Persona

by Genevieve Valentine

  “I’ve seen your work,” Daniel said. “Not sure I like some of your methods.”

  “I’m not sure I do either, but as long as they keep working, I’ll keep using them.”

  “How often do you threaten people’s families just to get them to come in and meet you?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Funny thing. Most snaps are happy to meet with us, so you’re the first in a while where I’ve had to apply pressure.”

  Like a wound, Daniel thought.

  “But honestly, I wasn’t worried. Your family seems like nice people, and I had a feeling nothing would have to get ugly. You strike me as a reasonable man.”

  He almost said, Why are you talking to me like I’m your brother? but he stopped himself. You came this far without anyone else, he thought; you have defenses. Use them. Don’t let this be the end of the line.

  “I’m trying to be a reasonable man. I can’t say the same for the guy you sent to fetch me. I hope his recruitment skills aren’t indicative of the company.”

  She turned to something on her computer. “I gave Bo a task, and he did what it took. That’s very indicative of this company.” She said it coolly, though her mouth was just barely turned up, a red crescent just at the edges.

  “Bo’s strong-arming probably drove Suyana Sapaki into an assassination attempt,” he said. “That’s pretty involved behavior for a snap.”

  “If Bo pushed Sapaki into danger, he’ll have to live with that. But that’s between Bo and the story he’s willing to settle for, and frankly, I’m not sure you get to say very much about being nosy.”

  She angled one of her monitors so he could see it. He steeled himself to look at a shot of the kiss. But it was a shot of Café de Troyes—grainy from exposure, and fuzzy in one corner where a streetlight had bled into the feed.

  He was distracted, and it took him a second to see that he and Suyana were coming out the door. He was so close behind her the hem of his coat was brushing her leg. She was looking down the street, focused, determined. He was looking at her.

  His expression didn’t bear thinking about.

  “I know it’s strange to be on the other side of the lens,” she said, with real sympathy.

  Ice slid up his spine. Daniel wanted to look up at her, look her in the eye, see where she was going. He didn’t dare.

  He reevaluated some things in the few seconds it took for him to be able to breathe again.

  “I was after a story with all this, you know,” he said. He forced himself to sound as disconnected as he could. He was lying, and they both knew it, but sometimes you just really needed to try out the lie. “It was shaping up, too, before Bo dragged me off-site in a fit of pique.”

  “You’re too close to that story,” she said in a cut-the-shit voice, sitting back. “It will be reassigned. But your instincts are good—you got further than most amateurs would have. It helps that you’re without compunction.”

  She said it without fanfare, as if it was an advantage he couldn’t help, like being tall.

  “Thanks,” he said. Then, “Reassigned?”

  “When she left Terrain, she was still all right. So long as she can keep herself alive, we’ll watch her.”

  Daniel frowned. She sounded almost proud of Suyana; almost excited about her.

  And someone would be looking after Suyana, then. She wouldn’t be alone. That was something. Maybe it was best that it wasn’t him. The knot of her necklace hung heavy in his pocket.

  “I see.”

  Li Zhao shot him a look. “You may not like my methods, but what we do is more important than that. The story you brought us is important.”

  “I agree,” he started, but when she looked at him, he closed his mouth over the rest.

  “Whether or not Sapaki lives,” she said, “there are alliances that will break because of this, and probably a colonial occupation, and the IA would rather no one know about it in time to get angry.”

  Jesus. “Who would colonize?”

  “The usual suspects. All of whom have press corps that will fight to keep their countries’ secrets, because that’s what they’re trained to do. You won’t hear a word about this from them.”

  She looked at him level. “The free press is gone, except for us. And both sides would be happy to see the end of us, except that they benefit too much from us to risk it.”

  He had questions about the safety of this pitch, and even more about propaganda of this pitch, but still, he was holding his breath.

  She leaned forward. “It’s complicated, to do what we do. Sometimes it’s dirty work, and sometimes people die. We don’t get involved. That’s the cost of doing business.”

