“Weird glitch on your camera,” she said.
“It was a crazy few minutes.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
He half smiled, headed for the stairs.
“Not a lot of blackouts on my feed,” Kate said.
He stopped, looked at her. In this light, the tips of her hair looked like the spark point at the base of something burning.
Quietly, he said, “What is this about?”
“This system isn’t one I like gaming,” Kate said. “We have a bad enough reputation without playing card tricks on one another.”
He felt like Kate was also the kind to spy on the subway footage for all it was worth.
“Bo was the one who came late to the scene,” he said. “Take it up with him.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed. She shifted her weight, flexed her fingers around her cane; the leg braces glinted. “Did Bo tell you what he did before he became one of us?”
He forced a shrug. “Nope.”
(He didn’t know how Suyana lived under this kind of dread; the dread of waiting for someone to say something you already feared.)
“Hired gun,” Kate said. “Maybe you want to think about how likely it is that he’d miss any of that.”
The dread settled.
Daniel remembered what Bo had told him about staying honest, just before they gave up on Margot and crossed the bridge after the stranger. He thought about Bo biding his time around the corner in the alley, listening to a hired gun being killed, and waiting for the moment it was safe to record. Daniel wondered what Bo had done, just before he came to Fine Tailoring, that needed a permanent camera making him accountable in order to make amends. Not that Daniel had a lot to say about that, today.
(Daniel stopped wondering why Li Zhao had assigned Bo to follow Margot. He knew what Margot was capable of. Bo was the most likely to survive it.)
“And what did you do before you landed this fantastic gig?”
“Nothing. I was with Li Zhao so early I helped her change her name.”
He did some math about how old Kate was, knowing Li Zhao had been in the IA once, and wondered which high school class Li Zhao had managed to pull Kate out of, and what exactly Li Zhao had done wrong in the IA, that she slid into this industry like a knife.
“Of course,” he said, and it sounded so flat she smiled a little more kindly, just for a second.
“I try not to have enemies here. I like us to be better than the people we follow. But there aren’t a lot of tech glitches on my watch.”
Daniel slid his fists into his pockets.
“Noted,” he said.
(He missed Suyana, just for a moment, like he’d pulled at an old wound.)
When Kate tilted her head and smiled, her silver earrings caught the moonlight. “Have a great night, Daniel.”
Outside on the street, he fought the urge to look behind him. No one would be following him.
They didn’t need to. He spied on himself.
[ID 40291, Frame 146: Suyana Sapaki standing outside the front court of Hotel Sinople. She stands over the corpse of an unidentified male, who has a knife wound. The hilt of the knife remains lodged in the sternum. Sapaki’s hands are bloody. She looks into middle space.
Preceding circumstances unknown—see also note on frames 108–145.]
[ID 40291, Frames 108–145: Blackout.]
Daniel had waited on the broad avenue for a long time.
He watched the first flush of IA photographers come barreling down the avenue and turn just before they reached him, their hands already on their cameras.
(Bo must have made the tip-off call to the officials by then. Smart move. The footage Bo had already taken would be worth eight times as much if the story broke wide open and people were clamoring for the dirt.)
Still, Daniel couldn’t bring himself to go back the way he had come and film Suyana standing over the body of the man who had almost killed her.
The IA press gave way to the local news, and finally to an armored van and a trio of chauffeured cars with the two-dove crest of the IA. Peacekeepers poured out of the van on their way to secure the scene; the men and women in dark suits didn’t deign to get out of their sedans.
Except one. Magnus leaped out of his car before it had even fully stopped, moving so fast he nearly overtook the Peacekeepers on his way down to the alley.
Good, Daniel thought.
A few moments later, Bo was back on the avenue.
“Peacekeepers spoil the party?”
“We did what we could,” Bo said. “You can’t always catch everything.” (Daniel didn’t know what Bo was telling him—not then.)
“Thanks,” Daniel said, cleared his throat, and wondered how he could possibly go on.
Bo shook his head. “Let’s get back,” he said. “Li Zhao will want to dissect the news and start packaging the footage.”
A crowd of gawkers was already gathering behind the Peacekeeper tape, and police lights flickered off the buildings down the street. It was easy to disappear into the thick of it, walk at no great speed until you were well away from prying eyes.
When they were halfway to Bonnaire Atelier and Fine Tailoring, Bo looked down at him.
“What made you see her as a mark?”
There were easy answers. She’d been in a PSA on American TV after the terrorist thing; she’d been in a charity fashion spread in French Vogue last year—a group shot, in the back line. They were good indicators that a Face’s barometer was slowly rising. If you’d been following it long enough, you could put money on those. (Some did; there was a decent trade in off track Face futures.)
“I saw a portrait of her in some magazine a couple of years ago. In an awful dress, Magnus next to her. And she was smiling, but her fingers were digging into the bottom of the desk like it was about to fall apart. I didn’t think much about it for a long time, but I remembered it.”
