Death and Conspiracy

by Seeley James

  “She didn’t say. Paladin wired her money for a lawyer. She didn’t have time to explain it.”

  I was beat. I needed to rack out. I wasn’t going to sleep in my jeans. But Nema wasn’t getting out. The bed was a queen with plenty of room. I kept my boxers on. She could deal with it or go home.

  She pulled the covers up to her neck and watched me. The tattoo on her neck peeked out from under her hair again. Crossed keys.

  “What’s the tattoo about?” I asked.

  “Ancestors. The town my grandfather came from. We used to be tight.” She turned away to make me drop the topic.

  She started texting someone on her phone using her index finger like my grandmother. She caught me watching her and fumbled the phone into the covers. She reached for it like a lightning strike. Sensing me watching her, she snapped, “I’m not good with tech. Chuck does that stuff.”

  “Who’s Chuck?”

  “A guy back in the States. Never mind.” She blanked her phone screen and hugged her knees again.

  I turned out the light and faced away from her.

  Without reason, my mind recalled an image of Jenny from a week ago. We’d just had a two-hour sex romp. She stared out the window and whispered to herself, “There should be more.” A warning sign missed. As I lay there thinking about that, another memory surfaced. Jenny looked at her phone as it rang. She sent it to voicemail. When I asked who she was ignoring, she said, “I feel so isolated sometimes.” On top of that, she flinched every time I touched her unexpectedly. Not a normal flinch of surprise, but a defensive flinch. She flipped out at loud noises. Sometimes, friends of mine would duck under the counter if you slapped a plate on the table too hard, but those guys had just gotten back from days-long firefights.

  I craned over my shoulder to check on my uninvited guest. Nema remained sitting up, with the covers still pulled tight. I had the sense she was staring at me. I wasn’t going to respond to unspoken communication. If she wanted something, she knew where the door was.

  Jenny once told me she didn’t want to talk to her family after her release from prison. When I asked if I could meet her childhood friends, to better understand her, she said she wasn’t into emotional attachments.

  Mercury sat at the foot of the bed. Told you this long time ago, homie. RTS. Rape Trauma Syndrome.

  I said, And I ignored all the signs?

  Mercury said, She only wanted the sex. When sex was over, reality set in and she looked at any possible relationship as her next broken heart. You were falling in love—she wasn’t going there. She wasn’t ready.

  I recalled her post-orgasm expression. She looked like she’d scored the winning goal in the World Cup. She would walk out of the bedroom as if she were marching in a victory parade. She would come back morose.

  Whenever I suggested it, she scoffed at the idea of counseling. She would say, “Are you saying there’s something wrong with me?”

  “Jacob?” Nema’s voice was soft and tentative. “Will you hold me? Um. Just … hold me, nothing else.”

  Her silhouette turned away from me. Regular-Jacob couldn’t stand the thought of holding a racist who might be part of a terrorist plot. Undercover-Jacob didn’t see a way out. I wrapped my arms around her from behind. She relaxed into my hug. We slowly lowered ourselves to the sheets and spooned. While we embraced, she made sure it was a non-sexual encounter. Which is quite a trick.

  Holding Jenny had been a warm, loving experience. I felt an odd form of energy flowing out of Nema. Mercury was right. Hate radiates out of some people.

  She laughed a little. “Your smile reminds me of wine and roses.”

  “Thanks.” It sounded vaguely romantic but I didn’t want to find out.

  Mercury said, Hate to break up your orgy, dawg, but I need to point out that everyone in the intelligence business thinks you’re an idiot for fingering Arrianne as the queen of terrorism. The only way you’re gonna redeem yourself is by figuring out what ROSGEO means.

  I said, I gave them the targets. They can figure it out without me.

  Mercury said, That is so not you, brutha. Leave the evil mastermind out there to come up with secondary targets? Make alternate plans when you’re not looking? How many sites were they working on besides London? You need to know what’s going down or you’re going down with it.

