Replica

  “It will have to do,” Nadia said firmly. “I’ll tell him this was all that was in Dad’s safe.” At least Nate was putting in an appearance at the party later tonight. He’d declined the dinner invitation—as he did whenever he could possibly get away with it—but because he needed to get the money from her, he had promised to make a cameo appearance to lend the party a little extra cachet.

  Gerri reached out and clasped Nadia’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re doing the right thing, you know. No matter how bad it makes you feel.”

  “Betraying the man I’m going to marry, helping Dirk Mosely arrest an innocent man, and maybe even causing a bunch of innocent people to be tortured…” She shook her head. “It might be the only thing I can do under the circumstances, but it’s not the right thing.”

  Gerri sighed. “Nadia, protecting yourself and your family is always the right thing to do. You have to choose your battles, and choosing to battle Mosely is insane.”

  “Now, maybe,” Nadia said as anger burned in her core. No one should have the kind of power Mosely wielded and abused, not even when they were investigating murder and treason. “But he’s not invincible. Someday, he’ll make a mistake.”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing him take a very long tumble, I must admit.”

  If she knew he’d threatened her kids, would she be quite so willing to put up with him now? Anger spurred Nadia, almost hard enough to make her tell Gerri the whole truth, but she managed to contain it. Telling her wouldn’t change anything.

  “Maybe you and I can help make that happen,” Nadia suggested as she took another look at the envelope full of dollars her sister had given her. Dollars Gerri had because of her extensive dealings with the black market, where she routinely bought tech for personal use that was of higher quality than that manufactured by Paxco.

  “What do you have in mind?” Gerri asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice, as if she was prepared not to like whatever Nadia suggested.

  “When he hit me, Mosely gloated that he could get away with it because no one would believe me if I told. But what if I’d been wearing a recorder of some sort at the time?”

  Gerri shook her head. “Even if you could prove he hit you, it wouldn’t be enough. If we go after him, we have to go after him with something that will kill him. Wounding him would be a very, very bad idea.”

  Nadia nodded her agreement. “I know. And like you said, we might not be able to do anything about him right now. But what if sometime in the future, he finds himself standing on less firm ground? Even the most powerful people in the world can have their moments. It’s not like no one’s ever had bad things to say about Mosely before.”

  “True,” Gerri said slowly, no doubt cataloging in her mind the times Mosely’s behavior had been called into question.

  “What if the next time he’s on the defensive about something, we produce recordings of him threatening me? Or worse. Lots of people would give him a pass right now because he’s investigating a case of treason and it’s all so new and fresh. But what about a couple of years down the line?”

  “I don’t know, hon,” Gerri said doubtfully. “It would take an awful lot to take him down, and I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. If he should find out you were recording him…”

  “How would he ever find out?” Nadia imagined there was a hard glint in her eyes. “He thinks I’m just a frightened little girl who’ll do whatever he tells me to.”

  “Maybe so, but still—”

  “I want to make him pay. You don’t know what it’s been like, being forced to give in to his demands like this.” Nadia suppressed a shiver and reminded herself for what felt like the thousandth time that no good could come from telling Gerri about the threat to her children. “Maybe if I’m at least trying to get him back, it will make this all more bearable.”

  Gerri still looked unconvinced, a line of worry creasing her brow. She wasn’t given to bouts of uncertainty as Nadia was, and Nadia felt briefly bad for putting her in what must have been an awkward position. That didn’t stop her from trying to bolster her own argument.

  “Do you think…?” She paused to carefully consider her words before speaking. “Maybe I’m letting him get to me too much, letting my imagination run away with me. But I feel like there’s a chance Mosely could make me mysteriously disappear before this is all over. He knows I’ll never forgive him for the things he’s done, and he also knows I’m destined to be the Chairman Spouse someday. He might find it more convenient if he could stop that from happening.”

  For one of the few times in her life, Gerri was speechless, staring at her little sister in horror.

