He forced the thought away with a shudder and did the three-click finger snap that made the television switch on. Ko paged through the channels with the sound on mute, passing the multiple ZeeBeeCee feeds, Panda Vision and NBO. Most of the stations were carrying clips from the new Juno Qwan album and Ko chewed his lip. The singer had a weird attract-repel quality to her, with the way she would yo-yo between hi-fashion pop diva one day to gothic lolita the next. Ko would never admit it, but he actually liked some of her stuff. She did this song-it was a b-side, maybe?-called “Doppler Highway” that had just the right kind of lonely in it, conjuring up the same melancholy freedom that Ko got from a night ride through the hills. He hesitated, watching the silent vid. Juno was wrapped in a holodress, the outfit morphing and changing as she walked along a sun-dappled beach, planes of light shifting to reveal just enough flesh that you knew she was naked underneath. She moved over sand raked into geometric shapes and water-smoothed stones. There were trains of letters and numbers on her clothes, moving and warping. Cool, perfect blue waves lapped at her bare feet and overhead was a cloudless cerulean sky. Juno’s smile was relaxed and calm, but her eyes were a little sad, as if she felt sorry that you were not there on that idyllic beach with her.
“I’m the perfect smile. Touch my thoughts and flow, there’s no world we can’t know.” Nikita walked into the room, singing along with the silent starlet. “I love her stuff. She’s so deep. Didn’t think she was your type.”
“She’s not,” Ko changed the channel and found a weather report.
Nikita made a face and gathered her jacket off the threadbare sofa where she had deposited it the night before. She produced a fold of crisp yuan and held it out to him. “Rent money,” she explained. “There’s extra in there, too.”
Ko made no move to take it. “Where’d you get that?”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t want to do this, Ko. Just take the damn cash.”
He wanted to; part of him really wanted to say no more and let it go. But that wasn’t how it was going to play out. Before he was even fully aware of what he was doing, Ko’s mouth was running away and they were sliding straight back into the same patterns they had followed since they were children. “Let me guess, you were exceptionally good at selling drinks in the Dot? Or perhaps you gave that bald loser a blowjob-”
The slap came from nowhere and stung him with its ferocity; but the anger in the swipe wasn’t reflected in his sister’s eyes. All he saw there was fatigue. “You don’t have the right to lecture me on what I do, Ko. You’re a thief, little brother, and you’re not a very good one at that. If you grow the hell up, you might just understand enough to have an opinion, but until then, shut up and pay the rent! ”
He pointed at his chest. “Thief? What does that make you, Niki? You want me to say it?”
“Don’t you dare…”
“You want me to call you what you are?” His voice was rising, and so was the fury, coming on hot and strong. “I’m not the one behaving like a child! Which of us is the one living in a fairy tale, sis? Who is the one looking for a prince charming in a laser-cut suit?” He waved a hand in front of her face. “I live in the real world, not the stupid plastic dreamland those corp bastards do!”
“Wake up!” Nikita snapped. “Look around, Ko, the corps are the real world! They run the real world! You’re not part of that machine, you get hammered down!”
“I’d rather be poor and free than in their pockets!” he replied.
“And it shows! Look at you! You watch those stupid movies and you play like you’re some hustler ronin, but you’re going nowhere! I’m making something of myself, Ko.” She advanced and prodded him in the chest. “I’m ready to do whatever I have to. You? You’ve got nothing but a bunch of half-assed principles and a downward spiral.”
He tried to frame a reply but nothing came.
“I’m not ending up like…” Nikita stumbled over the words. “I’m not going to stay here for the rest of my life. I’ve got goals.” She threw the money at him and he caught it.
“You lie with pigs, you become dirty,” Ko said in a low voice. “Your boyfriends at the Dot, it’s their kind that is screwing us all, not just you and me, the whole damn planet! You want to be part of that?”
She snatched up her bag and drew a silver card from within. “I am part of it, Ko. I’m connected.”
“What the hell is that?”
