CHAPTER 9

The alleyway stank, but it beat being caught in the open air. Kade waited beside the big bike while trying not to breathe through his nostrils. There wasn’t much risk Callie would be detected—she was a professional, after all—but he couldn’t help but be nervous.

Footsteps echoed at the far end of the alley. There she was, thank God, apparently unharmed, though her face was grave.

“She didn’t want to come,” Callie said. “I begged, but she still said no. I fucking hate the Code.”

Kade looked away as Callie unzipped her uniform. She was dressed underneath, but that didn’t make it right to watch. “Hold on to that anger, and you might become a revolutionary yet.”

Callie stashed the uniform in the bike’s storage compartment. “Not if it means taking orders.”

“You think I take orders?”

“You have an editor, right?”

Kade laughed. “That’s not really the same thing.”

“If you say so.” Callie ran a hand over the bike’s polished chassis. “I wish I could keep this.”

“You’d just end up pulling it to pieces to see how it works.”

Callie gave him an impish grin. “I already know how it works.”

“Well, if you’re in the mood for another joyride, I could use a lift back to the Gazette.”

“Sure. Any excuse to keep it a little longer.” Callie swung a leg over the bike. “Hop on.”

Kade sat on the back seat and held Callie by the waist. As much as he trusted her, the tickle of anxiety in his chest just wouldn’t subside. “You won’t get me killed, will you?”

“Not if you don’t let go.” The engine started with a roar that vibrated through Kade’s chest. “And no hugging. That’s for girlfriends only.”

Callie knocked back the kickstand and twisted the throttle. The bike tore through litter as it punched out of the far end of the alley. Callie leaned, bringing the bike into a sharp turn away from the University walls, and they rocketed out of the turn and blasted down the street. The wind built to a screech, and Kade tensed as Callie kicked up another gear.

The street ahead was mostly empty, a long strip of battered asphalt between residential buildings and food stores. The same street Kade had walked Mineko down, as it happened. As much as he wanted to ask Callie more questions about her, it was impossible to speak over the sound of the wind. Easier just to wait for the ride to be over.

Two intersections flickered by, and Callie swerved to avoid a pothole. She might have been young, but the sureness with which she directed the bike hinted at the seasoned expert she was.

As she slowed to weave around some kids playing ball on the road, Kade took the chance to speak. “Did Mineko tell you anything?”

“She said there’s some guy named Lachlan Reed hunting us.”

Lachlan? Hell. That was going to make a difficult situation a whole lot worse. If anyone could outwit and overpower Lexi, it would be Lachlan—or Commanding Agent Reed, as he was called these days. “I see.”

“The Gazette is under the ice cream place, right?”

“The very same.”

“Does it actually serve ice cream?”

“That it does.”

Callie punched the air. “Hell yes!”

The bike released a furious growl and shot forward with enough speed to set Kade’s teeth buzzing. The road became a high-paced smear, and he clutched Callie’s waist, not caring anymore about whether he was holding too tightly. Smugglers were a daredevil breed, and Callie Roux was one of the wildest. Still, she knew what she was doing.

A bicycle flew out of an intersection ahead, and Callie jinked, almost clipping its back wheel as she passed. She laughed. “That was close!”

That did it. Kade closed his eyes.

* * *

The Revolutionary People’s Gazette, being something of a clandestine operation, was concealed in a basement beneath the cheerful front of Smiletime Soy Ice Cream. Callie secured the bike in the shop’s fenced back lot, and she and Kade entered via the rear door.

Tubs of colored ice cream crowded the shop floor. “Help yourself,” said Kade, and Callie grabbed a cone and stacked four rainbow scoops atop it.

Kade descended the narrow stairs to the basement, followed by the busy, messy sound of Callie enjoying her treat. She had plenty of talents, but eating pretty wasn’t one of them.

As he left the final step, Kade fumbled for the light switch. The lonely overhead flicked on.

“Ritzy,” Callie said.

“It’s not so bad.” In truth, the room still looked like a grotty basement, with the addition of a few tables and chairs, some desktop computers and, lurking in one corner, an immense multi-function printer. “Looks like everyone’s still in bed.”

“Or the Gazette is only you. Admit it. You invented the other contributors.”

“You got me. It’s all an excuse to eat ice cream.”

