“Then we have no business together.”
“Don’t be that way, Matthew. We can be useful to one another in more ways than that. Take your Guild of Lanterns. Stroke of brilliance, by the way. If you ever need any assistance with—”
“No.” Matthew punctuated the rebuke with utter finality. “You wanted me to be a mover and shaker? To be an equal and opposite force after the same ends? This is my way. Stay out of it.”
Whitaker laughed. “I guess I had that coming. Fine. But the offer stands. It’s a fun idea if a little quaint. It’ll give the folks something to believe in.” He cleared his throat. “I’m more disappointed you didn’t contact me after you talked to Logan. Ending that zealot’s miserable life has become priority number one for me.”
So Whitaker had informants within either the Kyoto or Arizona government. There was no other way he could know about that conversation. “I took the information to proper channels. Didn’t seem to slow you from finding out.”
“Matthew, he’s threatening all of our lives. Every man, woman, and child. Let us be allies on this one front. I’m already doing my part to secure the Kyoto factory.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes. “What have you done?”
“Just a little push. The subtle application of force. Here’s a secret. People aren’t likely to be compelled to do things they aren’t already inclined toward. You already had half a heart to play the hero, so my job was half done. The same is true here. I probably only changed the timetable.”
“You should trust yourself less,” Matthew said. “Logan has already shown he’s perfectly capable of using competing parties to do his dirty work.”
Whitaker sighed. “Alright. I can see you’re not in an understanding mood. More’s the pity. At least promise me that if Logan contacts you again you’ll let me know. I’d rather have his head on a pike than see him unravel everything we’re fighting for.”
“I’ll think about it.” He ended the call and felt a stab of regret over his lack of manners. Whitaker was a villain, of that he had no doubt, but he was a fellow human making the best of the world with what he knew. Matthew was confident, however, that Whitaker had left some crucial numbers out of his calculations, and the results would be disastrous. A man who believes the world is a void cannot help but be a part of that void.
Understanding that helped Matthew pity the man.
Behind him, the whine of the wrench droned on. In the distance, more skyhoppers roared. Maybe it was best if they just left Mars. They’d done their duty as good citizens. His mother would be heartbroken, but...
But there wasn’t an excuse for that one, was there?
“DO ALL OF YOU SPOOK types use vans like this?” Abigail asked from where she was folded carefully in the back to avoid breaking anything.
Milena glanced back at her briefly from the driver’s seat. “They’re useful for hauling equipment. Like you.”
“I’m not equipment.”
“Fine. Half equipment, half passenger, besides you don’t fit up front so into the back you go.”
Abigail grumbled under her breath, which she felt was justified, given her status as luggage. “So what’s the plan here?”
“There’s not one yet. I’m still working on it.”
“Great. Just great.” Abigail sighed. “Okay, what are the options?”
Milena turned the van around a corner. “Yurchenko’s got a ship he keeps stashed at a private landing field on the east side. If he thinks the borders are closing for the long haul, he’ll try to get offworld, or at least out of Rossiya. Option one. Get to the ship first and place a tracker on it.”
“Then he gets away and out of the jurisdiction of Rossiya. Got anything better?”
“We stall him somehow. Get him tripped up with authorities and he loses his window.”
Abigail thought about that one. “Not bad, but there’s no telling how long we need to delay. No way to just take him out?”
“I’m not being paid to assassinate him. I’m being paid to help put him away for good.” Milena took another corner at speed, and Abigail shifted uncomfortably in the back. “No, we need to stall. If we can get officials involved, that should tar things up enough to accomplish what we need. We’ll be at the landing field in two minutes. I’ve got his vehicles tracked, and it will be nearly ten before they can get there.”
“What do you want me to do, block the road?”
Milena hummed a long note. “Now that you mention it, that’s not a terrible idea.” There was a mischievous lilt to her voice, one that gave Abigail pause.
“I get the feeling I’m not going to like this.”
