Rebel (11 page)

"Five hundred," Mary whispered.

"I bet that's a drop in the bucket to guys like that,"

Gaia reassured her. "Trust me. And if you're thinking about all this because of Ed ... don't. He's the most paranoid guy on the planet."

Mary tried to force a smile. But the sad fact of the matter was that her friend had no idea what she was talking about. And Gaia had the benefit of thinking she was invincible--a trait Mary didn't share. She would be safe inside her room or with Gaia around to protect her--but someday, at some moment, she'd find herself alone on the streets.

That was when Skizz would strike. She was sure of it.

RED SQUARE WAS PACKED WITH PEOPLE,
but Tom Moore knew that this was to be expected. He welcomed the crowds. Witnesses would ensure the safety of this meeting. Not that he was worried about security, but he knew that his contact had some concerns. Debra (at least that was her alias) was still new to this theater of operations, new to the job itself. And young. In fact, she reminded him a little of Katia. Beautiful and innocent. Naive ...

He thrust the thoughts aside. He would not think of Katia. Not now. He would concentrate on the task at hand.

As he hurried across the cobblestones in the direction of the multicolored spires of St. Basil's cathedral, he was surprised by how many American voices he heard. Of course, the week after Christmas marked the height of the tourist season--in spite of the frigid temperatures. And since Russia was no longer a closed and communist society, tourism was one of the few industries that kept its economy afloat.

Tourism and terrorism, of course.

He raised his eyes in the biting wind, glancing up at the cathedral. Even after having seen it so many times, he was still struck by its fairy-tale beauty: the brilliant reds and greens and golds, all of the different turrets and ornate fixtures.... It looked less like a place of worship and more like an enchanted castle. He snaked his way through a mob of students toward the southeast entrance: the rendezvous point. But then he paused.

Debra wasn't there.

Protocol dictated that she should be the first to arrive. For a moment he stood still and sized up his surroundings. As far as he could tell, he wasn't being watched or followed. There was no need to panic ... not yet. There was a chance that she could have been held up in traffic. Public transportation in Moscow was notoriously unreliable.

He stepped closer to the cathedral's massive arched doorway. The biting wind stung his ears, but he hardly noticed. A few people jostled him. Where
was
she? The entire operation hinged on this one exchange. She
knew
that. The agency was counting on her. She had managed to acquire a copy of the smugglers' safety deposit box key. The box contained the money they would exchange for the plutonium.

But Debra didn't know the location of the bank. Only Tom knew that. Each member of the unit was entrusted with one vital piece of information; that way the entire operation wouldn't be compromised if one of them were caught. Still ... if she failed to deliver the key in time, then Tom would be unable to prevent the smugglers from leaving the country. And they were leaving soon. This afternoon, in fact. They would have all the cash they needed to buy anything they wanted--

A muffled beep rang from deep inside his coat pocket. He scowled. That was probably Debra, calling to explain why she was late. He fished out his cell phone and flipped it open.

"Yes?" he muttered.

"Hello, Tom."

He stiffened. It wasn't Debra. It was a man. And whoever he was, he wasn't part of the agency. The agency never addressed its operatives by name over the phone.

"Tom?" the man asked. "Are you there?"

"Yes," Tom croaked, feeling a sudden dreaded certainty that Debra would never arrive, that she had been killed. The voice was American ... but Tom couldn't place it. From the static, he judged the call was coming from overseas.

" I'm listening."

"It's about Gaia."

Jesus Christ.
It took all of Tom's years of training, all of his carefully honed self-control, not to display any emotion. But he could no longer breathe. He gripped the phone as tightly as he could. He felt like his heart had been set ablaze.

"Go on," Tom choked out. He barely recognized his own voice.

"Your brother's moving against her," the man said.

Tom drew in a deep, quivering breath. Loki. He should have known. He was clever. Obviously he was well aware that Tom was halfway around the world, unable to stop him.

"He's placed someone very close to her," the voice went on. "An operative whom Gaia would never suspect."