Bo hadn’t answered; they walked in silence for a long time, as Bo looked like he was trying to make up his mind about something.
At the threshold of Fine Tailoring, he said, “That’s good to know.”
But that was all he said, and then it was time to go inside, where Kate and Dev were cataloging their photos and Li Zhao was looking them over, and then everyone would gather to watch the evening news.
× × × × × × ×
The public gallery of the IA’s General Assembly Français was a mezzanine crescent above the round chamber, behind a plate of bulletproof glass.
Daniel had learned, among other things, that headset rentals were ten euros, and guaranteed pickup only for the mikes at the head stage; if you happened to catch the murmurs of the floor, it was serendipity.
He’d also learned that whatever his camera was made of didn’t trip metal detectors or tech wands, though he couldn’t help thinking someone could have spared him that moment of panic.
The crowd was most dense near the center, where you could see the featured speaker head-on, but Daniel had watched more of these proceedings than most, and knew the place to get prime photos was in the wings.
As stagehands and techies scrambled back and forth doing sound tests, Daniel took up a place as far left as he could get, so he had a clear vantage stage right. That seemed to be where the channel of action was.
Delegates and their handlers filed in from the three doors that surrounded the lower level. Daniel recognized Grace and Martine at the first row of tables, closest to the cameras, where the Big Nine sat.
Coming in close behind them was Ethan Chambers, who at least had the decency to look concerned and romantic as he took his seat.
(One of the other snaps had come back to Fine Tailoring with news that he’d seen signed papers being transported from the American office.
“I wanted you to know,” Kate told him from behind her monitor. Her eyes slid to his; she’d meant it as a kindness. Not that it felt that way, but it was the thought that counted.)
He wondered if anyone had been glad t
o see Suyana come back to the fold. Maybe some of them were her friends. Daniel hoped so. Suyana should have someone she could trust.
He didn’t dare think, Me. Everything about him was a spy. He wondered if Li Zhao had known it would be worse like this, always looking but afraid to ever find her.
But he wouldn’t let it turn into a punishment. It stung, and it would always sting, but it was better than not knowing about her. Anything was better than not knowing.
The Central Committee filed in last. Most of them took the stairs to the side of the stage and found a place in the risers of upholstered chairs grouped stage left for them; just ostentatious enough to be seen, just far enough to seem out of the way.
Margot kept walking right to the center of the stage. She was wearing a pale-blue suit a shade lighter than her eyes, and her face was a mask of noble altruism.
She delivered her introduction smoothly, took her seat at the front of the Committee, without a care in the world.
Daniel never heard what she said. He was already leaning against the glass, looking for Suyana as she cleared the wings.
She wore a turquoise dress that made her look older and sharper than he’d ever seen her, and her long hair swung like a pendulum as she crossed the stage.
The look she gave Margot was that of two people at war, and Daniel had two thoughts at once—Be careful, and What a story that will be.
He tried not to feel guilty. There was no harm in it, now. That was just what he was.
The angry, ugly bullet wound on her arm was Suyana’s only jewelry, and it burned purple and white against her skin under the lights all the way up to the podium.
She took her position, her hands curled around the sides as if she were bracing for impact. She cast an eye around the room—Daniel thought her eyes lingered as she looked across the Big Nine, but maybe that was just something the Big Nine required.
Then she scanned the gallery.
There was no way to prove she’d seen him. Her eyes flickered past the rows in turn, and then she was looking away, and even the camera couldn’t say she had looked him in the eye. But she had. Just for an instant, she’d looked right at him. His hands were heavy; his lungs pulled tight.
(Once—it seemed very long ago—he’d looked at her and thought that following her was the luckiest thing he’d ever done.)
He held his breath for what felt like minutes, watching the lines of her face.
The camera took a thousand pictures as he watched her. It was a sound he was already used to; he hardly heard it anymore.
[ID 35178, Frames 204–208: Suyana Sapaki facing the floor of the IA, beginning to speak.]
SUYANA SAPAKI PERSONAL ITINERARY
[Classified] (For tomorrow —M)
6:30 a.m.
Breakfast with UARC Vice President (His car to pick you up outside hotel) [Cameras expected]
7:30 a.m.
Interview, Closer magazine, home hotel suite
8:00 a.m.
Breakfast with Ethan Chambers (F-USA), Café d’Hiver [Cameras expected]
9:00 a.m.
UARC local news briefing [Suyana, Magnus]
9:30 a.m.
Breakfast Event: “Brighter Tomorrow Victims’ Services” (Keynote speech attached)
10:30 a.m.
Roll call in chambers
11:00 a.m.
Hear motions presented [Cameras expected]
11:30 a.m.
Lunch with Grace Charles (F-UK), George V [Cameras Expected]
12:30 p.m.
Global news briefing [Suyana, Magnus]
1:00 p.m.
Lunch with South American Committee, Café Rio (Car service confirmed) [Cameras expected]
2:00 p.m.
Committee Meeting, Cultural Heritage International
3:00 p.m.