Kade ducked into the kitchen. Now that he was giving a guest tour, it looked a little shabbier than he’d remembered. Sad microwave, sadder fridge, tiles that seemed ready to pick themselves off the floor and crawl away. “We do clean in here, just so you know.”

“Is that one of your cleaners?” Callie pointed to a cockroach. It waved its antennas at her before fleeing beneath a cabinet. “Or is that your editor?”

“You’ve got something against editors, haven’t you?” Kade opened the fridge, and its low hum intensified. “You want a beer?”

“No thanks. I’ve got ice cream.” Callie slurped some bright goop off her cone. “So, what’s the latest in revolutionary news?”

Kade retrieved a can and ripped back the tab. He took a sip of the bitter brew before returning his attention to Callie. She had ice cream on her chin, but she’d find it herself sooner or later. “The most important development right now is Project Sky. But I can’t report on it until Lexi is safely in Port Venn.”

Callie licked ice cream from her lips, completely missing the blob below her mouth. “She really hates you, doesn’t she? I can’t understand why. You’re, like, the least hateable guy I know.”

Now there was a subject best avoided. “She has her reasons.”

“I’m sure they’re stupid ones.” Callie bit off the end of her cone and sucked out the remaining ice cream. Her eyes widened. “Ah, fuck! Brain freeze!” She groaned as she crunched into the cone again. “I can’t stop. It’s too tasty. But it hurts so much.”

Kade chuckled. He’d first met her a decade ago, back when she’d been an incongruous teenager working the smuggler routes alongside hardened men and women. He’d taken a photo, too, and still had it somewhere—same messy auburn hair, same dimpled grin. But despite the smile, there’d been a deep sadness in her eyes. That hadn’t changed, either.

“She’s so arrogant.” Callie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “She doesn’t care about anything or anyone.”

“Lexi’s arrogant, but she’s not uncaring. Just the opposite.” The subject twisted Kade up, as always, and he took a deep breath. “Anyway, let’s get off that topic. I want to know what Mineko told you.”

“Just let me wash the sticky off.” Callie twisted the sink faucet, which gave an alarming groan and issued a splurt of tin-scented water. She splashed the water on her hands and rubbed them together. “I changed my mind about wanting a drink. I’m thirsty now.”

“Help yourself.”

Callie rummaged through the fridge and took out a bottle of fizzing soda. “My mom never let me drink this stuff. As soon as I could crawl, she wanted me to drink whisky. Such a goddamn drunk. Never stopped swearing. Her last word, honest to God, was ‘cocksucker.’”

“Epileptic seizure, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. There was a dog barking outside, and she looked out the window and screamed, ‘Quiet the fuck down, you mangy little cocksucker!’ The dog barked again, like it was daring her to do something, and bam. Down she went.” Callie took a quick gulp from the bottle. “It was almost funny, you know? She’d survived through so much shit, and in the end what did her in was calling a dog a cocksucker.”

“We need to get you writing for us. You could have your own column.”

“The lonely hearts column.” Callie picked at the bottle’s colorful label. “You know anything about a Riva Latour? She’s Lexi’s latest victim. Pink Mohawk, super skinny. Pretty face, husky voice. Seems really gentle.”

“I don’t know this Latour, but I laid eyes on her briefly yesterday. I don’t have much contact with anyone at Open Hand but Nikolas and Amity.”

Callie wrinkled her nose. “What’s the deal with Nikolas, anyway? He’s weird.”

“He’s a good man. Over-cautious, but for the right reasons.”

“What do you mean, over-cautious?”

There was no way to get into this too deeply now, so Kade would just have to simplify it. “I mean he doesn’t want to hurt anybody. I understand his position, but we’re going to have to spill some blood to establish a fairer society. There’s no getting around it.”

Callie frowned. “And the woman? Amy, wasn’t it?”

“Amity. No, she’s not over-cautious. Not by any measure.” Kade drank the last of the beer, crushed the can and tossed it into the bin. “To be blunt, she’s ruthless. And I hate to say it, but we need people like her.”

“I don’t know. Maybe we ought to be better than that.”

“Don’t try to quote Nietzsche at me. It’s already been done.”

“I don’t even know what that is. All I’m saying is, if you try to out-asshole an asshole, you’ll end up an even bigger asshole.”

