“I don’t know.”
“How can you be sure he’s dead?” I asked.
“There were holes in his neck.”
“That might not have been him.”
Shinjee shook her head. “Larry is dead.” And then I saw her well up with tears.
“Spare me,” I said. “You didn’t give a damn about him.”
An indignant scowl brimmed at her eyes. “I loved him.”
“Based on, what, the few days you knew him?”
“Love doesn’t have a timeline.”
“Life does. And he’s alive.”
“Someone’s replaced him,” she said.
“What happened to the body?”
“We weren’t expecting to find him dead so we left him there.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” she said. “Why would I kill him? My job was to recruit him.”
“For what?”
“To make films for the Great Leader.”
“So you are a spy?”
“An ambassador, punished for my failure.” She went back to washing her hands. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“I owed you a visit.”
“For what?”
“You sent me to Hell.”
“I gave you a way out and now you’re back.”
“I had to claw my way out,” I said.
“I didn’t want this for you or anyone else. What choice did I have?”
My mind was on other questions, like why would someone pretend to be Larry? The tattoo on his stomach was the same. Then again, that could have been faked. Think, Nick. Put your brain to use. Your eyes deceived you once. Was it that first time when you saw Larry’s corpse, or the second, when you saw him breathing in front of you at the convention?
“I tried calling him when I first heard he was alive,” she told me as she dried her hands. “He never picked up. He only appears in big public events and he’s always attended by a big entourage. I tried going once, just to see him. He didn’t recognize me. He was with four other women.”
Her voice was earnest as were her expressions. She was still in love with him.
“It’s so sad that the person Larry considered his closest friend can’t even tell the difference between the real him and an impostor,” she said. “You know how much he worried for you?”
“If he’s dead and you loved him, who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why aren’t you out there trying to find his killer?”
“Why aren’t you?” she asked back.
“Because he’s alive.”
“And if he wasn’t?”
“I would have killed his killer,” I said, looking straight at her.
“You’re not a killer,” she said dismissively.
“You say it like that’s a bad thing.”
“In this world, it is. It’s one thing to gain power, it’s another to maintain it. Larry was a victim of a bigger game we weren’t part of.”
“And you?”
“I was naive enough to believe love conquers all. If you kill me, you’d only be doing me a favor. They’ll make a martyr of me back home and give my family honors,” she said.
“I’m not killing you.”
“I know,” she said. “And my family will continue to starve.”
“You could leave.”
“And doom my whole family?”
I had come here for revenge, and found the world had already taken it for me.
“That last film of his he was working on,” she said. “It might be related to everything.”
The one he’d been so cryptic about? “How?”
“I don’t know. But it was the only thing he refused to talk about. And you know what a big mouth he had.”
“Has.”
“Had,” she said. “Anytime you want my life, you know where I am. I won’t fight it.” She limped back to her apartment, daring me to follow.
I did not.
VIII.
Image facilitation could have been involved. Someone might have theoretically gotten enough surgery to look like Larry. But to sound like him, to have a similar height, and to be able to fool all those around him, especially with finger and eye scans at every corner of the Chao Toufa grounds? That was impossible. The more probable explanation was that Shinjee, beaten by her superiors, had lost her senses. It didn’t explain the corpse that night. But it was more likely that when she was confronted by the fact she’d been just another fling for him, she’d rather accept he was dead than she was unimportant. No one else questioned his identity but her. I shouldn’t either. Every logical thought in me urged me to go back to my apartment, pack up my belongings, sell everything I could, and spend a few years on the beaches of Cancun cavorting about. Yeah, drugs were everywhere, but as the cartels officially controlled everything, it was one of the safest places in the world.
And yet, when it came time to input my next destination into the cab, I found myself hesitating to give my Beijing home address. What if Larry really had been killed? Could I just ignore that possibility? Could I ignore my own eyes? I thought about talking to Russ who’d been promoted to president of Chao Toufa. He might have more insight and give me the confirmation I needed to put the whole matter to rest. There was something else gnawing me. I put in the address for the Chao Toufa factory grounds, wondering if Russ would even see me. If he didn’t, I’d pick up some of the equipment I’d left behind, especially my Pinlighter 1887, the pen camera that was so easy to carry. I called Larry to see if I could get hold of him. Even after five calls, he didn’t pick up.
I watched the news on the ride there. It focused on the garbage negotiations going on in Antarctica. Reporters and military specialists speculated on naval skirmishes between Europe and America for dumping rights in what had once been a frozen continent. I flipped the station. A death-football game was on and crowds were booing that only five people had been killed so far even though the half-time show had just concluded (there were conspiracy theorists who speculated that the deaths were arranged beforehand and actors were swapped out in favor of surgery while they healed). There were the usual spattering of commercials for the upcoming GEAs, celebrating the best in cinema. I ordered a caffeine boost as I needed something to keep my mind sharp. An emergency news cast broke through. The actor who played Jesus Christ, James Leyton, had caught the flu and prayer vigils were being held around the world. Several older gentlemen being interviewed were crying as they said, “We pray that he gets better soon.”
