Chase

by Francine Pascal

  But the second she stepped inside, she felt her pulse start to race. Oliver was waiting for her. He walked right over to her from the front window, where he’d clearly been watching for her return. The man hadn’t been down from the fourth floor since they’d moved in here two days ago. Something was obviously up.

  Just let it be good, whatever it is, Gaia thought, even as her brain told her that was highly unlikely. She tossed her bag on the dirt-and-cobweb-covered floor and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I have good news,” Oliver said brightly. A phrase Gaia hadn’t heard in ages.

  “What is it?” she asked, letting the arms drop. “Did you find my dad?”

  “Very nearly,” Oliver said. He walked excitedly from the front hall into the spacious, empty living room. The blinds were drawn and the sun was going down, leaving the airy space gray and murky.

  “What does ‘very nearly’ mean?” Gaia asked, following him, her mouth watering with anticipation.

  “I’ve finally made contact with one of Loki’s operatives,” Oliver said, smiling. “He should have information for me at noon tomorrow.”

  Gaia swallowed hard and looked away, trying to hide the distrust that was written all over her face. She didn’t like the idea of trusting Loki’s men. Not after everything they’d done to her and to the people she loved. The very idea, in fact, made her skin crawl with a million little bugs of doubt. But she knew it was the only way. She was just going to have to accept it.

  “That’s . . . great,” she said finally.

  “That’s just the beginning,” Oliver said, taking a few steps closer to her. He pulled a couple of squares of paper from his back pocket and unfolded them. “Information about your key.”

  The papers fluttered slightly as he held them out to her, and Gaia could relate—her heart was pretty much doing the same thing. She grabbed the sheets and looked them over quickly. There were names, dates, building code numbers, recall numbers, and on the last page Oliver had written in huge block letters:

  Between Avenues A & D, East 2nd-East 5th.

  Gaia’s mind spun. “Does this mean what I think it means?” she asked, looking up at him.

  Oliver smiled a knowing, almost cocky smile. He was proud of his detective work.

  “It turns out that type of lock was used only in early-twentieth-century developments in the Meat Packing District and in Alphabet City. They were taken off the market when a fault was found in the pin system,” Oliver explained. “If we’re right about an Alphabet City safe house, then it’s somewhere within those blocks.”

  Gaia quickly did the math, a grid of lower Manhattan appearing in her mind’s eye. Sixteen city blocks. That was all the area she needed to search. Tatiana was somewhere within sixteen measly city blocks.

  Oliver held out the key to her, and Gaia grabbed it from his hand, already plotting out the subway stops she’d need to sit through before she got where she needed to be.

  “Thank you,” Gaia said, folding up the papers and stuffing them into her pocket. Oliver didn’t move, and just before she turned to go, Gaia felt a sudden charge in the air. Like something was expected. Like he wanted something.

  She glanced at him, and his softened eyes told the story. He was waiting for more than thanks. He wanted a reaction. He wanted elation. He wanted awe and congratulations. In fact, he was looking at her like he wanted a hug.

  Gaia’s stomach twisted with a combination of guilt, disgust, and pity. She knew this was Oliver standing before her, but the very idea of hugging him—of touching the body that played home to Loki—was physically repulsive. Her heart went out to Oliver but shrank from his evil alter ego.

  She wasn’t yet ready for contact.

  “Thanks,” Gaia said again, forcing a smile. “Really.”

  Oliver lifted his chin and looked away for a split second, and she knew he was consciously arranging his features. When he gazed at her again, he was collected—all business.

  “Just watch your back,” he said. “Natasha will have taken other measures to secure the safe house.”

  “Don’t worry,” Gaia replied firmly.

  She clasped the key in her palm and headed for the door, her adrenaline running high. Whatever Natasha had in store for her, she could handle. The only thing that mattered now was finding Tatiana and finding out what she knew. The chase was on.

