by Paula Stokes
Before Jesse can respond, a trio of big black cars pulls up in front of the building. My heart starts to race again. Inside me, something pulls, dark and angry, urging me to rush forward, to rip open the back doors and force the inhabitants out onto the cold street.
I think of Rose calling Jesse for help, of a possible second alter named Lily. A thirteen-year-old girl in my brain, a thirteen-year-old killer. It seems like the stuff of fantasy, but so many impossible things have recently shown themselves to be true.
I’m real.
“Shh,” I say to her, or to whatever might be rising up beneath my skin. “Calm down.”
One at a time, the drivers get out and open the back doors for the passengers.
“Can you get pictures of those license plates?” I ask Jesse, my voice wavering slightly. A man with the bulk of a private security guard emerges from the first car. He scans the sidewalk and then gestures at the vehicle. Two men in dark suits and black woolen coats emerge from inside. The hair on the back of my neck pricks up.
“I can get two of them at least.” Jesse snaps a couple of images.
More men exit the other vehicles, but there’s something about one of the men from the first car that has me on edge. My eyes cling to him as he steps to the side of the revolving door to take a phone call. Just a hint of a dark red tie is visible above the top button of his coat.
My mind flashes back to that day in Los Angeles. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but I guess they’ll do.
It’s him. It’s Kyung.
CHAPTER 20
The darkness thrashes around inside of me, an angry raven beating its wings against the bars of a tiny cage.
“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter, turning and hurrying for the subway station. Jesse follows me as I race down the stairs.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Kyung.” I slap my T-money card on the reader and pass through the turnstile.
“For sure?”
“For sure.” I bite my lip and then turn toward the subway platform that will take us back to Itaewon. I pace back and forth on the platform, counting the tiles beneath my feet, doing my best to slow my breath and heart rate. “I felt Lily in me. Or something.”
“What?” Jesse says. He adjusts his hearing aid and it whistles sharply for a second.
I start to repeat what I said, but my voice is lost as a train roars into the station. “Never mind.”
The Plexiglas doors open and a sea of people pours out into the station. I push my way onto the train with Jesse behind me. We stand close together in the aisle, the car crammed with morning commuters in their sharp suits, their woolen hats and coats.
The car jolts on the tracks and I pitch forward. Jesse reaches out to steady me, one hand landing on my waist. He braces me with his body as the car continues to shimmy and shake. For once I let myself enjoy the feeling of him against me—solid, muscular. Warm. I drink in the sensation of human touch, trying not to think about the way I felt when I saw Kyung.
* * *
Back at the apartment, I jump in the shower while Jesse makes breakfast. I stand under the hot water, suddenly longing for the hard pressure of the showers back in St. Louis. This one is barely a trickle and seeing Kyung has left me feeling filthy.
There’s a gentle knock on the door. “Win, you okay?” Jesse asks.
It occurs to me I have no idea how long I’ve been in here.
A long time, apparently, because by the time I dry off and change into clean clothes, Sebastian is back from his meeting and Jesse is remaking breakfast because his first attempt got cold.
He gestures at a pot of something gummy and white that probably resembled rice at some point. He’s making pancakes and bacon in another pan. I’ve never been a fan of bacon, but right now it smells amazing.
Baz is sitting on the sofa in the living room scanning something on his tablet. He’s dressed in jeans and a baseball cap again. I peek over his shoulder, but he swipes at the screen and the tablet goes dark. He makes a big point of stretching. “Are you going to be done making that breakfast soon?” he asks Jesse. “It’s almost time for lunch.”
“Funny,” Jesse says. “I don’t see you offering to cook.”
Baz strolls into the kitchen. “My idea of cooking is calling for delivery.”
I stir the gummy rice, trying not to smile at the way it congeals to the spoon and doesn’t want to let go. “That bacon is actually looking pretty good,” I say. “Maybe I’ll have an unhealthy American breakfast today.”
