At some point the gun lost its menaceâa goofy prop to go with Keikoâs gangster pastiche. Now it was real again, and I was one loud noise away from dead. I recoiled into the back seat, clutching the door handle like it would open this time.
Keiko nodded at my phone. âCan you send money with that thing?âÂ
The breath Iâd sucked in escaped as a long wheeze. âJesus, you scared me.â
âThatâs kinda the idea behind pointing a gun at you, ba-â Keiko cleared her throat. âSorry. Forgot.â
Saying I couldn't transfer the funds from my phone would be a lie she would see through. âYes, I can. Computer, change system language to Spanish.â Once it loaded, I ran my VPN, then opened ZenGo. The gangâs meager crypto wallet stared me down. How the hell would we ever pay Hanzâs retainer now?Â
No sign of Lear in the parking lot. I thought the gang would pounce the moment we arrived. Were they still on their way? â30mil CLP, thatâs everything we have. See?âÂ
Keiko squinted at the screen. ââPretty sure 4.8âs less than that.â
â...Thatâs all you want? You have a gun pointed at me.â
âI told you. Itâs an honor thing. My pride as a good-for-nothing crook is at stake.â
âYou really expect me to believe that?â
âWell. Maybe I just donât like beinâ too mean to beautiful girls.â
âToo mean?â
âMost girls like it a little mean in my experience,â she said, flashing her off-center grin.
Trying not to think too hard on that, I tapped out the transfer on my phone. It took seconds, but she didnât know that. Before hitting âsend,â I tabbed over to my texts, watching Keiko to see if she noticed. She held the gun languidly; held me with her hooded gaze. A hook of dark hair had come loose from her gelled coiffure. One cheek was swollen with the saran-wrap sheen of a forming bruise, hiding her high cheekbones. Her lip was split, a bulbous red gash that must taste like a battery. She raised her sharp eyebrows. I cleared my throat and tapped Learâs number into the new message destination.
Where are you?? Weâre parked behind the buses in a red minivan. You know weâre at Rodoviario, right?
I watched the conversation screen for a few blank moments, hoping to spot gray snitch dotsâany evidence of a reply. Nothing. Maybe, after this headache alongside the migraine with Hanz, Iâd outlived my usefulness. Not worth the fuss. My fingers trembled back to the bank app. I tapped the green send button like a white flag. âItâs done,â I said.
âLemme see.â
I held the phone up to her. She squinted.Â
âSorry, itâs still in Spanish, hold on-â
âNah, forget it, I believe you. Youâre shit at lying, right?â
There had to be a scheme of some kind behind this, but I couldnât figure out what it was. I clutched my phone, tabbed back to check my empty messages. The ping-pong game my heart was playing heated up. âSo what are you going to do with me now that you have what you want?â My voice trembled more than intended. I sounded like some abducted maiden in a bad bodice-ripper.Â
Keiko checked me for weapons again, lingeringly. âI ainât anywhere close to havinâ what I want, baby,â she crooned. I had no breath to protest the name. She tapped a button on her door and my lock chomped open.
âAm I⊠free to go?â
âUnless youâre lookinâ to bail on this town too.â
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. I could. Leave the job to Hanz; leave the gang; leave ValparaĂso. My heartrate argued against it. I couldnât go without the exit sequence, it contestedâwithout shredding the hard drive or burning the trash. Getting on a bus with this neâer-do-well and no plan was the baddest of bad ideas. I opened my mouth to answer when something like fireworks went off in the car.
Pebbles of glass danced down Keikoâs suit jacket. A thick arm wrapped around her neck like a python. She choked out a curse before being dragged out of the car through the broken window, kicking and gurgling. The gun tumbled down next to the accelerator. I scrambled between the seats, pawing for it. It was so heavy. Shaking, I pointed it out the window.Â
From my right, fingers spider-closed around the barrel. With a shout I released it, ducking until I saw it was Lear. He held the gun up beside his ear like a white flag, opening the driverâs-side door. Glass crumbled from its smashed window. âYou rain, Domino?â His tĂo turn of phrase sounded weird in that trembling voice.Â
Wet thumps from the concrete called away my attention. Cat had Keiko on the ground and was wailing on her. âIâm fine,â I told Lear. âShe didnât hurt me. Cat, stop!â
Cat hit her twice more before Lear stepped in.
âYouâre gonna get cops on us like flies on a hippie, you keep knucklinâ her like that, Cat,â Lear snarled. âGet her in the car.â
Catâs fist stopped at her cheek. She had blood on her knuckles. With a curse, she yanked Keiko off the ground.Â
U.H. and the chocolate-brown Cadillac were idling on the road, blocking the driveway into the bus station. Lear keyed open the coffin of a trunk. âItâs okay,â I gasped in English as Cat heaved Keiko into the trunk. âIâll talk to them, itâs going to be okay.âÂ
K squinted up at me through the blood, her other cheek already swelling. âYouâre a bad li-â Cat shut the trunk on her.
