'There are people looking for me.'
'So?'
'They won't be happy if they find me like this.'
'How will they find you? Besides, Mr. Yang can do what he likes with his property.'
'He doesn't own me. Cut me loose.'
'You would be advised to keep your voice low.' He held her face in his hand, squeezed a little. He returned to the buffet. 'Your friends can't help you.'
She followed his gaze to the balcony. There was something out there, a bulky shape moving with a strange, lumbering gait. He picked up a chicken wing from the buffet. 'Get in here, give our pretty friend a kiss.'
There was a metallic scratching at the balcony door before it slid open and the shape entered the room. Each step brought with it the sound of a dozen motors, gears and joints clicking. Tomoko saw a machine, a cage in the shape of a man, and fastened inside it was the upper halves of Martin and Jessica, abdomen to abdomen. An array of small rods poked at Martin's face, pushing his flesh into a smile. Tomoko clenched her fist, unable to speak.
The machine leaned back and the two torsos revolved, Jessica's arm swinging out. Her eyes were half-closed, the jaw twitching when the rods closed her mouth and pushed her lips together. The machine leaned over Tomoko and she felt Jessica's cold lips brushing her cheek. Tomoko closed her eyes, trying not to make any sounds. She was breathing fast when the machine turned around clumsily and went back to the balcony. She pushed her head back into the pillow, trying not to imagine what might have happened to Teja, if she'd been turned into some grotesque puppet.
Fernandez showed her the picture he'd taken on his phone. 'These wings are not very good.' He waved one under her nose. 'How does that smell? Mr. Yang. He gave you to me as a going away present. It's boring just waiting, you know. You'll give me something to do.' He moved to the counter for more food. 'I'm going to take pictures.'
She worked her wrist against the plastic when he turned. She tried to twist, see how much movement she had, but it wasn't enough to do Fernandez any harm.
She watched him unbuttoning his shirt, draping it around a hanger. He was naked now, the mask still perched on top of his head. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to check himself out in a mirror. She heard footsteps at the other side of the door, sucked in a breath to scream as loud as she could, then realised it wouldn't do any good. It was maybe an adjoining suite, Fernandez' security in there. She'd be gagged if her screams would cause problems.
'Now,' said Fernandez, 'you will need to keep very still.'
He cut off her blouse buttons with a scalpel, humming to himself. He sliced through the sleeves of her jacket and pulled them off, unbuckled her belt and slit through the skirt, the blade close to her naked belly.
She wasn't sure what would be the best thing to do when he tried pulling the material out from underneath her. Maybe he wanted her to struggle, maybe if she helped him it would make it easier. She lifted herself slightly off the bed and he pulled away the skirt, jacket and blouse, leaving her in just her underwear. He pressed the scalpel into her shoulder, just deep enough so it made a spot of blood, moved it around and pushed deeper.
Tomoko hissed, watched the blood circling her arm. She was breathing heavily now, trying to stay in control, but her heart was beating fast. He danced over to the counter, throwing the scalpel down and picking up a cocktail sausage.
'You know what we need is music.'
He popped a couple of pills from a bottle and washed them down with a shot of bourbon, moving his body to a rhythm only he could hear as he left the room. She struggled, pulling as hard as she could on the ties, feeling the edge of the plastic biting deeper into her skin. Music played, bells and whistles and a big band orchestra. Fernandez danced back into the room.
'I have an idea,' he said. 'Something I have been thinking about for a while. Now might be a good time. You want to know what it is? Hey, I'm talking to you.'
'Does it involve getting me off this bed?'
'No, don't be silly.'
'Then what makes you think I'm interested?'
He sat on the bed, fiddling with a holograph camera. 'You're a blank canvas. I'll tell you what my idea is.' He set the camera on a tripod, three lenses watching her. 'I'm going to film my own ejaculation while you bleed to death. I think maybe on the computer I will remove this nasty hotel background.'