Car service to photo shoot
3:30 p.m.
Photo shoot, Closer magazine
5:30 p.m.
Car service from photo shoot
6:00 p.m.
Stylist call for evening events
6:30 p.m.
Dress for cocktail event
7:00 p.m.
Cocktail Event: Olympic Committee Reception, IA event space [Cameras expected] Global and local news briefing [Suyana, Magnus]
7:30 p.m.
Cocktail event —SS
8:00 p.m.
Dress for dinner event (Car service confirmed)
8:30 p.m.
Dinner with Ethan Chambers, Restaurant David Alain [Cameras expected]
10:30 p.m.
Car service to red carpet event
11:00 p.m.
Red carpet event, Diamonds of Hope fund-raiser [Cameras expected]
12:00 a.m.
Evening event, Terrain [Privacy requested]
3:00 a.m.
End of day
25
Suyana gave herself a gift, and forgot some things.
It didn’t matter what happened after Magnus appeared and asked the IA press for “please no more questions,” and pretended he’d never seen the corpse under her feet.
She could forget how it felt when Magnus took her shoulders harder than he had to, told the cameras she had no further comment at this time, kept her at an angle as they walked so he could look into her face.
(No knowing what he’d found. Better not to ask.)
She could forget the walk to the car—she’d had to step over the body’s outstretched arm, which would have been terrible, if she remembered it—could forget how her body had turned to stone when she saw the ambulance and she’d insisted no hospitals; she forgot that Magnus took her in his car instead, cleaning the blood from her hands with some wipes he’d charmed off the medics, so that when she arrived at the hotel they would let her inside without making a scene.
She could forget the photographers outside the Pierrot, and however she must have looked to the cameras as she walked past them. She could forget the bouquet of flowers the concierge delivered, with compliments of Ethan, who wished to be informed of anything he could do.
There were problems she’d have to face in the morning, but she’d stood over a corpse and played the part that had to be played, and the rest would wait for her. She could forget some things.
She closed her eyes; she dreamed of the forest.
× × × × × × ×
Her first visitor was Magnus, who came with the doctor just before dawn so she could be pronounced well enough not to faint on television.
“Thank you so much for your attentions,” Magnus said as he escorted the doctor to the door. “The Assembly makes excellent recommendations, we couldn’t be happier with your work. Will there be serious scarring, do you think?”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “I don’t know how badly, but there was a lack of sufficient treatment after the initial injury, and she’s been hard on herself.”
“Of course,” Magnus said, which meant, That’s a shame; then he thanked the doctor handsomely for his time, and closed the door.
When he came back into sight in the entry hall to her bedroom, he leaned against the door frame and came no farther. His hands were in his pockets, and his eyes fixed on the foot of the bed.
“You didn’t say, last night, what happened.”
There was no blame in his voice for what she’d done. It was more generous of him than she’d expected, for him to trust her reasons.
She considered what she knew he could find out, balanced against secrets she might be able to keep. If he knew Margot was against her, he might help; there were alliances that could be made, and Magnus was a master of the game.
But if he knew, he could also turn her over to Margot, if things ever soured at home. Margot wanted a lot of people gone. Suyana couldn’t risk that Magnus would ever be willing to hand her over for a chance at Margot’s good graces. It was no good telling Magnus too much of the truth.
“He was going to kill me,” she said, settling on the cleanest lie. “He killed your man, I guess.�
��
Magnus started to look at her, stopped. “Yes.”
(Some things she hadn’t forgotten. There were things she knew about the way a blade cut through the body that would never go.)
Then she said, “It was a good lesson. We’ve both learned something.”
He frowned. “Suyana—”
“I should shower and dress,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me.”
And because he was a diplomat, and manners must trump pride, he closed the door behind him without another word.
× × × × × × ×
Her second visitor was Grace, who arrived just as the suite phone started ringing.
Magnus let her in, looking a little surprised that they rated a visitor from the Big Nine, and then headed straight for the phone.
“Sorry,” said Grace. “It’s probably our fault the press figures you’re awake.”
“ ‘Our’?”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Colin insisted on coming. He’s hovering in the hallway just in case one of the porters pulls a gun.”
Suyana smiled, and indicated the pair of chairs farthest from Magnus.
Magnus was already handling the call, his fingers flying over his tablet. “No interviews until after the press conference,” he was saying. “I’m sure you understand, but after that we can of course look at her schedule—”
“How did your evening go, with the excitement? Was Magnus your last dance?”
Grace’s posture was the picture of ease; you’d never know she was asking if the man ten feet away had tried to kill her.
“No,” Suyana said. “My guest from Terrain helped me sort out my dance card.”
“I see. Do I want to know?”
“It’s worth your life,” Suyana said.
After a moment, Grace shook her head.
“The United Kingdom wishes to extend its warmest sympathies,” she said instead, in her public voice. “It admires the UARC for its determination and its victory, and looks forward to working together on committee projects to which, I understand, you’ll soon be invited.”
Persona Page 19