“Oh you may. How do you feel about traffic accidents?”
MILENA DRUGOVA CHECKED her tracker one last time. “Two hundred meters out. Are you in position, Abigail?”
“I’m ready. Hope you are.”
Milena’s van was parked in an alley, behind a dumpster, about two blocks from Abigail’s position at the entrance to the landing field. She closed the door of the van and crept to the entrance of the alley. Cautiously she eased around the corner to look down the street. “I’ve got him. Gray grav car, low profile, six doors. Make it as natural as you can.”
“I’m just a pedestrian on her comm, distracted and not looking at where she’s going.”
“Perfect. He just passed me.”
“I see him. I’ll talk to you on the other side.”
Two blocks away, Abigail stood on the street corner, her armor glinting in the late afternoon sun. As the grav car approached the gated entrance to the field, she walked out into the street right in front of Yurchenko’ car. From this distance, it took over a second for the crunch of the impact to reach Milena. If everything went according to plan, Abigail had spun in time to catch the car with her arms and brace against the impact. Milena pulled a small pair of binoculars from her coat. A couple of men had already disembarked from the car. Abigail came out from behind it, arms waving and shouting, putting on a good show.
Milena smiled. She always had liked getting to be the center of attention. Guns were drawn and Abigail took a step back, hands raised. Undoubtedly they recognized her. Time for the second part of the plan. Milena sprinted back down the alley to her van. She started it with a rumble. “Sorry old girl. We’ve been through a lot of jobs together, but I don’t think you’re going to like this.”
She left the alley going the other direction and raced around the block, coming back at the landing field entrance from a different road. Then she called the police. “Yes, I’d like to report a traffic accident at the entrance to the Pulkova Landing Field. A pedestrian has been hit. No, I can’t tell if they are okay I called as soon as—”
She hung up the call mid-sentence. That should be enough to get authorities inbound. She rounded the corner, approaching the scene perpendicular from the direction Yurchenko had come from. Unfortunately for him, Abigail had stopped him with the back half of his vehicle in the intersection. She quieted her breathing and relaxed her body. It wasn’t going to be a high-speed collision, but she still didn’t fancy a case of whiplash. At fifty meters out, the men with guns saw her coming and started shouting, ostensibly to move the car.
“Too late for that,” she muttered. She took a final breath and let her muscles go slack. The thugs dove for cover seconds before she reached them. The impact was a lot louder than she anticipated, and her van was thrown into a spin, tires squealing before it came to an abrupt halt.
She sat back for a moment, half-stunned before doing a brief check. No injuries, but she was going to regret this tomorrow when soreness set in. She opened the door of the van. Luckily, she’d spun so that she was facing the bewildered group. They were still picking themselves off the ground. Better give them a show and something to panic about. Milena undid her restraints and stumbled from the car, made it five staggered steps, and then pitched forward to the pavement, landing in a crumpled heap.
Cursing. Lots and lots of cursing.
�
�We have to go! Zero hour is in seven minutes!”
“We can’t just leave her. Security cameras are recording this.”
“A hit and run is the least of my concerns right now. Load up.”
“You can’t just leave her there!” Abigail mixing things up again.
“Freelancer, you’re lucky I haven’t given the order to have you shot where you stand.”
They definitely knew her then. They’d anticipated that when they came up with this crazy plan.
“Buddy, I don’t know who you are or why you have trigger happy lunatics with you, but I eat goons like these for breakfast and pick my teeth with their boss.”
Too much bravado. A fight was the last thing they needed. Milena groaned loudly and shifted.
“Well, at least she’s not dead.”
“No thanks to you,” Abigail said.
“What... What the hell are you talking about? The crazy woman ran into us. Enough of this. Load up. We’re leaving. Freelancer, if you’re so worried about her, you can see to her health.”
“I’m not letting you just leave. We’ll let the police sort this out.”
Milena staggered to her knees and coughed, keeping a hand to her head.
