I dumped them all, and dropped the empty bags in the trash. One cube floated on top, the edge of someone’s tattoo still visible on the attached skin, and I had one hand on the chain when I noticed something else in the toilet’s basin. There was another bag in there that had been tucked under the cooler. It didn’t have food or drugs in it, though. It was tightly wrapped around some kind of little cylinder.
I reached in and pulled out the bag, unraveling it and then shaking it dry. Down in the bottom was a little white plastic cylinder with a tiny, hair-thin plug on one end. It was a wet drive. What had the soldiers said? “Get his wet drive.” They had been looking for Dragan’s.
I broke the bag’s seal and carefully removed the drive. It was Dragan’s; I was sure of it. He’d come here before going back to the apartment, and he left it here, just in case.
The lock at the front door clicked as someone fed a key card into it. I wrapped the drive in a sheet of toilet paper, then stuffed it in my pocket just as the hotel room door opened and a gaunt, middle-aged man, Eng, no doubt, stepped in carrying a small plastic shopping bag in one hand.
He spotted me immediately, and his free hand reached into his jacket before he got a good look at me. Once he did he relaxed a little, his watery eyes peering down at me from under the brim of a panama hat. He stepped under the air conditioner vent, and the current blew down his unbuttoned neckline, inflating the silk and flashing a patch of sinewy chest and greasy black hair.
“Jesus, you want to get shot or something?” He looked at me more carefully, and grinned a little. “What happened to you? Cut yourself shaving?”
“Look, I’ll cut you a break. Put back whatever you took and beat it before I cut out your—”
“Are you Eng?”
His eyes narrowed a little. “Who wants to know?” He looked toward the bedroom. “Where’s Kala…”
His voice trailed off as his eyes went to the floor and saw all of his contraband spread out there. Color crept into his face, a vein beginning to bulge in his neck as he looked down into the toilet bowl.
“Don’t you fucking dare—” he started, and I flushed it.
He dropped the bag in the hallway and shoved past me to drop down on his knees in front of the toilet. His hands were poised over the meat gray swirl like he meant to go in after it, but he was already too late.
“You stupid little cun—” He turned to me, his ugly face twisted in fury.
“That was twenty thousand yuan you just flushed,” he growled, standing and glaring down at me. I backed out of the bathroom, and he followed.
“You owe me,” he said, “big-time.”
I reached into my backpack and pulled out the gun, sticking it out in front of me. He stopped short, his chest only a few inches from the shaking barrel.
“Whoa,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him. “Hey, take it easy, kid.”
“A man named Dragan Shao contacted you,” I said.
“That name doesn’t sound fam—”
“His name is on your list!”
He glanced back toward the rug, where the passports and the rest of it sat.
“So maybe he did,” he said. “What’s it to you?”
“Why?”
I felt a warm trickle down one cheek and wiped it away with one hand while I kept the gun on him.
“He wanted fake passports,” he said, “and passage to Duongroi for four.”
“Four?”
“Himself, two women, and a kid.”
“Who was with him when he came?”
“Nobody. He was alone.”
“Why did he want to get to Duongroi?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
“Why did he leave his wet drive with you?”
“For safekeeping, in case he got pinched before he got back.” His face changed then, as something clicked. “Wait a minute, I know who you are.”
Another tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it away.
“You’re the girl,” he said. “I made your passport.”
I put both hands on the grip of the pistol to hold it steady while I aimed at his chest.
“How did they know?” I asked.
“How did who know what?”
“Dragan was still deployed. He snuck back early. How did they know he’d be home?”
Eng didn’t answer.
“He left here, and by the time he got home, they’d already caught up with him. How did they know?”
He still didn’t say anything, but I could see it in his eyes. More tears came, blurring my vision and making my throat burn.
“There was a reward, wasn’t there? When he came you checked the security feed, and saw they were offering—”
“I don’t turn clients in for money, or rations.”
“I should kill you,” I said. “They came to our apartment, and they… they…”
I had my finger on the trigger, and I wanted to pull it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. The gun wavered as I lowered it a little.
“I should kill you,” I said again.
Eng lashed out and grabbed my wrist. I struggled, but he was a lot stronger than me and he forced the gun away. Once he was in the clear, he didn’t try and hit me or anything. He just took the pistol from my hand and tossed it down onto the bed next to him.
“Quit crying,” he said. When I looked up at him, I saw his face and neck were flushed. His gruff face looked sheepish and guilty.
“He trusted you,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know he was a Pan-Slav agent. What was I supposed to do? This doesn’t exactly help me, you know.”
“He didn’t do what they said.”
“Sure, kid. Okay.” He wiped his brow and sighed. “Look, it’s all over the feed—whatever he brought back with him is still out there, and the rumor is it’s something bad this time, something biological. I’m on the first transport to Duongroi until this blows over. If you’re smart, you’ll come with me.”
“Come with you?”
“I still got your passport and ticket. I’ll take you, if you want.”
“You’ve got to be out of your mind.”
He shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “The wet drive stays with me, though.”
“I’m taking it.”
“No way, it’s too valuable. Besides, you want those people coming after you next?”
“I said I’m taking it….”
I sensed her before I saw her. The mite cluster lit up suddenly and sent an ugly vibe deep into my head. The intensity of it triggered an adrenaline surge, anger and aggression building up in response.
Eng frowned. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Something moved behind him, up near the ceiling. Something big that had somehow remained hidden even while I’d passed through the room just moments before. His face changed as he watched my attention turn away from him, instincts warning him that there was trouble before I even knew what I was seeing.
He turned in time to see a female form decked out in full combat armor unfold from the shadows of the corner ceiling behind him, a few feet from the open window behind her. Her long legs swung down and she dropped with a thud and then lashed out and clamped one gloved hand down on his throat.
“What the fu—” he managed before the armor whined and his voice was cut off. She swung him around, then let go, shoving him back against the closet door so hard that a framed picture above the bed dropped to the floor. When she stepped into the light, I could see the red stamp on the armor’s shoulder plate.
Eng didn’t hesitate as he pulled open the closet door and reached inside, hauling a shotgun out from where he’d had it propped. His eyes flashed surprise for just a second when he spotted a woman who was sitting on the floor there, pressed back into the hanging shirts and pants with a zombielike stare stuck on her bruised and battered face.
He swung the shotgun around and fired at Red-stamp almost point-blank, the boom thumping through my chest as my face caught a blast of heat and burned powder smell. Red-stamp staggered, but the armor absorbed the pellets and she swung back around to clamp her fist down around the barrel, pushing it away as he fired again.