  Before he could think better of it, he said, “So why are you so happy Suyana Sapaki isn’t dead yet?”

  She blinked. After a second, the shadow of a smile crossed her face.

  “It’s always nice to find a diplomat with something going on under the shell. We started following Hae Soo-jin after she showed initiative—though she’ll never get away with that again.”

  Daniel swallowed. “Did they—?”

  “No. They didn’t dare try retirement. They didn’t want to admit they didn’t know who else she knew. She’s been training her replacement since everything broke. We’ve been doing a brisk business selling candids of her to her own team. Nothing’s come up.”

  “And if it had?”

  Another question too blunt to get a good answer—the problem with being caught off guard. He suspected she wouldn’t have sold it, but it would be good to know there were limits, for Suyana’s sake.

  “Seems a bit late to worry about that,” she said.

  He had no argument. He scraped the pad of one finger with his thumbnail.

  “Sapaki’s done something worth killing her over, and she survived it. It’s shaping up to be a better story than we could have anticipated.”

  His stomach twisted. “Do you know who tried to kill her?”

  She shook her head, glanced at her computer screen as something flickered across it. “The shooting brought her to our attention. Before that we didn’t think there was much to follow. We investigated just after the big Chordata strike, of course, but nothing surfaced.”

  The Chordata strike she’d catalyzed, he thought, tried hard not to look proud of her.

  “But you knew there would be a story, before there was one.” She was looking at him sidelong. “You found it, and you followed it. Someone who can scout talent is worth recruiting.”

  She thought of them as talent. She thought this was recruiting.

  Surveillance on Faces, pictures sold to a market you couldn’t control, pinpointing stories before they broke, a lifetime of taking photos hoping you weren’t toppling a government—or hoping you were. It had sounded like a good idea when he was angry and on the run and hoping to catch a few pictures of Faces dating on the sly. He wasn’t sure he could handle a lifetime of this.

  But there weren’t many other places that were going to extend him any protection at all. One day didn’t change something like that. You don’t have options.

  “We’re not the bad guys,” Li Zhao said. “Well, not the worst guys. Work with us. Keep a few rich people honest. Scare some good behavior into the wicked. It’s honest work, as lying goes.”

  He had no reason to fight it. He hadn’t changed so much in two days that he couldn’t recognize an opportunity when it kidnapped him.

  He said, “Where do I get started?”

  17

  As soon as they were inside, Grace toed off her shoes and unhooked her earrings. “Unzip me, would you? Then we’ll get you out of sight. I need to talk to Colin and he shouldn’t know you’re here.”

  Colin would know Grace had brought someone home, of course, but the driver hadn’t recognized Suyana. Daniel hadn’t followed her; Chordata didn’t know where she was. There was a chance that she was, for the moment, invisible.

  She’d make the most of it.

  The flat was a cramped studio
, with a bed and a table with two junkyard chairs and one cutting-edge viewscreen slapped to the wall that might as well have been labeled I AM TETHERED TO MY WORK. The UK might be willing to let Grace have the place, but they didn’t want her getting cozy and forgetting her duties.

  Grace slid out of her dress and grabbed a shirt from under one of the pillows. “There isn’t much place to hide. You want to be behind the bed or in the bathroom?”

  “The bed,” said Suyana. From there it would be harder to lock her in.

  She wanted (she hoped) to have time to breathe here, but it had been an educational day and she was prepared. She’d already seen the garden wall and guessed how far a drop it was, if she had to jump.

  Grace slid her shirt over her head; it fell halfway to her knees. “So, what got you shot at, Amazonian?”

  There was a tricky question.

  “I was meeting a boy.”

  Grace glanced sidelong. “The boy who kissed you at Terrain?”

  “No,” Suyana said.

  “Oh. Who was that one?”

  “A snap.” The word scraped her throat; her eyes were fixed, unseeing, out the window.

