Reintegration Page 17

  “The girl told me food. Blankets.”

  “Sure. Food, blankets. That’s what this place was meant for. Looking after people.” Callie peered up at Kade. “Are you going to do something, or do you just like to watch?”

  It was a fair point. A reporter’s habit, maybe, hoping to memorize each detail so that he could reproduce it later in print. “Get up,” Kade said. With obvious trepidation, the man placed his gnarled claw in Kade’s palm. Kade hauled him to his feet. “You have a name?”

  “Isaac Landon Hill. That’s what it is.”

  “You don’t seem too steady on your feet, Isaac.”

  “Been down too long in the dark.” Isaac expelled another frightening cough. “Getting real hard to move them boxes I put up. Was resting, getting my strength back, when you came by.”

  “Why would you need to hide in the dark?”

  “I crossed some people. The kind you don’t cross.”

  “That makes sense,” said Callie. “The gangs out this way can be seriously unhinged. We’re talking cutting up people and nailing them to things, like whoever can be the most fucked-up wins a prize.”

  Isaac gave her a mournful look. “They’d have seen you come in.”

  “That’s fine,” said Kade. “We’re not scared of your gangs. There’s only one real terror in this district, and you’re about to meet her.” He released Isaac’s hand, and the man remained on his feet. “Come on, Callie. Let’s go think up some lie to tell Amity.”

  * * *

  Noon arrived, bringing with it dark clouds and a strong breeze that rattled the antennas atop the street’s crumbling buildings. In the back of the van, Zeke tended to Riva’s injured hand while Lexi knelt beside her, holding the undamaged one. Callie sat by the road, her arms around her knees and her face turned to the sky. Watching her, Kade was touched by a sense of solidarity. He’d been there.

  “And it’s just you here,” Amity said to the unfortunate Isaac Landon Hill, who after five seconds in her presence had become a timid diminution of his already wretched self. “Nobody else?”

  “Just me, ma’am.” Isaac plucked at the frayed edge of his sleeve. “You leave your van there, somebody’s gonna take it.”

  “You let us worry about that.” Amity beckoned to Kade. “Come with me.”

  Kade followed her into the building, which was now illuminated by a powerful overhead light in addition to the noonday glow streaming through the windows. Amity directed them through the door she’d been struggling with and into an office left relatively untouched by time.

  “Wonder if this works.” Kade brushed dust from a computer tower. “It’s fascinating what you can dig up from old hard-drives.”

  “Investigate later.”

  Floorboards creaked as Amity advanced on a wall safe. She twirled the dial, and after three spins—each producing a satisfying click—she opened the safe door. Inside were a pair of black pistols and several boxes of ammunition.

  Amity offered a pistol to Kade, and he glanced at the safety as he took it. She concealed the other pistol inside her trench coat. “I trust you still have the nerve to pull a trigger.”

  “Yes. And Callie’s packing too. I saw a shotgun in the back of that van.”

  “I understand you know her. Is she reliable?”

  “I’d vouch for her any day. Brave, tough, and loyal to a fault. In a pinch, I couldn’t ask for anyone better beside me.”

  “Interesting. Most smugglers are self-serving mercenaries. I suppose we’re lucky to have her, seeing as we’d have no power otherwise.” Amity slammed the safe shut. “It was Reed, by the way, who orchestrated the prisoner farce.”

  “He’s in charge of the hunt for Lexi as well. It seems he’s shaking off the cobwebs.”

  “You know his mind better than anyone. Why didn’t he take Lexi by force as soon as she was identified? Why involve some ridiculous gang?”

  “Because Lachlan revels in making the gangs do the work of the Codists. His signature style is coercion, unwitting proxies, deception. That’s how he plays the game.”

  Amity sneered. “Like a coward?”

  How to explain to Amity that Lachlan, for all his faults, was still a mind to be respected? “Like a strategist. If a high-powered gang broker like Lexi vanished into a vehicle escorted by agents, it would put the Codists in the spotlight. They don’t like that. So Lachlan tried to make it seem like a gang affair. He wanted people to assume she’d crossed somebody in a deal, that she was getting what she deserved.”

