Sunday, June 8, 2138
4:20 p.m. MSK
Marcus had recognized the woman from the portrait instantly, even with her hair cut short. One moment he’d thought he was about to have his brains plastered to the dingy corridor wall, and the next he had caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and turned his head to see her sprinting down the hallway with a crazed expression on her face.
What happened next felt more like a dream than reality, almost like watching an action vid starring Kwon Lee or Bobby Wang. The woman was shorter than he had imagined her, yet she moved with the speed and grace of a leopard, not hesitating even a moment in her vicious attacks on the big man. Her skill was breathtaking to watch, and the man was slumped against the far wall seemingly as fast as the attack had begun.
Now Marcus stared openmouthed as this slight, lovely woman pointed a gun at his kneecap.
“I…” It struck him that he had never spoken face to face with a beautiful woman before. He’d pretty much assumed he would live out his life without ever meeting an attractive woman. His face reddened as he realized what he must look like, his feet splayed out before his abundant belly, his skin pasty from too many years with no sun. “I’m Marcus.”
“A foreigner?” she said. “Why are you here?”
Marcus sighed. This again. “My, uh…my father sent me here.” He pointed toward her apartment door. “I’m a diplomat.”
“Diplomat? I would think a diplomat would speak Russian better than that. You German?”
“German? No, I’m from America West.”
The woman nodded like that explained everything. “Mormon. Why did your father send you here?”
Marcus shook his head. “I’m not Mormon. My father thought—”
“How could you be a diplomat then? America West is a hard-line theocracy.”
“No, not really,” Marcus said. “I mean, it is a theocracy now, but it’s not so hard-line. They don’t let us vote or have non-Mormon churches, but we’re left in peace otherwise.”
She looked impatient now and waved the gun in the direction of her apartment. “Get up slowly and move to the door.”
“You don’t want to go in there. Trust me.”
“Trust you? We’ll see about that. Just do what I ask, please.”
Marcus shoved himself upright and edged along the wall until he reached the open door of the apartment. The woman turned and knelt near the unconscious man. She put the gun on the floor and raised her hands to her face. Marcus was surprised when she began to shake. He took a step toward her.
“I’m a doctor, too,” he said. “I could check him, if you like.”
She snatched up the gun again and leapt to her feet, weapon pointed at his chest. Her cheeks were stained with tears, but her eyes were angry. “Stay where you are. No…no wait. Come check him, but don’t try anything or…”
She retreated a step for each one he took. When he reached the man, Marcus knelt and felt for a pulse. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not that the man still lived. He looked up at the woman. “He’s alive.”
Her face wrinkled up and she covered it with a hand as she broke into fresh sobs. The gun drooped to her side. “This is not me,” she said. “I don’t hurt people.” She reached for her slot interface, then tossed something toward Marcus.
A data card landed on the floor a few feet away. It reminded Marcus of the longer card the man had taken from him, and he looked down to see it on the carpet near the man’s hand. He picked it up and held it out to the woman. “Miss…is this yours?”
She stared for a moment through wet eyes before nodding. She plucked the card from his hand. “Where did you find it? Never mind, it’s just good that you did.”
Marcus stood up slowly so she wouldn’t get jumpy and shoot him. So, one or both of these cards may be what Papa is after. He pointed at the unconscious man. “What about him? He might wake up.”
She stared down at the man, looked back at Marcus. “You…you tie him up.”
“How?”
She seemed to consider this for a few moments before shaking her head. “I don’t have any rope at home. Maybe we can lock him in the bathroom.”
“He’s awfully big,” Marcus said. “You sure we can move him? What if he wakes up while we’re dragging him?”
She made an exasperated sound and pointed down the corridor. “Pick up that card. It scares me, but it seems it can help.”
While she aimed her gun at the unconscious man, Marcus found the card on the floor and walked back to hand it to her. She stuck both cards in her pocket.
“I’ll get his feet,” she said.
“Miss, shou—”
“Zoya.”
“What?”
“Call me Zoya.”
Marcus took a deep breath and concentrated on getting the pronunciation correct from the translator. “Zoya, shouldn’t you be calling the police?”
“The police were helping these guys earlier.”
“Oh.”
It took a lot of effort for Marcus to push the man away from the wall so he could get his hands under the armpits. His grip slid off the man’s coat, so he grabbed the collar instead and began dragging the man across the carpet. Zoya was doing no good with the man’s feet and moved around to help from Marcus’s end.
“Who is this guy?” Marcus asked. “Sounded like he was with the military.”
“No, he’s a gangster.”
“Really? He asked me if a general sent me.”
Both of them were grunting and panting by this time as they wrestled the man across the carpet. When they paused to catch their breath, Zoya reminded Marcus that he still owed her an explanation for his presence. Plus his father would want answers.
“My father learned that someone plugged a special data card into the Web in your apartment. It’s something he’s been looking out for. He had nothing but the address, so he made me come here.”
“Are you really a diplomat?”
Marcus shook his head. “There was no other way to get me into Russia.”
“I figured you couldn’t be since you aren’t Mormon.”
“You have something against Mormons?”
“I don’t care about Mormons. I only know what the history chips have told me.”
“I doubt either of us can rely on our history data to be unbiased,” Marcus said. “The Mormons didn’t set out to rule the country. When slots became commercially viable, they banned them for their members. When Meshing became a problem, they were the only big group not affected. The country pretty much fell into their hands.”
Clearly wanting to change the subject, she said, “So, you really a doctor, or was that—”
“I just got my doctorate, though I’m no MD. I specialize in nanobotics.”
“And how are these cards supposed to help your father?”
Marcus reached down and grabbed the mobster’s coat again. “Let me mull that one over a bit. I’ll tell you, but I need to figure out the best way.”
As they turned into Zoya’s apartment, Marcus warned her not to look into the living room. He moved around to shield her from the view. Zoya looked pale, but she gritted her teeth and continued dragging. They finally got the man into the bathroom, left him sprawled on the tiled floor, and blocked the door with a nightstand from the bedroom.
Zoya pointed at the bedroom. “Could you give me a few minutes alone with my mother, please?”
Marcus nodded and walked into the dark bedroom. A light flicked on automatically, and he sat down on a recliner near the dresser.
«Papa, you get all that?»
«Yes. I think you need to get away from here as soon as you can. Whatever my dreams may be, I don’t want you getting hurt.»
«I want out of here, too, but I’m afraid to leave her alone right now. She’s in shock.»