Eye of the Sh*t Storm
Page 18
“As well as could be expected,” she says.
“That’s good.” Another sigh. “I owe you an apology.”
“… OK?”
“After Mr Marino died, I knew we’d have to replace him.” The words come haltingly, as if she’s not sure how to arrange them. “And over the past few months, I’ve had to convince my superiors again and again of China Shop’s usefulness. That’s Washington for you. Results don’t matter, only favours.
“And then there was the search for this… School. We’ve been digging and digging, and getting nowhere. So I didn’t make replacing Mr Marino as much of a priority as I should have. And now we have another situation, a situation in which his input and logistical expertise – or that of someone like him – would have been invaluable.”
Reggie says nothing.
“I know that a lot is being asked of you right now,” Moira says. “But, Reggie: whatever I said before, you’re doing a fine job. I want you to continue quarterbacking this. We will provide support and information from here as we can.”
Moira has called Reggie by her first name before – they were colleagues in Serbia, after all – but not for years. Twenty years now – Christ, has it really been that long? It has, of course it has, because almost nobody knows Moira Tanner better than Reggie, and right now, Moira Tanner is scared.
That, more than anything, drops the bottom out of Reggie’s stomach. Moira is scared, she is trusting Reggie to keep this together… and Reggie has been lying to her.
“Moira,” she says. “I can’t find any evidence of intrusion on the network. The comms issues—”
“I know. We don’t always get to operate in perfect conditions. I wouldn’t trust them if they came along. Just do what you can, and so will we. That’s all we have.”
Somehow, Reggie manages to speak. “Copy that.”
“Leave this line open for now. Tanner out.”
Reggie’s shoulders sag. She stares down at her hands, at the markings on the skin. Her fingers barely shake at all. I am in over my head, she thinks. I am drowning.
The thought has an elegance to it, a terrifying simplicity.
She picks up her phone, briefly mutes her comms connection, so she can dictate a text message to Africa without Tanner hearing. “Thank you,” she says, the words appearing on her phone screen, the message sending automatically as she pauses.
The reply takes longer to arrive than she would have expected. We must find them now.
Reggie starts to dictate another message, wanting to let him know how much she appreciates it, but then a second text arrives from him. As she reads it, her mouth falls open.
I think I know where they are going.
TWENTY-FIVE
Teagan
Grant walks with us as far as the 110 freeway bridge, then points us up a steep rise to the west.
“Stadium’s maybe twenty minutes up that hill,” he says. He’s got one of the duffels on his back, his frame bowed from the weight. He’s holding two more, one in either hand, and he utterly refused Nic’s offer to help carry it. “FEMA’s a twenty-four-hour operation, so you don’t have to worry about closing time or anything.”
“Thanks,” I say, wishing I could inject a little more enthusiasm into my voice. It’s a lot chillier now, although there’s still no rain. Winter in Los Angeles is still pretty warm most of the time, but it can get down to the forties and thirties sometimes.
Bradley Cooper barks, dancing around Leo’s feet. The kid crouches to scratch him, and the dog rolls onto his back for a belly rub. Problem is, he rolls right into a muddy puddle that smells like shit. May, in fact, be actual shit.
“Gross,” Leo grins.
“Bradley, no!” Grant pulls the dog away, laughing.
“Thanks,” Nic says, holding out a hand. “Appreciate the help, bro.”
“Think nothing of it.” Grant shakes. “I’m the one who owes you. I’m just sorry I couldn’t feed you.”
“The coffee was enough,” I tell him. “Hey – you’re not worried about those guys coming after you? The ones from before?”
“A little, yeah. But they headed off upriver, so if they turn back I’ve got a head start, if nothing else.”
His gaze lands on Annie. She’s staring up at the horizon, jaw set. She hasn’t said a word since we left Grant’s camp.
“I hope you folks find what you’re looking for,” Grant says. He looks from Annie to Leo, a slightly worried expression on his face.
“We’re gonna find my dad,” Leo says.
