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by Genevieve Valentine

  “It’s a Canadian ID,” Magnus said, “and enough money to make some people forget you. Decide which ones.”

  “It’s impossible to disappear when you’re me.”

  Daniel didn’t even begrudge the guy his ego. It was probably true. One thing for Li Zhao to disappear after a few months, back before the network was so fast and the Faces so ubiquitous. Another thing for Suyana to disappear, when she had played parts so long and people were inclined to make assumptions and feel superior and let themselves forget. Trying to get the American Face to drop off the edge of the world was going to be a different problem.

  Bo was talking to the pair near the fountain, and Daniel was the only outsider within earshot when Ethan turned and asked her, “If I wanted to stay, would you stand with me?”

  Daniel winced even before Suyana answered, as soft, but with the knife behind it. “What was the thing you told Margot most often about me?”

  Ethan didn’t even go red at the ears, which meant he’d kept his bedroom secrets, but he let her hand drop. “I mostly told Margot you seemed unreachable. I didn’t mind looking like an idiot so long as it kept her from being curious.”

  Daniel thought two things at once. First, that Ethan was a fool to have answered, and second, that was the most interesting thing anyone could have told Margot. He didn’t have to look at Suyana to know she thought the same.

  It struck Daniel, like the thin end of a wound he’d feel later, the series of disasters they’d gone through to make Suyana even this knowable to him. She’d been designed otherwise. She didn’t trust unless circumstances had utterly abandoned her. Daniel had been a lunar eclipse.

  He kept his eyes on the fountain a little longer, until the sounds of the embrace were over. They didn’t know the cameras were off; it seemed polite.

  When one of the tourists by the fountain had disengaged to follow Ethan, Daniel risked a look at Suyana. Then he wished he hadn’t, but an assignment was an assignment.

  “Magnus,” she said. “Go home and call anyone you think has Margot hanging over them. We’ll need a majority vote of no confidence and support for the new candidate. Whatever you can do would be of use.”

  Magnus glanced up from his notes, hiding his abject horror just in time. “And . . . who’s the new candidate?”

  Daniel smiled. If he thought Suyana wanted herself in the limelight, he knew a different woman than Daniel did.

  “I’ll let you know when she says yes,” Suyana said, and headed toward the river. Bo fell in behind her, and after a moment Daniel joined her.

  “Magnus might turn on you,” Daniel said.

  “He might.”

  She was wearing a light parka now, nondescript and long enough to cover the dress, and a scarf that covered her jawline. Her hair was pulled back—he supposed the long, straight weight of it would attract more attention loose, but it was strange to be able to look right at her.

  “Shouldn’t you have him followed?”

  “We did,” Bo said, and Daniel had never wanted to punch him so much in his life.

  “Surprised you didn’t send me,” he said.

  There was a pause that no audio recorder would have thought much of. Then she said, “I wanted you here.”

  The rising sun stung his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to actually make an apology—he wasn’t wrong, there was nothing to apologize for—but he was quiet when he said, “Right. I had forgotten what you’re like when you cut your losses and start doing the smart thing.”

  “I never do the smart thing,” Suyana said. She wiped a hand once, viciously, down her face. “I just carry the losses.”

  She sounded aged, and like she didn’t expect to live until tomorrow, and it was close enough to the truth that for a moment he leaned close enough to brush against the scar from the bullet she’d taken when they’d first been in Paris, a long time ago.

  20

  Bo didn’t let her stop moving to make the phone call until they were already along the Seine, where he could keep an eye on all directions and they had options for escape if they needed them. Then he said, “You’re clear,” and motioned for Suyana to get going.

  Daniel snorted as Bo glanced in every direction as casually as he could. Suyana frowned. “He was your idea,” she said. “Let him be the hero if it helps.”

  The look she got was something unreadable, and she nearly clarified that she was grateful, not offended, just before Grace picked up.

  “Hello, darling.”

  Either Colin was there or Grace was rehearsing for a propaganda film. “I need a favor.”

  “Makeup? Oh, I’d love to, I need some as well. Lyta is nice, as stylists go, but if I ever want decent lipstick, I’m on my own! You know how it is. What’s going on?”

  Suyana imagined Grace’s trajectory from the living room to the privacy of a locked bedroom door. “We have to talk before session tomorrow. You, Martine, me. Now.”

  “You should talk to Kipa as well,” Grace said. “Margot’s been at her.”

  Shit. “Fine. Somewhere public and loud.”

  “There is no way I’m about to discuss whatever this is in public.”

  “Private places aren’t safe.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Grace said after a moment. “I have a place I can offer.”

  Suyana’s heart turned over once. Her safe house. Grace was offering her new safe house. (It’s going to be you, Suyana thought, sudden and fierce, so much she nearly said the words.)

  “That’s . . . very kind, but we’ll want sound cover.”

  Grace huffed a laugh. “I’ve taken precautions since last time, thank you. The windowsills in this place are disgusting and the floors are a disgrace, but at least I know if anyone’s been in there but me.”

  Suyana knew those precautions. This life turned everyone into a spy.

