Riza hissed at the pain, released her grip, and pulled back her arm. Em drew her legs up and drove them hard into Riza’s stomach, knocking her backward, stunning her, and almost knocking her down. Em came up off the desk, a fierce look on her face as she pressed her attack, grabbing the arms dealer by the throat with both hands and squeezing with all her strength.
Riza’s hand shot out and wrapped itself around Em’s throat, choking her as well. Riza’s other two arms came up and grabbed her by her wrists, trying to pull her hands off Riza’s throat. They struggled silently for moments. Em could hear her own blood thudding in her ears, like a muffled drum. White spots of light danced before her eyes. How can she be this strong? Em thought, her lungs screaming for air.
Riza was too strong, even with a badly cut arm. Slowly, Em felt her grip on Riza’s throat loosening as her opponent won the tussle. Then a moment of new, sharp pain, as Riza kicked her, hard. Em flew backward, crashing into the desk again, and collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.
Em must have looked worse than she felt. Riza didn’t even bother to come after her to finish her off this time but instead walked away, her attention on the puzzle box that lay undamaged on the floor.
Em sprang up. Images of what Riza and her monstrous clients could do with the black-hole weapon pushed her past her pain and exhaustion. She launched herself at Riza. Without even looking, the arms dealer caught the battered agent by the throat again and hurled her dismissively into a Grecian statue of a semi-robed woman near one end of the conversation pit. Em crashed into the statue with a groan, destroying it, but went right back at Riza again, running on nothing but desperation and anger.
Riza took a swing at Em and the agent ducked, dodging the blow. Em snapped a punch back as quickly as she could, and connected, but Riza hardly seemed to notice. She grabbed Em under the arm and by the hair, twisted and lifted her off the ground, and slammed her hard onto the floor, shattering and scattering several of the pieces of marble floor covering. Em felt the wind forced from her lungs with a whoosh. Her awareness dimmed and she fought to stay awake and aware.
* * *
In the corridor, Pawny struggled to free himself from Bassam. The beard was beginning to slide more hair around Pawny’s chest, getting him in a position from which Bassam could constrict and crush him to death. Pawny heard the sounds of Em and Riza’s battle and guessed things were not going well for Em. He had already lost his first queen, he wasn’t about to lose his second. He wriggled, and managed to bring his arm up from Bassam’s pin. In a moment, Pawny stood over Bassam, and punched Bassam, over and over again, until the beard no longer fought back.
Pawny looked in the direction of the office and the sounds of Em’s distress. He ran as fast as he could toward the sounds of battle.
* * *
What could be better than learning the truth about the universe? Molly heard a younger version of herself ask, through the semiconscious haze of the beating she had taken from Riza.
You are, her father had said, putting his arm around her mom, the two of them smiling at her. Mom… Dad. Riza was somewhere far off, laughing, taunting. If she let herself slip off into the painless darkness of oblivion, that horrible weapon would get used, maybe even here, and a lot of innocent people—humans and aliens—would die. It was funny, she had spent so many years convincing herself that human attachment was just a bunch of chemical reactions that messed with your head, she had forgotten how much she really loved her mom and dad, and how much they really loved her.
What had H said? The whole universe is a chemical reaction…
Wake up, wake up!
Em’s eyes popped open. She had only been out for a second and Riza was still standing above her, mid-gloat. Em began to sit up, and as she did she swept her leg out, tripping the surprised Riza. The arms dealer went down hard on her back with Em, also on her back, on top of her. Em drove her elbows back into Riza, fighting like the life of every being in the universe depended on it. But the arms dealer blocked her blows.
The two rolled around the floor of the now-demolished office. Riza fended off Em’s flurry of blows and began to choke her again. Em found her hand on a rope from the destroyed statue and got an idea. As they struggled, she managed to tie the rope around a serpent bangle that Riza wore on her third arm. Em jammed the rope under the metal of the jewelry and secured it as best she could while still struggling with the now furious, and quite insane, crime boss. Riza seemed to have no focus, no awareness of anything other than killing Em. In her frenzy, she seemed to have forgotten even the puzzle box they were fighting for.
