I explained in the car. Tucked in the back seat beside Lear, I felt like a kid getting picked up early from school. U.H. cranked their music up to drown out the heavy thumps and muffled yells coming from the trunk.
âWhat do you think she planned to do to you?â Lear asked with a vengeance.
âNothing,â I said. âI don't know. It doesn't matter.â
âIt does matter, D-zero, because it's what I plan to do to her.â
The sun set. We arrived at the breweryâs gravel backlot, parking by the loading doors and Learâs frenetic mural. We all got out. Lear put his gnarled arm around me, keeping me facing forward towards the building. Behind us, the trunk popped, followed by crunchy stumbling and a muffled, angry string of Japanese.Â
âYo Cat, shut that bitch up,â U.H. said, calm as anything. A wet thump, the snarl of gravel, and Keiko shut up. I shrank under Learâs arm.
âHey,â Lear barked over his shoulder. âSimmer.â With a grunt, he clambered up the waist-high lip of concrete for loading up trucks with kegs. His gun wasnât a dark spot under his shirt. It was out, tucked in his waistbandâready. âYou wanna jet?â he said, bending to open the padlock on the roll-up door. âWeâll sort this piece.â
In twilight, Keiko looked like a creature from a horror filmâskeletal and stumbling, handcuffed with a bloodied canvas bag over her head, suit dirty and hanging off her. They wouldnât, right? Lear put that bag on her. He didnât want her to see where we were. That meant he was going to let her go⊠right? âShe doesn't speak Spanish very well,â I said. âWe both speak English.â
âDom-â
âI have to know how she found me.â I was scared for and of her. I had to know. Knowing was the only thing that could quiet that down.
Lear smiled a thin smile. He stood, the loading door clicking up with him. Keiko kicked and spat as Cat hefted her by her narrow waist. Lear caught her kicking, stick-thin legs, and together they rolled her up on the ledge. Lear booted her inside, more from necessity than cruelty. When Cat bent to pick her up by her handcuffs, Keiko rolled onto her back to kick at her knee. Cat took a shoe or 2 to the forearm before catching Keikoâs ankle. With Lear and U.H.âs help, Cat got her up, steering her to a secluded corner of the brewery, a 12-square alcove blocked in by a line of boil kettles. My eyes hadnât adjusted just yet, each player a blotchy silhouette of yellowed darkness, like shadows through a paper door.Â
âGet a chair,â Lear growled. U.H. rubbed their hands, sneakers squeaking as they vanished into the shadows. Keiko wobbled beside me, chin drooping to her chest. The deep V of her barely-buttoned dress shirt was soaked with sweat. A crenated, indigo pattern flowed down her ribs like ink. She was panting, tremblingâfrightened and trying to hide it. I knew what that looked like.Â
âItâs okay,â I whispered. âI-itâs going to be okay.â
The canvas bag rotated towards me. Kâs voice was hushed and muffled through the fabric. âYouâre a bad liar.âÂ
A sharp scratching amplified to a screech as U.H. ominously dragged a metal chair across the concrete. They slammed it down in the corner. Cat shoved Keiko into it with a clack. Keiko fidgeted in her seat, figuring out how to sit in a chair while handcuffed. Lear whipped the bag off her head, crumpling it in his sinewy hands before stuffing it in the pocket of his painterâs coveralls.Â
Keiko blinked, looked around. âLos hombresh este muy macho, si?â She had a lisp now, her cheek bulbous and crispy with dried blood. âFriends of yours, sheñorita sin nombre?â
Lear nodded to me. I wet my throat. âI sent them my GPS location. How did you find me?â
âI asked around. Whatâs a jee-pee-ess?â
â... The Global Positioning System?â
âNever heard of that one. You should teach it to me.â She, hand of god, winked at me.
âItâs not a sex position, dummy, itâs satellite geolocation. You really donât know what GPS is?â
She shrugged. I ran my hand through my hair. Thereâs no way this woman found me on her own.Â
âWho helped you get my location, what's their UN? I spoofed my IP, MAC address; encryption, proxy, VPN, no one should be able to trace it to-â
âWhoa, shlow down, my English ain't that good. What's a⊠Yu-en?â
âUsername.â
âThat like a drug thing?â
âNo, a username. The name someone uses online.â
âOhh, you mean like D-0-m-1-n-0?â She spelled it out as she had earlier. âThat a common name where youâre from?â
âShut up! You thought it was a code until I explained-â
âYeah, because you shpelled it wrong.â
âI didn't-! It's just a way to write it, so that it's⊠itâsâŠâ
âEdgy?â Keiko grinned. She had blood between her teeth.
U.H. giggled, and Lear cut in. âWhat's she saying?âÂ
âNothing!â I barked, sharp enough that he put his hands up.
âCuidado! Ella habla el tu dio de muerte,â Keiko teased.Â
âIf you didn't find me online, then who did you ask?â
âThe guy who hooked me up with you in the first place, Renzo. Fuckinâ geek, but he told me he knew shomeone who could clean cash with a computer. He set it up for me, and told me your super-cool code name, but he didnât know where you operated out of.âÂ
I made a mental note to sever all communication with this Renzo guy. What I wanted to do was get him sent to jail for this headache. I wouldnât, of course not⊠but it would be easy enough.
