Chapter 101

I found Mila in the hotel’s complimentary gym, pounding a formidable combination into the heavy bag with her fists and feet. Instead of interrupting her, I hovered in the doorway and watched her work. Over the months, I’d seen her go on the attack against men and women of all ages and sizes, armed or unarmed. Her preferred style of martial arts seemed geared towards swift take-downs and massive, upfront damage; knees were often targeted, as were elbows, skulls, ankles, and any other part of the human body that didn’t deal well with sudden trauma. It was a brutally effective tactic, especially when she had the opportunity to start her campaign from ambush.

The steady rhythm of attacks she threw at the heavy bag were fundamentally different, though. After one particularly vicious combination, Mila returned to a boxer’s stance: feet planted wide part, shoulders pushed back so that her body was a straight line from head to toes, angled away to present the inanimate bag a smaller target, both fists held up in front of her face as a shield. She circled around the bag cautiously, narrowed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath before launching into another series. Two quick jabs with her right hand at head height, a swift uppercut with her left that would have ended in someone’s kidney, a sharp right hook that was probably capable of impromptu decapitation. She shifted her weight back and lashed out with a lightning-quick kick, returned to her stance for a heartbeat, and then swept out with a low, ankle-high kick.

Her attack went under the bag and, for an instant, I thought that she might lose her balance. Instead, she made no effort to stop her momentum. The whiffed kick kept going until her foot was pointed straight out from her body to the side. In one smooth motion, she put the foot down and, despite the awkward angle, came up from the mat at an oblique angle and drilled the bag with the opposite knee.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her artistry. Each move led perfectly into the next and each one would only have been possible for someone in near-peak physical condition. On my best day, I couldn’t imagine performing that sweep-to-knee combination. Odds were high that I’d break something if I even gave it serious thought. Mila performed techniques like that, two or three times in a row, without showing any signs of stopping. When she paused, it was to size up her imaginary opponent. When she attacked, it was to exploit some imaginary weakness.

It took a few minutes before Mila made a mistake. She’d gotten too close to the bag and, as a result, couldn’t throw the follow-up kick she’d intended. She pulled the attack and prepared to drop back into the stance, presumably in order to begin again.

I cleared my throat to get her attention before she could do that. If she went into those weaving, elegant combinations again, I wasn’t sure that I’d remember what I’d hunted her down for in the first place.

Mila turned to face me. She’d stripped down to a white tank top and a pair of black basketball shorts. Each of her fists was protected by a glove. Her hair was tied up into a high pony tail which had the effect of keeping any loose, wayward strands away from her eyes.

“Didn’t see you there,” Mila said.

“I don’t want to interrupt or anything…”

She looked at the bag for several seconds, sighed, and walked away from it in the direction of a discarded towel. “You’re not. If you wanted to work out, you’ll probably want to change into something a little less…fashionable.”

“No, nothing like that,” I said quickly. “You disappeared earlier, so someone needed to talk to you about what we’re doing next. That’s all.”

Mila grunted. “And what did Max have to say about everything?”

I quickly outlined the general shape of the conversation we’d had in the room. Thankfully, Mila and I were the only two people in the gym, so I didn’t have to worry about being overheard. While I talked, she toweled the sweat from her face, legs, and arms, then retrieved a water bottle which she greedily guzzled out of until I was finished talking.

“So you think it was Akumi and Kira,” Mila said, when I’d finished.

“I think it’s more likely than any other idea we’ve got. Unless you know something else you aren’t saying…?”

Mila ignored the implied question. “You think that these two former Yakuza enforcers murdered about twenty men in cold blood, kidnapped the Texan while in Texas, and got away without leaving the faintest clue as to their whereabouts…and you want to talk to them? Am I getting that right?”

When she said it like that, the idea sounded borderline suicidal. “Not in person,” I said. “They’d recognize me from the Speakeasy, for one thing.”

“Are there other things?”

I didn’t want to put my grandmother into any more danger. I’d even grown closer to CJ, by virtue of his talk with Devlin earlier in the day, and I knew that his pain would lead inevitably to hers. And my parents were in town. If anyone found out who I was, what I could do, or what I’d been doing for the last six months, almost every person in my life would be placed in the cross-hairs of someone.

Mila might not understand all of that though. Or, if she did, she might be more willing to put my family at risk than I was. So I decided to translate my concerns into a language she understood.

“They’re looking for mysterious people,” I said. “They don’t know what our goal is, obviously, and they don’t know how many of us there are or even where we are. That’s an advantage we might have to use, if I’m right.”

“Like the Lady,” Mila said.

I hadn’t thought about it like that, but she had a point. Word of our accomplishments had been spreading throughout the various underworlds of the planet’s largest cities. Old alliances were dissolving, rivalries were being dropped, and everyone with even the vaguest aspirations to power was paying keen attention to the ebb and flow of the landscape.