  My unemployed deity had a point. If one of the other groups had contingency plans, I’d be responsible for having left them uncovered. With or without Hugo or Ames or anyone else, I had to stop ROSGEO or go down in history as a conspirator to mass murder.

  I squeezed Nema gently. “Tell me something. Who runs Free Origins?”

  “Paladin. Lugh told you that already.”

  “He’s the pretty face. He’s the big smile when outsiders come around. That guy couldn’t lead men into a movie theater if he gave out free popcorn.”

  She twisted to look back at me. “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve been in lots of battles. I’ve seen officers who aced West Point flip out when the firefight starts. I’ve seen corporals rise up to lead when their officers died. I’ve seen officers shit their pants, then pull it together to lead the charge. I can tell by looking a man in the eye what he’ll do when he faces death.”

  She nodded in the dark and put her hand on top of mine. “What did you find out about that rosary? Did you ever turn it over to the police?”

  “Lugh sure as hell can’t lead the group. He wants to, but he has the wrong instincts. Having me beaten was pointless.”

  “What could you possibly learn from a string of beads?”

  “Who was the guy who tried to kill you at the Moulin Rouge?” I asked.

  She pulled away and faced me. “It was a terrorist attack.”

  “The kind meant for you and anyone near you. And you knew it.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Most people would run when someone screams ‘bomb.’ Everyone else would run after the bomb goes off. But you kept looking for the guy. You recognized him through the disguise. After you figured he wasn’t coming back, you went to help the survivors. It was a betrayal, and it shocked you.”

  She dropped back to the bed and pulled my arms around her. “You’re wrong. I’ll explain.” She sighed long and slow. “But you have to answer something first. Why do you think I’m gay?”

  “You don’t like fashion, you don’t wear makeup, short hair—all that stuff.”

  “Why do women go for fashions and glamor?” She stroked my arm. “Why does Arrianne dress like that? Why does she spend an hour on her hair and makeup?”

  “She wants to look attractive.”

  “Right. She wants people to adore her. What’s the downside to being beautiful and sexy?”

  “Too many admirers?”

  “She wants someone to love her. She wants to attract as many men as possible so she can choose the best suitor. But she attracts both good men and bad men. She attracts men who are looking for a wife. She also attracts men who have no respect. Men who will seduce her and if that doesn’t work, force the issue.”

  I lay still.

  “What if we took a different approach in life?” she asked. “What if we realized we don’t really want mass adoration? What if we realized we aren’t really looking for someone who loves us? What if we realized what we really need, more than anything else, is someone we can love?”

  I stayed quiet.

  Mercury popped up on the other side of her. She’s right, dawg. You need someone you can pour your love over. Like a daughter you can read to at bedtime. A son you can teach to fish. A wife you can buy flowers for. You’ve been looking at it all wrong.

  I said to Nema, “You make yourself less attractive so you can hang back from the singles scene and observe people before they come at you leering and drooling?”

  “I…” She hesitated. “I was raped at fifteen.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Arrianne stood over me, sun
shine on her face. “You told me it was just for show.”

  I was on the hallway side of the bed, facing the room’s door. Arrianne fixed her gaze over my shoulder. I assumed she was staring at Nema. I dared not look. I’d fallen asleep so hard the Pope could’ve hopped in bed with us.

  Nema poked me in the back. After she dropped her bombshell, she’d asked me to protect her. I had wrestled with that one long enough to piss her off. A racist training people to kill didn’t seem worthy of my professional shield, no matter how low in the org chart she ranked. But I couldn’t say no to a woman who fits snuggly in my arms. And she knew it.

  But that wasn’t what bothered me the most.

  I turned to Mercury. How the hell did Arrianne get out of London? No matter what kind of relationship she had with the NCA, she broke into an office building. That should warrant an interrogation at least.

  Mercury said, She must have dirt on someone big. MI6, SO15, and MI5 never heard of her. NCA does crime, like drugs and gangs.

  I said, There’s only one way they’d let her go like that. If she was an informant.

