Age of X01 - Gameboard of the Gods (34 page)

“Does it help you at all?”

Did it? Mae didn’t know. The only thing it proved for sure was that Emil had obtained some relative’s hair. Of course, there was still that picture, but that wasn’t hard evidence, no matter the family resemblance. Someone like him could’ve combed through archives of children’s pictures to find a Koskinen likeness.

“It helps,” she told Leo. If nothing else, it showed her the extent to which the Brödern was willing to go for a prætorian asset. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She could sense his discomfort. Their relationship still wasn’t entirely firmed up. “Glad to help.”

“And thanks for not telling Justin…you didn’t, right?”

That brought on a snort of laughter. “If I had, he probably would’ve been at your door this morning demanding answers. This is the kind of mystery he lives for.”

Mae had to concur as they disconnected. She might have been just a
conquest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still try to wheedle information out of her—or anyone else he encountered. Maybe he couldn’t help it, as he’d claimed, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

Unsurprisingly, the borderlands didn’t have many direct flights, and it took them the better part of the day to reach their destination. When they stepped off their plane, Mae caught her breath. Spring had come to Vancouver, but it was nothing compared to the evening warmth of Mazatlán. The ocean had glowed in the setting sun as their flight had descended, and now, with darkness falling, the twinkling lights of buildings could be seen in the distance, where the bulk of the city sat on a hill.

“This could be a vacation,” Justin mused.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t bring back traumatic flashbacks of Panama.”

“Not as humid. That, and it’s safer.”

“You sure about that?” she asked. She’d been in enough borderlands to know that unsavory elements lurked beneath the surface, those who weren’t quite on board with their new government’s policies.

“There are dissidents,” Justin said in agreement. “In fact, we may run into a few when we go out tomorrow, but it won’t be anything major. Once they have more time to adjust, they’ll be grateful to be in the folds of civilization.”

Near the airport, state-funded light-rail tracks were under construction, promising the efficiency the rest of the country enjoyed. Driverless cars had spread to this region, however, and it was easy enough to catch one into the city. There, she found Justin’s vacation comparison might have been more accurate than she’d realized, seeing as they were staying in a beachside resort.

“SCI’s paying for this?” she asked in disbelief. Mazatlán’s buildings were a mix of new and pre-Decline, and this one was one of the new ones, beautiful and filled with modern luxuries. Yet, as they approached the entrance, she couldn’t help but notice the large number of police and regular military patrolling the streets. That certainly wasn’t something you’d see in a posh resort elsewhere in the RUNA.

“Our tax dollars at work,” Justin told her. “Enjoy it, because tomorrow we’re going to see the dredges of this town.”

They spent the night outside in one of the resort’s many restaurants, enjoying dinner and drinks as a local band strummed guitars. Beyond them stretched an expansive beach that gave way to the darkness of the ocean. Mae could just barely make out the sound of the surf.

Justin, naturally, drank heavily the whole time, but at least he didn’t take anything else, hopefully reducing his odds of an overdose. She didn’t want to find out firsthand if Mazatlán’s medical resources were up to normal Gemman standards. He’d said very little about Windsor, but she’d noticed that aside from his morning stimulant, he hadn’t strayed to anything harder than alcohol.

All this time spent together…the hotels, the meals. Sometimes it felt like a parody of dating. Except no date would constantly be checking out other women. His gaze in particular kept going back to a young, red-haired bartender.

“Go tell her you’re an EA diplomat,” Mae said. “I bet that’ll go over well.”

He snapped his attention back to her. “For someone who claims that’s in the past, you sure can’t seem to let it go. You never let me explain.”

“Is there more to it than you using it to get me into bed?”

“Was that what did it?” he retorted.

“No,” she admitted. It had been his wit, his sexiness. The sense that he was interested in what was within her, rather than just the natural-blond exterior that dazzled so many men. It had even been a little of that bravado, something she apparently couldn’t stay away from. Most of all, it had been a sense of connection. She would never give him the satisfaction of telling him, but sometimes, in the rare moments when they weren’t sparring, she still felt it.

“The jacket was my friend’s,” said Justin. “He’d lent it to me, and when you thought I was him…I just went with it. Less depressing to be a diplomat than an exile. I didn’t expect things to pan out like they did.” He laughed softly to himself. “I wonder where Huan is now. He wouldn’t believe this change of fortunes. Aside from Tessa’s dad, he was my only real friend there.”

“Not Cristobal and all those admirers of Gemmans?”

“No. Definitely not.” His eyes were piercing as he studied her. “Nordic Nine, you must have been a diamond among ashes growing up. I don’t know how or why you got out, but I know you must’ve been paraded around and put on display. Your family could do nothing less.”

Mae didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was right, but it wasn’t exactly that difficult a conclusion to reach. “Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Sometimes,” she answered honestly.

“Did it get tiring? Always having to smile and say polite things? Knowing people were watching and speculating? Knowing they were flocking to what you were and not who you were?”

His ability to so perfectly capture something like that was both amazing and disturbing. But again, she answered with truth. “Yes.”

He spread his hands out. “Then there you go. Welcome to being a Gemman in Panama.”

His words drew her up short. She had never once thought they might have any sort of shared experience like
that
. With a jolt, she realized that his difficulties in Panama might have extended beyond just being surrounded by provincial primitiveness. There was a social aspect she’d never considered. And with that conclusion, she suddenly drew an even more startling one. The sadness and loneliness she’d sensed from him might not have been faked. That didn’t mean he still hadn’t had ulterior motives—especially if his “second date” speech was any indication. Nonetheless, it cast him in a new light. She couldn’t fully articulate her thoughts and simply stayed silent. She didn’t know what expression she wore, but after several moments of studying her, Justin looked away and downed his drink.