  “And you won’t divulge the identity of your informant? Not even to me?”

  “Not even to you.” Remaining silent was the best Kade could do for Mineko, for whom there could be no escape route, no safe house. It was all too easy to imagine her sitting in the dark, waiting for a fateful knock at the door, her clever eyes filled with tears.

  For a moment, Amity pursed her lips, her green eyes livid with offense—but then her scowl softened slightly, as it sometimes did for a special few. “You look troubled. May I help in some way?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just been a hard couple of days.”

  “I understand. Did Riva really cut her hand while moving debris?”

  Kade shrugged. “That’s what she told me.”

  “I don’t like having that Isaac around. Something about him puts my hackles up.”

  “Amity, I’ve never seen you with your hackles down.”

  She treated him to a rare smile. “True enough.”

  A floorboard squeaked. Lexi stood in the doorway. “A rendezvous, huh? Secret revolutionary business?”

  Amity blushed and studied her own hands as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Odd.

  “Something like that,” said Kade, breaking the tense silence. “Mostly we were hoping for a conversation without any wisecracks.”

  “I don’t like being left out.” Lexi entered the room in that languid way of hers. She’d always been the coolest one in their childhood trio, capable of confounding street bullies with nothing but a sardonic grin. Kade had for months been tongue-tied in her presence. Then she’d opened up to him, the first of many times to come, and he’d discovered she was almost as frightened as he was. Just much better at hiding it.

  “We’ll write you an invite next time,” said Amity. “Now stop pouting.”

  “Mr. Landon Hill is a mess, if you’re wondering. A junkie. He’s strung out, his head’s all confused.” Lexi spun her index finger beside her left ear. “All blurry up here.”

  “But not a threat? Just a harmless addict?”

  “Right now, he’s a threat mostly to my nasal passages.” Her smile teasing, Lexi closed in on Amity and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “You staying here with me tonight, beautiful?”

  So that was it. Lexi was trying to seduce Amity, and it was making her uncomfortable. Hard to resist the old urge to pull Lexi aside and give her a lecture on respecting women. She had always thought of herself as uniquely desirable—it was unfathomable that her attentions might be unwelcome. One of Lexi’s least pleasant attributes.

  Amity took a quick step back. “Don’t touch me like that. And yes, I’m staying. As punishment for my apparent misdeeds, Nikolas expects me to devote all my time to your protection.”

  “Mmm. Fun.” Lexi frowned at Kade. “And what about the revolutionary journalist? How long until you leave me the hell alone?”

  “I’m not going anywhere just yet,” said Kade. “An extra body might be useful around here. At least while you settle in.”

  Lexi shot him a contemptuous look from beneath her lashes. “A body? Sure, I can arrange that.”

  “Watch your tongue,” said Amity. “You and the smuggler may be capable enough, but we have three people here who can’t defend themselves. I have no intention of seeing Riva harmed, and I’d prefer that idiotic body modder and the vagrant remain intact as well. I’ll take any strong, reliable ally I can. Especially one as capable as Kade.”

  “Uh-huh. Me,
I think we can take the risk. This place stinks enough without adding an extra asshole.”

  Kade had long given up defending himself. The fierce compassion inside her, the depth of sentiment he had relied upon in childhood, that was closed to him now. But she still cared about others. He’d seen the way she’d looked at the injured Riva, recognized the tenderness in those eyes that only he could read. He could at least exploit that, no matter how much it hurt him to do so.

  “Consider what will happen if Isaac is right about these gangs,” he said. “Imagine them running wild on Zeke or Riva. Me being here might make all the difference.”

  “Exactly,” said Amity. “I’ve lost good people because I didn’t have another pair of eyes and ears. With lives at stake, Lexi, your petty grudges couldn’t be more irrelevant.”

  Kade tensed—if there was one thing Lexi especially hated, it was being scolded, especially by multiple people.

  “Fine.” Lexi stalked from the room and slammed the door.

  Amity winced. “I don’t know how you remain so calm when she talks about you that way.”