Nikita waved the smartcard in the air. Ko recognised the design as a single use corporate security pass. When he was younger, he’d often picked them from the pockets of drunk salarymen in the bar district. “I wasn’t going to tell you because I know you’d blow your stack, but what the hell, you’d find out eventually.” She leaned in. “I’m moving up, Ko. I’ve got a patron.”
He swore explosively and grabbed at her, snatching the strap on her bag. Nikita kept hold of the other end and an angry tug-of-war ensued. “I’m not letting you go uptown! I forbid it!”
“You what?” she sneered. “You can’t order me around, Ko. I’m the eldest, I do what I want to!”
“You stupid bitch-” The bag strap tore and the contents scattered on the floor.
Nikita dropped to her knees, gathering up the stuff. Something plastic flashed in her grip, a disc of bubble-packed capsules. Ko’s hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist. He had height and weight over his sister, and she squealed as he turned her arm the wrong way. “Stop it!”
Ko tore the packet from her hand. There were nine bubbles, three of which had been emptied. The other six contained ice-blue pills made of clear gelatine. They glistened in the sunlight, and the letters Z3N were clearly visible on them. The packet bore no manufacturer’s markings.
“Give those back!”
Ko crushed the pack in his fist and turned a furious glare on his sister. “You stupid, stupid bitch! Did he give them to you? That bald bastard, was it him?”
“No-”
“I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll find that wageslave and run the fucker down.”
“Those are mine.” Nikita shouted at him, and the words hit like a shock of cold water.
“What?” Ko’s rage disintegrated.
“They’re mine, you idiot!” His sister pushed away from him; anger and despair, frustration and regret framed her pretty face. “You are so naive, Ko.”
The blue fluid seeped around his fingers from the cracked capsules. Where it touched his skin, it tingled. Ko threw the packet into the burner and ran his hands under the sink in the bathroom.
While he was there, he heard the front door slam, loud like a gunshot.
Tze advanced across the room and enveloped Frankie’s hand in his. Rough skin, hard like old leather crossed the younger man’s pale office-worker fingers. Tze leaned into him, and Frankie felt profoundly naked beneath the man’s flinty gaze. The CEO of Yuk Lung had hard amber eyes set deep in a face tanned by exposure. Tze wasn’t as tall as Frankie had been expecting, but the man was thickset and broad across the chest. He looked more like a wrestler than a corporate executive, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him as the Mongol warrior some compared him too. Frankie imagined Tze in horsehide and armour and knew he’d be as comfortable with it as he was here and now in his spidersilk Tommy Nutter original.
“Alan was a good man,” he rumbled. “He had vision and character. He will be missed.”
Frankie swallowed. “I… Please, sir, I haven’t yet been given the details of what happened…”
Tze threw Alice a look and she gave a shallow nod. “A bad business, Francis. I hesitate to speak of it here.” He looked away. “Be assured that the company is expending every effort in the matter. Your brother has been granted full honours. ”
“Thank you,” said Frankie. “But if I may ask how-?”
“Alice will brief you this afternoon,” Tze said, with a finality that ended the line of conversation like an axe-blow. “But before then we must address a matter that concerns you, and you alone.”
“I don’t
understand.”
Tze gestured to a portly woman hovering near the door, and on cue she came closer. Her face was a little too perfect for the body it was on. “Francis, this is Phoebe Hi. She is a cousin of our corporate clan, from the RedWhiteBlue group.”
Frankie gave her a weak smile. RedWhiteBlue Inc. was YLHI’s entertainment division, a hit factory churning out music, vids and home vircade games across half of the Pacific Rim. Hi gave him a plastic blink of seamless teeth. “I worked closely with your brother,” she said. “I hope to do the same with you.”
Tze gave her the slightest of nods and Hi retreated a couple of steps. “Yes, my boy. I’ve brought you here because I hope you will accept a gift from us.”
“Gift?” repeated Frankie, his head spinning.
The other man rubbed at his tightly trimmed beard. “I know that nothing can replace your brother, but it is my hope that you will allow me to demonstrate the regard in which he was held by Yuk Lung.” He placed a fatherly hand on Frankie’s shoulder, the other reaching for the metal box on the table. “I want you to take Alan’s place here in Hong Kong. I want you to assume his duties and position within our clan, with all the responsibilities and rewards that entails. Will you join us, Francis?”
