I nodded as I checked directions on the platform, picking the correct exit and striding towards that.
"She's pretty," Si offered. "Not really your type," he added. "But I could see the desire to stretch your legs. Carla's been a bit too demanding lately."
"I thought you wanted me to stay focused," I mumbled into my hand. "Remember why I was doing this and not get distracted by a tight arse."
"She got a tight arse? It was kinda hard to tell on the Rap-Trans cameras."
"I didn't look," I offered, taking the stairs two at a time to come out in amongst a bustling pedestrian mall saturated with restaurants.
"Yeah, I just bet," Si deadpanned. "Go in the second café on your right, The Coriander Leaf I think it's called. Direct access out the back, past the kitchens."
I followed his directions, dismissing the waitress who approached, but taking one of the menus she held in her hand. I flicked through it as I walked towards the rear of the building and muttered, "Any reason why I can't stop and try out the crab cakes?"
"Yeah. Cardinals at six o'clock."
"I thought you said Viaduct Quay was safe," I demanded pushing through the back exit and finding myself in a deserted alleyway.
"Safer than the Central Mall," Si shot back.
"What's going on out there?" I asked, waiting for further directions. It wouldn't do me any good going off one way when Si could see the other way was clear of Cardinals or drones.
"Olive Grove is still on shut down, major FUBAR going on there. A Cardinal alert has gone out. The file she took has been bugged. If she tries to access it, they'll locate her in a split second. My guess, they expected her to do so at Yeh Zhang Yong's."
"Who's that?"
"Your left. Now."
I turned left and practically ran the length of the alley.
"Right at the end," Si instructed and I dodged around the corner just as I heard the heavy footsteps of sPol or iPol rounding the other end of the alley I'd just been in. My heart slammed into my chest, making me forget for a moment that I was disguised as a Cardinal myself. I slowed my pace to a more sedate and appropriate one. Eyes alert and scanning. Pulse still rocketing along.
"Yeh Zhang Yong was a well known black market technical whiz," Si continued. "I think that's why she was there. To get him to decode the file for her. But something went wrong. He didn't decode it, because the sPol didn't stop her on her way out the door. And my bet, he also reneged on an Overseer deal, because he's been wiped."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"Just him?" I asked, dreading the answer even though I didn't know the man.
"And his family. Usual procedure," Si said without inflection.
"How many in the family?" I queried, my heart no longer pounding. Now dead still.
"Five," Si said, voice soft. "Three of them under fourteen."
I swore quietly, hands clenched in fists at my side.
"How well did she know them?" I asked, just as Si advised to take the taxi that was pulling up to the side of the road where I still stood immobile.
I slipped in as he replied.
"The Honourable Selena Carstairs didn't know them at all."
"That's good," I said, smiling negligently when the taxi driver flicked his eyes to the rear vision mirror. But because he already had directions of where to go - no doubt one of Si's contacts - didn't bother to comment.
I pulled my cellphone from my pocket and pretended to dial, and then held it up to my ear.
"Hi, it's me," I said into the useless device.
"Nice to hear your voice, baby," Si intoned through the earpiece. "And I said the Honourable Selena Carstairs didn't know them at all."
"What the hell does that mean?" I demanded.
"It means, boss. Our girl's got an alias."
I shouldn't have been surprised. She ghosted the system. Was reckless and simply too good to be just one woman alone.
"Which is?" I asked, gazing out the window at the flashing scenery and wondering just where our duplicitous Elite was now.
"I'm working on it," Si reluctantly advised. "So far, no luck."
"I want to know everything about her. Everything."
"Fuck, you even sound like a Cardinal."
My smile was not in the slightest amused.
"You better believe it," I shot back, removing the phone and pretending to end the call. My eyes came up to the driver's, who was watching me again in the mirror.
I didn't know where Si had instructed him to take me, but I couldn't trust a soul right now. More than I wanted to acknowledge was at play. This was getting seriously complicated.
"Change of direction," I advised. "Take me to Carlaw Park." Far enough away from Parnell Rise.
