I hated my path in life almost as much as those who required me to do it. Some would have called it obsession, and perhaps it was, but in reality, it was desperation to save those who couldn’t get out like I had.
Having been sold into slavery as a child, I knew exactly what I was up against. But unlike the vast majority, I had broken free. Broken both of my wrists to do so, but I had freed myself. And now I am dedicated to freeing the others.
Nacin had a flourishing slave trade with other cities. People that remained in the desert were often captured and sold to the highest bidder, usually to one of the stinking elites of the city. Flogging was common. So was being worked to death. Women in particular were prized for their pleasurable qualities, being sold into the sexual slavery industry. My skin crawled at the thought. The enslaved needed me. I would just have to deal with my own self-loathing so long as I was making a difference.
I hated myself. I was the world’s worst kind of weapon. Effective, merciless when there was need, and, of course, deadly. But I also suffered from having a conscience. And every time I washed my hands of someone’s blood, I may as well have been washing my own down the drain. I often wished it was. That didn’t even take into account the guilt I felt toward our Creator. I was terminating His children after all, debauched as they were.
I sighed, descending down the ladder with my homegrown tomatoes. Enough introspection for one afternoon. I thought too much. Perhaps if I became cold and heartless like I desired myself to be, I would be even more effective. Then again, probably not. Blood lust was not a good quality. Calculation was a better option.
I quickly let my hair down and donned a muslin cloak over my clothes. It would keep the twin blades sheathed on my back from public view. I would blend in with the crowd and my long black hair would hide my face from most security cameras. And with my tawny brown skin, I would probably be mistaken for a servant girl.
I grabbed my basket and was off. My home faded into shadow behind me as I stole out onto the street. From the outside it looked abandoned, bare brick walls covered in graffiti and dirt, but that’s how I liked it. Less visitors and passersby came because of the eyesore. It passed above suspicion perfectly.
People were usually heading home at this hour when I began my day. Today was no different. I stayed on the dirty, graffiti-streaked sidewalk, watching the old roller cars glide by. A few hovercraft went on by as well. I stifled a humorless laugh. Couldn’t anyone walk anymore? No wonder the elites had gotten so fat. They couldn’t see their feet ‘cause they so hardly ever walked on them.
Above the ghetto here, I could see the skyscrapers in the distant elite quarter. Everything there was shiny and new, clean and pure unlike its residents. Down here people took their lives into their hands. Gangs were always looking for their valuables whether of the human variety or otherwise. Unfortunately, people were as valuable as gold these days because of the slave industry.
But although this neighborhood was ugly, it was safe. The gangs all had an idea of who lived down here and avoided the area, fearing for their lives. All of the local crime lords had no urge to antagonize me. They knew that if they bothered me again, their blood would mingle with the water of the sewers and wash away just as quickly as their deaths had come. So while they didn’t exactly know where I was, they avoided this part of town.
As it stood now, things may have been dirt poor down in this neighborhood, but at least the people could walk home from work and let their kids play on the street. I passed a crowd of children playing soccer, kicking an abandoned soda can around for fun. I nudged the can back toward them with my foot when it passed in front of me and they all waved back with thanks. I nodded with a smile, inwardly grimacing at how thin they all were. As it was, I donated a great deal of my garden’s yield to the people of this block, but it still wasn’t enough. They were grossly undernourished.
To my surprise, one of the little ones came over to me and tugged on my cloak. I paused as she beamed up at me.
“Want to play?” she squeaked, dust covering her face from scrounging in the dirt.
I doubted she’d want to play with me if she really knew who I was. I shook my head and patted hers, giving thanks to God for the nature of children. If we all kept their pure spirit, the world would be a much better place. “Not today, but I am sure your mama is looking for you. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”
As if the woman heard me, a door opened from one of the alleyways and their mother called for them. The girl and her brothers abandoned me quickly, all running to her.