“See she’s fine.”
“She’s injured and I’m—”
Red and blue flashing lights filled the streets, reflecting off the stone of the nearby buildings, and sirens chirped. Milena had to resist the impulse to cheer aloud. Yurchenko’s only route out of this now was a gunfight with the police, but his money was too entrenched in Rossiya to risk that. She sat back hard and winced as her tailbone hit the pavement. It was going to be a while before she was out of this, and she still had a part to play. The sooner she could get out of sight, the sooner she could extricate them from this mess by setting the record straight and revealing her identity to the authorities. As a pair of police cruisers pulled to a stop, she cautiously glanced at Yurchenko. He was crestfallen.
Perfect.
“SO IT TURNS OUT I’M stuck in Doch Rossiya for now,” Abigail said.
Yvonne raised an eyebrow and looked at Matthew. They were sitting on Elizabeth’s back porch after the day’s work and the evening meal. For once she was nearly caught up on maintenance on the Sparrow. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon and the last embers of the sunset lingered in the sky.
“What’s going on?” Matthew asked. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“No, it’s not like that. They closed all the borders a couple hours ago. No civilian traffic in or out for at least the next week.”
“Lovely.” Yvonne said and sighed. If it wasn’t one thing, it was something else. At least it was Abigail. She could take care of herself for a few days until they figured this out. “Are you in need of anything?”
“I’m with a friend. And I’ll most likely be able to stay with my old broker.”
“You sound excited,” Matthew said. Yvonne could barely make out his face in the dim light, but she was pretty sure he was smiling.
“Thrilled to my very soul. Hey, Matthew. Do you know what’s going on?”
“We’ve been watching military maneuvers all day. I hope it’s just posturing. The Highland Treaty Organization wants Kyoto to give in to their demands. But with Rossiya closing their borders...” He trailed off.
“Hopefully,” Yvonne said, “this is nothing more than the classic severity of the Russian psyche.” It was a weak excuse, and they all knew it.
“I’ll have a talk with customs officials in the morning. My paperwork was only for forty-eight hours, so they’ll either have to extend that or get rid of me early.”
“Keep us updated,” Matthew said. “Stay safe.”
“You too.”
The sharp chirp of crickets drifted across the fields. Yvonne was reluctant to break the moment of peace, but she could practically hear the hurricane of thought going around in Matthew’s head. “You’re not worried about her, are you?”
“About Abigail? No. She’ll be fine, but I am worried. I was thinking about leaving Mars sooner than we’d planned.”
“Elizabeth will not be pleased to hear that.”
“It won’t happen now anyway,” he said. “We better plan on a few days at least. Say, Grace told me you a had a run-in with an Abrogationist protester last week.”
The change of subject derailed her train of thought. “It was nothing. A coincidence.”
He was quiet for a minute, and she thought that he had dropped the topic entirely when he said, “Grace was worried about you.”
She sighed and tried to tamp down the wave of annoyance. “He brought up memories of Tomas. I let it get under my skin. I promise. I’m fine.” She believed it when she said it, but a moment later, she wondered if it was a lie.
Matthew must have thought the same thing. “If you ever want to talk about it, or Tomas—”
“Yes,” she snapped, “I know you’re there to listen.”
He took off his hat and gave it a shake. “Actually, I was going to suggest you talk to my mother. I think she’s had more life experience in this regard than I ever will. Goodnight, Yvonne.” He stood and walked out through the field toward the Sparrow, leaving her alone with a gnawing ache of guilt over her outburst.
It wasn’t just about Tomas. That protester. It was as if he’d accused her of murder. She had wielded life and death in her hands, and she had chosen justice. Her choice had been perfectly rational. What any sane human would have done. Kudzu deserved death, probably many times over. And it had been her right to administer that justice. But that had been stolen from her. Something she could never get back. She would never be the one to avenge Tomas’ death. Never the one to make it right.