Revealing ourselves to the Twins would simplify our lives, yes, but it would also strip away our greatest weapon: uncertainty. As long as they didn’t know anything about us, they couldn’t come up with a way to counteract or retaliate. Shadows, like the Lady had said. Shadows within shadows.

“Yes,” I said. “Like the Lady. It’s a good strategy and I’m not in the habit of shooting down good strategies.”

Mila accepted that with a little nod. “When?”

“As soon as I can get things set up,” I said. “They might be able to track phone calls, so I’ll want to set up a network to route our packets around. It won’t be great, but it should be more than enough to confuse the matter.”

“Anything else?”

“Devlin and I need to decide on an approach. If they have the Texan, we don’t want to spook them into running.”

Mila gave me a grim, tight-lipped smile. “If they have the Texan,” she said, “you want to make sure that they don’t decide he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

“That’s…also a possibility,” I admitted. “At the same time, we don’t want to come as too abrasive. On the off chance that they’re completely innocent, we’re definitely going to need more muscle in the future.”

Mila raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” I said. “You can’t protect us from every single possible threat, especially if we’re working multiple aspects of the plan at once.”

“Don’t do that, then?” Mila asked.

“If I could stop finding myself up to my elbows in hordes of armed guards, open warfare, and the fact that I’m going to have to spend time with my sister, sure. I’d love to keep things simple. Why didn’t I think of that first?”

She gave me another begrudging nod, which I was growing to understand as a stand-in for a group of other, vastly different ideas.

“How long will it take you to get everything you need?” Mila asked instead.

“A day or two. Three at the absolute outside.” I paused. “Although I could probably shave some of that time off with Max’s help.”

Mila scowled. She didn’t frown, or show her teeth, or make a noise in her throat. Her expression darkened, her lips thinned, and one hand clenched briefly into a fist. The change in body language didn’t come with the usual feeling of violence, though. She just seemed…frustrated.

“What’s that about?” I asked.

“It’s nothing,” Mila said.

“No, it isn’t,” I countered. “And, since we’re going to have to work with Max for the foreseeable future, I’d rather not have any surprises.”

“Sarah, it’s nothing,” she stressed. “I’m fine.”

“You vanished as soon as Max showed up here,” I pointed out. “And then I find you in the gym, trying to beat that heavy bag into oblivion. What is going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mila said, her voice tight and tense. “Why don’t you worry about what’s going on in Devlin’s head, instead of trying to get into mine?”

As soon as Mila said it, she grimaced. For the purposes of this conversation, I managed to weather the attack without responding in kind. Therapy had taught me to identify when someone was lashing out. If Mila was using conversations we’d had in private as a weapon, that more than likely meant she was feeling particularly vulnerable.

Also, I really didn’t want to think about the truth of her words. She couldn’t possibly know how confused I was about Devlin’s atypical behavior and I certainly wasn’t going to give her that information now.

“I didn’t mean that,” Mila said haltingly. “It’s just…I didn’t mean that.”

“You’re a private person and I can respect that,” I said. “But you clearly have a problem with Max and we need to know about it before we move forward. If you’d rather talk to Devlin, then…”

“Oh God no,” Mila said.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s not…it’s not about Max,” Mila said. “Not really.”

It clicked into place for me. “Michel?”

Mila nodded. “I see how he looks at her,” she said. “And how she looks at him. It’s not hard to figure out what’s going to happen.”

She was jealous? And she was opening up? To me? She must be completely off-kilter, then. I didn’t even know what to do with that. My mouth opened and closed without uttering a single syllable, while my thoughts tried to adapt as quickly as possible.

“I didn’t know that you, uh…you know, thought about him that way.”

“I don’t,” Mila said. A moment later, she whirled around and drilled the heavy bag with a straight punch. “I do. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

I probably could’ve guessed that one, all on my own. “Have you, um, talked to him about it? About the two of you, I mean?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Mila countered.

“I don’t want to speak on his behalf, but…”

Mila interrupted me. “I know what he thinks about me. I’m not blind.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“He’s going to want…things,” Mila said. “And…I don’t know if I could do those things. But I bet Max could. Probably already has.”

I blinked, struggling to keep my mental footing. “Do you mean…?”

Mila gave me a significant look as a response.

“Oh!” It seemed like, everywhere I turned, someone was worried about someone else’s sex life. I barely had time to mourn the death of my own. “Why wouldn’t you be able to, uh…you know.”

“I could,” Mila said. “But I…I don’t know. I don’t want to. With anyone, I mean; not just Michel.”

Devlin and I had joked before about Mila’s apparent lack of interest in either men or women. I’d never considered that she might legitimately be asexual. Considering our mobile lifestyle and the complications my former relationship with Devlin added to the mix, asexuality sounded like a pretty good deal…in general. But the anguish on Mila’s face, muted though it may have been, wiped away any thought of glamorizing her struggle.

“Does he know?”