He altered a control on top of the camera, checked the image displayed at the back. She was tugging on the ties harder now, unconcerned if the plastic cut into her. Fernandez moved to the bottom of the bed, took her leg under his arm. She felt a needle in her calf.
'What was that?'
'I don't want you squirming around,' he said.
'What did you give me?'
'Just something to make it more pleasant. I need to get my other camera.'
The drug worked fast, the ceiling and walls moving, reality slipping away. She struggled to focus, aware of what was happening only for brief moments. Fernandez jumped onto the bed, straddling her. As she slipped away, she thought she was back inside the car after the crash, trying to break into consciousness. Her mind drifted. Then she saw Fernandez standing next to her, waving the red scalpel like a composer's baton. Blood droplets patterned the wall. The bed underneath her felt wet, a slippery grease between her fingers.
She tried to think about what had happened after she'd left the dōjō, struggling to keep her thoughts coherent. Maybe Ichiro had her tagged with a tracking device, maybe she'd been followed as she left Kiyoshi's. She recalled the journey through Hiroshima, familiar streets and buildings, coffee shops and arcades where she'd meet her friends. It had seemed surreal, like the view outside the car windows was something she'd imagined and wasn't really there.
Cold steel in her arm, peeling her skin. She was aware of the pain, but she had no sense of time. She didn't know if she was feeling something that was happening now or ten minutes ago. Her mind kept fixing on past events, then she'd see Fernandez, feel him moving inside her, his hands red, touching her.
She saw herself in Kameko's car now, a passenger. Her mother cried, but she seemed happy. She studied the outline of her face, the smooth cheeks and the elegant line of her neck. The Futabuyama tunnel wall rushed toward them, throwing Kameko through the windshield. She saw herself as a four-year-old, standing there in the tunnel in her pyjamas, the fluffy ones with the dancing penguins on, trying to understand what had happened to okāsan. She took Saigo's hand and he picked her up.
Tomoko could never imagine how Saigo had died. Sometimes she thought of him on one of the New Worlds, waiting for her, just like Jimmy had told her. The drug relaxed its grip, allowing her to see Fernandez. She thought she asked him again to cut her loose, but she wasn't sure if it was her voice or somebody else's. She had to take control of her body, open a window into reality. Tomoko concentrated, breathed slowly. She could see him, sat on top of her, watching himself in a mirror while he painted her blood across his face.
His hand came within reach and she made her move with the only weapon she had. She caught the flat side of his palm, near the knuckle, clamping her teeth down hard.
Fernandez screamed and tried to pull away, punching into her head and chest. Tomoko squeezed her eyes shut and bit down harder, the sharp edges of her teeth slicing through skin and the soft flesh underneath, crunching into the cartilage of his finger when he tried to pull away. She tasted blood in her mouth, running into her throat and choking her. She jerked back. Fernandez howled. She spat the piece of him she had in her mouth after him when he ran to the door, falling back on to the bed.
She didn't know how long she'd lain there, it could have been five minutes, maybe five hours, feeling her body becoming weak. She kept seeing Saigo, towering over her, like he used to do when she was a child.
Peter put his hand on her forehead, wiped his fingers on a handkerchief.
'I told him you were dangerous,' he said.
She heard her own voice, distant. 'Hello, Peter. Are you going to
kill me?'
He traced his finger down one of the cuts on her arm, Tomoko feeling herself panting from the stinging pain.
'Not yet,' he said. 'I was thinking about taking you back. It won't be the same without you in Malaysia.'
He adjusted his tie. It was then when she noticed Kameko, standing behind him. She seemed more curious than alarmed.
Peter said, 'You've caused too many complications. I hate to see you like this, Tomoko. I think to understand the inconvenience you brought upon me, you needed to have suffered before the end.'
She could taste Fernandez's blood in her mouth. She had to swallow before she could speak again. 'Like my father suffered?'
'You'd have to ask Jimmy that, but he's dead. I have my tickets back, and I have Fernandez. I really have no more use or concern for you, Tomoko. Soon I'll be back in Malaysia, and this business will be forgotten.'