  Grace made a face. “Well, for a snap he has some flair. Hopefully Martine didn’t kill him.”

  “I think Martine was too busy enjoying the moment before she called Magnus on me.”

  Grace shrugged. “You’d be surprised about Martine.”

  She moved out of Suyana’s line of sight, and there was the sound of a refrigerator opening and closing, and something being poured into a glass. “How did he rate?”

  Suyana felt heavy and miserable thinking about it, the jarring feeling everywhere even though they were only touching in two places.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Suyana said.

  He’d been her first kiss. A traitor. No worse than signing it away to Ethan Chambers over a contract lunch, but it didn’t say much for her taste.

  “What? You’re joking. Magnus can’t find you someone to practice dates with?”

  Grace said it as if it was a surprise.

  “I don’t date.”

  “You’ve never struck out on your own?”

  “You just saw it.”

  Grace came back with a glass of water for herself and handed Suyana a bottle, still sealed.

  Grace said, “It’s a bit frowned upon to go on dates as if they’re business meetings and have sex like a contractual obligation. These relationships only work in your favor if the delegation stays happy and the public buys that you’re interested. You don’t really have to be, of course—you shouldn’t be—but there’s an art in the artifice.”

  Suyana didn’t doubt it, especially coming from Grace.

  “I practice the art of seeming all right with Magnus as my handler,” she said. “That’s enough work.”

  “But he’s never brought in someone? No outsiders to cut your teeth on?”

  “No.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow. Suyana frowned.

  “You don’t have to look at me like I’m the one who shot you,” Grace said. “It’s interesting to see how people’s patterns betray them. That’s all.”

  “Mine or his?”

  Grace half smiled. “His, but stick around and I’ll tell you yours, too.”

  Suyana knew her own patterns already. They didn’t say much she wanted Grace to know. (Foolish and stupid and out of options; not much of an ally.)

  “I’ll get out of sight,” she said. “You should call Colin.”

  Easing herself down to the floor shot a bolt of pain up her arm, and she bit back a groan.

  “Should you be at a hospital?”

  “I ran away from one already.”

  Grace looked at her like she was out of her mind. Suyana would grant that. It had been a long day.

  She settled in where she could look obliquely at the reflection of the viewscreen in the window.

  Grace pressed her fingertip to the scanner, and a moment later the secure-connection icon appeared, and Grace was looking at Colin.

  He was middle-aged, and his skin was a shade darker than Grace’s, and he looked just as he did when Suyana saw him on the IA floor: focused and kind. His office was piled high with papers, and his tie was pulled askew just enough that he looked harried despite himself.

  When he saw Grace his face relaxed even though he was frowning, something deep and worried that vanished as soon as he saw her well.

  “You know, Ansfrida heard from Martine nearly an hour ago, and it’s not as though Martine is a pillar of punctuality. Next time you flee a nightclub fire with a stranger, you might want to contact me sooner.”

  “Paul knew I got in all right. Surely he called.”

  “I don’t trust Paul as much as I trust you. And you haven’t contacted me all day. We have things to go over.”

  “At this hour?”

  “Iceland got back to us about the geothermal energy contract, you’re confirmed for the photo shoot and interview with Closer next week, and we need to talk about how we’re going to handle the renewable-energy snarl before they bring it up in committee.”

  “Lovely. Thanks for the scintillating update.”

  Colin gave the screen a face. “Have you heard what happened to Suyana Sapaki?”

  “Not much.”

  Despite being so tired it hurt just to breathe, Suyana had to smile. Grace was a consummate actress.

  “She’s gone missing,” Colin said. “Magnus thought it was just Sapaki acting out, and the shooting business was a cover, but when the Committee approached him to confirm, he was low on evidence. They told him to proceed as if it was a kidnapping and cut all ties. No idea where she is.”

  Something about it tugged at Suyana, somehow. Ethan had been her idea. Magnus knew she wouldn’t skip out. Had he been covering for her in a bid to keep her from getting burned by the IA Committee? Had she underestimated his loyalty?

