by Amanda Lees
Simon Razzle watched the commotion in his rear mirror, grim-faced. So, he hadn’t managed to snatch the girl. At least the competition was out of the way for now. But it meant more watching and waiting thanks to those fools. His one sighting of his prey and those idiots had spoiled everything. It had been a lucky break to spot her at all, wandering into that wasteland. And then they had appeared, the broker’s hired hands. If it wasn’t for those hoodlums, he’d have her by now.
Simon was sick of waiting. All these months, prepping for this moment. Researching, practising techniques. Refining his methods. He could not afford to get it wrong and kill off the golden goose and so he had taken his time, making sure everything would work. His client’s deposit had held the goons at bay but now he needed to make his big bucks. And before his very eyes the opportunity had slid from his grasp.
Still, the appearance of the boys carrying baseball bats had been an unexpected bonus. The girl remained free for the taking. The competition was foiled for the moment. And he’d managed to identify the girl’s exact habitat, although no doubt she’d now be on the alert. Things were getting complicated. It was time to get someone else to do his dirty work. Preferably someone the girl trusted. That way he could avoid any messy business. The cops appearing again, for instance. After all, he had a reputation to protect, unlike those hoods. As the cuffs were snapped on to their wrists, Simon gave thanks for serendipity. There was more than one way to skin a cat.
Or, in this case, a goddess.
CHAPTER 16
Sonny Hernandez read the card twice.
Know where she is? Call this number. Reward offered.
Above the card, the picture from the Daily News, the one that went with the Manhattan Mystery Girl story.
He had seen several cards like this one all over the ’hood. Seemed like someone was very interested in Kumari. And where there was interest there was bound to be profit. Sonny considered himself a natural-born businessman. Dialling the number, he hummed a few beats to himself. He also liked to think of himself as a musician. His Ma, she never took his talents seriously. Well, he’d show her that he wasn’t some two-bit street punk.
‘Hello?’ The voice was expensive, Sonny could tell that at once.
‘I’m callin’ ’bout your card in the phone booth.’
‘Oh, yes?’
Sonny smiled. The guy couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. This had to be worth one hell of a pay day.
‘Do you know where she is?’ the man asked.
‘I do, for a price,’ answered Sonny.
‘Can you bring her to me? Even if she’s . . . reluctant?’
‘You come meet me first so we can, like, negotiate.’
‘Meet you where?’
‘The Bronx. That’s where I hang out.’
The man hesitated.
‘No, that would not be suitable. You call me when you have her. Bring her to the place I specify. For that I will pay you $5,000.’
Five thousand bucks? This guy wanted her bad.
‘I’ll do it for $10,000,’ said Sonny.
‘$8,000,’ said the man.
‘Eight thousand five hundred, it’s a deal. Hey, man, what’s your name?’
‘You don’t need to know that right now.’
‘OK, OK,’ said Sonny. For that money he could call himself Mickey Mouse for all Sonny cared.
‘There’s just a couple of conditions,’ said the man. ‘You must deliver her alive and unblemished.’
‘Unblemished?’
‘Unmarked. In perfect condition.’
Jeez, now the guy was talking like Kumari was a sofa or something.
‘No problem,’ said Sonny. ‘I’ll call you.’
The money was practically his.
A whole lifestyle away in Manhattan, Simon Razzle smiled as he snapped his phone shut. His inner cash register went kerching! At last, things were coming together. The girl would soon be his to sell. And this time he could name his price. Having cut out the broker, he stood to gain even more.
His contact was out of a customer. Simon had a better prospect lined up. Two bangs for his buck. Double the profit margin.
From her 33rd floor hotel room, she could practically touch the Manhattan skyline, a million lights glittering under a blood-red moon, the Empire State Building the proudest symbol of them all. She was not, however, interested in pretty lights. She was staring at the screen in front of her on which a message had just popped up.
Reading through it, the Ayah clenched her fist then slowly relaxed her fingers. One more dead end. She would find Kumari somehow. She had to, before the RHM did. It was time to turn up the heat. Tonight she had to catch a plane back to the borderlands of the Kingdom. There would be no more excuses or second chances. This time they would get it right.