As if there was any other answer to give. “Of… Of course, sir. But I…”
Tze put a finger to his lips. “Ssh. No doubts, lad. We have none of that here.”
Frankie nodded. “I, uh, accept, sir. It’s an honour.”
“We are a traditional corporation, Francis,” Tze continued, opening the box. “In this day and age, to some that makes Yuk Lung seem… peculiar in its practices.” His fist came up and in it was an ornate four-fold brass dagger. “This is a ghost knife. It is more than two thousand years old.” He offered it, blade-first.
Gingerly, Frankie took it, feeling the razor sharp edges pulling at the skin of his palm. Tze smiled a little and cupped Frankie’s hand in his, pressing the younger man’s flesh into the blades. Where it cut him, it felt icy cold.
“It is important,” Tze said, tightening his grip, “for men to understand that the wheel turns only when the axle is oiled by blood. ”
Session #542, resuming at 3. 38pm
DR YEOH: Are you ready, Sally?
SALLY: Okay. Can I get a smoke?
DR YEOH: I’m afraid not. We’ve talked about that before. You can’t smoke in the clinic.
SALLY: Oh yeah. Right.
DR YEOH: So. Let’s continue. We were talking about your friend, Cynda.
SALLY: Not my friend any more.
DR YEOH: Why is that?
SALLY: I told you. I saw what she had in there.
DR YEOH: In where?
SALLY: Inside her head.
DR YEOH: What did she have in her head, Sally?
SALLY: Worms. Black worms and snakes.
DR YEOH: How did that make you feel?
SALLY: Sick. I thought she was my friend, but she…
DR YEOH: Take your time.
SALLY: All these years and she had worms in her head. I shared a flat with her, a bathroom. We drank from the same cups. I never would have if I had known.
DR YEOH: How did you find out about the worms?
SALLY: Yonni brought these geltabs around. New things, never tried them before. We had some drinks and we dropped a few.
DR YEOH: And then you saw…
SALLY: Worms. Coming out of her eyes and nose. She was screaming at me, she said I was going to kill her.
DR YEOH: Perhaps you only thought you were seeing worms. Perhaps it was the tablets, did that occur to you?
SALLY: No. I’ve tripped before. I know the difference. Tliis was real. As real as you are in the room with me right now. Do you think I would have? Do you think I would have if I hadn’t known they were real? That would have been crazy.
DR YEOH: What did you do next?
SALLY: She had a big plaster cat on the mantle. I never liked it. I beat her skull in with it and killed the worms. I know it worked because they were all gone after that.
DR YEOH: How did that make you feel?
SALLY: Better.
Session #542 ends.
4. The Game of Death
Fixx saw the taxi-sampan come around the corner on to Decatur Street and stepped lightly from the balcony and on to the prow of the chugging boat. The aged fellow at the helm peered up at him from under a woollen cap, his sunken brown face giving Fixx a sour look in return.
“Give a man a ride?” he asked, as the sampan bobbed in the wake of an airboat.
The sulky driver jerked his thumb at the people in the passenger compartment and set off again. Fixx swung himself over the windscreen and joined the surprised family of tourists in the back. Father, mother, two boys. Dad was already fumbling for a Day-Glo taser on his belt, Mom shocked by the sudden arrival of a large black man in a ballistic kevleather long coat. The boys watched, wide-eyed.
He took off his espex and gave the lady a winning smile. “Joshua Fixx, ma’am. My most profuse apologies for taking advantage of your boat.” He kissed the back of her hand with gentle reverence.
Dad had the taser in his fist now. “Just a darn minute, pal! This is our taxi!”
A SoCal accent. Fixx had the measure of these folks in a heartbeat; some midlevel whitebread splashing out on a transcontinental vacation to shut up his bored wife and whiny kids, venturing out from the west coast with little or no idea how the rest of the You Ess of Ay actually worked beyond the walls of their gated community in the burbs.