Kade smiled. “That’s a good paraphrase, actually. Albeit a little rectal for my readership.”

“I know, I’m stupid. I guess if I were smarter, I’d see the sense in hurting people just for wearing ugly overalls.”

She was teasing, but even so, Kade gave her a serious look. “Trust me, violence is the least preferable option. But at present, it’s our only option.”

“Why? Shut-ins aren’t necessarily bad people. I mean, look at Min.”

Min. Already using nicknames. “I’m curious to know what you think about her.”

“She’s brave, but she’s got no chance. Even though it wasn’t easy for me growing up, at least I got to fight back. When people pushed me around, I told them to get fucked. Sometimes I even got away with it. But when you’re a shut-in, pushing back just gets you wiped. You can’t struggle, you can’t resist, you can’t escape. There’s no future.”

“Being a Codist of her status is a tremendous privilege,” said Kade. “She’s never had to worry about homelessness, hunger or sickness. But that being said, there’s such a thing as sickness of the soul.”

“The way she looked at me, it broke my heart. She was so grateful I’d visited, but even more surprised, like she’d never imagined anyone could care that much about her. You know how people cry when they lose somebody they love, how violent and desperate that is? Like their body is trying to rid itself of all that pain?”

“Yes. I know it.” Better than he knew anything else.

“She cried like that on my arm. Not for something she’d lost, but for something she was never going to have. We can’t let her go on like that.”

Brave and sensitive as always. Classic Callie Roux. “It’s funny. I remember a dirty-faced girl who looked me in the eye and told me she was going to be the richest smuggler in history. Back then, I wouldn’t have placed bets on you being alive in another year. Yet here you are, bolder than ever.”

“I’ve not been so bold. Not lately.” Despite the regret in her voice, Callie’s smile had returned, faint and thoughtful. “It’s so stupid. Back then, all I wanted was money. Now all I can think about is how I wish I were loved.”

Which was worse? To be like Callie, waiting for the love who wouldn’t hurt her, or to be like him—having known and lost a love so rich that everything in his life had seemed to branch from that one source?

“There’s nothing stupid about it,” he said. “And I have no doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe. For all we know, Port Venn’s packed with sweet-natured women who can’t resist a rugged charmer like me. I just have to hope Lexi doesn’t get to them first.”

Back on that topic again. It was going to be a tough week. “When it comes to Lexi, give her a little time. She does tend to give respect where it’s due. Once she knows you better, you might be surprised.”

“If she can’t even get along with you, what the hell hope do I have?”

On that point, Kade didn’t have any answers. Just a sudden need for a second beer.

* * *

Something heavy scampered down the stairwell, a storm of padding paws. The Gazette’s other investigative reporter, Mahesh, entered with Goldie, his big German Shepherd, galloping by his side. Mahesh unclipped Goldie’s leash, and the dog bounded toward Kade and sniffed his boot.

“Hey, comrade.” Kade ruffled Goldie’s flank. “Behaving yourself?”

In response, Goldie placed a paw on Kade’s knee.

“Someone has been down here.” Mahesh hung his coat by the door. “Goldie was sniffing around the steps, whining.”

“It was Callie Roux. She’s gone now.”

Kade scratched Goldie’s snout while Mahesh vanished into the kitchen and clattered through its contents. The microwave chirped, and Mahesh returned with a small, steaming plastic pot of…whatever it was. “That stuff looks disgusting, man.”

“It’s good protein.” Mahesh twirled his plastic fork through the stringy contents of the pot. “Roux. The smuggler girl, right? Sexy, redheaded lesbian?”

“The one and only.” As the only other investigative reporter on the Gazette, Mahesh was technically Kade’s rival, but they shared information when it mattered. “Heard anything about Open Hand lately?”

Mahesh deposited a mass of noodles in his mouth. “Why?”

“Don’t interview me. Just indulge. And swallow those before answering.”

“Just the usual. Tension between your buds Nikolas and Amity. I think it’s going to boil over soon.”

Talk about bad timing. “You think Amity might start a splinter movement?”

Mahesh shrugged. He always shrugged, even when he had an answer. “They can’t fight like this forever. Right now, they have a mole, and they’ve been squabbling over how to interrogate him. It’s not a good look.”