“My rice is terrible, isn’t it?” Jesse asks.
“That’s rice?” Baz says. “I thought maybe it was grits or some weird Mexican shit.”
I can’t help it. I start giggling. “Don’t feel bad. Rice is really hard to cook. A lot of Koreans use a rice cooker.” I lift my eyes to Jesse’s and give him a small smile. “Thank you for trying.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, turning to glare at Baz. “I’ll show you weird Mexican shit,” he mumbles under his breath.
I rest a hand on Jesse’s arm. “The pancakes and bacon look amazing.”
He looks down at the pan. “They do, don’t they?”
“Not to interrupt this tender moment, but how did your intel gathering go?” Baz asks, as he scoops a couple of pancakes off a serving plate and drizzles them with honey.
I give him a summary of when the UsuMed employees go to work and then hand over the headset and recording so he can see for himself. He heads for the living room couch with Jesse and me following with our plates. We eat quietly while he vises, not wanting to create overlay, additional sensory experiences from the real world that can cause nausea and disorientation.
Baz pauses halfway through the recording. “Here’s something interesting. When you bumped that guy to get a close-up of his badge, you also got a shot of two girls behind him. Their badges are different. ‘Cheonma Staffing Agency.’”
“Meaning they’re temps.” I remember how Gideon was able to get Natalie, another of his recorders, hired as a temp for Phantasm.
“Yep,” Baz says. “Could be useful.”
He finishes the recordings, seemingly unfazed by the rush of anger I felt when I saw Kyung. Next he skims through Jesse’s photographs. “Nice job getting these license plates. I’ll get them run by tomorrow at the latest. If one of these cars belongs to Kyung, hopefully it’ll be registered to him. In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can track down a hacker.”
“A hacker? Why?”
“Some of these access points have card readers.” He points to a picture Jesse took in the elevator and another one of the back doors to the building.“We’re going to need a list of UsuMed employees. Preferably ones with all-access badges.”
* * *
Baz doesn’t know any hackers, but it only takes him about an hour to track down a friend of a friend who was actually trained in cyber warfare by the Korean government.
I’m sitting on the floor of the living room, my back against the wall. “The government is training hackers?”
“Absolutely.” Baz taps out a short reply to someone on his phone. “Ever since the North Korean cyber attacks on government and banking websites about ten years back. Some people don’t really think of North Korea as a threat the way they do certain other countries, but make no mistake: the North Koreans are a lot more sophisticated and ambitious than most of us realize.”
“So he can help us?” Jesse asks.
“He’s willing to meet with us,” Baz says. “I suggested the PC bang, but I’m waiting for a confirmation. If he agrees, I think you should come with me, Winter.”
“Why me?” I ask. “I don’t know anything about hacking.”
“This kid just finished his mandatory military service, which means he’s probably not much older than you. A hot girl could come in handy if he needs a little extra persuading.”
“I’m not in the persuasion business,” I say pointedly.
“Yeah,” Jesse tacks on, clearly not
liking where this conversation is headed.
Baz snorts. “Jesus. I just meant like some flirting or something.”
My turn to snort. “If you knew me at all, you’d know I’m not exactly good at that.”
“Part of you is,” he says. “You forget that I’ve seen you in action.”
I did forget that. Or maybe I conveniently chose not to remember it. Baz was following me for Gideon when I was dissociating and going out as Rose. He’s probably seen me do all sorts of things. “Fine. I’ll play nice with him, but I can’t dissociate on command, so apologies in advance if my flirting does more harm than good.”
“I’ll come too,” Jesse says. “I can hang back in the corner or outside, just in case you guys need help.”
“No,” Baz says. “You’ll be too conspicuous. It’ll look like we brought an American soldier for backup. I get that you want to protect Winter, but I assure you we’ll be fine.”
Jesse sighs. “Well, what do you want me to do then?”
Baz glances over at the kitchen area. “Dishes?”