  “Growing up, she was always there for me and Ash. Whenever there was trouble, she handled it. Right now, she needs more help than she realizes, and the way she’s chosen to live, she doesn’t have anyone left who cares about her the way I do.”

  Amity stared at the footprints Lexi had left in the dust. “I suppose if she’s related to Ash, there must be some good in her.”

  “We should take Isaac’s ramblings seriously. I saw a lot of gang tags out there, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we get paid a visit.”

  Amity placed her hand on her trench coat, just above the pocket where she’d concealed her gun. “Good.”

  CHAPTER 13

  On the paved square beneath Residential Tower Three, four tall lamps held the evening at bay. Several Codists occupied the square’s benches, watching the sky as it darkened.

  Mineko strode through the tower’s sliding glass doors. The lobby was circular, pristine, and lemon-scented, and sedate music was piped in from a speaker overhead. An elderly man in a red engineering uniform sat on a couch, while a child knelt in the middle of the tiled floor playing with blocks. She was four, maybe.

  Mineko took a careful detour around the girl’s construction work and pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened immediately, and she entered a spacious elevator that smelled, once again, like lemon. A pleasant odor, yes, but this seemed excessive.

  She poked the button for the fourteenth level. The elevator sealed itself before beginning its quiet ascent. It arrived at its destination with a delighted chime.

  Mineko followed a corridor to a plain blue door and prodded the buzzer. After a brief delay, Valerie opened the door and gave Mineko a startled look. Had she forgotten their arrangement?

  “Mineko, hello!” she said. “Right on time.”

  No, that was just her regular look—Mineko had nearly forgotten. “Hello, Valerie. I hope you’re well.”

  “Oh, yes. Very well. I hope the same is true for you.”

  “It is. Thank you.”

  Valerie smiled. She had unbuttoned the collar of her science uniform, the only off-duty concession Codists were allowed, and she seemed less apprehensive than she’d been at dinner.

  “I’m glad you didn’t get lost,” she said. “I mean, not that you would! But I’m glad you didn’t, all the same.”

  “This is for you.” Mineko held out a box of chocolates.

  “Oh, for me?” Valerie peered at the box. “Gracious. This is quite a gift.”

  It was indeed, a brand of dark liqueur chocolates made unavailable on the regular Codist market for no other reason than to enhance their decadence and thus their appeal to the elite. Mineko had been given the box on her last birthday but never gotten around to opening it.

  “I’m grateful you’ve let me visit on such short notice,” she said.

  “No, no, it’s…” Valerie continued to marvel at the chocolates. “I’ve never been given chocolates. Or anything.” A flighty laugh escaped her, almost as if by accident. “I’m so very touched. Please, come inside.”

  Valerie ushered Mineko into a modest living area. A small couch faced a television, and a little dining table was accompanied by two chairs. The room connected with a bathroom, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a balcony, each of which Valerie identified while pointing to the appropriate exit.

  “It seems like a nice apartment,” said Mineko, after Valerie had ceased pointlessly naming the rooms.

  “It’s not so bad.” Valerie fumbled with the air conditioner. “I’m sorry, I’ve set this far too high.”

  “I thought the temperature was fine.”

  Valerie flashed a frantic smile. “I hope you’ll like dinner. I’ve never dined with company at home. The meal, I’m afraid it’s not fancy. Actually, I microwaved it inside a box.” She placed the chocolates on the table and admired them. “I’m sure you’re used to much nicer things.”

  “Please don’t be worried. I’m not fussy.”

  Judging from the surrounding shelves, it seemed Valerie collected statuettes. Though essential items like food, clothing and medicine were dispensed without cost, Codist workers still received a salary scaled to their position and qualifications, and overpriced objects like these little figurines were produced purely as a way to recover that money. Lachlan had once commented over dinner on the absurdity of it, while noting that it was one of those psychological touches that made Codism work.

  Each statuette depicted a man or woman bearing some prop appropriate to their station. A tiny man in an orange uniform had a shovel over his shoulder; a woman in a gray uniform carried a box of tools; and there was a student, dark blue, with a reader in her hands. Mineko picked up the little student and inspected her from various angles.