She unfolded her restlessly trembling hands. The past was immutable, and it was all behind her. It was only a matter of making herself believe that was true, along with the rest of the lies she told herself.
ABIGAIL WAS STILL SURPRISED when Milena readily agreed to join the guild.
“I see no reason not to. We share the common goal of making the solar system a safer place, and the dues per job are paltry. My living is secure. After all, you went out of your way to do me a favor tonight and are now stuck here for it. But...”
There was always a snag.
“You still have to tell Medvedev about it. I’ll be there when you take the heat. But you get to take the initial hit.”
It was evening by the time they left Milena’s apartment for Mistress Medvedev’s manor, and the city was lit by streetlamps. The estate was nestled in the heart of a wealthy neighborhood of columned houses. Abigail knew they were nearly there when they passed that familiar statue of Mussorgsky, still conducting his eternal symphony of the traffic beneath. The manor was as foreboding as ever, with its silent columns and imposing oak door. Milena parked the badly damaged and rattling van on the street out front. It was better not to dawdle, Abigail thought as she ascended the stairs to knock on the door.
“If we’re lucky,” she said, turning to Milena, “she’s in bed already, and we’ll see her in the morning.”
“I’m not so sure the woman sleeps like a normal human.”
The door opened slowly to reveal Medvedev’s stewardess. “Ms. Sharon! I haven’t seen you in some time.” The young woman opened the door wide. “And Ms. Drugova, the Mistress wishes to speak with you.”
“I told you she’d be up,” Milena said. “Thank you, Natalya. We’ll go see the Mistress together if it’s alright.”
“I will check with her. But please, come in off the street!”
Abigail followed them into the foyer. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it felt as if the place had aged a decade in the last couple years. There were cobwebs in the corners and paint peeled from the high banisters. Maybe all the travel had given her new eyes. Natalya hurried up the stairs and disappeared into the dark. They waited quietly at the bottom in silence. In less than a minute, the stewardess reappeared and motioned them to follow. They passed up the stairs
, down a dark hall, and finally through a set of double doors into the broker’s office.
It was always a dark room, owing to the heavy curtains that blocked even scant light from filtering through the windows, but at night it was like a crypt. A single lamp burned on the desk, its light not enough to chase away the oily darkness that pooled in the room’s corners. A tall woman with wispy white hair rose to her feet at once. She towered over Milena as she approached. “My daughters. It is so good to see you. And especially you, Abigail. I am glad you have returned to us at last. Is this not a most delightful turn of events, Milena?”
“It’s good to visit with old friends, Mistress.”
Abigail noted her dodge. She had been skillfully left to mete out the disappointment. “I’m only here to visit, Mistress. My crew still needs me.”
Medvedev’s long fingers gripped the end of her cane, but otherwise, she didn’t react. “I see. I will deal with your abandonment shortly.” Abigail had never seen her eyes so cold as she turned to Milena. “And you, daughter, I hope you have news on the Yurchenko operation. Your employers want an update and have been unable to reach you.”
“It was a near thing, ma’am. He tried to escape Rossiya before the lockdown, but with Abigail’s help, we managed to stall him.”
She launched into a lengthy explanation of the afternoon’s adventure. It gave Abigail more than enough time to stew in her anxieties. First, she had to get out from under Medvedev’s ire. Then she’d deal with the guild news.
“I have every reason to believe my cover was kept as well,” Milena said. “I haven’t worn my hair in its natural color in years. Even if Yurchenko knows who I am, he didn’t seem to recognize me.”
“Wonderful,” Medvedev said. “I shall relay the information. It is good to know that some of my daughters can still be relied upon.” She glanced swiftly at Abigail before settling back on Milena. “Your mind has not been poisoned by a man unworthy of your acquaintance.”
Abigail bristled, and all of her trepidations fell away at the insult. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about Matthew Cole that way. You’ve never met him. You don’t know what kind of man he is.”
After Moses: Wormwood Page 13