'You won't forget me that easily.'
'You'll be remembered.'
She turned her face toward him. 'As what?'
'Maybe as the daughter I never had.'
'If that's how you see me then tell me what happened to my mother.'
'You know what happened. It was an accident. If you want to blame anyone, blame Saigo.'
She watched him looking around the room, his face expressionless when he looked at the desk, the machine on the balcony manipulating animation into the bodies of Jessica and Martin. He made a noise, like a confused groan, and left the room.
Kameko leaned over her, her face inches from hers. Her dark eyes were studying her.
'You don't look like me at all,' said Kameko.
Tomoko licked at the drying blood around her mouth. 'Where's Peter going?'
'He has business to finish with Yamaguchi.'
'Why are you here?'
There was a man behind Kameko. Tomoko recognised Jefferson. 'Waiting for you to die. I can't have you interfering with my plans like you did Peter's. They're going to let Fernandez back in soon.'
Tomoko knew she couldn't break the ties on her wrists, but she tugged against them anyway. 'What plans?'
'Peter's had his own way for too long.'
'What are you going to do to Peter?'
She wasn't sure if Kameko answered. The last thing she remembered was seeing Jefferson with his hand on Kameko's waist, kissing her neck. Her mind constantly drifted, remembering the past, then her eyes would open and she'd see the hotel room, looking down at her body covered in blood.
The scalpel was almost touching her hip on the bed where Fernandez had dropped it. It might as well have been at the other side of the room. She was thinking if she could shuffle her body against the scalpel, bounce her ass on the bed and maybe make it jump up the mattress toward her hand. But she couldn't keep her thoughts on one thing.
Tomoko would fall asleep, then wake up, sometimes aware of where she was and thinking about what might have happened to Teja. Then the drug would start playing with her. It screwed up her memory, making her believe she was somewhere in the past. She woke up again, imagined Martin kicking down the door, taking out a few guards with his old gun, carrying her somewhere safe. But he was dead.
Somebody was pulling on her hand, a voice urging her to move. She realised she was standing up, the plastic ties cut away. A man was talking quickly, her arm around his shoulders, unsteady on her feet when he removed his support to get a bathrobe around her.
'Hurry, there isn't much time.'
She caught the man's hand, pulled slightly so he'd turn toward her. Tomoko thought maybe she was hallucinating again.
'Willard. What are you doing here?'
'I had to come over to verify the tickets. We haven't got much time. Peter's men are escorting him back to his hotel. Some others are guarding Fernandez.'
'Where's Kameko?'
She didn't have the energy or the concentration to ask more questions, letting Willard guide her out of the door and onto the hallway. They took the elevator down two floors, Willard checking the way was clear before he took her hand and led her to room 344. She shuffled toward the bed, her whole body sore and stinging, heard Willard drop the lock.
She sat down. Her head felt like it would explode.
'Why are you doing this? They'll miss me.'
He was in the bathroom running water, then moving quickly around the room to collect all the towels.
He checked the door constantly, as if he expected it to burst open at any moment. 'They'll miss you but they won't know where to look. This is a room I booked online under a different name. I paid a maid to give me a room pass.'
He was looking at her like he'd discovered something special he thought he'd lost. 'Stephanie was good, but not as good as you.'
He went to the fridge under the counter and pulled out all the spirit miniatures he could find.
41
Cyber Relief
Morphine soothed the pain, green tea helped her relax. Tomoko would have been more comforted by fifteen 9mm rounds in a semi-automatic.
Willard wiped the blood from her naked body to see which cuts needed attention. Some were deeper than others, on her arms and legs, across her side and shoulders, using a medi-kit like he'd used one too many times before. The spray stung and made the room smell like a hospital. Derma-patches applied all over her body pulled her skin tight, chemicals and organic nanobots seeping into her wounds. Her skin tingled and itched. Fernandez had been careful not to cut too deep or near anywhere that would kill her before he'd achieved what he wanted.