  “But if I’m recording him, maybe even transmitting the recordings to a remote location, I might have a little leverage to stop that from happening.” Nadia shivered again. “Or at least make him pay for it after the fact. You would know where the recordings are being stored, and if anything ever happened to me…”

  Gerri pulled her into a rib-crushing hug. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she said fiercely.

  “But—”

  “I’ll go shopping first thing in the morning. Paxco doesn’t make anything that would fit the bill, but I’m sure I can find a microtransmitter on the black market that would do the job.” Gerri released her from the hug, but kept her hands on Nadia’s shoulders, fixing her with an intent stare. “Promise me, promise me, that if we do this, you’ll pretend the transmitter isn’t there. Do not go fishing. If Mosely says something incriminating, fine. But don’t try to lead him into it. Don’t take the chance that he might figure out you’re wearing it.”

  Perhaps Nadia was giving her sister an inflated opinion of her courage. Much though she wanted to get revenge on Mosely, the idea that she was going to try to record him scared the hell out of her. No way was she going to take any more chances than necessary.

  “I promise,” she said simply, and after another soul-searching look, Gerri nodded.

  “Okay then. Let’s get back to the party before Mom sends a search party after us.”

  Forcing a smile, wondering how she was going to endure an evening of gossip and small talk, Nadia followed her sister out of the apartment.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nate would have loved to get his trip to the Basement over with early so he could get some sleep, but he had to wait until his household quieted down for the night to reduce the chances of being seen. He kept himself awake by watching a horror movie on the net, but the ads for an upcoming news special were way scarier than the movie. The ad came up on every commercial break, showing Nate cussing out the reporter and shoving the microphone out of his face; worse, some talking head with a PhD was speculating about whether such an outburst from a former media darling meant the Replication process was flawed and had created violent tendencies. He finally quit watching the movie just so he could stop seeing that ad.

  At 1:00 A.M., Nate started the laborious process of transforming himself once more into the Ghost. He was already running on fumes, and this was going to be one hell of a long night.

  Yawning, Nate checked the various hiding places on his costume to make sure all the dollars Nadia had given him were secure and hidden. His conscience nagged at him for the way he’d treated her this afternoon. Now that Kurt was gone, she was the only true friend he had, and the absolute worst thing he could do was act like an asshole and alienate her. She was as alone as he was, her parents’ love tempered by expectations, her peers’ “friendship” tainted by jealousy and ambition. He and Nadia needed each other, now more than ever, and Nate was determined never to take her for granted again. That she’d stolen money from her parents for him after the way he’d acted showed just how good a friend she was, doing her all to help him find someone everyone but the two of them thought was guilty of murder.

  Nate used the same escape route he’d used the night before, starting with the rather terrifying drop through the laundry chute. He had a jolt when he landed in the laundry room and found the ligh
ts on, but as far as he could tell, there was no one around. He let out a breath of relief, then made his way cautiously to the service stairs, feeling even more on edge than he had the night before.

  He didn’t allow himself to relax until he was driving the purloined motorcycle out of the parking lot, opening up the throttle as much as he dared on the quiet streets. He wanted to put the little Ducati through its paces, maybe give himself a good adrenaline spike to chase away the last of the cobwebs in his head. Maybe he just wanted to remind himself that he was alive, when by all rights, he shouldn’t be. But calling attention to himself wasn’t part of the game plan.

  By the time Nate arrived at Angel’s doorstep, it was past two in the morning. Prime time, in Debasement. The club was crowded, wall-to-wall people, and the predators were out full force. One pretty young hooker even tried to pick his pocket, which meant word had already spread that he’d paid the cover charge in dollars. Usually the predators ignored other Basement-dwellers and fixated on the more wealthy and less cautious Executive and Employee patrons. Nate caught the hooker’s wrist, trapping her with two fingers halfway into one of his jacket pockets. She was startlingly young, with tiny breasts barely hidden by her red halter top. Nate felt a twisting sensation in his gut. He’d seen some awfully young girls plying the sex trade at Angel’s club, but this one seemed little more than a child. Which was probably why she’d resorted to picking Nate’s pocket—she wasn’t experienced enough to stick to the lower-risk, higher-reward targets.