But Em hadn’t forgotten that box, nor what was at stake if she lost this fight. Her lungs were burning like they were filled with acid, and her throat ached, but the rope was secure. She guided the direction of their rolling floor brawl toward the large birdcage. As they got almost beside it, Em released her grip on Riza and rolled away, at the same time kicking out and sending the heavy cage crashing down on top of Riza, freeing a flock of beautiful and terrified alien birds. The cage had pinned Riza’s third arm under its weight.
Em, with great effort, made it to her feet and limped toward the puzzle box.
In a lunatic’s display of strength, Riza pushed the birdcage aside and rushed to intercept Em.
The rope attached to Riza’s already badly damaged third arm snapped taut as she stumbled toward Em. Only now did Riza realize she was attached to a pulley. The tension on the rope jerked her back across the room and smashed her into a large twelve-foot-tall bookcase. She hit the floor with a loud slap.
When Riza raised her head and looked up, she saw Em standing beside the bookcase. The MiB agent grunted and pushed with all her might and the case wobbled, tipped over, and then crashed with a thunderous boom on top of the arms dealer. Riza moaned and Em punched her again and again and again until she stopped moving or making a sound. She was soundly unconscious. Em stood up, groaning at the effort.
“That,” she said, walking over and retrieving the puzzle box from the floor, “felt good.”
Pawny was there, back in his armor. For some strange reason a few large, stray hairs poked out of his clothing.
“Hold onto that feeling, my lady,” Pawny said. “Cherish it.” He was looking at something past Em. “And then you might want to turn around.”
Pawny jumped from the floor to the overturned bookcase to Em’s shoulder as the agent turned around.
Riza’s big alien bodyguard, Luca, stood there by the main entrance to the office. He held a huge gun in one hand, pointed at her and Pawny, and a slumped, seemingly unconscious H in the other.
29
H groaned, and Luca tossed him on the floor in front of him. H rolled over and saw Em and Pawny looking at him. He summoned a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, “all part of the plan.”
Em heard a rumble and a crash behind her. She closed her eyes and sighed even before she heard Riza’s voice.
“Well, H,” Riza remarked, “you’ve always been slightly delusional.”
Riza walked over and plucked the puzzle box from Em’s hand. Em looked at H, who was trying feebly to punch at Luca’s tree-trunk-like legs.
“I got him right where I want him,” H declared. Em shook her head.
“‘Peace offering,’” Riza said.
Em took a step toward Riza, her hands raised, palms open.
“Look, Riza, you don’t know me,” she said, “I don’t know you. We’re not even from the same galaxy, but here we are, on the same rock. Turns out the universe is pretty small.” Em walked toward the arms dealer. She thought of her folks back in Brooklyn, ignorant of all of this, who had no idea she’d even left the States; she thought of Guy, her fellow probie at MiB London, and all her colleagues there who she’d barely had time to get to know; and she thought of all the people who were going to die if that box, that terrible weapon, got away from her. She nodded toward the box in Riza’s hands. “That weapon can swallow entire solar systems. Maybe, one day, Earth.
It’s your home, too.”
Silence fell over the room. H nodded to Em. It was clear he was proud of what she had said.
“Mic drop,” Pawny said.
Riza seemed lost in contemplation of Em’s words, her eyes unfocused on the here and now. The focus returned and she looked at Em thoughtfully.
“You’re absolutely right.” She pulled the box tight to her chest with all three arms. “You don’t know me.” She nodded to Luca. “Kill them.” She pointed to H. “Him first. Make it hurt.”
Luca reached for the battered and exhausted H, knocking aside his attempts at defense as if he were a small child. He picked H several feet up off the floor by his throat and began to squeeze the life out of him. Em rushed toward Luca and H while Riza, nearly beaming with joy, enjoyed watching the show.
