in his voice.
“I’m not certain yet what I’m going to do,” said Zhenya. “I hate to make snap decisions. But you’ve given me a great deal to think about.” They smiled again. “And Tae. I haven’t told Grigory anything about your friends’ whereabouts. I’m the only one who knows it, at this point. You see, I have no interest in hurting street kids if I don’t have to, and I respect you far to much to want to kill your friends. If I were to tragically die, of course, that information is set so that it would be broadcast to the entire mafia, but in the meantime, it’s a secret between you and me.” They smiled wider. “And I appreciate the consideration you’ve showed in return. I’ve checked. This entire building is under a field I had set up, and I’ve been monitoring it. I doubt even you could hack around it. So I know you’re not broadcasting our conversation to your friends. If you had, Caz and Peti and the rest of them would be dead right now, but I knew you wouldn’t take that chance. I gambled on it.” They gave a depreciating smile. “In a manner of speaking. I suppose we could say your friends unwittingly gambled on it. So I once again commend your intelligence, and your sense of fair dealing.”
Tae said nothing. He was shaky with relief that at least he’d gotten this right, that at least he’d foreseen this, even if he’d foreseen nothing else this whole damn evening.
Zhenya stood, pushing back their chair, and held out a hand.
Tae hesitated, then, forcing back a shudder, took it.
Zhenya smiled, and helped him to his feet. “It’s always a pleasure working with you, Tae Bezdmonikov. You turned down my offer last time I made it, and I suspect you’ll turn it down again. But I say this in all sincerity—I would be honoured to work with you. I’m quite fascinated by you, Tae.”
Tae didn’t let himself react. He wasn’t sure what he would have said or done if he had let himself react, because the sick, cold numbness that had come when Zhenya had quoted the words of his conversation with Caz the night before was still spread over him like a blanket.
He stood slowly, motions heavy and uncertain, and turned for the door.
“My people will take you back out to your s
kybike,” Zhenya said. “I may call you again if I need you. If I do, please do remember how discrete you were this time, and how much I appreciate it.”
He nodded without looking at them.
Perhaps being rude to a Pakan in Grigory’s organization was suicidal, but he somehow had the feeling that Zhenya wouldn’t kill him, at least not right now. He was still a useful tool, after all—Masha had used him, and now Grigory wanted to. And there was no point in harming a tool you still intended to use.
The two boyeviki from earlier were waiting outside the door. They escorted him to the door of the club and handed him back his weapons without a word. The woman was still looking at him with a seething hatred, but then, that hardly mattered.
Somehow he mounted his bike, and somehow he found his way through the streets back to the pleasure house.
Before he reached it, he did a quick scan of his com. There were no bugs there, only the small one that had been encrypted in Zhenya’s original message to him. He’d built a wall around it, so it wouldn’t show them anything he didn’t mean for them to see.
Other than that, he was clean.
But then, that wasn’t a surprise. Zhenya had him exactly where they wanted him, and they knew it.
He parked his bike, dismounted, and hung his helmet on the spike on the wall. When he turned to go back into the main building, he almost tripped on something, and he swore quietly. The something jerked upright, and he realized it was Ivan, and that he’d been sitting in the doorway waiting for him the whole time.
He stared for a moment, and for the first time, something penetrated the icy cold that had been sitting in his chest since the moment he’d seen Zhenya’s face.
“Tae?” Ivan pushed himself to his feet, blinking. “Sorry. I—” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and gave Tae a rueful smile. “I was going to wait up for you. Let the others know when you got back. I’m not sure if you realize this, but every member of this crew was driving themselves crazy the past couple hours. Me as much as any of them.” He put a hand on Tae’s shoulder, and despite himself, Tae could feel his muscles relaxing at the touch.
“So. How did it go?” He peered closer at Tae’s face in the darkness, and his own face creased with a sudden worry. “Tae. What happened? What’s wrong?”
Tae gave an exhausted shrug. “I—I think we’d better call the others. It’s—not good.”
When everyone was gathered at last into the conference room, Tae stood up from where he’d collapsed on a chair in the corner.
“What happened?” asked Masha, her voice sharp with worry. “Ivan said something went wrong.”
“Nothing went wrong from your perspective,” said Tae bitterly. “I gave them exactly the message you wanted me to give. I saw the wheels turning in Zhenya’s head, and if they don’t tell Grigory that he should invest in your company, I miss my guess.”
“What did go wrong, then?” asked Lev quietly. He was watching Tae with concern, and for a moment Tae almost couldn’t stop the tears of frustration and strain and exhaustion from coming to his eyes.
“They—they found out where Caz and Peti really are,” he said finally. “Zhenya knows where they are. And they’ll kill them if we make one misstep.”
There was a long moment of silence. He almost couldn’t bear to look at Masha, in case he caught a glimpse of triumph on her face. But he looked despite himself.
Her face had gone bloodless, and he wasn’t sure if even she could feign the shock, half-hidden under her expression.