  Nate clicked his tongue at her, still holding her wrist as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. But young though she might be, it had been a long time since this girl had been innocent by any definition of the word, and Nate could see the calculation behind the expression.

  “How old are you?” he found himself asking, shouting the question over the music. She looked barely past puberty, but this was Debasement, and looks could be deceiving here. He could hope she was really an adult with exceptionally good makeup and some quality amateur plastic surgery.

  “What’s it to you?” she asked, dropping the innocent look for one of sulky belligerence. She gave a little tug to see if she could free her wrist, but he kept hold. Her voice was clear and high, a little girl’s voice rather than a woman’s. “You plannin’ to give me a spanking?” The girl leered at him, moving closer, pressing her body up against his. “I’ll give you a freebie to make up for the, um, misunderstanding.”

  Nate suppressed a shudder. He was quite sure that even if he were really into girls, he wouldn’t be tempted by this little Lolita wannabe. But maybe he could make her life easier for her, if just for one night. Making sure her free hand wasn’t doing anything it shouldn’t while she pressed up against him, he reached under his leather jacket and opened one of the zipper compartments, pulling out a hundred dollar bill and folding it into his palm.

  “I’ll let you off with a warning,” he told her, trying to smile at her while thinking how unfair it was that being born reasonably pretty in Debasement had doomed her to this fate. If she’d been born to an Employee family, would she be a perfectly respectable schoolgirl, looking forward to a safe and happy life? And if he had been born in Debasement, what would his life look like right now?

  Of course, now was a shitty time for philosophical, self-indulgent navel gazing.

  “You work for Angel, right?” She had to work for Angel; Angel wouldn’t let someone this pathetic set foot in her club as a patron.

  The girl stuck out her lower lip, but there was a flash of real fear in her eyes. “Please don’t say nothin’ to Angel. I was just … playin’.”

  “I won’t tell Angel you tried to pick my pocket,” he assured her. He clasped her hand, letting her feel the money against her palm. “I just want to have a word with Angel, and don’t want to have to spend all night looking for her. Any chance you can let her know I’m here and looking?”

  Cautiously, ready to grab her and take his money back if she tried to bolt, Nate let go. She took a step back from him, keeping a wary eye on him as she glanced at the bill in her hand. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped when she saw what she held.

  “Tell Angel the Ghost wants to talk to her. I’ll be at the bar. I’ll give you another tip once I’ve seen her. Deal?”

  The girl licked her lips, still wide-eyed. Maybe he’d gone overboard with his payment, but he wanted to think it was enough to give her a night or two off.

  When had he decided to become a knight in shining armor?

  “Do we have a deal, or don’t we?” he asked, more sharply than he intended. He didn’t like seeing the place he’d once thought of as an adult playground for what it really was, but it wasn’t fair to take it out on the girl.

  She lifted her chin, and defiance flashed in her eyes. “Deal,” she said, then turned to head off into the crowd. She stuck the hand with the money in it into her tight, skimpy shorts, and he tried not to wonder how she protected her money when those shorts came off.

  “Hey!” he called after her. She stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Why d’you care?”

  Nate wondered if Kurt had been such a hard case at that age, then shook his head, trying not to picture his boyfriend as a child prostitute. They’d never talked about it, but Nate knew Kurt had gotten started young.

  “I don’t,” he said, because it was what she expected. “I’m just curious.”

  She thought about it a moment, then shrugged her skinny shoulders. “Petal.”

  She turned from him without awaiting a response and lost herself in the crowd. Nate hoped she was going to take his message to Angel, but she might just as easily have been making a beeline for the exit to spend her unexpected windfall.

  Surprised by how strongly he wished he could just leave Angel’s and never come back, he reluctantly made his way to the bar to wait.

  * * *

  Nate was dangerously close to being a morose drunk.

