“I thought that would be poetic for somebody as linguistically inclined as myself,” he continued. “What do you think?”
She tried to push away.
He held her more tightly. “I could do it to you right now.”
She stiffened as he kissed her throat. She’d find it creepy. Well, she should. This brave, beautiful woman—she should think twice before asking a man like him to run with her. Before opening her heart to him. Before clawing down his defenses. She finally found her devil in the well.
“You’re right about words being my bitch. About my using them to cover unpleasantness. It’s how I fooled you.”
Pain shot through his groin as her knee connected with his balls. He let her go and she sprung away.
“Go to hell.” She picked up her pack and backed out of the cell, keeping a wary eye on him. She pulled the door shut. “You can go to hell.”
He was grateful for her anger. Grateful it was over.
She hung the keys up on the nail. Even from where he sat, he could see her hands shaking. She left without a backward glance.
Macmillan quickly unlocked his leg irons and stole out after her, shadowing her through the tunnels, past the drugged guards, and all the way up to the hatch, just to make sure she didn’t get caught on her way out.
He quickly unlocked the hatch after she closed it, peeking out, watching her walk down the side street, shoulders slumped.
He spotted a van on the corner. That’s where the Associate’s admin would be, ready to tail her. Leave, he pleaded in his mind. Get away from this place.
Everything he’d said to her would be worth it if she’d get away from the menace of her ex-husband and the looming danger with Jazzman. And stopped visiting him!
She reached the main road and turned out of sight. He lowered the hatch, locked it, and made his way back, toes like fire.
She’d wanted him to leave with her. It was like having a first class plane ticket somewhere beautiful that he could never use. But he could take it out and look at it sometimes, run his finger over the flight number, the seat number and think, what if.
He entered the console room and sat next to a drugged guard, grateful for the weight off his feet. Beyond the toes, he had an egg of a bump where Dok had smashed the side of his head, possible concussion, bruised and possibly broken ribs, and the cut eyebrow. And her gunshot graze. But at least his fever was gone, thanks to Douglas’s shot.
All in all, he was holding up. He didn’t like to think what condition he’d be in if Niwat hadn’t arrived to pull Dok off him.
He checked the files. Still compressing and downloading. He’d been downloading the files when he saw her coming—a mile off, of course. He’d had to scramble back into his cage and wait for her. He’d had to do that two times over the course of the night when people walked through. He’d lain in his cell, holding his breath both times, sure somebody would try to wake the guards.
Nobody had.
He clicked through the video feeds until he spotted her at the front desk, talking to the night clerks. She looked agitated. Did she know how her eyes gave her away? The Shinsurins would see her growing distrust there.
“Leave!” he whispered at the screen.
He’d find a way to protect her if things got ugly with Jazzman, but she’d be far safer if she’d leave. She probably had everything she needed in that little backpack.
Laney stepped onto the lobby elevator. He switched cameras to the elevator interior. The defeated look on her face broke his heart.
“I can’t go with you,” he whispered to the screen. “I can’t let more people die.”
She hit the button for the third floor. Back to her room.
“No,” he whispered. “Don’t go to bed!”
She got off on the third floor. He watched until the elevators doors shut behind her. There were no cameras in the staff wing—not much money in blackmailing maids.
He didn’t need a camera to know she was in for the night.
He told himself she’d leave tomorrow, in the daytime. Even that would be hard for her. It’s why she wanted him with her. She’d trusted him and he threw it in her face. God, it had been years since he’d felt so wrecked over a woman.
A decade, to be precise.
Forcing his mind back onto the mission, he slipped a phone from a guard’s pocket and called the Associates at the Sawadee Palace Hotel with an update. It felt good to talk to his guys. They were restless—heaven knew what their room service bill was coming to. They were planning an excursion to record the few arms dealers who weren’t at the Hotel Des Roses. They’d play the recordings for him over the phone tomorrow night if he hadn’t found Jazzman by then.