“How would he? I didn’t talk to him about it,” Mila said.

“Does anyone else know?”

She shook her head. “And I wouldn’t have told you, except that you made a good point. I can’t start holding my own issues against Max, when we might need her to deal with the Mouse at some point.”

When I’d pushed for this conversation, I’d expected Mila to dislike Max’s attitude or her general demeanor. Maybe Max reminded her of someone from the past that she preferred to avoid. But no, I’d prodded her into revealing a secret that, according to her, no one else knew.

“I’ll get it under control,” Mila said. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe I have to hit the gym a little harder to burn off the stress, but I can adapt. I always adapt.”

“You don’t…”

Mila gave me another look. I sighed and let the matter drop. If she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, she just wouldn’t talk about it. Pushing would only irritate her and make it less likely for her to open up in the future.

“If you decide you want to talk about this,” I said, “I’m totally wiling to listen. You know that, right?”

“I can get in contact with the Twins whenever you’re ready,” Mila said, pretending that I hadn’t spoken. “We don’t have anything else on our plate right now, do we?”

I ran through our list of priorities. Find the Texan. Enlist Max’s help in my battle against the Mouse. Locate as many remaining members of the Community as possible and, by whatever means necessary, haul them in as consultants and specialists in the aforementioned conflict. And, ultimately, to find a way to win a war we’d been maneuvered into.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” I said to Mila. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For?”

“Telling me the truth,” I said. “If you don’t want anyone else to know, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Devlin?”

I shook my head. “Not if you don’t want him to know.”

“Alright. I’d appreciate if you could do that, then.”

She was returning to form, in both demeanor and word choice. Whatever moment we’d shared was over, obviously. Satisfied that I’d found her, updated her on our plans, and managed to at least extract the truth out of her dodgy behavior, I left her in the gym, ferociously beating the heavy bag and working out her emotions.

I walked to the lobby, fully intending on heading back to my room so that I begin cobbling together something that would mask our location whenever we eventually reached out to the Twins. I was so deep in my own thoughts that I walked straight into Barrett’s chest, nearly at full speed.

“Nice to see you too,” Barrett said, helping me to steady myself. “What’re you thinking about?”

It took me an instant to gather my thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet your husband, sweetheart?”

I opened my mouth to say something sharp in response. Barrett tilted his head to one side and, unconsciously, my eyes tracked along that line. Over Barrett’s shoulder, strolling arm-in-arm into the lobby, were Raymond and Elizabeth. Virginia entered right behind them, eyes wide as they met mine. She mouthed something that I couldn’t quite make out.

“Is this something you did?” I asked Barrett, keeping my lips as still as possible. I didn’t know if my parents could read lips, but I wasn’t going to risk it.

“Not my idea,” he replied, using similar tradecraft. “They saw me on the street and wouldn’t let me get away. How do you want to play this?”

My thoughts flailed wildly out of control for a microsecond and then I decided to make the only move available. “Stay in character,” I said, “and play along. I’ll take the lead.”

“I love it when a woman -”

I punched him lightly in the stomach before he could say anything glib. He grinned for an instant and then returned to a more neutral, albeit pleased, expression just in time for Raymond to come within earshot.

“Mother said that you weren’t feeling well,” Raymond said, after he kissed my cheek and gave me a warm, one-armed hug. “Is everything better now?”

“Just some allergies,” I fibbed. “Nothing to worry about.”

Elizabeth entered the conversation with a flourish, as was her habit. “Here you are, up and about and healthy. It’s only been a day and already it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.” Sarcasm practically pooled on the floor at her feet.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Mom.”

“I’m not being dramatic at all,” she protested. “Our first day in the city, right after your terrifying incident, and you’re not feeling well enough to spend any time with your parents as we get to know Dallas. If we hadn’t run into your husband, out collecting his little trinkets, I might have thought you were planning to catch the next flight out of town, just to avoid us.”

There, but for the grace of God.

“Just sleeping late,” I said. “I thought you’d be busy with business things.”

“That can wait,” Raymond said. “Right now, your mother and I wanted to take this opportunity to get to know your husband. Since you’ve been keeping him away from us, that is.”

Shit.

“I should probably head back up to bed,” I said quickly. “Can’t be too safe, you know? The flu’s going around and -”

“Sarah Careena Ford,” Elizabeth said, “you are not sick and you are not going to dodge us the entire time we’re in town.”

Raymond sighed and nodded. “We’re willing to be patient with you but there is a limit.”

“Now,” Elizabeth continued, “your father and I are going to take you and your husband out for dinner. You will have fun. We will tell stories. And when it’s all over and done with, we’re going to have fond memories of our time together. Is that clear?”

I looked at Barrett, who shrugged the world’s tiniest shrug. With effort, I kept myself from sighing in frustration. My mother seemed willing to make an issue out of this dinner and I couldn’t afford to draw any attention.

“Can’t wait, Mom,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Sounds like a blast.”