Plastic Smile (Russell's Attic Book 4) (20 page)

“I’m willing to pool information,” Vance said. She must remember me from Yamamoto’s meeting. “We want this stopped as much as you do.”

“That’s not why you’re here,” I interrupted. “I don’t care. I want your boss.”

I could almost see her brain click and whirr as she switched gears. “What do you want him for?”

“To kill him.”

“I see,” she said. “Is this a business dispute, or a personal one?”

“I want him in the ground,” I said. “I don’t care how much money anyone pays me. Your only concern is whether you go with him, or you help me.”

“I see,” Vance said again. Her gaze sharpened. “You’re one of the people who’s been interfering with our operations. The dark girl from the bridge.”

“Me and my colleagues, yeah.” I grinned wolfishly. Rio had been out working against Pourdry the other night, too—combined with the difficulties the brain entrainment was causing them, we had to be making the higher-ups frantic, even if Vance wouldn’t show it. “And we’re not going to stop until you’re finished.”

Vance nodded. “If I help you, I’d like to be taken to a hospital, and then given enough time to leave town. Can you guarantee me that?”

I blinked. Given the slavish devotion Pourdry’s people were famous for, I hadn’t expected this to be so easy. But then, maybe this
was
her way of panicking. Her exceedingly calm way of panicking.

Or maybe the brain entrainment was working on her, too.

“Talk and we’ll see,” I said.

“There’s no advantage in me lying to you,” Vance countered. “I saw what you did tonight with my own eyes, and in any event the other reports had been making me reconsider our organization’s position. I’ll tell you whatever you wish to know about Jacob, on the condition I have time to move aside before the fallout.”

“I want to know how to find him,” I said. “Convince me you’re telling the truth, and you’ll see the inside of a hospital before they end up needing to take your leg.”

“All right,” she said. “You will believe my motivation once you understand what kind of person Jacob is. If I may?”

I knew what kind of person Pourdry was, but I waved her on with Miguel’s gun anyway. As long as she kept talking until she told me where to find him, I didn’t care.

Vance nodded and continued on. “He and I met back at HBS. Jacob was the type of intelligent other people didn’t even try to compete with. And more than smart, he was confident. Half the time I think he won because he went in assuming he had won, and everyone else ceded to him without thinking. But he always wanted a challenge.”

“A challenge like selling kids into slavery?” I said.

She gave me a tolerant tilt of her head. “You have to understand. It’s a game to him.”

I snorted.

“I don’t mean that the way you’re taking it. He’s not a sadist. He’s…moving pieces on a gameboard to get the best Monopoly hand. It’s not even about the money to him—or perhaps it is, but not the money itself. It’s about being the person who has all that money. He’d burn it afterwards on a whim, but he likes being the person who owns everything.”

“Does he own you?” I said.

She shifted her leg slightly, and winced. “Jacob is a genius. He’s the best businessman I’ve ever met. My talent is picking a winning horse.”

“He’s not winning. I’m taking him down.”

“All right.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“One thing about picking horses is you know when to collect your winnings and look for a new race. If people like you are after Jacob, it’s time for me to cash out.”

“So, back to Wall Street then?” I said.

“Maybe.”

I raised Miguel’s gun and pointed it at her. “Maybe I just shoot you instead, you don’t back any more horses.”

She gazed at me coolly. “I thought you wanted my help. Now that you know our history, understand this. I have no loyalty. I calculate what’s best—for me—and that’s the way I tack my sails. So if the way out of being hunted down by the likes of you is to help you and then leave the state, I am all too happy to do that.”

So it wasn’t the brain entrainment. This was just how she was. Wow. “You’re not afraid Pourdry’s goons will come after you for betraying him?”

She lifted one shoulder in half a shrug, the movement somehow elegant even tied to a bed with a bleeding leg and a face full of airbag burns. “Like I said, I pick winning horses. I have no interest in who wins this vendetta of yours, but whichever way the wind blows, I expect Jacob isn’t going to be doing much chasing down of anyone by the end of it.”

“If you’re so fickle, why would Pourdry trust you with anything?”