Picking up the phone, she rapped out orders, her newly streaked hair bobbing as she spoke.
‘This is your last chance to find the girl. You have twenty-four hours. Or else.’
Slamming down the phone, she stared blankly out the window.
The lights twinkled ever brighter.
But she did not see a single one.
CHAPTER 17
Chico was off school for three days. Three days in which to make a decision. She could not risk anyone else suffering. It was time to cut loose. People around her got hurt. First Mamma, then Papa brought to his knees. Ma arrested by those people. Now Chico, battered in her defence. And she was the one common factor. Which meant she must somehow be causing all this pain. She was bad news, rotten karma. The curse of Kumari. Who knew where it would strike next?
From now on, it would just be her and Badmash. Same as the good old days, except they were not actually all that good. As soon as she made up her mind, she put it into practice. It was so hard, that first time, walking right past her friends to another table in the cafeteria.
‘Hey, Kumari, I saved you a place.’
‘No thanks, I’ll sit here.’
‘Kumari? It’s me, Charley’
‘Nothing personal, you guys, but just leave me alone.’
She could see the hurt on their faces, the looks of bewilderment. Her guts wrenched, but she stayed firm. It was better that way. At home, she didn’t say much, just the basics like ‘yes’ and ‘thank you.’ In the evenings, she went to her room to read instead of sitting together watching TV.
‘What’s up with you, Kumari?’ Ma asked.
‘Nothing,’ said Kumari.
‘You want something to eat?’
‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’
‘Teenage stuff,’ she heard Ma whisper to CeeCee and LeeLee. ‘Best leave her alone.’
Fine, if that was what they wanted to think. She was doing this for their own good. It was easier to be alone than feel guilty. Safer to keep her head down in class and avoid Ms Martin’s eye. Besides, it was easy to tune out of class when all she could think about was Chico, wondering how he was, hoping he was OK. For all of that, when the time came she would have to cut loose from him too. Still, when Chico finally reappeared, swathed in bandages, it took all her resolve to ignore him. But Kumari was nothing if not strong. She had to be, for all their sakes. She was Trouble with a capital T. Everyone stay away.
Once she began to skip class, it became easier and easier. But forged sick notes only did it for so long. Simplest to stay away, period. She hit on a new trick: double back once CeeCee and LeeLee had dropped her off. Duck out the school gates, take a roundabout route in case the kidnappers showed up. Once safe in the apartment, she would turn on the TV, settle Badmash in her lap and feed him his favourite snacks. If she could not hang with her real friends at least the old gang were still there. She reacquainted herself with Jerry Springer, caught up with Scooby-Doo, shouted out the answers to game shows and sighed over the soaps. There was a whole lot you could learn from TV. In some ways, it was better than school. Just who was she trying to kid? She missed school, missed her friends.
She had never thought sh
e would say it, but Rita Moreno was not so bad. With Ms LaMotta in charge, things were getting better all the time. And then there was the essay competition. She had really, really wanted to win it. No chance of doing that now. How long before she got expelled? Or worse, Child Protection came knocking? Whichever way she worked it, someone got in trouble. Maybe she should just disappear. Do everyone a favour.
And then, on the sixth day of cutting school, she came home to find she was not alone. Ma was waiting in the hall, arms folded, a stern look on her face. It stopped Kumari in her tracks. Ma never looked like that. Even yelling and hollering she never looked so serious.
‘What you think you’re doin’ child?’
‘I, uh, I forgot something.’
‘You forgot something?’ Ma raised an eyebrow. ‘What you forgot is your mind.’
Dumbstruck, Kumari stared at Ma. Someone must have told her.
‘Well, come on then, speak, Kumari. Cat got your tongue or somethin’? Ms Martin tells me you not been in class all week. Got somethin’ better to do, I expect.’
‘I . . . ah . . . ’
‘Go on, spit it out. You tell me what’s so important. Must be somethin’ really special to keep you here instead of school.’
‘I can’t go to school,’ Kumari whispered.
‘Say what? Come on, speak up.’
‘I can’t go to school, Ma. People keep getting hurt.’