“Stop!” Em shouted. H, growing red, his eyes bulging, put up a final effort, slapping and punching Luca, to seemingly no effect. “You don’t have to do this,” Em beseeched the gargantuan alien.
“He does,” Riza happily offered. “He’s under contract.”
H tried boxing Luca’s ears, kicking him in the chest, even going for his deeply hooded eyes with his thumbs. He had no strength left in him and everything was too bright and dimming at the same time. A strange feeling passed through H, like he hadn’t accomplished anything real in his life. It was the same feeling that had been dogging him, that he had been hiding from for years, since Paris. My life is meaningless. Even saving the world seemed hollow, unimportant, in this final moment. He felt like letting the bodyguard get on with it, but another older, stronger part of him refused to do that, and kept fighting the darkness, even though he didn’t know what the point was. “Let… me… go,” H sputtered hoarsely, driving his fist uselessly into Luca’s expressionless face, “you… Tarantian thug!”
Em blinked. H’s words set off a memory, one so integral to her core that she hardly even examined it or thought about it anymore, like ignoring the details on the wallpaper in your own home after years of walking by it. “Wait,” she said. “Did you say ‘Tarantian?’”
“Yes, my lady, he did,” Pawny said from his perch on Em’s shoulder. “They tend to be single-minded when it comes to killing. Brains the size of a pistachio nut.”
Luca growled a bit at the remark and redoubled his efforts to wrench H’s head off.
“You’re… not… helping!” H gurgled.
Em stepped closer to Luca, examining every detail on the brutish alien’s face. There was something there, something familiar. She was ten years old again, in her bedroom with an ugly little alien with a wild mane of turquoise, green, and purple hair sprouting up above big, innocent, ping-pong-ball eyes.
“I know a Tarantian,” Em pleaded, talking straight to Luca, trying to reach him. “I met one once. I helped him.”
Luca looked over to Em and she thought she saw something behind his tiny stone-like eyes, a flicker of awareness. Luca seemed to shrug it off, however, and raised H even higher, squeezing tighter. Em glanced over to H. He was no longer struggling, hanging limply from Luca’s hand. Em felt something cold slither through her stomach. H’s chest was still rising and falling but his breath was ragged and shallow. She recalled the MiB agent’s words that night, so many years ago: “He’s cute now, but when these things hit puberty, they turn into real monsters.”
She was sure she was right about Luca. There had to be something, anything, she could say to the Tarantian to make him stop killing H. The tumblers of her memory turned and clicked. She looked up at Luca and shouted, “Kabla nakshulin!”
Luca started, as if he had been hit by something stronger than H’s most deadly blow. His grip on H loosened. H’s bloodshot eyes opened, feeling Luca pause at Em’s words.
“Yeah,” H gasped, “what she said!”
Luca looked down at Em. “How do you know that?” he asked her.
“He said it to me,” Em told him. Luca searched her face now as intently as she had examined his. His cold eyes warmed with recognition.
“Molly?” Luca asked.
Em smiled and nodded. “It’s you,” she cried.
Luca dropped H to the floor and lowered his rifle. The agent, red-faced and gasping, rubbed at his throat.
Riza threw all three of her arms up like she had just heard the worst umpire call ever made in a championship game. “You’re shitting me,” she shouted. “Really?”
“Who’s delusional now?” H smiled at his furious ex.
Riza reached to grab Luca’s gun, but Luca trained it on her and she froze in her tracks.
“Give her the box,” Luca ordered.
“Luca, you can’t.” Riza’s voice was honeyed and soft, pleading with her bodyguard. “Haven’t I been good to you? I let you kill anyone you want.”
Luca gestured with the gun at the puzzle box. Riza glared at Em as she tossed her the box.
Em smiled at the puzzle box, safe in her hands. “Kabla nakshulin,” she asked Luca. “What does it mean?”
“It means, ‘One day I will kill whoever you choose in the most gruesome way imaginable,’” Luca said. “Rough translation.”
“Or…” Em nodded at Riza thoughtfully, “just keep her here for a while.”