Grant nods. “Well, I’m sure he’s trying to find you, too, young sir. Don’t you worry. And you’re in good hands with your friends.
He shakes my hand, gives Annie a friendly nod and vanishes into the darkness.
And of course, it’s not twenty minutes up the hill. It’s a good hour. The ground is a mess, uneven and cracked, with downed trees and piles of trash everywhere. And the hill is a lot steeper than it looked from the river. It’s dusk now, and the low light makes it tough going. I have to use Leo’s cellphone flashlight to show us the way.
Leo’s nerve issues have almost completely gone. Chasing off the men trying to mug Grant – and getting to play with Bradley Cooper – seems to have given him a little more energy. He keeps moving too far ahead, scrambling over fallen trees and vanishing into dips in the hillside. Nic has to call him back more than once.
Annie is lagging, falling behind. Nic notices, is on the verge of calling back to her, but stops when I put a hand on his shoulder. “This is where Paul…” I say. “Where he… you know.”
“For real? Here?”
“Well, around here. Up near the stadium.”
Mercifully, our path doesn’t take us past the place where we first fought Matthew Schenke. An uncomfortable silence still settles over us, though, one that has nothing to do with exhaustion. Leo is the only one who doesn’t appear to notice, bounding across the hillside, urging us to hurry. I just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, telling my growling stomach to calm the fuck down.
We cross through a small neighbourhood, bounded on both sides by wilderness. Many of the houses are ruins, and those that are still upright are dark and silent. Beyond the houses, there’s a freeway, also empty. You know how strange it is to see a Los Angeles freeway completely empty of traffic? It’s like walking on an alien planet.
I get jumpier the closer we get to the stadium. If I was the Zigzag Man, this is where I’d strike. I’m constantly checking in with my PK, checking if there’s anybody approaching. Alert for any freaky false positives my mind throws out, thanks to the meth.
Leo is still in view, about thirty feet ahead of us. “Do you think they’ll have cheeseburgers?”
“Let’s hope so,” Nic says.
“Maybe my dad’ll be there too. Come on!”
The last time I was at the stadium, it felt like everybody and their dog was trying to get inside. The crush of people outside the entrance tunnels was insane. They’ve left their mark. Windblown trash covers the surface of the parking lot, potato chip wrappers and coffee cups and plastic water bottles – so many plastic water bottles. There are more military vehicles here than last time, troop carriers and flatbed trucks and Humvees. A few National Guard soldiers standing around, looking bored. They glance at us as we approach, and I’m suddenly sure they’re going to order us to stop, that they know who we are and who Leo is.
But their expressions don’t change. We’re just another group of people looking for food. Fine by me. Right now, anonymity is what I want.
Nic asks one of the troops where we should go. He’s a youngish guy wearing wraparound sunglasses, despite the fact that it’s, you know, night. “Head through Tunnel K,” he says, waving in the general direction of the stadium.
We’re halfway across the parking lot before I think to check for Annie. She’s stopped dead a little way from the soldier we spoke to. Her hands are jammed deep in her pockets, head down, as if she’s thinking hard.
“Annie?”
She gives a quick shake of her head, still not looking at me.
I take a deep breath. “Look, I get it. Paul was—”
“Can’t do it.”
I thought there’d be a shouting match. Honestly? I could have handled that. It’s nothing I haven’t gotten from her before. What I didn’t expect was the hopelessness in her voice. Like she’s had the wind knocked out of her.
“We’re not gonna be here long. We’re just gonna get food and go. We won’t even go near where Paul…”
Another shake of the head. She’s actually trembling, like the temperature’s dropped.
“I don’t want to,” she says.
I’m about to argue with her, tell her to pull it together. But something about the way she says it – carefully enunciating each syllable, as if each word is a fragile egg that might crack from the slightest pressure – stops me.
Annie shakes her head again. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”
“OK,” I hear myself say, even though I don’t exactly know what I’m agreeing to. Is she going to stay here? Or—?