  One Step Ahead

  TATIANA WHIPPED A YANKEES BASEBALL cap out of her backpack and pulled it down low on her forehead, cursing Jake under her breath. She’d just spent two hours sitting in the café that time forgot, waiting for his curiosity to get the better of him and for him to come looking for her. The place had Frank Sinatra’s greatest hits on an endless loop and sold nothing with caffeine other than bad coffee and generic cola. She’d picked Café Mille Lucci as her rendezvous point because all kinds of people were in and out of the place all day—young, old, poor, not so poor, every race imaginable. It was the perfect place to become just another one of the many. The only problem was, the atmosphere and the food sucked.

  She stalked around a corner and almost leveled a scary-looking Hispanic man with track marks all up and down his arms. He shouted right in her face, but she quickly sidestepped him and kept walking, head down. Whenever she went to the café, she had to go wigless so that if Jake showed up, he wouldn’t get more suspicious than he already was. But every time she left the safe house as herself, she was taking a risk. The last thing she needed was another Megan-type debacle. She was supposed to be invisible here.

  “I shouldn’t even have to be here anymore,” Tatiana muttered, watching her feet as she walked.

  She should have known that she couldn’t count on Jake. At least Brendan was predictable and thus reliable. He was either in the bar or at the McDonald’s down the street for about twenty hours out of every day. Maybe it was time she just got him and his stupid friends to kidnap Gaia from school. At this point it was probably the best plan she had going. Which wasn’t saying much.

  Tatiana took a deep, calming breath as she ducked around the last corner and her safe house came into view. All she had to do was get inside, sit down, chill out, and come up with a plan B. Jake might have failed her, but that didn’t mean she was down and out. She wouldn’t give up that easily.

  A few doors down a group of men in puffy black jackets and do-rags stood on a stoop as always, chatting with each other and blowing smoke into the air. Tatiana abhorred this part of the day. Every time she walked past these guys, no matter what getup she was sporting, they hooted and howled and made smooching noises and lewd remarks until she was out of sight. She was just steeling herself for the onslaught when she saw something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

  Gaia.

  Tatiana leaned forward to get a better look at the guy with the gold tooth who was gesturing with his cigarette. Tatiana’s fight-or-flight reflex was telling her to get the hell out of there as fast as possible, but then her self-preservation kicked in and she realized that any sudden movement would draw big-time notice. Thanking God for her own split-second sanity, she slipped behind the corner newsstand and flattened herself against its rickety wall, waiting for her pulse to slow.

  But it wouldn’t. Gaia was here. Gaia was in her neighborhood. The little supersleuth had tracked her down. But how? How? It just wasn’t possible. Tatiana had all the advantages in this situation, yet Gaia, as always, was somehow one step ahead.

  Pulse pounding in her ears, Tatiana risked a peek around the side of the newsstand, and her jaw clenched. There she was, listening intently, her perfect brow wrinkled in concentration like that of a good little reporter. Oh, how Tatiana hated her. Hated her for her condescension, for her abilities, for her fearlessness, for the fact that she always had the edge. Her fingers curled into fists, and she saw herself stepping out of her hiding place, saw herself running down the sidewalk and launching herself at Gaia, saw the look of surprise in those always-in-control, ever-superior eyes.

  What she would
n’t give to be able to kick the living crap out of the girl right here and now.

  Tatiana took a long breath and fought it. She fought the urge that was overwhelming every cell in her body. Because if she did what she wanted to do, it was her own ass that would get kicked. It wasn’t fair, but it was true. It was just one more edge that belonged to Gaia.

  Ever so slowly Tatiana pulled herself behind the newsstand again, her anger rushing out of her, leaving nothing but a sucking hole of loneliness in its place. Loneliness and fear—something Gaia would never have to face.

  Tatiana thought of her mother. She was out there somewhere right now, probably in pain, probably scared and being as brave as possible, probably worried for Tatiana’s life. And here Tatiana was, doing everything she could, but Gaia was still going to win. She was already well on her way.

  It’s not fair, Tatiana thought, feeling her resolve slipping away—feeling her strength escape her. It’s just not fair . . . .