“Well,” he said, getting to his feet. “The night’s not getting any younger, and her shift’ll probably be over soon. I can take it from here, noble defender. Charge anything else to my room.” He gave her a mock salute and sauntered over toward the bartender, wearing an expression very similar to the one he’d used on Mae in their first meeting. The young woman looked interested, but then, who wouldn’t be in the face of those good looks and charm? Angry about her moment of sentimentality, Mae left as well—for her room, alone.

He was in good spirits the next morning but said nothing about what had happened. She certainly wasn’t going to ask. They took another car, this time out to the edges of the city, which became significantly less affluent the farther they went. The military presence also diminished. There were a few new construction projects, but many buildings were pre-Decline or had been hastily thrown up immediately after in an attempt at safety when chaos roamed the streets. The people they saw here were obviously working-class, and even if they now had the same health and education access, it was clear these new citizens were a long ways from their more fashionable counterparts. Signs in Spanish showed many hadn’t yet learned their new national language.

Mae expected they’d go to another church, but instead, the car dropped them off at a tattooist’s shop. “Are you going to immortalize this trip?” she asked.

“Maybe later. Right now we’re visiting the family of Nadia Menari.”

“The woman you asked about back in Apollo’s church.”

He nodded. “Geraki said she was returning to someplace where people still believed. These annexed borderlands are hotbeds of religion. Even after SCI sweeps them, plenty slip through the cracks. Nadia grew up here, and even though I couldn’t find anything on her, some of her family moved back after I shut her down. If I were going to set up a low-profile cult, I’d come here.”

“And Nadia can help us?”

“Maybe. I’m more interested in finding her associate—Callista. She’s the one that’ll help us.”

Mae had a hard time imagining groups that had been busted by servitors wanting to help him. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

They stepped inside, out of the heat, finding no air-conditioning in the empty shop. A dirty glass case displayed potential designs. Mae had had a childhood fantasy of getting a tattoo but was pretty sure she wanted no part of this place’s unhygienic practices.

“Can I help you?” A tall, lanky plebeian man stepped through the door leading to the back of the shop. Justin stepped forward.

“Yes, I’m—”

“Justin March.” The man gave him a slow, long look. “I remember. I was there when you visited.”

Justin forced a smile. “Ah, well…nice to see you again. I’m, uh, here for the same reason as before. I’m trying to find Nadia.”

“Nadia? My cousin? You already disbanded her church.”

“That’s not why I’m here. Do you know if she’s in Mazatlán? I just need to speak to her.”

Mae approached, her wariness triggering the implant’s response. She didn’t like the man’s body language. He was nervous.

“Yes…yes, of course. I just need to get ahold of her.” The man managed a smile. “You know how she is.”

Justin nodded, still smiling but also confused.

The man moved back toward the door he had just come through. “Let me call my brother and see what he knows. It’ll just be a moment. Can I…get you anything while you wait? A chair? Something to drink?”

“We’re fine.”

The man disappeared through the door, which he left ajar, and Mae heard his one-sided conversation in Spanish. The only words she picked out were “Nadia” and “Justin March.”

“Something’s weird,” she said. “He’s too uneasy.”

“Yes,” Justin agreed. “But he knows what I am. These people are more afraid of federal visits than castals are.”

The tattooist returned, his smile bigger and more natural this time. “My brother knows where she is. He’s going to bring her over.”

“Excellent,” said Justin. “Thank you.”

Justin and Mae milled around the storefront, which saw no customers, for about ten minutes. Then they heard a door open in the back and a low conversation. Their host appeared and beckoned them forward. “Right this way.”

The back room looked like any messy workshop type of area. Assorted tools and outdated readers littered the tables and benches, and a large, wicked-looking metallic contraption hovered over a long pallet where the tattooing most likely took place. A bed suggested the tattooist lived here.

Mae knew immediately there was something wrong, because instead of a woman, she found three men waiting for them—three armed men. She promptly knocked Justin down, so strongly that he cried out in surprise. Her gun was out before he hit the floor, and she unflinchingly shot one of the attackers in the arm. One of his colleagues had the wisdom to drop to the ground also, and another joined him after Mae disarmed him and belted him across the face with the gun. She was on to the one who’d tried to elude her when she heard a voice behind her say, “Easy there. Drop your gun, or Dr. March’s career ends.”

Mae slowly turned toward the speaker. It was the tattooist, and he too was armed—holding a gun to Justin’s head. These damned annexed regions were still able to smuggle guns in. This would never have happened in civilization. She knew she was faster than the tattooist and could save herself, but that didn’t mean Justin would walk out alive. And as she met his eyes, her heart clenched. She felt a terrible, gripping fear—not for the mission, but for the loss of
him.
A scuffle at the back door told her others were joining them, and gritting her teeth, Mae set her gun down.

The motley Mazatlán cronies were poor excuses for captors, and their detainment was made more embarrassing when Mae thought about the lethal combatants she’d fought over the years. But she’d been stuck with that gun to Justin’s head, leaving her in this predicament. The two of them were kept tied up in the back room until darkness fell outside. That was when their captors decided they were safe to transport.

She studied the men all day and found only one who acted as though he might have had militia training from the region’s pre-RUNA days. He wasn’t adept enough to identify her guns as military issue, nor did he think to check her boot. She couldn’t use the knife while bound anyway, but she felt more secure knowing it was there.