Close enough to approach on foot.
The driver nodded assent and turned at the first set of lights. Retracing our steps and taking me further away from the direction of the hub, where I assumed he'd been going.
"What are you doing?" Si demanded in my ear.
I didn't reply. The driver was still watching and my phone was in my pocket.
And when it rang a second or two later, I told myself I couldn't get reception here either.
A rogue Honourable. And now a rogue Cardinal.
We'd make a fine pair of Elites.
Even if I was only acting. Because something told me, Selena Carstairs was all an act too.
And I intended to see right through it.
Chapter 9
Be Prepared
Lena
My home was being watched. I stood in the shade of a street vendor, eating my dim sum casually as I counted the number of Cardinal drones dotted around my street.
They'd placed themselves well. I even thought a few of the people milling about were Cardinals in disguise.
Damn. I'd been made, but when? How? That Cardinal that escorted me to Parnell didn't move to make an arrest, yet I had no doubt that those on this Wáikěiton street wouldn't hesitate if I iRec'd as Lena Carr.
I lifted a shaky hand to my face, aware I was wearing my Citizen disguise. I had to assume that Selena Carstairs was safe, but Lena Carr was a bust. The loss of Zhang Yong as my contact was potentially explosive. I prayed he and his family were safe, even as I mentally cursed his desertion.
My fists clenched at my sides. Lena had been a gift from my father. That identity more "me" than the Elite one I'd been born with. I would not give her up easily. But sorting this out was going to take time.
I handed back the bowl I'd been eating from to the vendor with a smile, said my thanks in Wáitaměi and turned to walk away. I could go directly to Tan and Aiko's, but I was too scared of bringing Cardinal attention to my friends. I had no choice, I had to trust the black market. Without anyone to introduce me.
Half my time was spent dealing with those who frequented the shadier side of Wánměi life. But that didn't mean I was well known. Or had a list of contacts to pick and choose from. I'd worked with the same people for many years. Safe. Reliable. Trusted. As much as you could trust someone who broke Overseer rules.
If Zhang Yong was out, and I was too frightened to draw attention to the Tans, then that left one last option. And he wasn't in Wáikěiton.
I headed back down into the Rap-Trans station, taking the purple line to Little D'awa. If Parnell was my official home and Wáikěiton my spiritual one, Little D'awa was the place I went to get lost. I removed my contact lenses before boarding, but chose to sit in the main compartment and not the Elites'.
The risk was worth it. I looked like a Citizen, but if I was stopped by iPol I'd register as an Honourable. I just had to hope I wasn't iRec'd; explaining my seating preference would garner attention. Right now attention was the last thing I needed.
Grafton Road was packed, people spilling over the pathways and clogging the streets. Drums beat a rhythm from the Hindu temple, an appropriately fast beat to accompany my heart. Sweat ran freely down my body and I wiped my face as I slipped through the throng. Faces tipped down, vid-screens reflected
in dull eyes, robots walking the streets swiping purchases on their cellphones as advertisements rolled before their hypnotised gaze.
How many millions would change hands today? How much of that would find its way into the Overseers' pockets? I knew, even if I wanted no part of it, that some of the taxes reaped by the Overseers also found their way into my bank account. How else did Wánměi pay its Elite?
Why else did I sell what I pilfered?
I slowed my pace as I came to Park Road, keeping my eyes peeled and my wits about me. My ever present cellphone was out in my hand, in case I needed the cover of consumerism in a flash. The SIM card inside was still Selena Carstairs, but the cellphone itself was switched off, ensuring I couldn't be traced.
The crowd was more dense here, which worked in my favour. I blended in to the mass of humanity as it swallowed everything up in its path and ignored it all. Screens flickered in the narrower street, the large canopies over shop stoops making light filter spasmodically from above. We didn't need it. Colourful five inch LCD displays provided all the illumination we needed.
I was shoved from behind and for a second I thought it might have been a drone, acting before speaking. But a quick glance over my shoulder relieved me of that disconcerting fear. Just another Citizen too engrossed in their vid-screen to care.