Jesse’s eyes narrow and I jump in quickly. “Maybe you can go over the schematics for UsuMed that Baz downloaded the other night? See if you can optimize the different ways we might be able to access the building once we know for certain where the tech is kept?” It’s a busywork assignment, since the location of the tech will most likely be the deciding factor in where we should break in, but hopefully it’ll at least make Jesse feel useful.
“Fine.” He gives me a look and I know he’s not fooled, but at least I’m not treating him like a maid.
“Here we go.” Baz holds up one finger as he clicks on a new text message with the other one. “He says he can meet me in two hours, but not here. We’re supposed to take the subway to a station across town and leave via exit 5. There’s a PC bang a couple blocks past the exit he says is safe for a meeting.”
* * *
South Korean PC bangs aren’t much like the Internet cafés back in the United States. This one is in the basement of a building that also houses a nail salon and a noodle shop. At first I think it must be closed—how can anyone be running a business in such dim lighting—but when I press the button, the glass door slides open. I step inside where I’m immediately assaulted by the scent of smoke. I cough, wishing I had one of the surgical masks so many people are wearing to block out part of the noxious fumes hanging in the air.
Baz gives me a look. “Suck it up.”
“Why would he suggest this place?” I ask. “It’s not exactly private.”
There are about one hundred computers from what I can see, arranged in horseshoe-shaped clusters to facilitate cooperative game play. Each computer station has its own headset and is separated from the next user by small fiberglass walls on either side of the widescreen monitor.
“It is anonymous, though,” Baz murmurs. He pays for an hour of time and a bag of crispy squid snacks. The guy behind the desk gives him a card with a generic login ID and tells him he can sit at any computer he wants.
“Tasty,” I say, gesturing to the small foil bag in his hand.
“I was told to buy them,” Baz says. “He’s probably going to use them to make a positive ID.”
“I see.”
Baz scans the clusters of terminals. “We’re supposed to sit at computer ninety-three.”
“I can’t see anything in this light,” I grumble.
We wander from cluster to cluster until we find computer ninety-three, which thankfully is unoccupied. Baz slides into the leather executive chair and I pull a chair over from the next computer and squeeze in next to him. Baz flips on the computer and the letters on the keyboard light up blue. He logs in with the information given to him.
Behind us, a cheer goes up from a group of college boys in headsets. They seem to all be attacking some kind of mutated zombie that’s wreaking havoc on what looks like a military base. Their winter coats and messenger bags are draped all over. I can’t help but think about how easy it would be to steal from them while they’re so engrossed in their virtual pursuits.
I turn back to what Baz is doing. Our computer screen has a shortcut for Google and Daum, a popular Korean web portal. The wallpaper is a group of sexy anime girls in provocative positions.
“If this kid is into girls who look like that, I’m not sure any amount of flirting I do is going to be helpful,” I say.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Baz says. “You’re hot in a ‘she might bite your head off after sex’ kind of way.”
“Nice. Make fun of a girl with mental illness.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your murderous alter,” he says with a wink. “Lighten up and learn to take a compliment.”
“Learn to give one,” I snap back.
Baz smiles. “You remind me so much of Gideon sometimes. So serious and intense until someone starts pushing your buttons.”
“And then?”
“Sharp, witty. Possibly even fun.” He opens a window for Google mail. “Look away,” he tells me.
I scan the other side of the room while Baz inputs his password. There’s a second cluster of college boys playing the same zombie game as the kids behind us and then a pair of older men playing some kind of strategy game with tanks. Pictures of superheroes—some printed and some painted—hang above each workstation.
“I never really thought of Gideon as fun,” I say.
“Yeah. It was a side he didn’t let out too often.” Baz pauses. “I know some of the things he and I did were pretty messed up, but you know he loved you like a daughter, right? If you believe anything about him, believe that.”
“I do,” I say softly.
“Good.” Baz’s eyes are still focused on the screen.