Willard had put the television on, maybe to give Tomoko something to watch while he worked, or to cover the noise if she cried out. She never did, barely aware of Willard talking to her, the stained towels mounting up at her feet.
'I'm sorry about your fingers,' she said.
He paused in his work, applied a derma-patch to a cut on her thigh. 'When I'm a slave I get everything I deserve. I want nothing less. Hold still.' He used the spray on her leg and applied another patch. 'There shouldn't be any scarring, these patches heal cuts like they never happened. You look pale, but I don't think your blood loss is as bad as it looks.'
'They'll be looking for me.'
'I know.' He made a nervous smile. 'Big hotel. They don't have the manpower to search every room. The last thing they'll want to do is cause a fuss and have the police here.'
'How do I get out?'
'I didn't think that far ahead.'
The television was showing the riots around the airport. It was the main news now, the last Off World ship. A reporter interviewed people who had tickets, the ones who were rich, the lucky ones who'd won the lottery. She told Willard to change the channel.
'They'll probably think you took off,' said Willard. 'We'll have to find you some clothes.'
'Give me your phone, I have friends I can call.'
She called Jiro, calmed when she heard his voice. If she told him she needed help, needed him to go to a hotel with a change of clothes, a gun, a phone, some money, then that's what he'd do. No questions.
She waited, lying on the bed with Willard next to her. The room was quiet, Willard talking now and then, about his job, his life, long enough pauses in between allowing Tomoko to bring her thoughts into order. He told her about a deal Peter had made with Yamaguchi, for cargo space and getting his grandson Off World, and it all started to make sense. Peter had to be getting something out of it, and not just a shitload of money.
The tap at the door signalled Jiro had arrived. Willard let him in. Jiro never rushed anything and she watched him slowly take in the room.
'You've been back for a day,' he said, 'and already you're giving me a headache.'
He had a department store bag. Tomoko moved off the bed to take it from him. 'You come to help or to complain?'
'What happened?'
'I was betrayed, Jiro.' She emptied the bag onto the bed, checked the gun first, a snub .45 Colt Defender. Six rounds in the magazine. 'You sure you've got your people in order?'
'It wasn'
t any of my gang. You should be ashamed to even suggest it. Who's this?'
'This is Willard. He works for Yang.'
'Well, my company works with Peter Yang,' said Willard.
Tomoko examined the pants, knowing right away they'd be too big, blue shirt and a hotel cleaner's smock. There was a stiff little hat.
'This the best you could do?'
'There's heavy types all over the place,' said Jiro. 'Your best bet to get out is through the staff areas.'
'Thanks.'
'Then you need to kill Ichiro, like we agreed.'
'I have other pressing concerns, Jiro.'
He shrugged. 'Not my problem.'
Tomoko picked up the Colt, seeing her face in the brushed steel. She wanted to empty the gun into Fernandez' face, but she had to find Teja first. There was no way of knowing what had happened at Kiyoshi's until she got there.
She moved single-mindedly from Jiro's car to Kiyoshi's building. Jiro didn't hang around, taking off before she'd reached the other side of the street.
A keycard Kiyoshi had given to her allowed her inside the building, then she was riding the elevator and wishing it would go faster. She was ready when the elevator doors opened to Kiyoshi's apartment, gun sweeping the corners and doors. She couldn't hear anything. She didn't know what she expected, signs of a gunfight maybe, Peter's men waiting for her.
Tomoko pulled at the pants, feeling them sliding down again. She felt tired, her wounds stinging, her stomach reminding her that she'd had nothing to eat for over twelve hours. At least the drug had worn off. She moved cautiously down the passageway, past the display cases full of Kiyoshi's toys.
She saw the bag she'd left, dumped against the wall. She had clothes in there, another Glock and three full clips. She still couldn't hear anything from any of the other rooms. Tomoko bent down and opened the bag, relieved everything was still there. She trained the gun down the passage, waiting for a head to poke out from one of the doorways. She changed as fast as she could and continued to The Hub.
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