  Mercury said, Racists do like their meth. And, if the story about her folks is true, you gotta wonder where she got the money to put on this conference.

  “Heard you got arrested,” I said. I rose and forced Arrianne back a couple steps.

  A pair of panties flew over my shoulder and landed on Arrianne’s face. Nema shouted, “Check if you want! They’re clean. We didn’t do anything.”

  Arrianne tossed the panties aside. She flashed her dark eyes at me. “You have no idea what’s going on around here. NONE!”

  “I have an idea about that Hidden Brain podcast you told me about. Listened to it on the flight back. You must not have listened to the whole thing.”

  Turning on her heel, she strode out in some snug and colorful yoga pants with an equally snug and colorful top. The heavy oak door slammed hard.

  I turned to find Nema boiling over. I couldn’t tell if her anger was aimed at me or Arrianne. Why was she ticked off?

  I said, “You never answered my question. Who runs Free Origins?”

  “None of your business. You’re a hired hand.” She put her clothes on so fast the tattoo on her left hip almost escaped my attention. Then it came to me. It was very much like the one on Zack Ames’s butt. A vaguely Celtic square cross on an interlocking circle. Where his had been filled in, hers read, “14 / 88.”

  She stormed out the door before I found my toothbrush.

  Mercury appeared in the mirror. Stearne, the whack-job-magnet. Everyone from Jupiter to Vesta is laughing about your new girlfriend, dawg. They think you love the criminal element. Art forgers, murderers, and … I dunno, what’s this one gonna be convicted of?

  I said, She was a victim. Don’t the gods have any sympathy?

  Mercury said, Get focused on the present. You need to find out those three things about ROSGEO: which group is planning it; who’s in charge; and what is it?

  He was right about that. My personal problems had to wait. I cleaned up and went to Arrianne’s command center on the hill. Along the way, I saw more of the IDC attendees than ever scouring the hillsides like they were looking for something.

  Paladin and Lugh stood in the kitchen, making lewd jokes about Arrianne. She jotted notes in a notebook while ignoring them. I helped myself to the coffee and joined the boys. Tapping on Lugh’s sling, I said, “Didn’t get the message the first time, Lugh? Treat women with respect.”

  He growled at me.

  Paladin stepped between us. “We weeded out several men. They weren’t up to the task.”

  “Who?”

  He showed me the master list of the Sixty-Four. Twelve names had a line through them.

  “Why them?” I asked. “They were no better or worse than the others.”

  “You don’t need to know,” Lugh hissed.

  “You hired me to help you. If I understand your standards, I’ll be in a better position to do that.”

  Lugh growled again and turned his back. Which left him facing the wall. Not a strategic planner. He was definitely not the real leader of Free Origins.

  Paladin beamed his electric smile my way. “We appreciate your help, Jacob. This is an internal issue. A gut feeling about interactions between the men. Some fit in. Some don’t.”

  “They quit.” Arrianne looked up from her notebook.

  Mercury stood next to Lugh. Is this dude growling at your main squeeze now? What is this guy, a werewolf?

  I said, Tensions are mounting in the management ranks around here. Whatever’s going down—it must be soon.

  Paladin headed for the door. Lugh took after him. I started to follow when Arrianne grabbed my trailing arm.

  “Want some?” She held out a packet of Orbit gum with a Spanish label. Sticking out of it was a sliver of white paper. Her gaze drew mine to it. I took the paper and a piece of gum.

  “Did she just give you something?” Lugh breathed over my left shoulder.

  I slipped my left toe behind his ankle and spun around, acting surprised. My elbow flew into his midsection. He landed on his ass.

  “Sorry, Lugh.” I offered a hand up. “You were close enough to sodomize me. Quite a shock. I didn’t think you guys were the type. Not that I care. A few guys in the Forward Operating Bases got into that kind of thing just to pass the time. Never appealed to me, though.”

  “Shut up, asshole!” He scrambled to his feet and got in my face. “She gave you something.”

  Paladin appeared, put an open hand on Lugh’s chest, and pushed him back.

