Ferocious

by Paula Stokes

  “Because they’re too emotionally invested?”

  “Yes. I get that you are pissed because Kyung tricked you and stole the tech, and your blood is teeming with vengeance because of what he did in the past, but that does not make for a good mission, if you know what I mean. When any of us go to UsuMed, we need to be calm, focused, purposeful in our actions. That way we won’t be conspicuous.”

  “All right.” I shrug. “But just because you’re an emotionless robot doesn’t mean I can turn off all my feelings too.”

  “Exactly, which is why I put myself in charge.” Baz drums his fingertips against his arm. “We need to have a meeting first, make a list of objectives, come up with a solid plan.”

  “Our objective is to find the tech, steal it back, and then kill Kyung. I don’t think we need a meeting for that,” I scoff.

  “Oh, okay,” Baz says. “Well, maybe you can just hang out in the lobby and wait for Kyung to stroll in. You can ask him if he has the tech in his pocket and if he says yes, snap his neck. I’ll go ahead and book our tickets home.”

  “That is not what I—”

  Baz leans against the inside of the front door. “I took a bullet for you, so how about we try it my way?”

  “As I recall, you took a bullet for Gideon,” I point out. “Jesse took a bullet for me.”

  “Damn right.” Jesse loops an arm over my shoulder.

  “Well, I hope you two are this detail oriented when you head off to UsuMed to do some recon.” Baz smirks. “Tomorrow. Once you’ve gotten some sleep and we’ve all sat down together and talked about everything.”

  I sigh. It probably would be dumb to go running off to UsuMed tonight, but my muscles are twitching, my nerves humming. Even though it’s getting late, I can’t just go to bed.

  Jesse’s still got his arm on me. “We could eat?” he suggests hopefully.

  I glance at the time. “We ate about three hours ago.”

  “I know!” he exclaims.

  “Feed the bottomless pit,” Baz says. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  * * *

  I don’t have the energy to explain Korean food to Jesse tonight, so I take him to a Kentucky Fried Chicken a couple blocks down from our building.

  It has the same red-and-white layout as KFC back in the States, but the menu is in Korean and some of the food options are different. Jesse’s eyes widen as he scans the choices.

  “It’s probably a little different from what you’re used to back home,” I say. “But the chicken should taste about the same.”

  “Does this sandwich seriously have chicken patties for the buns and a bacon cheeseburger center?” Jesse asks, pointing at something called a Double Down King.

  “Looks like it,” I say.

  “That’s a little much, even for me.”

  He ends up ordering a fried chicken sandwich combo meal and I get myself a side of fries and a drink. We take our food upstairs and sit in a booth next to a big glass window where we can look out at the night. Below us, people mill around on the streets, meandering in and out of bars and browsing the various shops. Something specific catches Jesse’s eye and I follow his gaze. A couple of guys in jeans and winter jackets are standing in front of a pub. Their close-cropped haircuts give them away as US military, probably from the nearby base at Yongsan.

  I glance over at Jesse. His thick hair is longer now, but it’s not much of a stretch to imagine him standing next to these guys. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t think about how being in this neighborhood might remind you of things.”

  “It’s okay.” Jesse drags a trio of French fries through a puddle of ketchup. “It’s not like I’ll ever forget, or that I even want to forget. Being in the military was a big part of my life. Just because it’s over now doesn’t make it any less meaningful to me.”

  I nod. I want to reach out and touch him, but that doesn’t feel right. Instead, we finish our food in silence and head back to the apartment. Seoul is a city of layers and Jesse peels them back with his penetrating gaze, taking in the glitzy Western bars, the alleys sloping upward into cramped housing developments, the doorways leading to dark hallways that lead to offices and noodle shops the casual observer would never even know existed.

  I unlock the front door to our building and turn toward the stairwell. Jesse follows me without question. We’re both pretty slow on the stairs.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Still sore, but I’m a little better each day.”

  “Good.”

