With Grief already snug in my shoulder holster, I slid Great-Great-Grandpa’s bolo into its built-in pocket sheath. The .38 went between my belt and the small of my back. I strapped a sheath full of throwing knives to my right wrist, although they were for last-ditch attacks. My front-line weapon slid out of a ten-by-twelve envelope. A translucent sheet of robotic cells some think tank at the DOD had created, it adhered naturally to almost any surface. I pressed it against the plastic covering Lung’s suit and stood back. Yup, it blended seamlessly. I ran my hand across the plastic. Easy to feel where the sheet left off and the real plastic began. Good.
With my offensive strategy in place, I felt prepared to deal with Wu, who, I reminded myself sternly, wasn’t Wu at all. As I moved to leave, I brushed my fingers along the outside of Vayl’s sleeping tent.
Maybe I won’t be back,I thought.These reavers are badass. I have a feeling one of them may actually get me one of these days.
I realized with a sort of shock the thought wouldn’t have bothered me at all a couple of months ago. But now I understood a lot better why my boss kept coming back to this life. It was so damned interesting. Especially when you shared part of your day with someone who could make your heart do gymnastics with the barest touch of his hand. Problem was, I knew firsthand what could happen when you fell off the balance beam.
I found Cole at the dock, manning a bright red speedboat that actually looked seaworthy. He’d found himself a captain’s hat, which he wore backward.
“You know,” I said as I handed him the plastic-wrapped clothing and scrambled aboard, “you’re probably breaking some mariner’s law with that headgear.”
He blew a green bubble. “Does that make me a pirate?”
I rolled my eyes. It was becoming such a typical reaction to him that I feared they might stick that way and people would begin to confuse me with Rodney Dangerfield. “Okay, Johnny Depp, reel it in. I need you to be alert if things start to fall apart. On the face of it we’re just delivering the dry-cleaning. That’s all the rest of the crew knows. My guess is they’re all Lung supporters, so they’ll behave until given contrary orders. You stay in the boat. Be ready to move out fast.”
“What if I hear loud noises?”
“Like what kind?”
“Like fighting noises? Do I come investigate?”
“Cole,I can barely kill reavers andI can see their shields. No offense, but you wouldn’t have a chance. Stay in the boat until I come out or you’re sure I’m dead. Then leave. Got it?”
His second bubble went limp when I said the word “dead.” But he nodded. “It sucks being the rookie.”
“Yes, it does. Look at it this way: I can’t get off the yacht without you.”
He brightened at that thought. Just call me the feel-good girl.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
What I’d said to Cole about managing fear was about four parts BS and one part wishful thinking. Fear is like a pig at the 4-H Fair. You can follow it around the ring with your little pig prodder and most of the time it’ll go where you tell it. But the sucker weighs over three hundred pounds, and if it decides it wants to jump the fence and run down the road, leaving a trail of green poop plops all the way back to the farm, by God it’ll do just that.
Mine still trotted in obedient circles, but that fence was starting to look damn appealing. I had learned long ago that kindness and/or bribery do not work with my particular pig.Just keep moving, I told it bluntly.I’m tired of wading in crap and you are not adding to the pile .
As Cole pulled up to theConstance Malloy , I grabbed the dry-cleaning and hopped on deck. I let him take care of the tying off since Wu had appeared on the deck above and leaned over the rail, a toothy smile on his face. “You must be Miss Robinson from the dry-cleaners! Please to come up. I will show you where to hang the clothes.”
Yeah, he just oozed nice-guy attitude, but he let me climb the ladder to his deck holding three hangers full of heavy brocade and silk clothing. Not an easy feat, especially when you’re anticipating an attack.
He nodded at me as I made level ground and led me through the outdoor seating area where so many had died so recently. I tore my eyes from the spotless floor and trained them on his back.
Wu wore a dark blue uniform-tunic and pants with black cuffs on the hems of each. His boat shoes and hat were also black. He resembled Shao, but not enough to make his termination a nightmare moment for me. I squinted, trying to make out the dark outline of a reaver’s shield. Nothing. But it was a bright, sunny day, the kind that seemed to hide these shields the best. Time for test number two.
“Aaah!” I pretended to stumble, grabbing at the rail with my right hand as I raised the clothes high with my left. I kept my eyes on Wu. As he spun to see what had happened, part of his face remained half a step behind. So did his hands as they reached out to help me. I stepped back so he couldn’t touch me, though I smiled. “Thank you. I’m fine. I fell over the plastic.” I pointed to the trailing bits of wrap as I watched the parts of Wu coalesce.
My head told the dread gnawing at my intestines to go chew on someone else for a while. I was pitting myself against a brand-new reaver here, not a seasoned vet like Desmond Yale. Wu’s future demise should be no problem. The dread laughed, the way a couple of high-maintenance teenaged girls will after they’ve just made fun of your hair, your earrings, your shoes, your jeans, the way you walk, the way you talk, and the fact that you blink every thirty seconds or so . . . and went right back to supper. Because I now had to assume that Wu had set his sights on my soul. I wasn’t sure how he’d been able to ID me. Maybe the reavers had a Seer working their side of the aisle. Maybe Desmond Yale had been carrying a passenger in his head when I’d fought him at Sustenance. One he’d passed to Wu’s body in the airport bathroom. Either way, it looked as if the rules that governed reaver kills allowed for payback. And Wu had suddenly discovered it was his turn. He was probably struggling not to gloat that I’d pretty much dropped in his lap. It’s the worst kind of bad luck. But it happens.
I followed Wu through the big combo room, where three more uniformed men were dusting and scrubbing as if their lives depended on the sparkle they left behind. Who knows, maybe they did. A hall led from the dining section into the cabin area I’d found on my first trip. We ignored the closed doors to either side of us and went straight to the one at the end of the hall. Wu opened it with a key he took from his pocket.
I anticipated a problem if he wanted to act the gentleman, but he headed into the room first. He did close the door, and I heard him lock it, but that was cool with me. I didn’t care for interruptions either.
“This is Pengfei Yan’s room,” said Wu.
Vayl would have loved it. And it bugged me that he and Pengfei shared similar tastes. What did it say about two people who enjoyed enormous beds lifted up on their own white marble pillars that are somehow lit from within? The bedding matched the carpet and drapes, all a creamy white with an overlay of intertwined buttery circles. White dressers with soft yellow knobs flanked the bed, over which hung another gauzy curtain of a startling scarlet red. The matching pillows had been thrown against the white upholstered wall that backed the bed like big globs of blood.
A white folding screen painted with red dragons stood in the corner opposite the door. This was where Wu told me to hang Pengfei’s dress. I kept Lung’s suits, holding them next to me as if to relieve some of the weight on my arm. “Tell me,” I asked as I peeled back a corner of the plastic sheet, “what’s your job on this boat?”