  “Goodness,” said Grace.

  Colin paused a moment before he said, “Yes, it’s very upsetting.”

  Was that a code word? Had he hesitated because he knew? Had Grace betrayed her? Suyana clenched her good hand into a fist, fought the urge to stand up and run.

  “Please be careful,” Colin said. “Magnus seems very cagey. I’m not at all certain he believes what the IA told him. He seems sure she’s alive, but he’s concerned.”

  “Concerned” meant action. Magnus was looking for her; Magnus wasn’t the type to give up.

  Colin was shaking his head. “I don’t think Sapaki would have planned something like this, and even if Magnus is telling the truth,” in a tone that suggested this was unlikely, “there might still be Faces in danger. I wish you’d come back so we could keep an eye on you.”

  “I’ll come home soon.”

  Colin leaned forward an inch. “I’ll send the car for you now if you like.”

  Pushy, Suyana thought, but couldn’t tell if it was out of concern or control.

  Grace gave the screen a significant look. “I’m hosting a guest, Colin. We have plans. Shall I bring her with me?”

  “You know I don’t care.”

  “So we’ll come in, then?”

  “Grace, the home office—”

  “Wants to save me for men they can use. You’ve said.”

  It was pointed. There was a little pause.

  Colin sighed. “Stay there for the moment, then. It might be best to be out of the way until we know what happened to Sapaki. If Magnus tries you, don’t answer.”

  “Wolf at the door?”

  He smiled; it wavered a little in the reflection, as Suyana struggled to keep her eyes open.

  “More like a desperate man begging for a new post, if this goes poorly. I’d just as soon not be deposed by some scrabbling diplomat half my age, thanks.”

  He was underestimating Magnus.

  “Keep me posted, please, Grace. You have your jewelry?”

  He meant the comm bracelet; Grace gave the vid screen a fond and put-out glance.

&
nbsp; That’s the sort of silly joke a father makes, Suyana thought. A pang of regret sliced through her. She knew it was only this sharp because she was so worn down, but it felt as though a rib had broken.

  Her father died when she was young. She hadn’t seen her mother more than a handful of times in the years since someone sent Hakan to ask her some questions.

  (There had been moments, early on, when she’d tried to look at Hakan as a father. Didn’t work, but it was easier, sometimes, to pretend you were loved.)

  “Good night,” said Grace. “Go home.”

  “Home?” Colin was smiling. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Grace rolled her eyes and severed the connection.

  Suyana felt strangely obvious. She’d eavesdropped on a hundred conversations between Faces and handlers in chambers, but that had felt like a professional skill. This felt like she’d walked in on a family call.

  “He seems to actually like you,” Suyana said.

  “He says that,” Grace said, lifted and dropped one shoulder. “Sometimes I want to believe him, but it’s best not to. You never know.”

  If you asked her, Colin had the look of a man with a daughter. Though, just now, Grace had the look of a woman with a father. Theirs wasn’t a trusting business.

  Suyana didn’t know if it was worse to let someone get one over on you, or to throw away real feelings. It seemed such a sin, not to believe the truth when it was handed to you; it was a rare enough thing.

  If she was being honest, she’d err how Grace had erred. Better go out too cold than go out a fool. She’d tried to imagine Hakan as a father, and look what it had done to him.

  “Anyway,” Grace said as if Suyana had argued, “it doesn’t matter. I’ll expire any day now. I know they’re looking, Colin gets messages all the time about someone new that they’ve taken an interest in. It’s just a matter of finding someone with the story they’re looking for. They’ll write me right off stage.” She sighed and tugged at her bottom lip. “I need to start smoking or something.”

  “Martine would say you were copying.”

  Grace glanced over and smiled. “Didn’t realize you knew Martine.”

  Suyana thought everyone knew Martine. Martine made sure everyone knew. But Grace was looking at her as if Suyana had seen deeper than she should have seen.