  “Gum.” I flashed the Orbit at him. “Ask if you want some. You don’t need to blow a gasket.”

  Arrianne leaned the box Lugh’s way. He looked inside it, then slapped it to the floor.

  “We already had one talk about your manners, Lugh.” I grabbed his good forearm. “Do you need another lesson?”

  Paladin pushed Lugh toward the door. “We’re good. We’ll see you down at the Ooze.”

  He pushed his lieutenant outside. The two walked down the hill.

  Arrianne had a finger across her lips when I turned back. With her hands in between us, she pointed in three directions. Video cameras. Then she put her hands on my shoulders and looked at me as if we were going to kiss. She didn’t complete the act.

  It took me a second, but I got it. I pulled the paper out, using her as a shield against prying eyes and cameras. It read, “Sex = privacy. Since you turned me down, this note. Hoped you could save me from them. You need to leave ASAP. They figured you out. They know.”

  Paladin stuck his head in the front door. “Hey, Jacob, are you going to join us?”

  I ate the note.

  “Yeah, just …” I said over my shoulder. I turned around and kissed Arrianne’s forehead. “I’ll be back. Keep the home fires burning, babe.”

  Mercury walked on the far side of Paladin as we walked downhill. Did I tell you to forget about Jenny and do the dark-haired raven?

  I said, Yes.

  And did you listen to your heavenly messenger?

  I said, No.

  Mercury said, Next time your chosen god gives you permission to whoop it up with one sexy-as-Venus babe, are you gonna say no?

  Yes.

  And so it went all the way down the hill. Mercury knew how to pound life-lessons into my head with a jackhammer—after the fact. In my defense, how in Diana’s name am I supposed to know the difference between his messages about killing everyone who defies me (bad idea) and sleeping with a relative stranger (turns out to have been a good idea)?

  We reached the town, but Mercury hadn’t finished. Now you need an exfiltration. Only problem is Tania was kidnapped off the street about three and a half minutes ago.

  I said, What? No way. Who took her?

  Mercury said, I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

  We kicked off the morning training session with new graffiti all over the Ooze. I looked for a way to give the e
x-fil sign, the black-power fist—which would look odd in a white supremacy conference. I should’ve insisted on a different signal from the beginning, but it sounded kinda cool at the time.

  Aleksei and his two fellow Spetsnaz goons stayed with me everywhere I went. They carried collapsible batons on their belts.

  All morning, the group went about their training without regard to anything I said or advised. A bad sign. I wandered and watched.

  The iron cover on the ancient town well lay on the ground next to it. Many of the paintball sets and other things we used in training were packed up in boxes.

  More bad signs.

  It meant they didn’t need me anymore. From the beginning, I’d expected them to kill me to save themselves the final payment. The open well would be a good place to stash my corpse.

  My trip to London and Arrianne’s arrest confirmed their suspicions that I was in league with the authorities. Nema had asked about my travels, and I did my best to cover the gap. They didn’t buy it. But they wouldn’t do anything while the larger group was still here. Since the Sixty-Four, now down to fifty-two, were scheduled to stay a day after the conference ended, they would make their move soon. That meant I still had time to figure out what they had planned and who was planning it.

  Then I had a terrifying thought. I checked the boxes again. All their training gear was packed for shipping today, a full day before the scheduled end of IDC. They were bugging out tonight. My exploits in London forced them to move up their timetable.

  Lunch was served for both the target-practice guys and Paladin’s men at the top of the hill. I wandered through the crowd looking for Earl, the guy with the Fair Heritage tattoo. He’d been one of the original Sixty-Four. Paladin had a line drawn through his name. I pulled up a piece of dirt next to him. Aleksei and his buddies joked in Russian five yards away.

  “Why did you guys leave the program?” I asked.

  He looked me over as if I stank. “I beat up a few Mexicans and niggers now and then, but I ain’t in on ROSGEO. That shit ain’t right. ‘Back to Africa’ maybe, but multiple mass-shootings on the same weekend? Ain’t going there.”