"Who?" Tom hissed. "I don't have time--"

The line went dead.

"Hello?" Tom barked. "Hello?"

He stared at the cathedral door. Still no sign of Debra. It could mean only one thing. She was dead.

She had to be. Tom dialed the agency's emergency number as quickly as he could.

"Go," a voice answered.

"Three, zulu, alpha, four, seven," Tom whispered-- the code for a failed operation. It was surprisingly easy.

"Understood," the voice replied.

Tom folded the cell phone and jammed it back in his pocket. Suddenly nothing mattered anymore-- nothing but Loki and Gaia. The rest of the world ceased to exist.

Without so much as a backward glance, he turned and hurried from Red Square.

Hang on, Gaia,
he silently implored.
I'll be there soon.

Well, not tonight. Her heart pounded. Oh, no. It was time to make Daddy proud again.

GAIA COULD SEE THE FEAR CLEARLY ETCHED
on Mary's face. It was right there: right in her creased forehead and downcast eyes. They had been speeding downtown on the local number-six train for nearly fifteen minutes, and Mary hadn't spoken once. She was more worried about this drug dealer than she'd admitted. Probably thanks to Ed.

Gaia knew all about fear. She'd seen it enough on people's faces to know the signs. And she'd also studied it. Scientifically. She'd read that the best way to overcome it was to confront it directly, head-on ... to
embrace it.

It was a lesson from the
Go Rin No Sho
--the "Book of Five Rings"--a Japanese guide to martial arts. Her father used to make her read it all the time. Most of the books were about as thrilling as the yellow pages and about as heavy, too--like
Leviathan
and
The Iliad
. Her dad was a stickler for the classics. But the
Go Rin No Sho
was different. Gaia had loved it from the time she was a little girl. It was beautifully written, like poetry. It taught that a person would never be complete unless they explored both
good and evil.
Darkness and light.

It made perfect sense. To her, at least.

Maybe that was why she remembered the lesson about fear so well. Since she didn't feel fear, she could never confront it. But she realized something: Even if

she
was unable to use fear as a tool, she could help Mary use it.

"So we're still playing, right?" Gaia asked over the rattle of the speeding train wheels.

"Huh?" Mary asked.

Gaia shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. It was impossible. Even though she generally loved the subways, rush hour was always a nightmare. Somehow she found herself mushed between Mary and some businessman's designer leather briefcase. The sharp corner was starting to dig into her sides. But they were almost at Astor Place--the stop closest to Washington Square Park. She could endure a
few more minutes of torture.

"The game?" Gaia prompted.

"Oh--yeah, yeah. Of course." Mary nodded as she stared down at the forest of legs rising from the grimy subway floor. "But do you think we can avoid the park? Just for tonight? We can go back tomorrow."

"And why would we avoid the park?" Gaia asked gently.

"Because I'm scared of running into Skizz," Mary admitted.

"I think that's exactly why we
should
go to the park," Gaia countered. "Look, chances are he won't even be there. And even if he is, he won't try anything. And even if he
does,
I'll kick his ass, all right?"

Mary smirked. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No," Gaia replied dryly. The train began to slow. She glanced out the window. The lights of the Astor Street station swam into view. The wheels squeaked harshly. "So here's what. I dare you to go back to the spot where we first met--and sing a song of your choice by Hanson at the top of your lungs."

For a moment Mary looked at her as if she were completely insane. Gaia couldn't blame her. She didn't even know where that dare had come from. It had just sort of popped out of her head.

"Hanson?" Mary started laughing. "But that's not fair. I don't even
know
any songs by Han--"

"Then make one up," Gaia interrupted. "Or sing a song by Michael Jackson. Any ridiculous song will do." She grabbed Mary's arm and pulled her up along with her, then began snaking her way through the crowded car.

"What if I want to pick truth?" Mary asked.

Gaia looked her straight in the eye as the doors slid open. "You don't really want to pick truth, do you? I mean, this is a chance to sing in public, right?"

"I don't know, Gaia...."