When I arrived at the factory, the guard at the security station asked for my identity. I gave him my information.
“It looks like you no longer have permission to enter, sir,” he politely informed me.
“Call the president and tell him I’d like to see him.”
“The president?”
“Russ Lambert. I need to speak with him.”
“I can’t just call the president and—”
“Get Larry on the phone then,” I told him.
“Mr. Larry Chao?”
“Are you new to this job?”
“I-I started a week ago,” he told me.
“Call his office and tell him Nick Guan wants to speak with him.”
“Concerning what?”
“I need to get my camera equipment.”
The guard went back into his post, made a few calls, and came back out. “Mr. Russ Lambert is out. But his assistant told me you could get your belongings.”
“Thank you.”
The cab drove in.
Demolition crews had finished the job on the destroyed warehouses, though no new construction had begun. I used to have an office close to Larry’s, but someone else was in it now. A box with all my belongings had been put into storage and one of the assistants helped retrieve it for me. All I really wanted was the camera. I noticed a few pictures of Larry and me on set as well as several useless certificates from various festivals. I put
the camera in my pocket along with the mini-boom that recorded audio better than any instrument I’d worked with. Told the assistant he could throw away the rest. The boom was an expensive prosumer version of a military product, designed to capture the voices of officers speaking in the middle of combat.
I swung by Russ’s office but he wasn’t there. His assistant, an elderly Chinese woman, asked, “Did you get your belongings?”
“I did. Larry asked me to check in with Russ. Is he at home right now?”
“He is,” she answered, then hesitated, wondering if she should not have given that information.
“Great. Larry wanted me to see him ASAP. What was his address again?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give that information out.”
“I’ll call Larry and ask him.”
“Oh, no no, you shouldn’t do that,” she said quickly, and she was quivering.
“It’s no problem. If I just make a call—”
“No need to bother him, I’ll give you the address. Just please, don’t tell either of them I told you.”
“I won’t.”
“You have to promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Again.”
“I promise.” Her eyes were filled with terror and it reminded me of George’s reaction earlier.
“Thank you,” I told her after she gave me the address.
IX.
Russ owned a massive house that was four stories tall. There was good reason to envy the rich. I used to lie to people that I was really wealthy when I was a kid because I didn’t want them to know I lived in a tiny apartment with my alcoholic cousin who was rarely home. Russ’s home was the kind I dreamt about as a kid, so big, I wouldn’t even know all the rooms in my house.
I programmed the taxi to wait outside and walked to the gate. I told security that Larry had sent me and they let me in without hassle. A butler met me at the front door. He had on thick black glasses that covered half his face and a green tuxedo. The house had an indoor swimming pool, antiquities from the Ming Dynasty, and a lot of deer heads on the wall. Russ was downstairs in a room shaped like a centrifuge. There were a hundred arcade booths with games from long ago forming four circular lines as though it were a hedge maze of electronics. I saw titles like Double Dragon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Moonwalker, Simpsons, Bubble Bobble, and more. The floor was slowly spinning and with the bright lights and sounds, it reminded me of a roulette wheel. Russ was wearing what looked like a red dress and played a game called Bad Dudes. Chained next to him were a naked man and woman. The woman had white hair, a skinny frame, very pale skin, and looked similar to Beauvoir, the sister of Tolstoy, though nowhere near as beautiful. Her presence threw me off guard.
Russ screamed at the game. It looked like his character had died by a shuriken to the forehead from a ninja. Russ slapped the woman and kicked the man, releasing his rage. He had always seemed like such a nice person.
I had the feeling I should take a risk with Russ and expose all my cards. The boom was on and so was the Pinlighter up my sleeve to record our exchange. I should have been thinking about what to ask, but the cinematographer’s instincts in me thought of dramatic angles, light reflecting off his face, the woman and the man chained to either side of him as contrast.
“You told security Larry sent you. But I know Larry didn’t send you,” Russ said.
“You’re right. He couldn’t have sent me because he’s dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you think that impostor could fool me? I was Larry’s best friend.”
Russ stopped playing his arcade game and turned to me, grim. “What was it that gave it away?”
Inside, a part of me collapsed. Larry really was dead. It took all my mental discipline not to break down.
“Everything,” I answered.
“Who have you told?” he demanded.
“Tell me why and I’ll tell you who I’ve told.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? The whole company would fall apart without Larry. He used to disappear all the time so we hired someone to impersonate him whenever he was away.”
“That’s who’s taken Larry’s spot?”
“You’re the only person who could tell the difference.”
I fiddled with the camera in my sleeve, wanting to switch angles. “What about Larry’s killer? Or was it you that killed him?”
Laughter bellowed out of him. “I’d have nothing to gain by killing him. Besides, this new Larry is turning out to be a monster.”