“How—that’s not possible. How did he find out?” Lev’s voice was strained. “I checked everything a thousand times. There’s no way—”
Tae gave a small, bitter smile. “Except there was something we didn’t plan on. Zhenya has a friend in Olyessa’s organization who passed on the information. At least, that’s what they told me.”
He didn’t look at Masha, but he didn’t have to. She was smart enough to have heard the accusation in his words.
“Tae,” she said at last. “I know you don’t trust me, which is your right. But think, at least—I have no reason to want you under the thumb of Grigory, or Zhenya.”
He did turn to her, finally. He didn’t honestly think she’d done it, but then there’d been a lot of things he hadn’t thought she’d do. “Of course,” he said quietly. “You have no reason to want that. At least, no reason we know about. Right?”
She didn’t say anything, but there was something in her expression that made him turn away quickly.
He didn’t need to bloody well feel sorry for Masha, on top of everything else.
“Well,” she said at last, turning back to the others. “This complicates things. We’re going to have to pull this off perfectly. There’s no room for error. But I still believe we can do it.”
“You’re just going ahead with it, then?” asked Ivan softly, from where he’d taken a seat beside Tae. “This changes nothing?”
Masha turned to look at him, and her gaze was challenging. “Tell me, Ivan. What should it change? If we back out of this now, do you think Tae’s friends are safe? If we stop this, Zhenya will know that Tae’s told us. And they told Tae, one word of this to anyone else and those children die. Believe me. I know Zhenya. I’ve known them for years. They wouldn’t hesitate for an instant.” She shook her head. “No. We go on, because there’s nothing else we can do.” She looked around the room, her expression challenging.
Finally, Lev nodded. There was a tightness around his eyes, but his face had somehow settled back into its usual facade of calm. “I believe Masha’s right,” he said quietly. “There isn’t an option at this point. We go forward.” He closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath, then turned to Tae. “I’m sorry, Tae,” he said softly. “I should have foreseen this.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Tae dully. “It’s not anyone’s fault.”
It was, though. It was his fault. Not directly. But hadn’t that been what he’d promised himself when he’d first taken the job with Masha, so many months ago? That he wouldn’t put his friends in danger again?
And then Peti had been kidnapped by Grigory, and now this—it seemed he was a danger to them no matter what he did.
And Zhenya was right. Those kids needed him. They needed him to protect them from the consequences of his own stupid decisions. And he wasn’t completely sure he could.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ONCE MASHA HAD gone and he’d heard the door to her bedroom latch shut, Lev stood abruptly from where he’d been sitting on his cot.
He’d asked for the room beside Masha’s for a reason. He suspected she knew that reason, but she hadn’t said anything, and nor had he. And the click of her lock was her telling him that whatever they were going to do behind her back was safe for him to do.
He didn’t know how much she knew, or how much she suspected. To be quite honest, he didn’t care. She’d proven they needed to protect themselves against her. And perhaps she thought she had a tight enough stranglehold on them that it wouldn’t matter. But what mattered right now was only that she didn’t know the details of their plans.
That was all he needed at the moment.
He tapped his com. “Ysbel. Are you awake?”
There was a moment’s pause, then Ysbel’s voice came over his earpiece, groggy with sleep and faintly irritated. “Well, I am now. What do you need?”
“Did Tanya tell you what happened tonight, with Tae?”
“Yes.” She sounded slightly more awake now.
“Good. Are the children asleep? Can you talk?”
“For the moment.”
“Alright. I need everyone—you, Tanya, Jez, Tae. We’ll meet in the conference room.”
There was another pause. “And I assume this meeting will be without Masha present?”
“Yes,” he said grimly.
“Alright,” she said after a moment. “I’ll get the others together.”
It was only about fifteen standard minutes later that they were a
ll gathered around the large conference table, blinking sleepily. Lev waited until everyone was inside and the door was shut. Then he said quietly, “I assume you all heard about what happened to Tae.”
They nodded, without speaking. He could see the worry on their faces, the haunted fear cut deep into Tae’s expression.
“I’m not going to let that happen,” he said. “We’re not letting Tae’s friends die. So.” He paused a moment. “We need a backup plan. Insurance if Masha isn’t playing straight with us.”
Jez gave a short, sharp shake of her head. “Lev, look, I get it. You’re worried about Tae’s friends. I am too. But Masha’s not going to—”
“I don’t know what Masha’s going to do,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. “I wish I did. And Jez, I know you trust her. I know you have your reasons, although I admit I don’t know what they are. But—even if she honestly doesn’t want Tae’s friends to get hurt, and I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that she doesn’t, what then? She will play this through to the end. You know that. And it’s not like she’s never made a miscalculation before.”
Slowly, Jez nodded, her eyes still locked with his. He could see the struggle on her face, and the fact that she wasn’t sure whether she trusted him or Masha more cut him deeper than he’d expected it to.
Still—well, he hadn’t been particularly trustworthy himself recently, doing whatever he thought we necessary to keep Jez safe without even bothering to consult her. Working with Grigory on a plan he knew would sicken Jez if she knew about it.