  “Thanks for asking.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jesse reaches out and grabs my arm. I pause on the third-floor landing to look back at him. He’s a step below me, so we’re almost eye to eye. “What is it?” I ask.

  “Is this how things are going to be between us now?” he asks. “This awkward sort of politeness?”

  I swallow hard. Jesse’s eyes have always been my undoing. The swirls of color, the depth, the warmth. “Are you asking me to be rude?”

  He drags his hand down my arm. With one finger he traces the cross-shaped scar on my palm. “I’m asking you to be you.”

  “Oh.” I force a smile. “I’m still figuring out who that is.”

  “Okay,” Jesse says. “But I’m hoping someday we can find our way back to being friends at least.”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Jesse flares his nostrils. “Friends don’t bullshit each other.”

  I cross my arms. “Don’t they? Because I’m thinking the idea of you wanting to be my friend is kind of bullshit.” I’m not normally the one to bring up Jesse’s feelings for me, but he doesn’t get to stand here and accuse me of being a liar when he’s doing the same thing.

  “I said ‘at least,’” he points out. “I’m not trying to hide how I feel. I’m just trying not to throw it in your face, because I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I’m sorry.” It’s not really an answer to anything, but it’s all I have. Sometimes those words make people feel better, and I don’t want Jesse to feel bad. I turn back to the stairs, focusing on each individual step like if I ascend enough of them, the solutions to all of my problems will be waiting at the top.

  Jesse is right about his feelings making me uncomfortable, but he doesn’t know the whole reason why. He thinks I don’t want to be with him anymore because he slept with me when I was dissociating. That or because I found out he lied to me and helped Gideon trick me. That did—still does, when I think about it—make me angry, but I understand why they did it. I understand it was an impossible situation. I might even have done the same thing in their position.

  But my feelings for Jesse are more complicated than that. I still struggle with the idea that he could really love me after finding out about my sex-trade past and current mental issues. I am not even in control of the person I am. I traveled thousands of miles to get here so I could kill someone. What about that is lovable? Maybe he just wants to save me because he’s got the initials of four army buddies that he couldn’t save inked onto his wrist. Maybe I’m just a penance for him and one day he’ll decide he’s atoned enough. If I give in and let myself love him, what happens if he leaves? I lost Rose and went crazy. I lost Gideon and became a killer. My sanity, my humanity—both gone.

  I can’t lose anyone else.

  I don’t have anything left to give.

  I pass by the landing to the sixth floor. “I’m going to check out the roof.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Most apartment buildings and hotels here have roof access. Sometimes they have gardens or even minicafés.”

  “Cool. I’ll come with you,” Jesse says.

  Of course he will. I almost ask him to go back to the apartment, to give me some space. But the thought of one day pushing him away for good crushes down on my chest. I need air. I need the cavernous expanse of night. But I need Jesse too, at least the possibility of him.

  * * *

  We e
xit out onto a wide, flat roof. There’s a small area along the building with an overhang, where forgotten herbs and plants sit in various states of decomposition. The frigid night air stings my nasal passages and blows tendrils of my hair forward into my eyes.

  “There’s enough room to spar up here,” I muse. It’s only been a few days, but already my mind and body are suffering from the lack of exercise.

  Jesse groans slightly. “Not sure I’m ready to go one-on-one with you yet.”

  I stride across the concrete to the roof’s edge. The railing is only waist high. It occurs to me this is probably why Jesse didn’t want me up here alone. I scared him once when I was in St. Louis. For all I know, I’ve scared him multiple times but blocked some of them out. I’m not suicidal, at least I don’t think I am, but it’s hard not to think about death sometimes, especially when I’ve repeatedly witnessed it up close and personal.

  Jesse comes to stand next to me at the railing. “Does it feel weird being back here?”

  “I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet,” I say. “Other than hearing people speak Korean, I don’t feel any differently from how I did in Los Angeles or St. Louis.”

  “Were you happy here?”