A quick flash of jealousy passed through me as I watched the mother hug them all, having come home from work. The father was there, too, hovering over them. He eyed me as I nodded and started on my way again. These children were clearly loved. If only I had been as lucky.
I couldn’t wish for the warmth and love in that home with the life I led and yet I did. I wanted to come home to people who loved me and would do anything to protect me instead of the cold, empty house that I returned to every night. But even as I envied them, it made me want to shield people like them all the more. And in that, I would never get my wish. I would always be alone.
I picked out my non perishables at the local, dilapidated convenience store. I left a few coins on the counter under the cashier’s oblivious nose and left. But as I prepared to head home, if you could call it that, I heard a voice call out from behind me. “Miss Shiraz, I do believe you dropped this.”
I stopped, completely stunned. Naw, it couldn’t be. But it was. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I whirled around. Indeed it was the pretty boy from the party. What was he doing here? And how had he found me so fast?
“I believe you dropped this,” McRattin said with a jovial smile that didn’t quite reach his icy eyes. I looked down to see my bag of dried beans in his hand. “I think there’s a hole in your basket.”
I ducked my head and accepted the bag, adopting a submissive posture. I peeked down at my basket quickly and indeed there was a hole. But it looked like it had been slit by a knife. I placed the beans on the other side away from it and looked away quickly. No need to let on I was suspicious. “Thank you. I had no idea, General.”
“No trouble at all.”
“Kind of you. I must go,” I said in the most pleasant voice I could muster. “You must have business to attend to and I’m sorry for taking time out of your busy day. Have a good afternoon and may God bless you.”
“He does on a frequent basis,” he replied with a shrug. I bit back a retort. So the arrogance rumor was true. “But I believe you are my business. I never did get to talk with you.”
And herewith go the interrogation. “And what is it that has triggered off your interest? Oh. I dumped a drink down your front. That must be unusual for you. Women must be so accommodating to you. Is it you wanted me to pay for your dry cleaning?”
He followed as I took off down the sidewalk, looking extremely out of place for the area, all done up in his uniform. More than a few people were watching him warily. None of the elite ever came down here, especially one so recognizable to the masses. “No. I ran your face through the city security systems. There was no record of you, Miss Shiraz, nor did you stay at the hotel last night. So I would very much like to know who you really are. Where are you from? Your accent is different.”
He was asking all the wrong questions and all the right ones, too. If I flat out demanded he get a warrant for my arrest or for a search, it would do me no good. Better to cooperate and escape later. I kept walking, studiously avoiding his eyes. “The wastelands.”
I got silence from that one. Clearly he wasn’t expecting to hear that I was from the desert. Most elites seemed to think people who lived outside the city bubble were nuts. Why would one live in the sun when they could have air conditioning and luxury air purification systems to take the pollution and carbon monoxide out of their homes?
He grunted. “Then tell me, how do you stand being so hot all the time out there? In here we h
ave climate control but out there it’s scorching. They say some like it hot, but I’m not into being roasted alive.”
“Patience,” I said slowly. “Quick movement wastes energy. And cooling foods help.”
“Good to know. I’m going on mission out there soon and could use some tips. Perhaps you could tell me more over dinner.”
Whoa. That was out of the ordinary. I struggled for a response and failed. “What?” I sputtered, almost missing a step and falling over the curb.
“Dinner. You know. Food,” he said with a lazy smile. “Are you going to refuse me? What with my status in the city and all, I usually get what I want.”
“I’m sure,” I muttered in an undertone, irritation mounting. “I am sorry, but I do believe I will have to decline.”
“Why? What do you have to hide? You seem reluctant to arouse suspicion and yet unwilling to answer questions. I’m curious to know why.”