Good.
He erased his tracks, slipped the phone back, and started reviewing the audio files. The dealers at lunch, the dealers in the elevator, the dealers in the sauna. The Indian gentleman who sat in the lobby for hours on end, vaguely familiar but his speech patterns were nothing like Jazzman’s. One by one, he ruled out the guests of the Hotel Des Roses.
It took just two hours for him to conclude that Jazzman hadn’t yet arrived.
Another hour for compressing and downloading all of the relevant video and audio. He didn’t need that to find Jazzman, but he wanted everything he could get for a database he had in mind. Photos of arms dealers along with extended speech samples from each would be a goldmine for the Association. Or, he’d turn it into one. He’d create software that would help identify speakers by their voices, and he’d do a diction program, too, to help identify the authors of emails and manifestos.
There was no such thing as a linguistic fingerprint, but in a closed group—a hundred of the world’s most notorious arms dealers, for example—you could get pretty close. He’d create rules for each individual. The technology tools he envisioned would be a hands-down intelligence coup, the kind of thing he could spend years on, and exactly what he’d be doing if his old life hadn’t ended.
The thought of his old life filled him with sadness. His emotions were bubbling too close to the surface these days. Sleep—he needed sleep. He stole a few of the seaweed crackers out of the bag on the table. Sleep and a real meal, that’s all he needed.
Chapter Nineteen
Laney watered Amy for the last time. She really had meant to plant her somewhere decent, but there wasn’t time. She had to get out. It was Sunday—the banks were closed. She’d be vulnerable without money or a passport, but she would survive. She had two feet.
Her train was to leave at three. The ticket would take all her money, but she needed to be a brown bird.
She rubbed her wrists. She’d always been able to count on Rajini, but her friend had lied to her face.
I’m absolutely sure that he doesn’t work there. I saw proof. He’s perfectly comfortable.
Lies.
Was Rajini just protecting her brothers? Covering for her brothers? Still, Laney couldn’t have it. Didn’t Rajini understand that Laney depended on her with her life?
Her thoughts went to Maxwell.
Maxwell hadn’t lied. His words had felt like dark confessions.
She looked back at Amy. If she gave the plant to Sirikit, that would show she was leaving. She needed to be a brown bird. The walls were closing in on her. The whole city.
A knock at her door. “Laney!”
She stiffened. Rajini.
Three hours until she had to be at the station. She decided that it would be smart to hang out with Rajini now. They’d have tea or something, and then Laney would take off. She’d write a letter to Rajini later on. Explain. Maybe get some answers.
“Just a sec.” She arranged things to look regular.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” Rajini said from the other side of the door. She sounded mad. Or was that fake mad? Sometimes she couldn’t tell with Rajini. Laney steeled herself and opened up to find Rajini standing there with her hands on her hips. Fake mad.
Laney managed a smile. “What’s up?”
“Lobby. Now.”
Nervously Laney searched Rajini’s face. “What’s in the lobby?”
“A surprise,” Rajini said.
It was too late to get out of it unless she wanted to do something totally dramatic, like run. That would accomplish nothing.
Her thoughts went to Maxwell. Maxwell wouldn’t crack; he’d go along with it. Hell, he wouldn’t just go, he’d go with a joke and an easy smile, confident he could handle whatever came up.
“You know how I feel about surprises,” Laney said smoothly, grabbing her purse and following her ex-friend into the elevator. “You’re being very mysterious,” she said as the doors slid shut.
Rajini raised one eyebrow. “I’m not the only one.”
“You think I’m being mysterious?”
“I think you’ve been very mysterious.”
What did that mean? Did Rajini know about her visits to LL2?
Laney smoothed her hands over her simple black skirt, which she’d paired with a simple dark top. Comfy, unmemorable traveling clothes. Except the knee-highs. She planned to put on glasses and a hat when she finally set off. Not the net hat, though. Maxwell had a point—it was a disguisey hat.