Hawkers shouted out their prices, vying for attention. One cry rising above another in a shrill call to attract buyers. I followed the sound of the loudest and most irritating voice until I came to a little rainbow-hued, bejewelled stall, displaying handbags and postcards and shimmering k'ri k'ris. A wizened old man spat a chewed up wad of betel leaves into a dish at his side and smiled a toothless grin up at me, his skeletal looking tanned arm pointing me towards the merchandise he'd just been touting.
"Is Harjeet here?" I asked in D'maru.
The man smiled wider but didn't reply. Instead he picked up a beautiful aqua, silver and black k'ri k'ri and held the fabric up against my chest.
"Eyes. Eyes," he kept repeating, pushing the fabric against my chest as though that would get me to buy it.
I knew the drill, even if I had never come here in person before today. I pulled several credits from my pocket and handed them to the old man. Who wrapped them in his arthritic fingers and hid the cash in a move a magician would be proud of.
"You wear. You wear," he ordered, indicating the pathetic excuse for a changing room at the back of the stall.
I eyed it with scepticism, unsure if the threadbare curtain would hide me from sight once I was ensconced behind it.
"You wear. You wear," he repeated in D'maru, following his words up with a cackle. He could see my reluctance to use the facilities and was enjoying throwing an Elite off balance.
I may have looked like a Citizen, but this man was not fooled one bit.
I sucked in a breath and walked to the curtained "changing rooms" with the blue-to-match-my-eyes k'ri k'ri in my hand. I turned to look at the old man at the front of the shop, but his back was to me and he was calling for customers again.
I didn't have much choice. I was on Harjeet's turf now. I pulled the curtains closed, as much as they would go, and then gave up on modesty completely. The old man wouldn't have been interested, and the street too busy to pay attention to what was happening at the rear of a darkened stall. Plus, Little D'awa was off-grid mainly. Street-cams becoming inoperable within minutes of re-establishing themselves here. The Cardinal drones visited often, but sometimes living under intense scrutiny for the freedom of a moment unobserved was worth it.
I slipped out of my Citizen approved clothing and donned the k'ri k'ri with practised ease. You didn't grow up in Wánměi and not know something about its multiple cultural forms of national dress. As a child I played in k'ri k'ris and hahwerahs and ky tyahs and wáikěhěis in rich, luxuriant fabrics, glistening with many jewels. My nanny taught me the traditional way to dress at every birthday celebration. Each year I got to choose one of our four main nationalities to celebrate; Mahiah, D'Awan, Wáikěinese or Anglisc.
My father believed strongly that instruction in the four languages was necessary, as well; Mahiah, D'Maru, Wáitaměi and Anglisc. So in a country that prided itself on multiculturalism, even as it oppressed those of a lower class, I had the ability to blend in anywhere.
I grew up knowing there was a dichotomy in Wánměi and one must learn to embrace it or die. My father was determined I knew every facet of our society's face. Knew it inside and out. Even if he sometimes chose to hide things from me.
I checked my image one last time and then pulled back the curtain, coming face to face with a k'ri k'ri draped young girl. She didn't smile. Her eyes swept over my state of dress growing more narrow with each inch she progressed. If she was looking for a reason to help me wear the k'ri k'ri correctly, she was out of luck.
"Come with me," she instructed in Anglisc, tinged with a slight D'awan accent. She didn't wait to see if I complied, she simply spun on her heel and wended through the racks of k'ri k'ri s further toward the back of the stall.
Her hair glistened in the artificial lights, black and long and straight down her back like a model Citizen. If she thought my colour combination unusual, she didn't comment. Although no more than a year or two older than Zhang Yong's daughter, this girl was world weary and wiser by far.
She stopped at a swinging door, one hand resting on the half height slatted structure, the other on the door frame itself. Her distrustful brown eyes glanced over her shoulder at me and then she pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Not a word was spoken, but her intent was clear. I was to enter without her.