  There was a moment’s quiet. Daniel raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Send me the address, I’ll meet you there. And pick up Martine. It’s better than either of you being alone.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not alone,” she said, and then, for no particular reason, “Thank you.”

  She hung up before Grace could ask what the thanks was for, so she wouldn’t have to say, For believing me without me having to explain. That was something you saved for when you needed someone to tip in your favor. Like telling someone you were grateful, she thought with a pang, meeting Daniel’s eye.

  “It’s all right,” he reminded her. She must have been looking for the camera, out of habit.

  Bo said, “Unless you’re having the meeting here, we should get going.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes, and a rejoinder to Bo died in her mouth when she thought about being on the banks of this river twelve hours ago. “Good idea. Who’s covering Margot?”

  He paused while someone fed him the answer. “A relay team of three.”

  Something in his voice made her skip the interim questions and go right for, “When did they lose her?”

  “About fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Who would be most likely to know where she is?”

  “Big game hunters,” Daniel said with a shit-eating grin, and then looked at Bo. “Best man for the job.”

  Suyana did the math about who was the most dangerous and the most in danger, fractals spreading into possible disasters. She said, “Margot will be gathering all the support she can. I need details. Bo, if you can find her, you should find her. I’ll be all right.”

  “Are you sure?” The frown was audible.

  “Of course. I have Daniel, for luck.”

  When they were alone, Daniel took a step closer to block out onlookers and said, “Is there . . . anyone who can help you?”

  It stung to hear him sound so hopeful—like he knew, like they were in this together and Chordata was still on her side. For a moment she was back in the perfume department, picking up bottles and setting them down again and waiting for Zenaida to appear in her bright hijab and heavy
silk coat and smile and embrace Suyana with one arm, like a daughter gone just long enough to miss.

  “No,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Some of them acted without my consent, in a way they knew would work against me. I thought I had handled it. Last night might suggest otherwise. I have to become too powerful to disappear.”

  Daniel had gone pale at the edges. “So . . . that . . . was them?” He gestured vaguely at her torso.

  She rested her hand lightly on her rib cage, so he’d know where the wound was.

  “No point worrying now. We have a meeting.”

  As they set out side by side, he said, “They might be two sides of the same problem. Martine thinks Margot set up the research facility to blow. Once they knew Margot came after you last year, it must have made sense. Maybe Margot’s infiltrating Chordata.”

  She didn’t need to ask how he knew—he’d learned since last year, and he’d been busy these last few weeks—but her pride was eclipsed by the news.

  Of course Margot knew Chordata was looking for alternative sources. Of course Margot was working to eliminate a problem. If you had the chair of the Central Committee in your pocket, even Suyana was expendable. Fools, whoever had listened to Margot and believed her, but Suyana supposed Chordata had to have its fools the same as any other organization with five hundred legs.

  Fine. She let the anger build. She’d use it. She’d need it; Grace and Martine would need to be more afraid of her than of Margot.

  × × × × × × ×

  When she knocked on the door of the unassuming flat in the unassuming side street of an unassuming neighborhood not far enough from Montmartre, Daniel said, “Blackout,” so solemn that when Kipa flung the door open it startled her.

  She covered her surprise with gruffness. “What did Margot tell you?” (Beside her, Daniel was rubbing his forehead with a thumb, like the introduction pained him.)

  Kipa shook her head, shrugged. “You know what she tells people when she wants things handled. It was decisive.”

  “But you’re here anyway?”

  Her eyes were wide and serious. “Of course,” she said, and Suyana ached to believe her.

  When they shuffled into the cramped studio—feeling even smaller in the dim of closed curtains—with a table and a quorum of rickety folding chairs squeezed beside the bed, Martine and Grace were sitting in a haze of nervous smoke from Martine’s cigarette.

  Grace glanced up first. When she saw Daniel, her eyes went wide for a heartbeat before she could smooth her face back to a polite nothing. Martine barely spared either of them a look; she must know Daniel better.

  “Suyana,” Grace said, “you know he’s surveillance.”

  “He’s with me,” Suyana said as she took a seat. Daniel, after some silent negotiation with himself, sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap. “And he’s not taping this. I’ve struck a deal.”

  “Oh, well, if you’ve struck a deal, then I suppose that’s all sorted out.”

  “Martine.”

  Kipa raised her eyebrows, and Suyana tried very hard not to do the same as she leaned forward and said, “It’s about Margot.”

  “So he told you?” Martine said, casting an unimpressed look at Daniel.

  Daniel hadn’t told her much, really, and for a moment her fingertips stung like she’d lost blood. She ignored it. He’d sent her a lieutenant, and he’d followed her when she gave the word. She’d asked nothing else of him.

  “Do you mean the attempted murder last year, or the attempted murder last night?”

  “Last night?” Kipa had a hand on the table, staking her claim to talk—not a bad move, but her nail polish was chipped. Suyana would have to break her of that habit.

  “Margot sent someone after me last night. The knife got me. My snap saved my life.”

  It was a bit much—“took care of it” would have worked just as well—but she had brought a new press order on all of them, and sometimes you had to oversell. Sooner or later, everybody was susceptible to a good headline.