“A monster?”
Russ turned back to his arcade machine. “What do you want?”
“I want to find out what happened to Larry.”
“He had a lot of enemies.”
“You have no interest in catching them?” I asked.
“If I tried to catch them, I’d have to acknowledge he was dead. Do you know what would happen to the company if word of that got out?”
“What?”
“We’re in the middle of some very important negotiations,” Russ said. “I’m securing the future of Chao Toufa. Maybe after we reach an agreement, we can look into what happened.”
“Garbage rights?” I threw out there, remembering something Larry had said.
Russ stopped playing again. “How did you know?”
“Larry mentioned it.”
“We have a lot of land out in Greenland and Antarctica that the US government is interested in.”
“I don’t see why they would care if Larry were alive or not.”
“That’s why you’re not a businessman.”
“You’re right. I’m not. I don’t get why garbage is more important than Larry’s life. At least you could have given him a proper burial. Where’s his body?”
I heard a loud boom, felt something punch me in my leg. I felt another blast to my shoulder that caused me to gyrate and stumble into one of the arcade booths. My leg became too weak to support me and I fell to the ground. It took a second to gather they were gunshots. I’d never been shot before. Shot at, yes, but even that was far off the mark. Fortunately, my armor had protected me, but it hurt like hell. There were probably deep contusions and I wondered what would have happened without the plating. I put it out of mind and stayed down, pretending it was worse than it seemed. I had no idea who had fired. Was it Russ? Or guards on the periphery? Or was there a security gun on the ceiling? If the latter, I had no way of getting out as I didn’t have anything to take out a computer-controlled gun. Russ hovered above me with a gloating smile. Coming up next to him was his butler with his huge glasses holding a pistol.
“Should I kill him, sir?”
“No. I need him alive,” Russ said.
The woman who resembled Beauvoir made a rustling sound and when the butler turned his head, I got out my gun and fired at him. The paralysis dart made contact, but bounced off his suit. He too had some armor underneath. I scrambled to hide behind another arcade stall and the bullet that was intended for my back blew the screen.
“Be careful where you fire!” Russ shouted. “Those things are worth a million SC each!”
“You should get out of here, sir,” the butler told Russ.
“I need him alive,” Russ reminded him, then bolted for the exit.
I thought of using a light bomb, but I’d seen his glasses and they would most likely protect him against that kind of measure. The room was slowly spinning. The music and sound effects from the arcade games made it difficult to extrapolate his location. My leg was throbbing and even kneeling against the booth made it sting. I peeked over to the side and did not see him. I knew he wouldn’t aim for the head and this armor would hold against most shots which gave me a bit of an advantage. At the same time, my only option was to paralyze him in the face as that was the only area he had no protection, making things infinitely more challenging.
I swerved around a booth that read Golden Axe on the side, heard a gunshot, only to see it was from a game called The Terminato
r. For a moment, the screen turned black and I saw the reflection of the butler. I ducked quickly and a bullet blasted off the joystick. I turned around to fire, but he was gone. I sprinted for the outer circle and looked inwards. I saw Beauvoir and the other male, but the butler wasn’t there. Was he hiding? Was he kneeling in wait? Was he getting closer or was he just stalking me until I fell right into his hands?
The arcade games looked like cartoons and were limited in motion, being stuck on a flat plane. I was stuck with only my two eyes and they weren’t seeing anything. I had an idea. I placed my Pinlighter on top of one of the arcade machines and pointed it towards the middle. Then I took out the lens I’d gotten earlier, hooked the feed from the camera into the lens, and positioned it onto both my eyes. I’d gained another line of sight as a small visual screen popped up in the upper left corner of my view.
I dashed towards the middle of the room, hopeful that my motion would elicit a response. There was movement in the corner. Before I could respond, there were two loud blasts. One bullet barely missed my body and the other blew up the arcade booth next to me. I ducked under a stall, the woman and the guy cowering behind Bad Dudes.
I checked the Pinlighter feed. The butler was creeping up on me a row away. I got ready for him to get closer. When he was in proximity, I’d jump out and shoot him in his neck. I couldn’t hear his steps as the games were making their bubbly sounds and their simulated MIDI tracks were too loud. I had to trust the camera. Half a minute later, the butler was right where I needed him and I rushed to the side, hoping to catch him off guard. But as I thrust forward, the pain in my legs caused me to buckle, and when I fired, the bullet was far left. The butler wasn’t bothered by the shot and launched straight at me with a kick to my chest. It hit me right between the ribs and my breath heaved, my head feeling light. I couldn’t tell if any ribs had cracked, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it as he came with another roundhouse kick that hit my chin. I spun in the air and my gun flew out of my hand. He’d have an open shot if he took it right now. Even if it wouldn’t penetrate the armor, the force of the blow would most likely leave me too debilitated to fight back. Fortunately, I channeled the cricket in me and scrambled away as quickly as I could.
Bald New World Page 17