"Look, by daring you to do something silly in the same spot where you last saw Skizz, you'll see that you have nothing to worry about. And once you see that you're safe, you'll realize that you can start getting on with your life."

WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING? MARY
wondered.

Here she was, about to sing a song (she didn't even know
what
song)--and there was a very good chance that by calling attention to herself, she would send Skizz running straight for her,
like a moth to a lightbulb.

She walked silently with Gaia down Eighth Street, with her head down to protect her face from the bitter wind. The air was so cold that it felt antiseptic, bluish. The night was eerily quiet. Her eyes smarted. Her nose burned. She kept her gaze pinned to the sidewalk. She couldn't believe she had actually let Gaia talk her into this. If Skizz was anywhere in the city, he'd be
here.

But at the same time, in spite of her anxiety, she couldn't help but feel a peculiar anticipation. And somewhere in the dim recesses of her consciousness, she knew that the anxiety and anticipation were all bound up together in the same feeling. It was a feeling all her own--a
selfish
feeling,
one that was bent on seeking pleasure, no matter what the risk.
It was the same one she used to get when she diced out a line of coke. Or met Skizz on some dark corner to make a score ...

It was the one she got knowing that she was putting herself in harm's way.

And that was the root of her problem. Of all her problems, really. Very simply put, the closer she was to danger, the more she felt alive. That was bad. Very bad. She had to suppress that feeling. She shook her head as they turned south onto Fifth Avenue. Once she started slipping down that slope, there was no telling
what
she could do.

"Piece of cake," Gaia murmured, patting her shoulder.

"Yeah," Mary whispered. "Right." She glanced up. The Arc de Triomphe loomed ahead of her at the end of the block, brightly lit against the purplish, starless sky. Behind the white marble
the park was a shadowy black abyss.
She swallowed.

"All you gotta do is go in there and sing," Gaia said with a perfectly straight face. "I mean really open up. Let the entire West Village hear your dulcet tones."

Mary had to laugh. But she found she was trembling. Of course, that was the weather's fault. The chill tonight soaked through her coat, down past her skin, all the way to the center of her bones. She paused on the corner opposite the park entrance.

"And why, exactly, am I doing this again?" she asked. Her question billowed from her mouth in a frozen white cloud, then vanished under the streetlamps.

Gaia raised her eyebrows. "Because I dared you to," she said with a smile.

GAIA KNEW THAT MARY WAS AFRAID.

But as she watched Mary trudge into the park alone, she knew that the more fear she felt, the better it would be in the long run.
The greater the risk, the greater the reward.

Besides, Mary was in no real danger. First of all, the park was completely deserted. Only a lunatic would be hanging out there on a night like tonight--a night so cold that the tips of your fingers and toes went numb after about three minutes. Also, as Gaia had told Mary, if some creep
did
try anything, she would be right there. Ready to knock him flat. From where she was waiting on MacDougal Street, she could see the entire park--and Mary would never be out of her sight, not even for an instant.

She smiled as Mary sat on a park bench in a circular pool of pale light. Good. By singing a ridiculous song and freezing her butt off in that exact spot, she would drive out her fear of Skizz. It was like a ritual, an exorcism. And Mary Moss would emerge from it a new woman.

THIS WASN'T THE EXACT SPOT WHERE MARY
had last seen Skizz face-to-face, but she figured it was close enough. Gaia wasn't that nitpicky.

She hunched over and squeezed herself, struggling to fight the cold. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. So. She had to rack her brain for a song. The problem was, she didn't
listen
to Hanson. But she had to sing something--otherwise Gaia would never let her out of the park. For some reason, though, she couldn't seem of think of anything. Her mind was a complete blank.

Mary had never been the creative type. She always hated this kind of thing, being forced to perform on the spot. That was probably another reason she'd loved coke so much, now that she thought about it. Up. One little bump, and your thoughts moved at the speed of light. For those five minutes you were a genius. Not only a genius; a world-class singer, too. No song, no matter how out of tune and excruciating, was ever
that
bad when you were wired. Of course not. It was brilliant....