“Are you doing a knee-high intervention?”
Rajini snorted. “I should.”
“What’s the surprise?”
“You’ll see.” Rajini watched the floor numbers flash on and off as if it was the most fascinating thing ever. Maybe it was something good, Laney told herself. Maybe her passport was ready a day early.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the lobby. Rajini hooked her arm in Laney’s. “Come on.”
A group of men congregated in the corner of the lobby. Laney couldn’t see their faces, but they had the dark feel of the convention guys. The influx of shady men all week had added tension to the atmosphere, a silent hum that ratcheted up her nerves.
Rajini pulled her past them and up to the front desk where Sirikit and Kalaya stood.
“Is there a special delivery for Laney?” Rajini asked Sirikit.
“There’s a very special delivery for her,” Sirikit said solemnly.
Kalaya nodded. “Yes.”
Everybody was acting weird. Laney gripped the counter. “What is it?” Whatever it was, good or bad, she wanted to get it over with.
Sirikit reached below the desk; she seemed to be fumbling with something.
Sujet wandered over, expression blank, just as Sirikit pulled up a cupcake with a candle on it. “Happy Birthday, Laney.”
“Oh, my God,” Laney clapped her hand onto her heart, relief blasting through her.
Rajini grinned. “You sneak. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”
“You guys!” Laney felt so relieved. Her birthday. “How’d you know?”
“How could I forget?” Rajini said. “We had drinks at the Baiyike Rooftop bar last year. Many drinks, if I recall.”
“Go. Do it.” Sujet pointed at the cupcake. “Make a wish.”
She’d remembered.
Laney made a wish for her brother to be safe and blew out the candles.
Rajini clapped and smiled at Sirikit. “Anything else down there?”
Sirikit pulled up a wrapped box. “From all of us,” she said. “But it was Rajini’s idea.”
Laney unwrapped the box and pulled up a necklace—a tiny silver elephant on a delicate chain. “Oh, thank you!” She and Rajini had admired it together a month ago. She hugged Rajini, and then Sujet, and then Sirikit and Kalaya over the counter. She would miss her friends so much.
“Turn.” Laney turned around and Rajini clasped the necklace at the back of her neck. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday? I could tell something was bothering you.”
“Well, you know…” She turned back to Rajini, eyeing her significantly. It was Emmaline’s birthday, that’s why. She was Laney on her fake passport. She should celebrate Laney’s birthday, not Emmaline’s.
She saw when Rajini realized. “Oh. Well.” Rajini gave a defiant shrug. “Happy birthday, sister.”
She loved Rajini in that moment. Rajini and her sassy energy. She’d miss her.
“Thank you.” Laney patted the necklace, feeling like a traitor. Sneaking out after Rajini had helped her for so long. But how could she trust her when she’d outright lied? I’m absolutely sure that he doesn’t work there. I saw proof. He’s perfectly comfortable.
If she wasn’t on the run for her life, it wouldn’t be such a big thing.
“The elephant. For good luck,” Sujet said.
Laney smiled. “Good.”
Sirikit split the cupcake in fifths.
She’d write them all letters once she was safe. These people had been so good to her.
New guests were arriving. The staff flew into action.
“You want to watch a movie?” Rajini asked.
“I’m kind of tired,” Laney said, wandering back in the direction of the elevator with her friend. Rajini insisted on riding up with her.
Back in her room, Laney checked her email while Rajini made them both tea.
Laney’s heart lifted when she saw Charlie’s secret email name in her inbox. “He got back to me!” Laney said.
Rajini came over. “I told you he’d email.”
“Thank goodness.”
Rajini watched her expectantly as she read.
“A nice, long letter,” Laney mumbled, reading. He apologized for missing her birthday—he’d had the flu, but he was much better, and she should email right back with her question. He told her what a comfort it was that the Shinsurins had her back. A comfort to know she was safe within the walls of the hotel. He went on about politics, current events, and something about the auto repair shop that he’d told her before.