I offered thanks in D'maru, a natural response, one ingrained in me since birth. And received a sneer in reply.
The door swung shut behind me with such force it whacked me on the butt. I stumbled forward a step to avoid a second assault and heard the distinctive chuckle of a male's voice.
"Come closer," he said when his laughter died. "I can't see you clearly and I want to have a look at what you did to that k'ri k'ri that has upset Isha so much."
His Anglisc was perfect. Almost a replica of Shiloh's but deep and resonant. I lifted my chin and moved into the light.
It was all a bit too mysterious for me. The light blinded enough to make me blink away spots before my eyes and his shadowed frame stayed just out of illumination to avoid being seen clearly. All that was missing was a rickety single chair sitting in a spot of light and an ominous drip of water in the background.
"Is this where you say, 'We have ways of making you talk?'" I asked, cocking my hip and crossing my arms over my chest.
"Don't spoil the line," he murmured, making me frown. "The k'ri k'ri should flow, like falling water," he explained. My arms came apart on their own, merely because he instructed it. "Better. The blue was a good a choice."
"Are you Harjeet?" I asked in D'maru, determined to gain some footing here.
"No need to impress me, Elite," he shot back. "I know you speak all languages fluently."
"Doesn't everyone?" I asked in Mahiah.
His chuckle was a rumble from deep inside. Then he replied casually in Wáitaměi, "Not all Elite from my experience."
"You just haven't been mixing in the right crowd," I finished in Anglisc.
"Brava," he supplied. "Tell me, Honourable. Why are you here?"
"Your name was suggested, I'm here to see if it lives up to the hype."
"What is in a name?" he began.
"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," I finished the quote for him.
"Ah, but your name," he said softly. "Carstairs," he added, confirming he knew exactly who I was. "What a powerful name to have in this age."
I wasn't sure what he meant by that.
"And a dangerous name to know," he offered.
"I am not dangerous," I countered.
"You, my dear, are a volatile mixture of threat and salvation. The danger lies in whether you understand what each side of you
rself entails."
OK. He really wasn't making any sense. I decided I needed to just cut to the chase. He was definitely who I thought him to be. I'd been warned that Harjeet was a scholar and enjoyed toying with those who sought him out. But he was capable of putting you in touch with whomever you needed the most.
Right now I needed a technical whiz, one to replace Zhang Yong and find out what had been done to my Citizen identity. I couldn't use Lena Carr until I knew iRec wouldn't notify iPol. And I wasn't going to do a thing with that stolen file until I established a relationship of some sort with whoever I'd use to crack it.
For now the flash-drive would stay hidden on my person, currently resting inside my bra cup, flush against my breast. But first things first.
"I need tech help," I said into the hazy brightness of the small room we were in.
"In what capacity?" he asked, still damn well out of my range of vision.
"A scrubbing," I advised.
"You've used Yeh in the past, I believe." This man knew too much about me. It left me uneasy. Only Cardinals and Overseers tended to know as much, and they didn't know who my black market contacts were.
"We've parted ways," I offered as explanation.
"That's one way to put it," the man said in that soft, but deep voice. Like velvet.
I didn't miss his wording, though. I just didn't understand it.
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"Yeh Zhang Yong is no longer with us," he said in such simple Anglisc, such straight phrasing, such a level tone.
My breath caught in my throat, my chest felt like it was squeezing my heart. A muscle ticked in my jaw.
"You didn't know," he surmised.
I shook my head, the movement jerky. I wanted to ask, but there was no need. If Zhang Yong had been wiped, then his family had been as well. I needed to get out of here. I needed fresh air.
I needed to go to Muhgah Keekee and confirm what my mind already told me.
I staggered back a step, my hand reaching blindly for the swing door over my shoulder.
"Citizen," Harjeet said carefully. "You know better than to get attached."
What did he know? He thought he understood me. An Elite who tampered with the black market, who was bored and needed a challenge. Nobody knew me. The real me. Except my father; who is dead.
Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) Page 6