  It’s an interesting question. You would probably think that growing up in a city orphanage after your mother abandoned you would make for an unhappy childhood. It didn’t, though—perhaps because I was surrounded by other girls who were all in the same circumstances as I was, or maybe just because my sister did such a good job of looking out for me.

  “Yes,” I say. “My situation wasn’t ideal, but whose is? I have a lot of fond memories from here.”

  “I’m glad,” Jesse says. His phone buzzes before I can think of anything else to say. He fishes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen. “Sebastian’s back. He says it’s time to make a plan.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Baz and Jesse take seats on the sofa and I sit across from them on the floor. Jesse offers to scoot over so we can all fit, but I shake my head. I’m still chilled from being on the roof, and the heat coming up through the floor is warming my bones.

  “I downloaded all the specs I could find on the UsuMed building onto my tablet. I also set a meet with two of my local contacts,” Baz starts. “One is going to get me some supplies and weapons. The other is going to make sure we all have fake documents in case we need them to get out of the country.”

  “You’re already making arrangements for leaving?” Jesse asks.

  Baz shrugs. “I’m a big believer in contingency plans.”

  “You two can do what you want, but I’m not leaving without the tech,” I say. “And not until I find Kyung.”

  “And by find, you mean…” Baz waits for me to fill in the blank.

  I lick my lips and swallow hard. “It’s like you said back in St. Louis. Sometimes the only way to end something completely is to end it completely.”

  Baz rubs at his chin, at the stubble of his blond beard. “Gideon left you plenty of money. We could hire someone to take care of Kyung.”

  It’s a smart plan. Baz probably knows assassins we could trust. But I want Kyung to know it was me. I want my face to be the last thing he ever sees. “What if I want to do it?”

  “Killing someone is different in practice than it is in theory,” Baz says quietly. “There are factors you can’t prepare for, feelings in the moment where you’ll question everything you thought you knew about yourself, other feelings that might follow you long after the deed is done.”

  “I killed Sung Jin,” I say. “And some guy in Los Angeles.”

  “Did you enjoy it?” Baz asks.

  Yes.

  Apparently, part of me did.

  “No, but I don’t feel bad about it.”

  “Those were self-defense,” Baz says. “Executing someone is different.”

  I know he’s right. To be honest, it still bothers me that I’m not feeling any kind of remorse about killing Sung Jin or the man at the guesthouse. Maybe I’m still in shock, or maybe I feel like what I did was right. Those men were trying to hurt me, but no one has hurt me more than Kyung. “It’s hard to explain, but this feels like self-defense too.”

  Jesse sits quietly through these exchanges, his jaw tense, hazel eyes flicking back and forth from Baz to me. I wonder what he’s thinking.

  “Believe me, I understand,” Baz says. “I’ve executed multiple people in the name of defense. Sometimes the best defense is a good offense. But prioritize it for me. What matters more to you—regaining possession of the ViSE technology or killing Kyung?”

  “Stealing back the tech,” I say, even though the real answer is that I won’t rest until I do both. But recovering the ViSE technology feels like something I’m doing for Gideon, and for anyone Kyung might hurt with the technology. Killing Kyung is more personal.

  “Then let’s talk about the technology first,” Baz says. “And later we can talk about killing.”

  “Any idea how we can get inside UsuMed?” Jesse asks.

  Baz pulls up a map of the city on his tablet and turns it so Jesse and I can see. I take note of some new subway stops and an entirely new line that’s been built in the past few years.

  “I don’t think we want to just go in guns blazing,” Baz says. “We need to be smart about it, figure out how to gain access in the middle of the night when we only have to evade a couple of security guards. But that building has twenty floors. We could spend all night looking and still not find what we want. We need to figure out exactly where the neural editor and headset are located. First, we need to do some recon. Once we see things, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

  “Jesse and I can do that while you meet up with your spy friends,” I say.

  “Well, only one of them can meet me tomorrow, but I see no point in all three of us going to UsuMed, so if you two want to go, that’s fine.”