The further she read, the more worried she felt.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something’s up with Charlie. He’s been weird all month, but he’s weirder now.”
“Weirder how?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Laney reread the letter. “Weirdly cheerful. Talking about politics. Telling me stupid stuff he’s already told me. Like he forgot he told me.”
“People sometimes do that.”
“Right. Still.” Laney wrapped her arms around her chest. “Email sucks. You can’t see a person’s face. You can’t feel them.”
“May I?”
Laney handed over the laptop.
Rajini read the email for herself. “This is way nicer than what my brothers ever wrote when I was away,” she said after a while.
Laney snorted. She could hardly imagine Niwat or Jao chatting on email, even though they loved Rajini, and she loved them back.
“Maybe he was in a hurry. It’s a nice letter.”
“Too nice. Too…something,” Laney said. “What if he’s sick? Or Mama? He’d be stupidly cheerful like this.”
Rajini rolled her eyes and handed the computer back. “Honey,” she said. “After we go to the bank tomorrow, I’m taking you for a manicure. You are way too overwrought.”
Was she being overwrought? Something wrong with Charlie. Two hours until the train. Walls closing in. The Shinsurin brothers turning out violent. Rajini lying—to protect her brothers, maybe, but still lying. Though their lies were more dangerous to Devilwell than to her.
She looked at the letter again. Devilwell would be able to tell her what was up. He saw more in words than what was there. That was his job.
She looked up to see Rajini examining her. “Honey,” Rajini said. “I have a recommendation.”
“What?”
“I know you said you didn’t want to, but…” She pulled a small box from her purse. A DVD. My Fair Lady. Laney’s favorite.
“Oh,” Laney said. “I can’t.”
Rajini stuck out her bottom lip. “Why not?”
Laney was starting to forget about why it was so important to be a brown bird. What could another day hurt? If she held out just one more day she could leave with a pas
sport and money. And maybe make Maxwell look at Charlie’s emails.
She sat back. “What the hell. Put it in.”
Chapter Twenty
The guards who came on Sunday morning at six a.m. were inconveniently awake and alert the entire day, though they did bring Macmillan a bowl of rice around dinner time, which he gobbled up hungrily. Ten more and he might actually get full. A number of people tramped past, but happily, Dok didn’t show up.
The night guards came on at ten.
Things calmed at midnight. Soon after, the kitchen boy delivered the hopefully-drugged coffees. Even if Macmillan hadn’t heard him bring them past, he would’ve smelled the aroma. He waited twenty minutes, then freed himself and headed back to the console room, pleased to see the guards flopped back in their chairs. They’d be out for hours.
He set the video feeds to the basement entrances so that he’d know if anybody was coming and started compressing and downloading the files from the day. While that was happening, he started to search the video to see if Laney had left. She was absent from the lobby the whole morning.
Good.
Macmillan was just allowing himself to hope she’d taken his advice and gotten out of there when the camera captured her heading across the lobby floor with Rajini Shinsurin.
They stopped at the front desk to talk with the clerks. Macmillan groaned when the cupcake was brought out.
Her birthday.
Then the gift come out.
“No!” he whispered at the screen. “Don’t get sentimental on me, Laney!” A lost cause. A little birthday fete would mean the world to Laney. The feeling of being buoyed by the love of other people. Of belonging. A sense of family. She would let it color her judgment.
The little group laughed. Laney was saying something funny; he didn’t have sound, but he found himself smiling all the same. She felt happy with these people, especially the girls behind the desk. He remembered what that was like, to live in that country where people were your meaning and your security. He watched the little group as an exile might, longing sharp as a knife.
He fast forwarded the lobby tapes.
The next time the cameras picked her up she was heading through the lobby with her guitar, ready to do her show. She stopped to talk with Niwat. Niwat would see right through those fake smiles.
Off the Edge (The Associates) Page 15