  She knew that she needed to stay strong. She knew that the situation demanded it. But no one was here. Not a soul would witness it if she cracked. And for the moment she couldn’t do it anymore. Not alone. It was too much.

  And so while Gaia questioned every person on the street, coming closer and closer to her mark, Tatiana slid down the wall of the newsstand, pulled her knees up under her chin, and wept.

  Two and Two

  CURIOSITY KILLED THE MORON, JAKE told himself as he approached the door to Café Mille Lucci, his brain trying to convince him one last time that this was a bad idea. But he couldn’t help it. All he’d done all afternoon was go over and over his last conversations with Gaia and Tatiana, trying to put two and two together. The only problem was, he had yet to come up with four.

  Someone was going to explain what was going on, and they were going to do it now. It was their choice to suck him into their little drama, so one of them was going to have to talk. And since he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be Gaia, he’d decided to start with Tatiana.

  He yanked open the door and readied himself for an inquisition, but the moment he saw Tatiana, he faltered. She was slouched in a booth, her back up against the wall and one leg up on the vinyl bench. Streaks of dried tears cut rivers down her face, and there were circles of smudged makeup beneath her eyes. Her gaze was unfocused and staring, and her skin looked sallow under the fluorescent lights.

  Jake’s mind flashed on an image of his mother before she died, when she was weak and tired and helpless and he couldn’t do anything for her. When she would just lie there in that hospital bed, looking at him with those sorrowful eyes, and he was just a little kid who could do nothing. Suddenly every muscle in his body tensed up. He had to do something.

  “Tatiana?” he said, walking over to the edge of her bench.

  Her eyes slowly traveled up to meet his face, but she showed no sign of recognition. Okay, this was worse than he thought.

  “Hey! Tatiana!” he said a bit louder, crouching by her sneaker that hung over the edge of the bench. “Are you okay?”

  She inhaled, the breath choppy through an obviously stuffy nose. She looked off past his ear at some distant, probably nonexistent point.

  “Hey! Can I get some cold water over here?” Jake called out over his shoulder.

  An elderly waitress heaved a sigh and left her magazine at the counter to go wrangle up some ice water. Jake watched her progress with an ever-growing swell of impatience in his chest. When she finally handed him the glass, ice cubes tinkling, he gave her a sarcastic smile.

  “Thanks a lot,” he said tonelessly.

  He dipped his fingers into the water, reached over, and flicked it into Tatiana’s face. She blinked and shook her head and seemed to wake up.

  “Jake!” she said, finally focusing. Then she sat up and started to cry.

  “Hey! What the hell is going on?” Jake asked, sitting down next to her. Tatiana collapsed into him like a marionette whose strings had just been severed, crying quietly. Before he knew it, he found himself wrapping his arms around her, stroking her hair, and whispering a repetitive mantra of “It’s going to be all right. . . . It’s going to be all right. . . . It’s going to be all right.”

  “You have to help me, Jake,” she choked out through her tears. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

  Against his will, Jake was moved by Tatiana’s total transformation from together, über-social queen bee to helpless victim. Whatever was going on between Gaia and Tatiana, this girl needed help.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  TATIANA

  Guys are so easy. They fall for sex, they fall for tears, they fall for the silent treatment, they fall for jealousy, they fall for disinterest. There are any number of things you can do to manipulate a guy. The key is knowing the guy well enough. Is he a knight in shining armor, a child, a lecher, a man who needs a challenge? Not all of the above tactics will work on all men–you have to mix and match.

  Brendan, for example, is clearly the sex type. He isn’t going to be swooping in to save any damsels in distress–he’d probably think that blubbering was funny. And he’s not the type to waste his time with someone who isn’t giving him the proper signals. So sex it was. And it worked.

  Jake, on the other hand, is a total hero. He may put on a tough act, but he so wants to be the savior guy. It’s written all over his face. So tears, of course, worked.

  That’s the difference between me and Gaia–I understand guys. Think she would ever break down in front of Jake? Please. She’d sooner die than admit she needed to be saved.