“Because I’m very good. And it’s not like Jacob doesn’t know this about me. I’d even venture to say he respects it. He’s always been confident he’ll continue to win, and that
would
have kept my loyalty.”

“You’re disgusting,” I said.

“After what I saw tonight, I suspect some might say the same of you,” Vance replied evenly. “Our morals are simply different.”

Different morals my ass. Vance
had
no morals. “Tell me how to find him.”

“Jacob does not see people. He conducts his business from his home office, always.”

“And do you have an address?”

“He doesn’t know it, but yes.”

I almost laughed. She was so axiomatically
selfish.
“What is it?”

“I’ll agree to tell you. After I’ve left town.”

“You’ll tell me now, or you’ll never make it out of town.”

We were both aware we were negotiating, and where it would land. “Take me to a hospital,” Vance said, “and I’ll give you the address. Guarantee me forty-eight hours before you move.”

“Twenty-four,” I said, and she nodded.

I was cautious of a trap, of course. But if the information did pan out, it was nice to have something go right for once.

Or at least, I thought that until I dropped Vance off outside an emergency room driveway. She told me what I wanted to know and waved off my threats of what I’d do to her if she’d lied, and then she added something.

“You were at Yamamoto’s meeting. It would do you well to figure out who is trying to set us at each others’ throats. I’m sure someone was whispered your name as the likely culprit.”

And as Vance limped out of the car, it hit me.

Nobody had been whispered my name as a target. Because I knew who was doing the whispering.

I sped away from the hospital so fast the tires almost broke static friction, my fingers stabbing the buttons on my cell phone.

“Hello, Cas,” Rio said blandly.

“You’re pitting everyone in LA against each other?” I said. “You know what a gang war will do to this city!”

“I do,” he answered.

“What, is this some messed-up way of trying to convince me this isn’t worth the trouble, because you can just boost the violence back up to the same level?” I ranted. “That doesn’t even make sense—it’s not exactly going to convince me this is less necessary. And you know how many innocent people are going to get hurt!”

“So do you,” Rio said. “Collateral damage. You can make it cease.”

His statement took my breath away. He wasn’t trying to make the brain entrainment functionally useless—this was extortion, plain and simple. If I stopped what I was doing, he’d stop setting people up to die. “You’re blackmailing me by provoking violent criminals into destroying Los Angeles,” I said.

“Yes.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I do not mean it to be.”

“I’m not backing down,” I said. “I’ll figure out a way to keep this from happening. People aren’t going to start shooting each other just because you tell them to.”

“You have a far more optimistic view of human nature than I do, Cas.”

Someone put a hand on my shoulder. “The definition of humanity is far more flexible than most people believe.”

Goddammit. This was the last time I needed my stupid brain acting up on me.

“Good luck to you, Cas,” Rio said. “Let me know when you change your mind. I hear a militia is coming to town.”

Right. He’d probably paid for their plane tickets.

I hung up and slammed my palm against the steering wheel. Well, at least I had Pourdry’s address. I debated whether to wait the one day’s time I’d promised Vance or if I should just drive there now and get some fucking satisfaction.

My phone jangled. “What!” I barked into it.

“Cassu-san!” howled Yamamoto. “You remember our meeting? Someone is trying to tear us down. We must be on the right track! They are trying to divide us!”

“I’ve heard,” I said. Hopefully he didn’t catch the black irony.

“So you know, you do not believe anything you hear? Is bad, is very bad. I tell people, do not listen! But they are blinded by anger. The violence, it is happening already, and once it does is the retaliation—Cassu-san, I tell you, if some of our friends at that meeting make the move, there will be no coming back. It is grave.”

“Hey, ironically, the ‘problems’ here are probably stopping them,” I couldn’t resist pointing out. We’d see how long my brain entrainment could counter Rio’s machinations. It would give me time to hit on a better plan.

“Cassu-san, for shame. We do not need some CIA power to stop us from acting like animals. I am calling everyone, telling them—no one is to raise a hand against anyone else in our little group of friends. We work together, yes? Until we find out the true culprit, no violence! Or that person is no longer welcome. We work together or it will not work. You understand, yes?”

