«I don’t mean to sound callous, but I love you. I don’t know her. Please, Son, just get out. I need to know you are safe.»
«Okay. I’ll go.»
Marcus stood and walked to the doorway. Zoya was seated at the table near her mother. Her head was buried in her hands as she rocked forward and back again and again. He looked again at Zoya’s portrait on the wall, and this time her smile seemed to mock him. So innocent it looked, especially knowing what she was going through now. He felt the loss of innocence himself, if not quite so dramatically.
It felt wrong to speak while she mourned, but the longer he waited the more his imagination ran wild. He peeked out into the corridor, half expecting to see more gangsters. It was empty.
“Uh…I’m sorry, Zoya. It’s dangerous here. We need to go.”
She stood up, wiped her eyes with a sleeve, and turned to face him. He recognized the same murderous gaze she’d had while attacking the gangster.
“They broke her neck,” she whispered.
He nodded. Their eyes held for several seconds and he watched as hers changed from rage to helplessness and back to rage again. She stuck a hand in her pocket and grabbed the small chip, snapped it into her slot, and yanked the gun from the back of her pants.
“Well, you’re green now,” she muttered.
Marcus looked himself over. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s this card.” She ejected it and stuffed it in her pocket. “I’m afraid of it. Anyhow, I need to make some calls. These guys are looking for me, so they’ll go after everyone I know.”
“We can’t stay here! It’s too dangerous.”
“I have to make these calls. Go if you like.”
He saw she intended to plug into an interface on the arm of the couch. “You don’t have wireless?”
She looked up at him and frowned. “Can’t afford it.”
«She can’t use her Web line,» Javier said. «They put a physical trace on it, and it will take me some time to shunt around it without tipping them off.»
“You don’t want to use that line,” Marcus said to Zoya. “It’s bugged.”
“How do you know?”
Marcus’s face reddened. “It doesn’t matter right now. Look, you can make your calls through my wireless.”
“You’re awfully trusting, aren’t you?”
Sharing an interface was only done between those who trust each other implicitly, and Marcus knew almost nothing about Zoya. He knew he was letting his desire to know her overrule his common sense. “I probably am,” he said. “If the calls aren’t urgent, you can make them from my car.”
Zoya pulled a zip-cable from her pocket, sat down, and placed the gun on the table. “Thank you, but this can’t wait. Every moment puts my friends in more danger.” She snapped the cable into her slot and held the other end out to Marcus.
He joined her at the table and made the connection to his own slot. Most people could establish a connection on their own, but Marcus needed his father’s help; Javier served as a buffer between Marcus and the Web, in order to protect him from his Mesh addiction. «Father, can you allow the connection please?»
«Done.»
Zoya looked indecisive.
“What’s the matter?” Marcus asked.
“Not sure who to call first. I’d call my Uncle Vasya, but he’s let his Web subscription lapse. I’m not certain who else Tavik knows about.”
“Tavik?”
“He’s the gang leader. I know he’s met my friend Oksana. I don’t remember if he knows Ira or not.”
“So call Oksana first, then Ira.”
She nodded and her face took on the look of concentration that most people got when they used the Web. Normally Marcus wouldn’t be able to listen in on such a call, but with his father serving as a bridge, he could hear the ring go through. It chimed four times before there was an answer. It was the auto-message service from Oksana’s apartment.
«Oksana!» Zoya said. «If you get this message, please get out of there quickly. You’re in danger. I’ll explain later. Remember where we used to meet for lunch during school? Go there and I’ll meet you when I can. Okay? Sorry to be so mysterious, but I have to warn other people, too. I…I’ll see you soon, I hope!»
Zoya severed the connection and whispered, “Damn, she’s either not at home or they already have her.”
“Call your other friend,” Marcus said.
This time the connection was picked up immediately.
«Ira, this is Zoya.»
«Zoya! What happened? You sound terrible. What’s—»
«Listen. Georgy’s friends are looking for me, so they’ll probably show up at your apartment, too.»
«Georgy’s friends?»
Zoya’s mental voice cracked even over the interface. «They murdered Georgy and Mama already. They—»
«No! Oh, Zoya, I can’t—»
«Please, Ira, there’s no time. They can show up any moment. Take your family someplace safe for a few days, somewhere they won’t find you.» She considered who knew Ira that wouldn’t likely be bothered by the mobsters, and the only person she could think of was her boss. «Leave a message with Pyotr at the morgue so I can find you when this is over. Okay? Just go…go now!»
Zoya closed the connection without waiting for a response. Tears ran down her cheeks. Marcus sat silently, unsure what to do. After a minute, Zoya wiped her face with her hands and unhooked the zip-cable.
“No more calls?” Marcus said.
Zoya shook her head. “I need to check on Uncle Vasya and Oksana.”
“I can help.”
Again Zoya shook her head. “You’re not involved with this. It’s not safe. Go back to your embassy.”
Not involved? thought Marcus. How am I not involved? “I have a car. And my father has ways of helping.”
Zoya sighed. “I don’t want anyone else hurt. Just—”
There was a loud groan from the bathroom.
“Oh, Christ!” Zoya whispered.
Marcus looked at the nightstand blocking the door and knew it wouldn’t hold for long against such a big man.
“We’ve gotta go!” he cried, jumping up from the chair.
The bathroom door creaked and they heard a growled curse.
Zoya picked up the gun and held it out to Marcus. “Shoot him in the leg or something.”
“Are you crazy?” he said. “I don’t know how to use it.”
“You’re supposed to be the man, aren’t you!” Zoya jammed a hand into her pocket and fished out the card.
The bathroom door crashed open, the nightstand tumbling across the entrance hall. The large man stumbled out of the bathroom, a hand held to the back of his head.
«Father, what do I do?» Marcus said, sending a snapshot of the scene to his father. He felt his heart might burst at any moment.
«I don’t know, Son.» Hearing this was somehow nearly as frightening to Marcus as the sight of the angry gangster. His father always had answers.
The big man saw Marcus and Zoya and grinned like a shark Marcus had seen in a cartoon sim once. He took a step toward them and stopped. “You point that at me, little girl, you better know how to use it.”
Now Marcus noticed that Zoya was standing calmly, feet spread apart, gun held in both hands and pointed steadily at the gangster.
“That’s my gun,” the man said and held out a hand. “Give it here.”
Other than a slight flaring of the nostrils, Zoya didn’t move or make a sound.
“That’s enough!” said the gangster. “This isn’t a playground.”
He began walking across the room toward Zoya.
The shot rang from the concrete walls, and Marcus clapped his hands to his suddenly ringing ears. The gangster had halted, and Marcus was horrified to see a hole where his left eye had been. The man swayed as blood began flowing down his face and pattering onto the carpet.