This time I did look at him. He was grinning smugly at me. He knew he had me. I squared my chin. “Is it a request or an order? That’s where the difference lies. But what have I done to make you so interested? You still haven’t told me.“
He crossed his arms, leaning in toward me. I automatically leaned away and he shrugged, tracking my movements with his eyes. “Because I figure I’ll try to be nice and feed you while I pump you for information. It’s better than being put under a spotlight at an interrogation center. I also want to ask more about the desert. As I said I have a mission out there in the next few weeks. I asked our expert all I can about it but he’s never lived in the desert. He spends his time in the command outpost smoking cigars, getting fatter by the day. He’d fry in the sun. Me, I’d like to stay in half-baked territory. He’s as ugly as hell and you’re not; simple as that. I’d rather dine with a beautiful lady than an old horse face.”
He smiled again, lopsidedly for my benefit. I just stared. I had absolutely no way of extricating myself from this without drawing suspicion. I shuffled my feet, trying to act charmed with having been called beautiful. “I suppose I must accept your invitation then. You serve our fair city and-“
I stopped dead as we rounded the corner to my house. The lights were on even though I had turned them off. Someone was inside.
Chapter Three
“Is something wrong?”
I forced myself to relax and ignore the ever growing suspicion in my mind. The general was staring at me too intently. I also noted a knife that fit the tear in my basket peeking out from under his canvas jacket. He may have been in on a plot to trap me.
“Oh, no. I forgot to get eggs,” I moaned, throwing my hands in the air. “I’ll have to go back to the store.”
“I’m sure I can bring a carton of eggs with me later when I pick you up.”
I hid my face in a shy, fake gesture. “You are too kind, McRatty.”
“McRattin,” he said smoothly. “And Cain, please.”
“Cain,” I said like I was testing it out. “It suits you. Then again Cain did murder Able in the Bible.”
He stiffened imperceptibly and then forced himself back into a relaxed posture. I was right and I knew it. He was putting up a front which meant he was up to something. My intuition told me it was big. “I wouldn’t know. But I haven’t murdered my brother. Yet.”
“Pity. So sorry if I offended.” I said strolling toward my soon-to-be former address. “So how did you find me?”
“Surveillance footage. You frequent that grocery store and I got lucky today just by waiting around. Didn’t have to look hard or wait too long.”
Damn bad luck. “Tell you what? I’ll save you some of your obscene expense account and cook you dinner. Is that a deal? I’ll do my best to answer your questions. I hope you don't mind vegetarian.”
“So long as it’s not rabbit food.”
I headed toward the derelict house and he stared at me. Clearly, he wasn’t kidding when he said he had gotten lucky. He wasn’t expecting this place to be my residence. So... it wasn’t he who had been inside. Someone else had been here, probably someone from his team. I gestured at him. “Come, come. It’s not as dilapidated on the inside. I live a minimalistic lifestyle and the neighborhood appealed to me.”
He didn’t say anything as I opened the door without a key. I didn’t need a lock on the door. No one of threat dared bother enter for fear of who lived inside. I ushered him in and headed into the kitchen, hanging my cloak up, and discreetly hiding my blades behind it.
I plunked the basket down and started sorting the herbs I had collected earlier. I hummed contentedly while eyeing my surroundings. Nothing was out of place except for a pebble left in the opposite doorway. My flat, leather-soled boots would not have picked it up. Only boots with treads would have. That probably meant that the intruder was male and a soldier.
“No furniture?” he said, warily entering behind me. His eyes roved around taking everything in. “You weren’t kidding when you said minimalistic.”
He was right. I kept no furniture, save for a table and chairs. The walls were bare and I had never bothered to paint over the stucco walls. “What do you sleep on? The floor?”
I ignored his sarcasm and inserted my own, taking the herbs over to the stove and pulling out a few ingredients from the cupboards. “You would be asking that, now wouldn't you? You do have your reputation of bed hopping to uphold. No, I have a bamboo mat I sleep on. It does the trick.”
“That’s less than I go on mission with. Geez.” He sat down on the lone chair in the corner and watched me unnervingly. It creaked as he moved, taking in our surroundings. “So… what do you do that makes you so evasive and allows you to be friends with Michael from school? General Xorratti didn’t know you. I asked.”