“I’ll meet you back down at the river,” she says. “At the bridge from before. The one you went crazy on.”
“Wait, what? The Main Street Bridge? It’s here?”
“Nearby, yeah.” She clears her throat. She still hasn’t looked at me, is still carefully stepping over each word. “Little way south. You can’t miss it.”
“Sure. Just look for the bridge that’s completely destroyed.”
Annie doesn’t even respond to the joke – which, now that I’ve heard myself say it, is sort of a relief. She leaves without another word, heading back the way we came.
I rejoin Nic and Leo, tell them where Annie plans to meet us. “Is that a good idea?” Nic asks.
“It’s a terrible idea, but you go make her come with us.”
“Dude.” He spreads his hands, gives me a pointed look.
“Fine, sorry, it’s been a long day. I’ll try to rein myself in.”
“Amazing,” he says. “You use sarcasm even while you’re promising me you won’t use sarcasm. It’s not helpful, man.”
“Whatever. Can we get some food? Please?”
God, this is why I don’t hang out with him any more. Having your deficiencies and fuck-ups pointed out to you again and again gets mighty tiresome after a while.
We make our way across the parking lot in silence. I was expecting more vehicles and people closer to the stadium, but there are actually fewer – as if nobody wants to get too close. It’s only when we finally spot Tunnel K – an easy job, thanks to the giant white K printed on the wall above it – that we actually see a larger group of people. Maybe ten or twenty of them, huddled in a loose line, waiting for the soldiers to wave them in. My stomach growls again, and I have to force myself not to start thinking of my favourite foods. I’m pretty sure the only thing they’ve got inside are cheese sandwiches and bottled water, but fuck it, I’ll take it.
“Are you guys in love?” Leo says.
I nearly trip over my feet. “I’m sorry, what?”
“No,” Nic says, not looking me. “We aren’t in love.”
“Are you sure? Cos—”
“Hold up,” Nic says, pointing. “Isn’t that…?”
He’s talking to me, not Leo. And as I follow his finger, my stomach drops three inches.
We’re maybe fifty feet from the line, in an open stretch of parking lot. The person Nic is pointing at is marching out of the shadows of the stadium wall, heading right towards us. Seven feet tall, fists like ham hocks. FBI windbreaker open, snapping in the breeze.
Africa.
TWENTY-SIX
Teagan
Under the circumstances – a government agent kidnapping a child with abilities and going on the run from her secret agent crew – you’d think a little discretion would be called for.
But this is Africa we’re talking about.
“You think you can run from me?” he bellows.
The walls of the stadium shake. Car alarms go off. All the birds in a ten-mile radius shoot skyward with a panicked squawk. And every single person in the line, every National Guard soldier, all of them turn to stare at us.
Africa doesn’t notice. “Why you do this? Huh? You run from me, run from Reggie. Mrs Tanner not know where anybody is.” He apparently decides that English isn’t going to cut it, because his words dissolve into a chaotic mix of French and Wolof.
How the hell is he here? How did he know where to find us?
“Hey.” Nic steps into Africa’s path, patting the air with raised hands. “How about we go talk somewhere?”
Africa blinks, as if noticing Nic for the first time. “What you doing here? Teggan – why is Nic…?”
He trails off as his eyes focus on Leo. The boy stares back at him in horror.
“Who is he?” Africa jabs a finger at Leo. “Who is this boy?”
“My name is Leo Nguyen and I am four and my dad’s name is Clarence and his number is—”
“My man.” Nic puts a hand on Africa’s shoulder. “Let’s just calm down for a second.”
“Everything OK here?” It’s the National Guard soldier from before, the one with the ridiculous wraparound sunnies. He’s got a twang to his accent that I hadn’t noticed until now – Oklahoma, maybe, or Nebraska. Somewhere flat and empty. He’s got the kind of pale, freckly skin that probably turns lobster red after about five seconds of sunlight.
Africa rounds on him. “No! Nothing is OK! And is even worse now that you are sticking your nose in—”
I squeeze between Africa and the soldier. “We’re totally fine here. Sorry about that – just a little friendly argument, that’s all.”