  And so I do still have an edge. A small one, but an important one.

  stare

  He was trying to make Gaia jealous. . . . Unfortunately, it was working.

  Undergarment Action

  BRENDAN WAS HUNCHED ON THE LAST bar stool, one beefy arm resting along the edge of the bar, the other curled around a mug of beer like it was a bunny rabbit or a kitten—something to be cuddled and protected. From the lolling of his head and the constant movement of his lips, Tatiana could tell that he was sloshed, three sheets to the wind, completely blasted.

  She clenched her fists and told herself to remain calm. These were the pitfalls of aligning oneself with shady characters like Brendan. All she could do was hope that he was cognizant enough to hear what she had to say and remember it. She unbuttoned the third button on her white blouse, exposing a hint of the lace bra underneath. Maybe a little undergarment action would rouse him enough to pay attention.

  Tatiana walked over to Brendan and slipped onto the stool next to his, making sure her leg brushed his. He swung his big head to the left and grinned stupidly when he saw her.

  “It’s the siren,” he said, lifting his beer mug and downing half the contents. He slammed it back down onto the bar, and Tatiana slid it away from him, placing it at arm’s reach on her other side. He swiveled his bar stool so he could better see her. Tatiana watched, careful to control all visceral reaction, as his eyes slid down her neck to her cleavage. She leaned forward slightly to give him a better look.

  “The plan is on,” she said. She placed her hands on either side of his grizzly chin and lifted his face so that he’d have to look at her. It took a couple of extra seconds for his eyes to catch up with his chin. Tatiana smiled. “I need you to bring as much firepower as possible to the Hiro Dojo on West Eleventh Street tonight, nine o’clock.”

  Brendan’s red-rimmed eyes swam. “That’s where we’re doing this?” he said, spitting a bit. “A freakin’ dojo? What is this, Karate Kid?” He leaned back on his stool precariously and waved his hands around in the air. “Wax on! Wax off!” Then he collapsed on the bar, laughing at his own stupid joke.

  Tatiana pressed her teeth together, waiting for him to finish convulsing.

  “It’s a believable location for my bait to lure our mark to,” she said when he finally lifted his eyes. She raised one shoulder, thereby exposing a bit more breast, then reached over and trai
led a fingertip along the back of his hand. “He’s setting it all up. It’ll be deserted, and he has a key.” She looked flirtatiously into his eyes. “I’m good at what I do, Brendan.”

  He leered predictably. “I’ll bet you are.”

  “So, you’ll be where, when?” she asked him.

  “Hiro Dojo, West Eleventh, nine o’clock tonight,” he replied, looming so close, she could pick out the various alcoholic substances on his breath.

  “Very good,” she replied, smiling through her disgust.

  “And when the job’s done, I get my promised payment, right?” he asked, his hand falling clumsily on her upper thigh.

  “Definitely,” Tatiana replied. Holding her breath, she leaned in and kissed Brendan. His tongue fought its way into her mouth as he kissed her back violently. Tatiana silently counted to ten, then pulled away with some effort. Brendan nearly fell off his bar stool.

  “I never break a promise,” Tatiana said, the sour taste of him all over her. She passed him his beer in an effort to distract him, and he tilted his head over it, staring into its coppery depths. Tatiana headed for the door, fishing a roll of breath mints out of her bag.

  322

  “OKAY, OLD MAN,” OLIVER SAID UNDER his breath, stopping his hands from trembling by stuffing them into the pockets of his gray trench coat. “Okay. You’re fine. You can pull this off.”

  He stood in the darkest corner of the alleyway between Kavlav’s Gyros and Song’s House of Nails, trying to avoid breathing in the acrid mix of frying lamb and nail polish remover. The height of the buildings blocked out the sun, and the extra shadow cast by the Dumpster next to him provided a perfect haven. He had arrived fifteen minutes early for his meet in order to be there when 322 arrived. This was what Loki had always done to keep his operatives on their toes, so this was what Oliver had to do.