  “I suppose you think I’m silly,” said Valerie. “Spending my money on those things.”

  “Not at all.” Mineko replaced the figurine, which tapped against the shelf with a hollow sound suggestive of its cheapness. “It’s not as though there’s anything more interesting to spend money on.”

  “Well, there are books. I buy a lot of books.”

  Mineko looked her in the eye. Reassuringly, Valerie was her height. Codists were taller on average than Foundation’s general population, and so despite being five four, Mineko was always looking up at people.

  “They’re not real books,” she said. “They’re propaganda.”

  Valerie blushed. “Um. How blunt.”

  “It’s not a controversial opinion. We’re not allowed access to non-Codist literature, which means by definition that what we do read is propaganda.” A statement unlikely to get Mineko in any trouble, given that any idiot could see it. It would be different, of course, to take the sentiment further and suggest there might be some virtue in having access to the vast repository of banned books. Now that was the kind of reasoning that got a person wiped.

  “If you say so.” Valerie placed a hand on her hip, frowned, and dropped it again, clearly uncertain what to do with her hands. “Shall we talk before dinner? Or are you hungry?”

  “Let’s talk as we eat.” In the Tamura household, discussion over dinner was a sacred tradition. “What are you microwaving?”

  “It’s, um…it’s in a sauce.” Valerie darted into the kitchen, from which soon came the sound of frantic rustling and the beeping of a microwave.

  While waiting for Valerie to return, Mineko stood before the door to the balcony and contemplated the shadowed enclave below. Valerie held only a modest position in the Codist hierarchy, having authority over a research team and nothing more, and everything about this enclave suggested its other inhabitants were similarly unremarkable. The parks were small, the towers stacked high. Certainly no mansions. Of course, even the lowest Codists—maintenance workers, drivers, cleaners—lived in absurd comfort compared to the people beyond the walls.

  “Do you like the view?” Valerie had returned with a plastic tray and
a worried expression. “I’m nearly on the top floor. Um, this is yours.” She placed the tray on the table, set a fork beside it, and stepped back. “Oh dear. It looks very sad.”

  The meal was impossible to identify. Several off-gray lumps lurked in a bubbling sauce of a similar color. Its savory aroma invaded Mineko’s nostrils and refused to leave. “How interesting.”

  Valerie bit her lower lip. “It looks just awful, Mineko. I’m so sorry.”

  “It looks delicious.” Mineko sat at the table. “I’ll wait for you.”

  “Perhaps I should adjust the lighting.” Valerie tinkered with the room’s lighting controls. The overhead bulb dimmed and took on a subtle flicker, illuminating the table in soft, shifting tones. Dancing shadows deepened around the room. “Is that nicer?”

  It made it harder to see the dinner, so the answer could only be yes. “It was fine before, but yes, this is nice.”

  “Oh, good. I realize I’m terrible at this, but I’m trying very hard. I have some wine. I’ll bring that out too. I know you’re not allowed, but you drank it at dinner before, so I thought…”

  “I’m different, yes. My father isn’t likely to surrender me for Reintegration just because I’ve tasted a little alcohol.”

  The microwave pinged, and Valerie rushed back into the kitchen. Mineko gave the meal a cautious poke with her fork. It didn’t poke back—a good sign.

  As she contemplated the food’s bubbling surface, Valerie made two return trips from the kitchen, first with a bottle of wine and two glasses, next with an identical tray of her own.

  “The box doesn’t even say what it is,” she said as she settled into place. “It just says Soy Protein in a Sauce. That’s all it says. A Sauce.”

  “To be fair, that’s the closest I could come to describing it.”

  “Yes, it’s quite indescribable.” Valerie stabbed one of the lumps, put it in her mouth and chewed. “It tastes fine, though. Or so I think.”

  It tasted like squishy nothingness submerged in sodium, but that was no problem. Mineko disposed of several lumps and took a sip of wine. Valerie ate at her own pecking, erratic pace, often pausing to give Mineko an apprehensive glance. There was something alluring about her, viewed through the soft radiance, and the shape of her lips—sad but sweet—was reminiscent of Callie’s. Or maybe that was the wine at work.