  He’d been sitting at the bar for the better part of an hour, and the longer he sat, the more convinced he felt that Petal had taken his money and run. Not that he could blame her. If he’d been in her shoes, he’d have been outta there in an instant.

  How had he never noticed before how depressing Angel’s was? Sure, the Executive and Employee tourists were having a blast, getting drunk, doing drugs, enjoying the shows, and getting laid. And sure, some of the dealers and hookers probably got off on the power games they played, enjoyed being viewed as dangerous predators or seeing the sexual hold they had on such powerful people. But most were just doing their jobs, with about the same enthusiasm as a factory worker, dreaming of quitting time and hoping they were pulling in enough cash to make ends meet.

  His disenchantment with the club had led him to drink more than was wise. Not that he had any choice but to order drinks while he was sitting at the bar, but that didn’t mean he had to actually drink them. But he hoped that maybe if he took the edge off, he’d see a little bit more of the Angel’s he remembered, the fun, wild, exotic club he’d so enjoyed visiting. Instead, it seemed with every sip of alcohol, he found the place just a little more depressing.

  He’d gotten himself into such a nasty, broody mood that he was barely aware of the people around him as he sat hunched over his drink at the bar. He finished off the shot of insanely expensive chocolate vodka he’d ordered, barely tasting it. Nadia was not going to be happy with him for spending the hard-won dollars on liquor he didn’t really want, but maybe if he kept ordering the most expensive drinks, he’d eventually attract Angel’s attention even if Petal hadn’t bothered to take his message to her. And maybe he’d even have a few dollars left over with which to bribe Angel.

  “Another!” he cried out loudly to Viper, waving his empty shot glass in the air and then turning it upside down before plopping it back on the bar.

  “Fine vodka is meant to be sipped, you know,” said a voice from behind him, and Nate froze with his hand still
holding the shot glass.

  It showed how dangerously careless he’d become that he’d allowed the very woman he was looking for to come up behind him within touching distance without having noticed. Moving slowly, because there was something sly in Angel’s voice that jangled his nerves, Nate turned around.

  Debasement was full of exotic, unusual-looking people, but even among them Angel of Mercy stood out. Nate wasn’t sure how old she was, but if he had to guess, he’d say somewhere in the vicinity of fifty. Her hair was a natural (he presumed) steel gray, cut in a six-inch-high Mohawk that made it look like she had a rotary saw coming out of her head. There were deep wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and she had the wattled neck of a much older woman, but her boobs were high and tight (almost certainly fake), and she always displayed her cleavage to best effect. The spiky dog collar she wore around her neck might have looked vaguely submissive on anyone else, but on Angel it was a mockery. If there was anyone in the world less submissive than Angel of Mercy, Nate didn’t want to meet them.

  Angel’s face was devoid of the tattoos and face paint that were so popular among the Basement’s younger crowd, but her body was a different story. The henna-colored designs started just under her collarbones and crawled down her body and arms in bands and spirals. Nowhere near as colorful and elaborate as some of the other body art Nate had seen in Debasement, Angel’s tattoos were nonetheless some of the most striking: a series of repeating, tribal-looking patterns that somehow managed to fit together perfectly, like a monochrome Persian rug woven by a detail-oriented master.

  “Angel,” he said with a polite nod, while not taking his eyes off of her. “So nice to see you again.”

  She smiled at him, then gave the guy sitting next to him at the bar a pointed stare. The guy was a drunk twentysomething Employee, but he wasn’t so plastered he couldn’t read the very obvious hint in Angel’s eyes, and he hastily vacated his barstool. Still smiling, Angel took a seat. Viper put a shot glass filled with viscous, crimson liquid on the bar before her. Nate had no idea what it was, and had no inclination to find out as Angel lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. It left a thick coating on the sides of the glass. Clearly, it was supposed to look like blood, but Nate was ninety-nine percent sure it wasn’t. It was the remaining one percent that made him decline when Angel arched a brow at him and said “Want one?”