The soldier looks dubious. “Keep it on the down-low, all right?” He gestures to the line of people, most of whom are goggling at us. “Lotta scared folks here already without you going off half-cocked.”
“Don’t you tell me half-cock, you bloody toubab.”
“Africa!” I hiss.
The soldier gives us another long, suspicious look, but moves away. Leo has shuffled behind Nic, gripping his hand tight.
“Explain to me,” Africa says. “Now. Why you run? And who is this boy?”
And as he says it, Leo’s identity falls into place. He actually takes a step back.
I close my eyes. No point denying it. “Yeah.”
“Teggan…”
“Yeah. He’s… he has abilities.”
He stares at me. “Teggan, my comms system is muted now. I mute it as soon as I see you, because Mrs Tanner is listening. My camera is still working –” he taps his chest, and my heart climbs into my throat “– but I have put it on my shirt, here, behind the jacket. For a little while, they can think it might be a mistake, yaaw? Like I do it by accident. But I know I have to give you chance to explain before I tell her and Reggie that I find you. We do not have much time, so please, tell me what is going on.”
Africa was homeless when I first met him. I can still see him hanging out in Skid Row: cutting through the crowd in front of the LA Mission, his clothes a mismatched riot of colour, a man with a thousand connections and a million tall stories. Someone who life had kicked in the teeth more than once, and whose personality was a reaction to a world that didn’t seem to want him very much.
Moira Tanner brought him into China Shop by threatening him. That’s what she does – she gets people to act against their own self-interest. I don’t know what the threat was, whether it was arrest, deportation, exposing whatever secrets he has. But I bet not even she predicted just how much he’d throw himself into the role, embrace the weird realities of working for the government. He’s fallen in love with this job. The idea of doing what I did – of sabotaging an active mission, jeopardising this incredible opportunity – must
be utterly insane to him.
He’s led a very weird life. But I think China Shop was the first time he realised that all of his experiences, all his stories – the made-up ones, and the real ones – can’t compare to what the world is really like. It sobered him up. Made him more serious. And I don’t think I fully understood that until now.
“It’s…” I lick my lips, trying to get my words in some sort of coherent order. “We can’t let Tanner have him. You get that, right? He’ll land up in Waco, or somewhere worse.”
“We can help him.”
“No, dude, listen. Please. This is a bad idea. Tanner won’t help him. She’ll use him. You know that.”
Behind me, Leo turns to Nic, his voice fearful. “What does that mean?”
“All of us,” Africa says slowly. “All of China Shop Movers. You, me, Annie, Reggie and Mrs Tanner as well. Paul, when he was still here. We all work together for the same goal. And I know you sometimes do crazy things, but I always think, she is still part of the team, and she will do what is right.” He gestures at Leo. “What is right about stealing a young boy? About going behind our backs? And you—” He points at Nic. “You help her! I know you are aware of her dëma powers, you know what we do, so why—?”
“She didn’t steal me.” Leo finds a tiny grain of courage, stepping out from behind Nic’s legs. “Leave us alone or… or I’ll zap you.”
“Nobody’s zapping anybody,” I say, holding my hands out. I can feel the crowd looking at us, as well as the soldier, still watching us from near a parked Humvee.
Africa crouches down, which still makes him about two feet taller than Leo. “Why don’t you come with me, huh? I work with the government. We can keep you safe.” The kid stares back at him in horror.
“OK,” Nic says. “Everybody just take a big, deep breath, all right?”
“Give me the boy,” Africa says slowly. “Give him to me now, and I will not tell Mrs Tanner that you took him. I will let her know that we found him together.”
I don’t want this. I don’t want Africa as an enemy – not after everything we’ve been through, all that shit with the quake, all the times we’ve helped each other. We’ve known each other for a long time. We have fought, we have argued. Fuck it – we’ve saved the world together. Hearing him talk like this, hearing him threaten me…