âSho I asked how you 2 got hooked up, who introduced you, who else he knew that used your services, like that,â Keiko went on. âTalked to a lot of people. Li Na, Klaus, Franita. You really get around, señorita sin nombre. Good thing I know a trick to make international callsh for free.â
It felt strange to hear her say she talked to what were, to me, names on a spreadsheet. It was weirder to hear someone talk at all about long-distance fees. âWhich one of them told you where I was?â
âNo one person told me. But yâknow how this businessh is, you know a guy who knows a guy. When I went back far enough, everyone seemed to know a guy in this town. No one had a contact number for the guy,â Keiko went on, âand I was gettinâ a little bored of Lima anyway, so I figured Iâd hop a plane and see what I could see.â Keiko looked me over the same careful way she had earlier. âTurns out, itâs a pretty good view.âÂ
Damnit. Iâd been so focused on covering my tracks on digital networks, I never considered the human network Lear used to find his clients. Stupid. Sloppy. âWhat do you want?âÂ
Keiko shrugged, handcuffs jingling. âItâsh not obvious? I want my money back.â
âWhat? Thatâs- the plane ticket alone had to have cost you-â
âBaby, I didn't pay for the plane ticket.â
âDonât call me baby,â I snapped. âThereâs no way you went through all of that for 4.8mil.â It was around 5k USD.
âAh, well, itâs like a thiefâs honor thing or whatever.âÂ
âOr whatever,â I scoffed. âTell me what you really want.â
âWouldnât say no to those drinksh.â
I couldn't help itâI laughed, a snort of utter disbelief. It died on my lips when I caught Lear looking at me with that artistâs eye, the one that made that painting of me locked up on my wall. I cleared my throat to address him directly. âShe says she wants her money back.â
âYou think sheâs dangerous?â
âI canât tell. She seems...â She was watching usâmeâwith hooded eyes, and smirked when we made eye contact.
âYou know, 5milâs not gonna break us.â I listened to Lear without looking at him. âYou can get that much with a wink and donât even need the smile, right?â
I did look at him then. âYou actually want to give her the money back?â
âWell, she came all this way, huh?â Lear smiled at me in a knowing way I didnât like.
âWhat are you up to?â
âShe made you laugh.â
âB-because sheâs pathetic! She doesnât know what GPS is.â
âShe found you.â
âYeah. Who knows how many people she talked to trying to figure out youâre my fixer. She could have gone through the entire network for all we know, and now she knows you and I are both here.âÂ
That sobered him up. âYouâre sayinâ either she keeps her mouth shut, or we shouldnât both be here.â
I nodded, a terrible knot in my stomach. For a moment I could hear radio static, the Andes on my left and the Pacific on my right, and nothing but farther away ahead of me. âI donât want to leave, Lear,â I whispered, sounding and feeling very small.
Lear put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before walking to Keiko in the chair to punch her other cheek. Her head snapped to the side, the wet crack echoing off concrete and stainless steel. The sound shivered into heavy silence. Keikoâs head lolled. She was trembling. Youâre a bad liar.
âShe can understand me?â Lear asked over his shoulder.Â
I had to remove my hand from my mouth. âY-yes, if you talk slow.â
âGood.â Lear looked back to Keiko, rubbing his knuckles. âNow that you know Iâm serious-âÂ
Keikoâs shoulders shuddered, shook, laughing a raspy, coughing laugh. She raised her head, grinning blood. âTu es serio?â she whispered in slow, wet, broken Spanish. âTu quieres asustar me, cabrĂłn?â She spat blood on his shirt. âMi madre mĂĄs pegar peor.â
Lear turned redder than Iâve ever seen, took a step in, cranked his fist back to hit her again. âLear, stop it!â I cried.
Keiko kicked Learâs leg and it buckled. Keikoâs chair teetered with the motion, then clattered backwards onto the concrete. Lear dropped to his knees, clutching his ankle. Keiko tumbled out from the chair, something tinkling like a bell as she pushed herself to her knees. The soles of her oxfords squeaked on the polished concrete. She scrambled at Lear, crouching down behind him. She reached for his waistband, then shoved him back to the ground with her other arm.
Wiry fingers closed around my wrist, twisted me around. Keiko was warm all the way up my back, her wiry body trembling. I fit neatly beneath her chin. I was dizzy until the cold metal of a pistol jammed against my cheek. Cat and U.H. fumbled their guns out, aimed them at us. Their worried expressions gutted me.Â
In my blurry periphery, handcuffs dangled from Keikoâs wrist. She spat, and something jingled to the floor at my feetâa tiny hook of metal. Lockpicks. âSee, this is why I always use rope to tie someone up, baby,â Keiko crooned in my ear. Her lisp had dissipated.
My voice shook, breaths coming as shallow gasps. âDonât call me that.â
âNo? I thought we had a⊠whatâs the word? A rapport going.âÂ
Lear gripped his ankle with a frightening grimace. Keiko swapped back to Spanish. âPistolas, aquĂ.â She indicated the floor in front of her. âO yo pistola Ă©ste cara bella.â She pressed the gun harder against me to emphasize her point, pinching my cheek against my teeth.Â
Lear glared and, nostrils flaring, said, âdrop them.â Cat and U.H. grumbled curses, but set their guns on the ground. With a kick, they skidded across the floor, well out of anyoneâs reach.
âAlright,â Lear said, his hands up. âYouâre the only one with a gun, now let her go.â
âLo siento, amigo,â Keiko said to him, yanking me close, her breasts pressing against my shoulders. âMamacita vamos conmigo.â Purring in my ear, she asked, âWhatâs Spanish for âinsurance policyâ?â She dragged me back by the wrist, deeper into the breweryâthe shadows. Panic-struck, I stumbled back, attempting to match her long-legged pace. I watched Learâs face. I thought heâd be furious; manic; even worried. Instead, as Keiko pulled me as far back as she could before turning a corner, Lear looked curious, like this whole thing was a puzzle he was trying to solve.