“How are you liking Newer Orleans?” He said the name of the city like N’Arlens, because that was how the touristas expected it. “She’s a peach, ain’t she?” He took in the riverine streets with a casual gesture, removing a twig from his sleeve. In the distance, a French horn was razzing the sky at a rooftop cafe deep in the Vieux Carre.
Dad brandished the taser like it was a holy cross against a vampire. “Don’t make me use this!”
“Ah, hush yourself now.” Fixx snapped the twig right under Dad’s nose and the man went slack, head lolling forward. A line of drool emerged from his lips along with a low snore. Fixx gave Mom an apologetic look and threw the taser into the water as the taxi turned on to Canal Street. She clucked and flailed over her husband, unable to wake him.
“Hey mister,” said one of the boys, the elder of the two. “Did you kill my dad?” He wore a Subburb Sux screen-T with Mall-ratz gangcult colours.
The other boy elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Doofus! He’s put him out, is all.” The younger one had a sunscreen jumpsuit and ghille hat.
Fixx smiled thinly. “Sorry about that. He’ll come around soon.”
“How’d you do that with a piece of wood?”
“Ask a favour of nature, boy. Sometimes she’ll help you.”
The eldest folded his arms. “I know what it is. It’s that voodoo. He’s a voo-doo man. He’s got what they call them loo-ahs, or something.”
“Loas,” said Fixx absently.
“Naw,” said the younger, and pointed at Fixx’s chest. “He’s an op. I seen his guns when he got on. ”The kid shuffled forward in a conspiratorial manner. “You got a pair of SunKing 10-mil longslides in a cross belt, there.”
“Good eye.”
A smug grin. “I wanna be a sanctioned operative one day. Like that Timberlake guy on ZeeBeeCee.”
“He’s not a real op.” said the other boy, “He just plays one on TV.”
“Don’t care.” The kid gave Fixx a long look. “You do interdicts? Takedowns? Highway work?”
“I go where fate sends me.”
The elder sneered. “I don’t like it here. I wanna go back to Oxnard.”
Fixx studied the younger kid. “How about you?”
The boy shrugged. “S’okay, I guess. Sometimes it smells funny. And the music don’t stop.”
The sampan rode the swell as a cigarette boat rumbled past, a languid drag queen draped over the twin fifty-cals on the prow. Fixx showed the t
ungsten caps in his teeth as he gave them a genuine smile, amused at the boy’s description. “That’s March’ Gras for you. These days, carnival never ends. Was a time when you could walk these streets afoot,” he said, sniffing the air. The ever-present tang of faint rot, azaleas and curdled petrochem presented itself; but there were alien scents too, ash and old blood out of place on the breeze. He tapped the driver on the shoulder and indicated where he should turn toward the Place Benville. “Back before the Cat Fives and the Big Tides, though, before you were born. Now there’s no place that don’t live off second floor or higher. The Venice of the South…” He leaned closer to the younger lad. “Parts of the city, she sank, you dig? Tempests and floods just kept comin’. Now the depths belong to the dead and the drowned.” From a hidden pocket in the long coat, he brought a handful of bleached bones, all of them careworn and yellowed through thousands of uses. Fixx bent low and shook them in his hand like dice.
“Maitre Carrefour, are you listenin’?” he whispered. “If it would please your honourable self to visit your blessing on your worthless son Joshua, so that along my day I might be obliged to serve the good of things.” He said something else that the boys could not make out and turned the bones on to the deck.
“Told you he was voo-doo,” said the older kid.
Fixx frowned and fingered the bones, nudging them a little, considering the patterns. Things had not improved; if anything, the bones told him it was worse. Quickly, he scooped them up, destroying the message. Ahead of the boat, the grey arc of the Hyperdome was becoming visible behind the buildings and Fixx stood up, scanning the sides of the boulevard for a place to alight. The original stadium that stood there had collapsed years ago, brought down by the surge tides fanned by Hurricane Mandy; the replacement sat like a dark jewel in the heart of Newer Orleans, cupped in a setting of murky waters.
A hovercraft coming the other way floated closer and Fixx stepped on to the stern. He gave the boys a look over his shoulder. “I got some advice for your dad, when he wakes up. You tell him you’ll have more fun over the Gulf at DisneyCity.”
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