30
Em, H, and Pawny made their way down the winding mountain path from the villa to the docks below, toward the heart-aching beauty of the sea and the sky. Em was practically vibrating, still high from the adrenaline rush of everything they had just done.
“Now that was a rush!” Em said.
H nodded, exhilarated despite his bruises. “When a good plan comes together, there’s nothing like it.” Em glanced back at him and they both paused in their descent. They held each other’s eyes for a second longer than they should, and something passed between them. Pawny didn’t like their new-found camaraderie, not one bit.
“I’m pretty sure the plan went wrong,” Pawny interjected, “in every conceivable way.”
H and Em ignored his attempt at buzzkillery as they continued descending the path.
“So it’s Molly,” H said.
“You’re not supposed to know that,” she replied.
“It’s only fair you know mine.”
Em shook her head. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’s Horatio,” he said, and laughed when he saw the look on her face. “No it’s not, it’s Harry,” H blurted out. Em looked over at him and they both laughed. They smiled at one another and again Pawny saw the connection between them was strengthening.
“I’m Steve,” Pawny announced.
“Steve?” Em glanced over at the little warrior on her shoulder. “I thought pawns don’t have names.”
“We don’t,” Pawny told her. “I was feeling left out.”
As they neared the final turn and the steps to the dock, H paused.
“What’s wrong?” Em asked warily.
“Nothing,” H said, looking out across the crystal-blue waters dotted with distant islands. The bare peak of Vesuvius seemed to reach heavenward to the very edge of the endless, unmarred sky. Em saw the look in his eyes, and got it. After so much danger, so many chances to die, she joined him and they watched the beauty before them and recalled silently why their jobs were so important.
The whole island began to rumble and quake. Both agents were pulled from their reverie, and scanned the ground at their feet. There was a sound like the planet was being shredded and a wide fissure tore through the ground. The crevice ripped toward them at a furious pace.
Em grabbed H’s hand and pulled him aside as the massive opening in the earth shot past them, and the land between them and the stairs and the dock below caved into the sea. A second fissure, moving just as fast and as improbably as the first, tore another deep valley between them and their way back up the path on the mountain. They were cut off. The nearest part of Riza’s island groaned, creaked, and then collapsed, breaking up and tumbling into the ocean below. They were stranded on the edge of a very tiny strip of land, high above th
e Mediterranean Sea.
At the far end of the island strip, two glowing, faceless, amorphous beings knelt low to the ground, energy pouring from their bodies into the warping and trembling earth. The two aliens began to flow and shift into a pair of humanoid figures as they walked toward the agents.
“So what’s the plan this time?” Pawny asked. “I’m open to anything.”
The figures solidified and became the Dyad twins as they came closer.
“We must have it,” the first twin announced.
“For the Hive,” the second twin finished the thought.
Em cradled the puzzle box, looking around for any way out, any escape route. All that was behind them was a crumbling cliff, a deadly drop into the water with the jagged teeth of rocks below. When she saw H’s face, she was surprised to see a new look in his eyes. He’d been beaten, shot at, bruised, cut, and he was exhausted. He was seething.
He caught her glance and nodded sternly at her, then took a few steps toward the twins, his eyes steely and set with determination.
He called out to the twins. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we are the Men in Black… the Men and the Women in Black. So if you think we’re going to just let you hand this thing over to the Hive, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. See, we protect the Earth and everyone and every thing on it. No matter where they came from. So let’s go.”
Quite suddenly, the twins stopped. They took a step back. His speech had worked.
H stood a little taller, and thrust out his chest and jaw a bit more at the effect his words had had on the Dyads. Then he heard a faint, mechanical whir behind him and looked back to see that Em had the stellar compression weapon out of the puzzle box and in her hands. She had powered it up and the weapon’s mouth was aimed straight at the twins.
“One more step,” Em called out to the Dyads, “I obliterate this whole island and everything on it.”
“Including you and me,” H murmured in a low voice. “You could have said something. I gave a speech and everything.”
Men in Black International Page 15