Kade gave Goldie a final pat, and the dog ambled away. “I suppose Nikolas doesn’t want to torture him. It’s the right call.”

“But doing nothing makes him look weak. Fact is, they’re going to have to make up their minds whether they’re a charity or a resistance cell. They can hand out food and blankets, or they can bring down the Codists. They can’t do both.”

“I hope you’re wrong about that.” Kade glanced at his screen. The latest article wasn’t coming together, mostly because his heart wasn’t in it. The state of Foundation’s transport system? That didn’t need an exposé. You only had to catch a train to see it yourself.

“Go talk to Amity, then. You’re the only person alive who’s not scared of her.” A noodle dropped from Mahesh’s fork to his shirtfront, and he grunted. “What’s the deal with Roux? She used to be one of the best smugglers out there, but I haven’t heard anything about her for a couple of years.”

A contented snort came from the corner of the room, where Goldie had settled himself into his bed and begun snoozing with his paws over his nose. As far as guard dogs went, not exactly terrifying.

“She’s been under the radar,” said Kade. “Now she’s working on something with me, but I have to keep it close to my chest.”

“If that’s how you want it.” Mahesh plucked the noodle from his shirt and flicked it in Goldie’s direction. Showing good taste, the dog didn’t even look up. “So, why were you asking about Open Hand?”

“They’re looking after a friend of mine.”

“Lexi Vale, you mean.”

Damn it. “It doesn’t give me comfort to know you’ve learned that already.”

“The street’s buzzing with talk about her and the Menagerie. This has the potential to turn into a major gang war if Vassago or Contessa get protective. A good broker is hard to find, let alone a prodigy like Vale. She’s going to be irreplaceable to them.”

“Reed’s involved. They’re not going to put their necks out.”

Mahesh gave his lunch a particularly vicious jab. “Fucking Reed.”

Kade returned to his feet. Goldie raised his head, sniffed, and buried his snout in the blankets again. “I’m headed out. Hold the fort.”

“You’re just avoiding that crappy story about the subway.” Mahesh peered at his own screen, and his expression turned gloomy. “At least you aren’t writing about restaurant hygiene standards. You think the people are going to rise up because their tofu got chopped on dirty plastic?”

“It’s all for the cause.” Kade raised a fist. “Fighting back, one paragraph at a time.”

“Can’t it be one sentence at a time? I’d feel like I’m making progress that way.” Mahesh cracked his knuckles, placed his fingers above the keys, and inhaled. “Here we go. Winning the war.”

He typed with wild gusto, his fingers springing over the keys and thumping hard at the end of every line. “Oh, and be careful out there, okay? When you get secretive like this, it usually means you’re in trouble.”

“I’ll be careful. For a start, I won’t eat at the restaurants in your article.” Kade saluted the room. “So long, brothers.”

“Solidarity, comrade.”

Goldie gave a drowsy snort. A true hero of the revolution.

* * *

The grim apartment tower bordered the blighted Rail District, keeping company with shattered buildings and streets filled with debris. Six stories of drab cement. Nobody would believe that Foundation’s most glamorous and successful broker had chosen to live here.

Kade pressed the buzzer, producing a long, unbroken shrilling sound. The intercom crackled. “What?”

“I want to talk to the building manager.”

“That’s me. And I repeat: what?”

“I want to visit Lexi’s apartment.”

“You can’t do that. She said nobody was to go in.”

So far, just as Kade had expected. “I understand. Can I bribe you and get this over with?”

“Bribe me? What do you think I am?” The door opened, and a large man with a stomach gently swelling over his pants appeared. “Do come in.”

The foyer smelled like sour milk and dead cats. Kade waited by the chipped counter as the manager waddled around it. He squinted at Kade through puffy eyes.

“You aren’t a shut-in, are you?” the manager said. “They made a big enough mess last time. And they scared the shit out of my residents.”

A plastic bag in the corner rustled. Mice maybe, or perhaps the bag itself had come to life, animated by whatever strange odor haunted this room.

“I’m an old friend,” Kade said.

“Lexi doesn’t have friends. Just girls and business associates. If you’re not lying, you better have a way to prove it.”

“I thought you were going to take a bribe.”

The manager scratched his impressive chins. “Maybe, but I have to know how much to gouge you for. If you’re actually a friend, we can settle for something more reasonable.”