She shivered, frowning. As usual, thinking about cocaine was getting her nowhere. The sooner she started singing, the sooner she could get the hell out of this frozen wasteland.

"If you wanna be my lover,"
she sang quietly. She knew it was lame, but she couldn't help herself. It would have to do.
"You gotta get with my friends--"

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her.

"Gaia?"

She looked behind her--nothing. Mary glanced toward where Gaia stood at the edge of the park. Her

friend was there, hugging herself and shivering but also grinning from ear to ear.

At least one of them wasn't completely paranoid, Mary thought. She turned back toward the empty park.

"Uh,
friendship lasts forever ..."

A finger tapped her on the shoulder. Mary smiled. Gaia had finally realized this was cruel and unusual punishment.

She took a bow toward the empty square, but as she stood up to turn, she noticed she could still see Gaia way over at the edge of the park, fiddling with her coat buttons.

Mary opened her mouth to scream Gaia's name, but it only came out in a whisper.

GAIA DIDN'T SEE THE SHADOWY MALE
form creeping up on Mary until it was right behind her. She was concentrating too hard to hear whatever the hell it was that Mary was singing. Jesus. Where had he come from? She was
trained
to spot people in the night.

She sucked in her breath and bolted across the street, hurtling the low park fence in one fluid motion. Whoever he was, he must have been hiding. Waiting. And whoever he was, he was large. Fat, almost. And familiar ...

Shit. There it was. The beard. Even with his back to her, she could see a tangle of greasy hairs flapping in the wind. She broke into a sprint.

It was him.

"I ... I ... ," MARY SPUTTERED IN HORROR.
She couldn't move. Her teeth stopped chattering; her body stopped trembling. Her limbs were too tense, frozen solid. For all her fear and worry, she just hadn't truly believed Skizz would be here. It was just too
obvious
, somehow--too predictable. Like walking into a trap. A trap laid expressly for her. Life wasn't that simple.

"Who's Gay-uh?"

Mary could only shake her head. Skizz looked even more foul than she'd remembered. His skin was blotchy, covered with scabs. His beady eyes bore down on her from within the fat folds of his face. And the wispy ends of his beard spread in every direction. Instinctively her eyes flashed to his hands. Both were jammed into the pockets of his down jacket.
Oh God.
Something besides his hand was also stuffed in the right pocket.
Something pointy.

"I'm asking you a question," he growled.

"Sh-She ... she's nobody," Mary stuttered, unable to tear her eyes from the pocket.

"Look at me," he barked.

She flinched. Her eyes darted to his face.

All at once he smiled--revealing an uneven row of yellow teeth. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured. "I'm being rude. It's none of my business. So let's just take care of
our
business, and I'll be on my way. Then you can go back to your little birthday celebration."

Mary opened her mouth, but panic had robbed her of speech.

Skizz looked up for a moment, glancing furtively in either direction down the darkened path. He withdrew his right hand from the coat. Clutched in his chubby fingers was a small, shiny pistol--no bigger than a toy, a water gun. It glittered in the cold light of the park lamps.

A last gasp of air escaped Mary's lungs. She couldn't breathe anymore.

"Now, I'm assuming you came here to pay me back," he whispered. He laughed humorlessly. "There ain't no other reason a rich girl like you would come out in this cold. Gotta be drugs or money. So let's see the cash.
All
of it."

But I don't have it,
she answered silently.
I swear--

He cocked the pistol. "Now."

THE INSTANT GAIA SAW THE GLINT OF
metal, her pace doubled. She was barely conscious of the ground flying under her feet. Her mind was totally focused on the figure of the drug dealer, hunched over the back of the bench where Mary sat.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Gaia was sick with rage. It was
her
fault that Mary was in danger.
Her
fault that Mary might get killed.
She
had pushed Mary into this situation--back into the world Mary had left behind, and now she might die because of it. Never before had Gaia felt such anger.
And all of it was directed at herself.
If he pulled that trigger ...