Shit. “I have a…personal matter with Jacob Pourdry,” I said. “It doesn’t have to do with this.”

“No violence, Cassu-san! Your personal matter, it can wait. Until we find and stop these shenanigans! Now I must call the rest. You are big help, Cassu-san, I hope you stay our friend.” He hung up.

My good night had suddenly been fucked over. Not only was Rio screwing the entire city of Los Angeles unless I gave in to him, but I’d finally gotten intel on Pourdry only to be told I couldn’t use it without being thrown out of Yamamoto’s coalition. And if I burned my welcome there, I’d lose any intel on what they might plan, and thus possibly end up shooting myself in the back of the head.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Chapter 20

I got
back to the apartment I was using as my base to discover I had a bigger problem.

The brain entrainment was set and done—anything I might do to defend it would be a response to actions other people hadn’t taken yet. My hands were tied on Pourdry. And I’d tried texting Arthur, but he was still caught up with whatever problems had taken him away earlier.

Which meant I had nothing to do. Nothing to plan.

This plan will take years to bring to fruition.

How many of them have years? This is a large investment.

“Fuck you,” I muttered to the voices. They laughed in response.

The data sharpened around me, razor edges snagging and stabbing at my senses. I tried to stay still, to sit on the thin mattress and freeze myself in time and space, but of course it didn’t work. Gravity, fucking gravity, drawing infinite arrows downward, and an equal infinity of normal forces pushing back—and no, not down, but toward the center of this ball called Earth, every crushing beat of physics bouncing down the radius and back.

Is sensory overload a problem?

Yes, but not the most dangerous one.

I tried to tell myself I had so much to do. So much to concentrate on, to be alert for. I had to stay on top of myself.

I couldn’t afford distractions.

My breath buzzed in and out, counting the moles of oxygen, nitrogen, argon. Every molecule was a barb against the tissue of my lungs. And this time accompanied by other breaths taken other places, running through a forest, crouched against a concrete wall, lying on a wooden floor that smelled of citrus and lilac…

Jesus Christ.

I only lasted one pathetic minute before I was groping for the whiskey bottle I knew was close to hand. The alcohol was so cheap it scoured my throat raw, but at least it dulled my senses.

Not enough, of course. It had ceased to be enough ever since my mind had decided it needed to throw echoes of another person’s life across my reality. Ever since Simon’s presence had pushed me into scraping at those mental walls, ever since Checker’s prodding had nudged at the cracks in them, ever since Dawna Polk had broken down any protection from my past I’d once had.

Fortunately, I had other things in this apartment as well.

Part of me wished mixing pills and alcohol was more dangerous for me. It might have helped to feel a touch of recklessness. But, I reminded myself, I didn’t want to take too much anyway—after all, within a few hours I might have to be on top of my game again. God help me, but an ugly, selfish bit in the back of my self-pity hoped enough would go wrong in LA that I’d have to be.

At least the cocktail finally knocked me into fitful unconsciousness. My last thought before blacking out was that maybe I was sauced enough not to dream, but I knew it was only a false hope. Especially as my subconscious had more and more to choose from.

Of all my myriad problems, the one that invaded my dreams that night had to be Simon.

Some part of me pushed against his image, even asleep, but he’d been stalking my unconscious mind for years and apparently wasn’t about to stop. Only now his face was clearer, and instead of disorganized glimpses of memory, my nightmares had become the future, a future in which he
helped
me…

We sat by a window, the surf crashing in the distance outside it.

“You have to,” he said. “You have to let me.”

“No,” I answered. The intonation wasn’t my own. “No, I don’t want to—”

“This is the only way.” His face was close. Uncomfortably close. His voice hitched.

He was crying, for some reason.

“You’re wrong,” I said. “It can’t be the only way. It can’t.” I sounded like I was pleading, and hated my dream-self for giving him the satisfaction. Why would I do such a thing?

“I’m so sorry,” Simon whispered, and reached for me.

No—

I screamed. The scream went on forever, echoing through time, consuming me from the inside out. I blacked out and dissolved, every sense of self crushing to nothing. I tried to hang on, to cling, to stay, but it was no use.