“Okay.” Kade bowed his head. At least the floor tiles seemed clean—in fact, they were cleaner than the counter. How the hell had that happened? “I know she can afford to rent anywhere in this district, but she chose this place, even though it’s like living in the devil’s armpit. Why? Because it puts her near to something important. A grave.”

“Yeah, the graveyard on the corner. She goes out there every few days. You haven’t been spying on her, have you?”

“No. I go there too, but on different days. We have an arrangement not to run into each other.”

The manager nodded slowly. “So you knew that dead girl. Ash.”

“Right. The three of us grew up not far from here, a couple of blocks over in the Rail District. When we chose the grave, we wanted to make sure Ash ended somewhere further from where she’d started. I’ve always felt there’s something depressing about being buried where you were born.”

The manager’s pudgy face drooped. “I get you. You know Lexi from way back, is that what you’re saying? Real old friends?”

“As old as it gets. I’ve known her since we were just children.” Kade lowered his voice. “The agents who tossed her room aren’t done hunting for her. She needs my help.”

The manager unhooked a key and pushed it across the counter. “I don’t need your bribe. Room Nine. Don’t make a mess or move anything, okay?”

Kade smiled. “I appreciate it.”

The elevator seemed a dubious prospect, so he took the stairs. The door to the fourth floor opened with an unhappy squeak and refused to close afterward. Kade gave it a final futile push before following the threadbare carpet to the door of Room Nine.

Discounting the overturned mattress spilling its stuffing and the drawers hanging loose, the apartment was nicer than its external surroundings might suggest. The carpet was plush and vibrant, and the walls had been repainted. Not much furniture, though: a wardrobe and some drawers, a couch, and a television. And a queen-sized bed, naturally.

Kade peered through an archway and discovered a kitchen. Its spotless surfaces suggested it had never been used. Beyond was a small door that presumably led to a bathroom. Not how most people would expect the elegant, fashionable occupant to live, but then she didn’t really live here. Just inhabited the place now and then.

The wardrobe had been left open, revealing a row of stylish jackets in disarray. Kade flicked through them and smiled. There it was, her first jacket: a black bomber they’d found forgotten in a bar. It had been a loose fit for a thirteen-year-old, especially one as skinny as Lexi, but she’d worn it with pride, swaggering the neighborhood with her blonde hair slicked back and picking fights with anyone who laughed.

Lexi had spent a lot of her childhood fighting. Any label people stuck to her, she took as an insult. She’d brood over it for hours.

I’m not like you, she’d said to him once as they’d sat by the old railroad lines. I don’t want to be a boy. I don’t want to be anything.

Kade neatened the jackets, shut the wardrobe, and took a step back. It had to be around here, so where was it? The agents had already split the mattress, taken apart the pillow…where else?

He stopped by the full-length mirror beside Lexi’s bed. He was looking a little rough these days, bristling with stubble, his forehead creased by lines. His hair had been doing its own thing for months—he was shaggier than Goldie. But it was still reassuring to see that tired man reflected in the glass. Especially with the memories this room was stirring.

Where would she put it? Kade turned in a circle. She would’ve hidden it somewhere she wouldn’t find it by chance. Maybe with something else from the past, an object connected in some way. Maybe…

He opened the wardrobe and rifled to the bomber jacket. It had a single pocket, buttoned. Tensed for disappointment, Kade popped it open.

And there it was.

It was Ash who had found the bomber jacket. Kade had wanted it, had fought with Lexi for it, but Ash had laid down the law as she always did. It would fit Lexi better, she’d told them, and Kade had backed down. He would have done anything to win Ash’s approval. To make her smile.

Later that night, Lexi had relented and let Kade try the jacket. In a murky pane of glass, he’d seen the spectacle Ash had been protecting him from: a scrawny kid in a jacket tailored for the body he could only dream of having. He’d given the jacket back to Lexi, tears in his eyes, and she’d hugged him.

You looked badass, she’d said. You just need to grow a little more, that’s all. Then I’ll let you wear it. I promise.

He stared at the photo in his hand. Ash. The frozen dead. Maybe this would remind Lexi, and she’d listen to him the way she once had. Or maybe—the thing he feared most—she’d never forgotten.

If so, there was nothing Kade could do.