A new message pops up in his inbox. As Baz clicks on it, a guy in a hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low approaches. He grabs a chair from an empty station and positions it on the other side of Baz. But he doesn’t sit. I can’t really make out any features in the dim lighting, but Baz is right about him looking young.
“Who’s this?” He gestures toward me.
“She’s a friend you can trust. Are you Chung?”
“Some people call me that.” The kid gives me a long look. “Do I need to pat her down?”
“I wouldn’t. She doesn’t like to be touched. Besides, if anyone needs to worry about recording devices, it’s me.”
Apparently this satisfies Chung. He lowers his body into the chair next to Baz. “What’s up?” he asks.
“I’m looking for some technical support,” Baz says.
“Is that so? What happened?”
I listen quietly, impressed by Chung’s fluent English and almost perfect American accent. I wonder if he spent time studying overseas.
“I got locked out of my work account,” Baz says.
“Where do you work?” Chung asks.
Baz drops his voice. “UsuMed.”
Chung whistles. “That’s unfortunate. I’m not sure I can help with that.”
“What about Cheonma Staffing? My, uh, friend here works for them.”
“Hi,” I say, in what I hope is a flirty voice.
Chung grunts an acknowledgment to me. “That I can probably help with.” He nudges Baz with his elbow and Baz scoots his chair over so the guy is in front of the screen.
I hop up from my chair. “I’m going to step outside for—”
“Stay,” Baz commands.
“Actually,” Chung says, “can you grab me a coffee? I’ve been up for a day and a half and I’m starting to crash.”
Baz grins at me. “Be a dear and get us each a coffee, will you? I’ll take a latte.”
“Americano for me.” Chung is completely focused on the screen. I might as well be a robot or an old ajumma.
Muttering under my breath, I make my way up to the front counter and order Baz and his new friend each a coffee. Now I know how Jesse feels about being told to do the dishes while everyone else handles the “real work.”
&nbs
p; While the drinks are being made, I scope out the entirety of the PC bang. The room has filled up some since Baz and I arrived. Besides me, there is only one girl in the whole place and she’s hanging out in a little glass booth in the center of the room that I think is supposed to be a smoking area. Maybe it’s there just so people won’t get ash all over the keyboards, but it’s definitely not preventing mass inhalation of secondhand smoke. I feel like I’ve smoked a half-dozen cigarettes since we arrived.
Beyond the glass booth is a hallway with a sign hanging from the ceiling. I squint and can just barely make out the word bathrooms.
The kid behind the counter hands me the drinks and I return to our computer, where Baz and Chung are copying files to a flash drive.
“Are we finding what we need?” I ask, giving them their coffees.
“It’s a start, anyway,” Baz says, pulling a sealed envelope out of his jacket pocket. “There’s more where that came from if you’re able to help with my other problem.”
Chung slips the envelope into his messenger bag. He polishes his glasses on his shirt and then looks back and forth from Baz to me. “Are you guys a couple?” he asks suddenly.
“What?” I snap, a little more sharply than I intended. “No. Not at all.”
Baz chuckles. “She’s a little uptight for my tastes.”
Chung drops his voice. “So then is there any chance you might want to hang out with me some night?”
I am so surprised by this turn of events that I almost spill Baz’s coffee all over the keyboard. At no point did Chung even look at me except when he was trying to decide if this was all a setup and I was wearing a wire. “I guess I could,” I say hesitantly. “Depending on what you mean by ‘hang out.’”
Chung laughs, like a full belly laugh. His face reddens a little. “Not you.” He turns to Baz. “You.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Does this kid seriously think Sebastian is gay? I glance nervously around the PC bang as Baz’s jaw goes tight. I hope he doesn’t make a scene.
Baz grabs Chung by the scruff of his shirt and lifts him from his chair. “Let’s have a quick chat, shall we?” He pushes Chung in the direction of the back hallway that leads to the bathrooms.