  “What, specifically, are we looking for?” Jesse asks.

  Baz clears his throat. “Let’s start with photos and/or ViSE footage of the front of the building, the front doors, the locks on the front doors, the lobby, the elevators, the back doors, a door to the parking garage, and the elevator in the parking garage. Also get footage of the buildings directly next door to UsuMed as well as across the street—just general images so we know how tall they are and what kind of businesses are in them.” Baz rubs at his beard stubble again. “If they won’t be able to fix the neural editor without help, we should have some time to come up with a workable plan.” He turns to me. “Are you sure no one can access Gideon’s notes?”

  “I’m sure,” I say. The snowflake necklace feels heavy around my neck. “What if they can fix the neural editor without them, though?” I ask. “Or what if all they really wanted was the recorder headset?”

  “Then we’re probably screwed,” Baz says. “But I prefer not to get distracted by worst-case scenarios. Gideon was the smartest guy I knew. If he was worried about the ViSE tech being stolen, whatever he did is probably not going to be easy to fix.”

  “All right.” I lift myself up from the floor. “I’m going to get some sleep. It sounds like tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

  “That reminds me.” Baz hops up and pulls a small amber bottle from one of the kitchen cabinets. “I went by the penthouse before I left St. Louis and made sure Gideon’s valuables were secure. I grabbed a couple of recorder headsets and some blank memory cards just in case we need them. I saw these while I was there.” He tosses me the bottle. “I figured you might want them to help you sleep or whatever.”

  It’s the antianxiety medicine I sometimes take when I feel a panic attack coming on. I try not to take them unless it’s an emergency. I like the way they make me feel—blunted, cocooned—but right now I need to stay sharp.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “And I’m supposed to ask if you’re keeping up with your studies,” Baz adds.

  I make a face at him. “You’re joking, right?”

/>   “I promised Gideon I would look out for you.”

  The way he says it makes me wonder if he was the one who recorded the ViSE Gideon left me, but I can’t bring myself to ask. It feels too personal, like it’s not my business whether he let Gideon talk to him and touch him so intimately.

  “I haven’t logged into my virtual classroom for several days, so I’m going to fail this session, but once we deal with things here, I’ll reregister for classes.” I roll my eyes. “That all right with you, Dad?”

  A funny look flits across Baz’s face, so quickly I might have imagined it, but it makes me wonder about who he really is, and how he ended up working for Gideon. “I guess it’ll have to do,” he says.

  As I head for my room, I think about the seemingly impossible task of locating the ViSE tech in a twenty-story building. Kyung said he wanted the technology to turn it over to one of Usu’s tech companies, but I don’t believe that’s all it is. He might be evil, but he’s also a shrewd businessman. I can’t believe he’d go through the trouble of hiring someone to pretend to be my brother and sending men to my guesthouse to abduct me just to gain access to technology and pass it along to a sister company.

  No, Kyung wants the headsets and neural editor for some other reason. A personal one. But what could it be?

  CHAPTER 19

  The next morning we’re all awake early, thanks to a combination of jet lag and nervous energy. Jesse and I head to the nearest subway station. The lobby level is quiet at this hour on a Saturday; the small shops located inside it are closed. It’s funny how different subway stations look during rush hour, when some of them almost feel like small cities. I buy each of us a T-money card and add 20,000 won to them.

  “How much is that?” he asks.

  “Around twenty dollars, depending on the exchange rate. The subway is fairly cheap, though, so it should last awhile.”

  We take two long escalators down to the platform level. An LCD board shows that our train will be arriving shortly. To Jesse’s relief, it’s not very crowded. We step into the gray-and-white car and take seats just inside the sliding glass doors. Most of the people in our car seem to be wearing the same white earbuds attached to the newest Samsung phone. They’re fixated on their screens; no one is talking or paying attention to anyone else. I study the clothes they’re wearing so I can figure out what to buy myself.