“You’re not going to like it,” I said in a singsong voice. “I’m a tax expert. I.e., I efficiently tell people where to store their money tax free.”
This was partially true. Considering I didn’t believe in lying when it wasn’t absolutely necessary (and in turn it was also a commandment), I had made sure this was a partial truth long ago. I had advised my clan in the nation of MoiRai how to do their taxes. They, of course, thought this was funny. None of them actually paid any taxes in our sanctuary in the mountains.
His mouth quirked up on one side. “So you’re legally committing the illegal.”
I smiled at him. “You got it. I usually do business over the phone to remain anonymous.”
He was silent for a minute. “I could have you arrested for that.”
“Somehow I doubt you would be very successful. I am a favorite of a great many people. Tax season is coming up, after all.”
“How do you know the kid?”
I turned up the heat on the stove, and the oil and garlic sautéed up nicely. “I didn’t. He took a liking to me earlier in the evening and lied on the spur of the moment. He wanted to finish his drawing of me.” I turned to him, catching him eyeing the door to the next room. He squared his chin and I cocked my head playfully. “Now, General, why are you really here? Shiny-shoed men don’t usually make house calls.”
“I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy,” he said and then took a sniff. “Damn, that smells good. Anyway, I was right. Someone did trip a silent alarm. One of Gaynor’s aides got into his whiskey before he did and dropped dead of muscle relaxation.”
I didn’t let on that my plan had been foiled. It was through no fault of mine, but I was displeased that fate had intervened. “That sounds like a horrible way to die. But why am I under suspicion? I could not have gotten in and out of there within the time you saw me disappear.”
“Well, it occurred to me that your flamboyant display of dumping your drink on me could have been a distraction. You could be an accomplice.”
I laughed, turning back to the stove. “An accomplice? You think I would help kill a hand that may have fed me? Are you kidding? I was at the party scouting for information. Besides, how would I have known you would be so rude? From what I have heard of you, you usually le
ave with dates, not a large stain down your front. How would I have distracted you then? The only thing left to me would have been seduction, and if that were my game, I wouldn’t have sabotaged it by dousing you.”
I didn't hear anything else for a minute. I tossed in the diced tomatoes and let them simmer. Yet again I had managed to lie without lying. I had indeed been searching for information, and I had definitely not been an accomplice. I was a one-woman show. I had neither denied nor confirmed his theory, and so, not committing a sin. Classic.
I turned to see him staring at my back with another suspicious expression. “You said you only did business by phone.”
I covered my faux pas like a pro. “I said ‘usually.’ Gaynor didn't know who I was. But I suppose it doesn’t matter now. When is his aide’s funeral?”
“Why? Looking to pick pocket more tax-evasive clients?” he asked in a dead-sounding voice. His charade was fading and so was his charm. Now I would get the truth. “I’m going to be honest with you because you have been so very candid with me, Shiraz. I am in charge of a sting operation to capture the assassin who killed Senator Jennings. I put out a false hit out on Gaynor and got a response from the target I was hoping to acquire. I knew Gaynor was throwing a party and parties are always great for getting past security so I waited; trap set. It would seem, however, the contracted killer got in and out without being seen. I had a squad around Gaynor and everything. I never anticipated she would stoop to poison. That’s not usually her M.O.”
“Her?” I asked, feigning curiosity. I already knew who he was hunting. She was standing in the kitchen with him. I hadn’t known he had been my employer, though. What a clever plan to ensnare me. Too bad for him that I covered all of my bases. It was only bad luck all around that he had picked my face out of the crowd. The rumors about his uncanny instincts seemed to be truer than I liked. But he really mustn’t have liked Gaynor if he had been willing to place him in danger just to trap me.
War Machine: Book One in the Destiny In the Shadows Series Page 3