Ma raised both eyebrows.
‘Is someone picking on you Kumari? Because if they are, you just tell me.’
‘No. The other way round. People keep getting hurt around me. I mean, I’m the common factor. First Mamma. Then Papa. You getting arrested. Now Chico. It’s like Ms Martin says. I’m the constant.’ Kumari’s voice cracked, her eyes filled. ‘I’m scared they’ll hurt someone else. I mean, all this can’t be a coincidence. I knew whoever killed Mamma would try to get me. But it’s like everyone else is getting hurt along the way.’
‘Who’s going to hurt someone else?’ Ma’s eyes brimmed with concern.
‘I . . . I . . . ’
It was too much. Ma could be, probably would be next. She had been so kind and that was the problem. She was in danger just because she cared. There was only one thing Kumari could do and that was put distance between them. Whipping round, she slid the latch and was off, running down the stairs. Echoing round the stairwell, Ma’s voice calling after her, pleading.
‘Kumari, come back. Kumari! Let me help.’
‘You can’t help,’ muttered Kumari. ‘No one can. I’m bad luck.’
The Badmash Bag swung from her shoulder as she jogged. Suddenly she heard a retching noise.
‘Oh, Badmash, I’m sorry’ said Kumari, stopping to lift him out. ‘See, I can’t even look after you. Did I make you feel sick?’
She cuddled him for a second against her chest. Boy, he was getting heavy.
‘How’s your bird?’
It was Sonny, appearing out of nowhere, a stupid grin plastered to his face. He leant over and tried to pat Badmash.
‘Ow!’
Sonny snatched his hand back. For a second there, she saw his fist clench. And then he unfurled his fingers.
‘Who’s a naughty bird, then?’
‘Who’s a naughty bird, then?’ Had Sonny morphed into a boy scout?
‘What do you want?’ asked Kumari.
‘Now, that’s not very friendly, is it?’
The hurt in his eyes appeared genuine, but Kumari knew better. Sonny Hernandez was about as genuine as a fake fingernail and not nearly so convincing.
‘I gotta be going,’ she said.
‘I’ll tag along with you.’
‘You don’t even know where I’m headed.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I need the company.’
Kumari kept walking. Sonny kept pace beside her. She stopped outside the corner store. Sonny stopped too.
‘I need a Coke,’ she muttered. What was with this super-friendly schtick? Any moment now he’d be offering to carry her bag or help her across the road.
‘Can I carry your bag?’ asked Sonny. ‘Must be kind of heavy.’
‘I can manage,’ said Kumari. ‘Haven’t you got something better to do?’
‘What could be better than this?’ said Sonny.
Oh barf! Still, super-smooth for him. Which was not saying much. Sonny was hardly Mr Slick.
‘Whatever,’ said Kumari.
Inside the store, she grabbed herself a can of Coke.
‘Coke. Good idea,’ said Sonny.
My, he had upped the interesting stakes.
‘OK, well I’ll see you,’ said Kumari, clutching at the Badmash Bag as it slid awkwardly from her shoulder.
‘Here, let me help,’ said Sonny. ‘I’ll hold your Coke.’
‘Uh, thanks,’ said Kumari. ‘Come on, Badmash, settle down.’ For some reason he was really agitated, making the bag swing around.
Grabbing her Coke back, she took a gulp, anticipating the hit to her brain. When it didn’t happen, she took another. Weird, her mind felt all fuzzy. Usually it felt . . . sharp. Now it was kind of woozy . . .
And with that, Kumari slumped into Sonny’s arms, her Coke spilling across the sidewalk.
Half-dragging, half-carrying her, Sonny tried to hail a cab -no easy task in a neighbourhood where cabs were as rare as a white dude with rhythm. Finally, he stopped one by the simple trick of throwing himself in front of it.
‘Park Avenue,’ he snapped at the driver, dumping Kumari on the back seat. He hauled the Badmash Bag from her shoulder and hurled it into the gutter. Badmash shot from the bag into the air, wings flapping furiously. Ignoring his angry squawks, Sonny slammed the cab door.
‘She drunk?’ demanded the driver.