  Kipa was the first to summon an answer. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Shit,” Grace said a moment later, as it occurred to her. Martine shook her head tightly, once.

  Suyana said, “I want her out. Tomorrow’s the first day of session. Everyone will be gathered, but there won’t be anything scheduled for vote or debate. National press will be present. I want a vote of no confidence in Margot before she can say a word. Call in your allies, whoever you have who would be willing to second a motion.”

  Martine narrowed her eyes. “Who did you say was going to lead this stirring cri de coeur in front of every country in the world and a hundred of the army?”

  Suyana smiled, all teeth. “I will. Don’t worry, Martine, I never mistook you for a woman of action.”

  In lieu of an answer Martine sucked in a pirate’s breath off her cigarette, and if she looked like she was on the verge of regretting something, the smoke made it hard to tell.

  Kipa broke in. “But then wouldn’t the vice chair just step up?”

  “That’s in case of death or emergency. Otherwise it’s a vote. We’ll need a new candidate for chairperson. Immediately.”

  Grace blinked and frowned. “Who, exactly, did you have in mind?”

  “Not me,” Suyana promised. She never could. As soon as she was under the lights, the truth would come out, and maybe Chordata deserved it, but she wasn’t going to make a decision for the entire organization. She knew what it felt like for decisions to be made without you that couldn’t be taken back.

  Kipa said, “Not me either.”

  “So what?” Martine blew smoke through her teeth so hard it looked like the edge of dragon fire. “It’ll just be someone else on the Central Committee. She’s groomed that whole place to do just as she says. She’ll be replaced by herself.”

  “Not if a majority backs an outside candidate. The Committee can’t risk making the wrong appointment themselves in the middle of no-confidence upheaval. It taints by association.” She risked a look at Grace, who seemed staggered but was paying attention, and pressed her luck. “An outsider will be the best solution—they’ll take her on to see if she’ll fail, and by the time she succeeds it will be too late to remove her.”

  Martine frowned. “How the hell do you know she would succeed?”

  Suyana looked across the table with deliberation and met Martine’s eye without blinking. “If I put her there, I will make sure she succeeds.”

  Martine opened her mouth to refute it, smoke rolling across her cheek. But the words never came; she looked at Suyana like she was remembering something, and then her face shifted a centimeter and she sat back.

  “Well, I’m not doing it. I’ve seen what happens to anyone who ends up on top. I’m out.” Her voice trembled; her hand trembled. “You’re wasting your time if you want to change anything.”

  True in the long term—how could it not be?—but Margot had been on top for nearly twenty years, which was a good enough run to offer her successor, and now wasn’t the time to lose focus. Suyana turned to Grace, whose hand was already a fist on the table, knuckles down. “Grace, do you want to be chair of the Central Committee?”

  Grace tried a smile—one of the canned ones, one that wouldn’t fool any of them. “It’s not that I doubt you, Suyana, but this is dangerous business.”

  “It is. And it won’t be easy. But I’ve seen your face when we’re expected to vote No on something important. You have things you want changed, Grace, I know you do. With the right support—”

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “If you feel like it is, Martine, you’re welcome to abstain from the voting.”

  Grace raised a hand off the table an inch and stopped them both. “So, this is the plan? I say yes, and you somehow make it work to oust Margot on camera?”

  Suyana looked at her, tried to summon whatever conviction she still had about anything. “Grace. Do you want to be chair?”

&nb
sp; Behind her, Daniel took in a slow, heavy breath and held it, like he was trying to get a steady close-up. If he was, Suyana thought, and this camera was rolling, she’d kill him, too.

  After what felt like a long time but couldn’t have been, Grace said, “I’ll accept the nomination.”

  She would have kept pushing—accepting wasn’t the same as wanting, they’d all done nothing their whole lives but accept, and this had to be different—but there was a glint in Grace’s eye as she spoke, hunger looking to be fed.

  With power there was a far-off chance of justice; Suyana knew what that felt like. The first time someone suggested it to her they took a picture of her standing in front of the green, and the International Assembly had sworn her in beneath the official photo of her staring out at them all and already making plans.

  “We need two-thirds,” Kipa said, reaching into her bag for a notebook. “Do we have it?”

  They looked at one another. To discuss something like this was dangerous. To write it down was treason; to begin a list like this was putting your head on the block.

  Kipa said, “New Zealand.” She wrote with the concentration of someone whose letters were usually written for her, and Suyana felt a pang. She couldn’t fail—not if it would put Kipa in danger. (That had been part of Grace’s thinking in bringing her, Suyana had no doubt. Kipa might be an ally, but Suyana wasn’t a fool.)

  When she glanced over her shoulder, Daniel was looking at her, the shadow of a smile on his face. She returned it, just for a second.

  Martine said, “Norway.”

  And because it was important, and because it was important that they saw it as soon as possible and recognized what she had done (what she was capable of), Suyana held up her hand with the engagement ring and said, “The United States.”

  21

  The list took several hours to put together, which only surprised Daniel because he’d figured there was going to be a harder time finding people who were willing to move against Margot on someone else’s word.