Lear shuffled me into the backseat with him. Once Cat got in shotgun beside them, U.H. peeled away. After a near-collision with a swerving compact car, we ended up on a winding residential backstreet. Through the gap between the seats, Catâs bloodied fist clenched and unclenched.Â
âShe made you send her all our money, I imagine,â Lear said.
âNo,â I said. âJust what we took.â
Lear hummed. U.H. drove the wide car up a steep hill parked to the gills on either side. They took out the mirror on a ratty pickup truck on the way up, and the loud pop nearly sent me out of my skin. No one would look at me. This time around, there were no thudding kicks or muffled curses from the trunk, just a resigned silence. âWhat are you going to do with her?â
U.H. and Cat shared a look in the front seat. Lear side-eyed me in his cool, analytical way. I didn't have a lot of experience with the gangster stuff I knew the crew got into. Lear shielded me from the worst, but I heard things. The meanest of them, the ones mentioned in hushed whispers, were done up in the mountains, a high-altitude, witnessless wilderness. We were driving east, through suburbs, away from the cityâup. I was already choking on the thin air.
âLear,â I said again. âWhat are you going to do with her?â
âThat depends on you, Domino.â
âMe?âÂ
Up in the front seat, Cat sighed between her teeth.
Oh, god. Was Lear going to make me do it myself? Did he think it was some kind of rewardârevenge? âLook, Lear, she didnât take much, I can still get the money together to pay Hanz-â
âI donât want Hanz,â Lear said, wagging a finger over his shoulder. âI want her.â
âW⊠what?â
âSome walking skeleton with a 1 in Spanish and a 0 in resources tracked you down in a timeframe that could fit in a teaspoon. And considering our current negotiating position, I think sheâd be in budget.â
It took my brain a few moments to catch up to what Lear was suggesting. âNo⊠No! Absolutely not, thatâs the worst idea Iâve ever heard.â
âThatâs what C said,â U.H. giggled.
Cat grumbled from the front seat.
âWe need someone who can reverse-engineer software, encrypt international bank transfers, netcode, crypto, phone rerouting. Sheâs supposed to pose as a cybersecurity expert. She tried to get here with a paper map.â
âThatâs where you come in,â Lear said.
âYeah, you can do all the nerd stuff, and teach her all the nerd-talk,â U.H. said.Â
I leaned into the space between the front seats. âShe kidnapped me! She stole money from us!â
âI mean, we did all that stuff to her first, though,â U.H. said, rubbing their nose.
âShe can't be trusted, is what Iâm saying.â
âYeah, Dom, sheâs a con artist,â Lear said. âYou think I trust Hanz? Or any artist weâve ever worked with? Theyâre all little liars. But this little liar got the better of me, you, Cat, and U.H. put together. Hanz couldnât pull off that caper. I donât know anyone who could, and itâs my business to know those kinds of anyones.âÂ
âCat, please, help me talk some sense into him.â
Cat stewed in silence in the passenger seat, digging her fingers into her broad thigh. âI know, Dom. Sheâs a sleaze. But⊠I don't trust this Hanz creep if he gets his whole cut up front.âÂ
Outvoted, three-to-one. I buried my face in my hands. Keiko already made me feel unsteady. Having her around for this, of all jobs, was a recipe for disaster.
âListen, my girl. She put a gun to you. I don't like that, and I'm guessing you like it even less.â He put a hand on my shoulder. âGive the word and she's out. Weâll pack her up and send her to Santi or Japan or Hell if you like.â
I pressed my eyes shut. Much as I hated to admit it, Lear had a point. She was a career criminal, and my abysmal social engineering skills were responsible for this situation in the first place. I wanted this job to happen. I wanted to be part of it. Worst of all, there was a smallâvery small, minusculeâand misguided part of me that wanted to get to know her, the way you get to know a puzzle by trying to solve it. I shook my head, then haltingly, nodded. âFine.â
âThought youâd say that.â Lear shot me a knowing smile that I did not like. âU.H. Pull over.â
U.H. didnât so much pull over as stop the car in the middle of the street. Wordlessly, all 4 of us got out. We rounded on the trunk. Lear popped it open.
Keikoâs entire face was already shadowed with bruises. She blinked swollen eyes up at us.Â
Lear raised his pale, wiry eyebrows. âYou want a job?â
here we fuckinâ gooooooooooooooooooooooo
I leaned into the space between the front seats. âShe kidnapped me! She stole money from us!â
âI mean, we did all that stuff to her first, though,â U.H. said, rubbing their nose.
I'M CACKLING. LET'S FUKCIGN GOOOOOOOOOO