‘Just drive,’ snarled Sonny. The stuff he had slipped into her Coke should keep her quiet, but for how long he could not be sure.
As they drew up outside Simon Razzle’s address, Kumari began to stir. Dragging her from the cab, Sonny got her into the building fast. Hand her over, get the money. Then she was Razzle’s problem. A couple of other people were in the elevator. A well-dressed woman threw Sonny a look.
‘My friend’s got bird flu,’ said Sonny.
Instantly, the woman shrank into the corner. Sonny sniggered to himself. Bird flu. Pretty funny, considering what he’d just done to Badmash. Bird flu. Bird flew. He should have been a poet. Sonny was still sniggering as he staggered into reception, Kumari hanging from his arms, apparently dead to the world.
Depositing her on a leather sofa, Sonny strutted up to the receptionist.
‘Tell Mr Razzle Sonny’s here.’
The woman looked at him in distaste.
The other clients in the waiting room barely glanced up from their glossy magazines. Either this was an everyday occurrence or they just did not care. Suddenly, Simon shot from his surgery.
‘What are you doing, you imbecile?’ he hissed. ‘You’re far too early’
‘Hey, man, don’t call me that,’ said Sonny, trying to work out what imbecile meant.
‘Just bring her in here. Quickly,’ snapped Simon, casting an anxious look at his clients.
‘Won’t be long, ladies,’ he cooed.
They smiled back, thinly. Everything about Simon’s clients was thin, except for their plumped-up lips post procedure.
‘Through here,’ said Simon, as Sonny lugged Kumari into the surgery. He was holding another door open, one that led to a smaller ante-room. In it, Sonny could see a bed, instruments laid out beside it. The place looked like something out of ER, right down to the rubber gloves.
‘What you gonna do to her?’ Sonny asked, dumping Kumari on the bed as indicated.
‘Never you mind,’ said Simon, handing Sonny a wad of notes. ‘Here’s your money’ he added. ‘Now beat it. I don’t want to see your face again.’
‘You’re the boss,’ said Sonny. ‘Nice doin’ business with you.’
Hustling him out the door, Simon breathed a sigh of reli
ef.
‘Whaaaa . . . ?’
From the other room he heard the girl. Instantly, he was by her side, needle poised. As he plunged it into a vein, she did not so much as wince. The sedative Sonny had slipped her had done its work. For now, it was best to keep her nice and quiet. At least until his client was ready. Wouldn’t want to damage that lovely face. It represented pure profit. As Simon stared down at her, he felt a flicker of something. Not remorse, not even regret. But the sweet tingle of big bucks.
Groggily, Kumari tried to focus. The ceiling kept swimming away from her, rippling round in a wobbly whirlpool, dipping and diving like she was on a boat. She had only been on a boat once, on the lake near the summer palace. Papa had rocked it side to side to make her laugh. She generally laughed when she was scared. Mamma had stayed on the shore. Come to think of it, maybe she was still on the boat. Kumari tried to turn her head to see Mamma, but somehow it would not move.
‘Ma . . . ’ she tried to say, but her lips could not form the word. Everything was swaying so much she could hardly think. Wait a second, this was no boat. She remembered now, she was in the World Beyond. It was Sonny who had brought her here. There was that other man, the guy in glasses. The one with the smooth, shiny face.
The same face that was bending over her now, staring into her eyes, freaking her out. She had to push him away, get out of here. Why would nothing move? Her limbs felt so heavy, her body would not obey her brain.
He was murmuring something. She stared up at him, stricken.
‘Where are you?’ he muttered. ‘Heart? Lungs? Brain? In the blood?’
The guy was crazy, that much was obvious. He was looking at her like she was a lump of meat he was about cut up.
‘I’ll find you,’ he said. ‘If I have to extract every organ.’
Oh my god, she’d been right – this was a human abattoir.
She tried to scream but of course it was useless. She was paralysed, helpless. Then she felt a sharp prick in her arm, followed by a dull ache. He was holding up a syringe. In it, her blood, ruby red.
‘You’re in there somewhere,’ he said, gazing at it. ‘The secret of eternal youth.’
