Afterparty (25 page)

She was keyed up, intently watching the hotel entrance and the surrounding sidewalks. It was a beautiful day, cold but clear and sunny. Dr. Gloria was somewhere above us, flying with the city’s red-tailed hawks or communing with urban deities—whatever it was that angels did on vacation. We shouldn’t have long to wait. Edo and Eduard’s jet had landed an hour ago, and we’d rolled up to the hotel ten minutes later. There was no way they could have beaten us here.

Rovil said, “I should be at work.”

“Come on, we’re on a stakeout,” I said. “How often do you get to do a stakeout?”

Ollie said, “Here we go.” A team of doormen and bellhops began to assemble outside the hotel. They seemed to be under the command of a man in a dark suit who wore a proud, jet-black pompadour. A few seconds later, a pair of sleek black BMWs pulled up to the curb.

“Those are the hotel cars,” Ollie said. “Keep your head down.”

I ignored her and tried to get a glimpse of Edo. Four or five people exited the cars—none leaving by the doors facing the street—and were immediately surrounded by hotel staff, then ushered inside. It was over in seconds. I’d seen only the backs of the passengers, but several of them were tall and blond and male. At least four Edo candidates.

I said, “Tell me one of those guys was Edo.”

“I told you to keep your head down,” Ollie said. “Edo was the one on the right. Eduard Jr. was to his left. The other three were assistants. Are you ready to go in?”

“What about cameras?” I asked.

“Just keep your hat on, and walk fast.”

“There’s no way I can pass for a customer,” I said. “This dress is about two thousand dollars too cheap. And this haircut—”

“Your husband is the customer,” Ollie said. “You’re just the suburban housewife.”

“That’s sexist,” I said. “And how is it that my husband is so much younger than I am?”

“You put him through grad school,” Ollie said.

“Thank you for that,” Rovil said.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “But if you trade me for a trophy wife now that you’re finally successful I’ll cut off your balls. And I’m keeping the house.”

The plan was for Rovil and I to rent a room on the highest floor we could manage. Edo and company would be staying in the Peninsula Suite at the top of the building. Our room keys wouldn’t convince the elevator to take us to that floor, but Ollie said staff badges could override that. Where, exactly, Ollie was going to get a staff badge she refused to say. She promised to meet us in our room, and then we’d zip up to chat with Edo.

“Let’s give them a few more minutes to check in,” Ollie said. “Then we can—oh shit.”

The man in the black pompadour was walking across the street toward us. Ollie twisted around to look past me out the rear window and said, “Rovil. Drive. Now.”

I looked out the back. A tall, blond man, one of Edo’s staff that I’d seen going into the building with him, strode toward us. Rovil pressed the start button, put the car in gear—and then said, “Ollie?”

The blond man had reached Rovil’s window. He twirled a finger, the universal symbol for Roll Down Your Windows—universal despite the fact that no one had manually rolled down a window in twenty years.

“Damn it,” Ollie said quietly. Then to Rovil, “Might as well.”

Rovil pressed a button, and the glass slid down.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gupta,” the man said. He leaned in so he could make eye contact with me in the backseat. No: so his eye contacts could make eye contact. His eyes gleamed with the false wet of data overlays. Was Edo watching this video feed?

“Ms. Rose,” the man said. “Mr. Vik would like to talk to you.”

Ollie stared at the man. She seemed to vibrate with barely suppressed anger. Whether she was mad at the blond man, herself, or me I couldn’t tell. She’d told me to keep my head down, but did I listen?

“Your friends can wait here with the car,” the man said. “We wouldn’t want it to get towed.”

I started to object, but Ollie said in a clipped voice, “We’ll be fine.”

Yes, but would I?

*   *   *

The lobby was grander and more beautiful than the online photos suggested. I’d noticed this effect before, the first time I’d visited Mikala’s family and stepped into rooms I’d only seen as background in her family photos: There was a resolution limit in capturing really expensive objects. Money radiated in a spectrum that was impossible to record.

The clerk with the black pompadour didn’t lead us to the elevators, as I expected, but toward another set of doors off the lobby. The blond man gestured for us to enter.

I hesitated, conscious of the smart pen in my purse. Ollie had better be listening in.

It was a conference room, with a glossy cherrywood table in the shape of a surfboard. The room was empty except for Dr. Gloria, who sat at the head of the table, writing on her notepad. It was pathetic how relieved I was to see her.

“Nice of you to show up,” I said in my tough voice. I was, after all, wearing a fedora.

She looked up, then removed her glasses. “I thought you might need someone to hold you down. Do you think you can get through this?”

“Of course,” I said. “All Edo has to do is confess everything.”

The blond man closed the door and asked, “Are you carrying?”

“You mean like a weapon?”

He looked me up and down with those gleaming eyes. He blinked entirely too much. “Raise your arms, please? Thank you.” He moved his right palm along my arm, hovering a few inches above it. Then he floated down over my ribs and hip, and quickly repeated the moves over the other side of my body. I had no idea where the scanner was. A ring? His watch? I’d already decided that if he went for the cavity search I was going break his fingers.

He removed a small black bag from an inside pocket of his jacket and nodded toward the purse, which I’d put on the table. “May I?” Without waiting for a response, he slipped my purse into the bag. He cinched it closed and left it sitting on the table. I had a feeling that if Ollie had been listening, she wasn’t anymore.

The bodyguard stepped back to the door, blinking again. A few seconds later the door opened.

It was not Edo, but a younger version of him. Just as tall, pale, and fair-headed as his father, but a hundred pounds lighter and more finely boned, a greyhound to Edo’s bulldog.

“Little Edo,” I said. “All grown up.”

He smiled tightly. “I prefer—”

“Oh, I know. But
Eduard
seems so stiff. Doesn’t seem to fit the wild kid who got kicked out of two prep schools.”

“You won’t get far by trying to insult him,” Dr. Gloria said.

I thought,
We’ll see.
Eduard was trying to power-play me. That nonsense with the bodyguard? The body scan? Well, that shit went both ways.

“Where’s your dad?” I asked.

“He’s in his room. He won’t be coming down.”

“Call him and tell him to get his fat ass down here.”

“Please,” Eduard said. “Sit down.” He was holding himself very still.

“You’re making him angry,” Dr. Gloria said.

“Good,” I said to her. Then to Eduard: “He has to answer to me, in person.”

“I’m not sure why you’ve roped Rovil Gupta into our personal business. We’ve received a dozen calls and messages from him in the past two weeks. There is not going to be a … Little Sprout reunion, or whatever you think this is. My father is not a well man. There are very few people he is allowed to speak to.”

“
Allowed?
You’re
controlling
him?”

“Barely,” Eduard said. He sounded tired. “If you want to send him a message or paint him a picture—you people seem to like that kind of thing—I’ll consider delivering it, as long as it won’t affect his mental health. If you have something to say now, you have two minutes, and then this conversation is over.”

“Fuck you.”

“All right, let me do this for you: Sasha is doing very well. She’s healthy, she’s happy, and she’s making excellent progress. She’s getting the best care—”

“Who the hell is Sasha?”

He blinked at me. “Your daughter.”

Dr. Gloria reached out to steady me. For a moment I couldn’t speak. “How—what do you…?”

“All these calls,” Eduard said. “I always assumed that you’d find out about the adoption eventually.”

“Edo
adopted
her?”

“No,” Eduard said. “I did.”

I must have made a motion; the bodyguard shifted his weight but did not move from the door.

Dr. Gloria said, “Sit down. Breathe. You won’t do any good if you faint.”

I sat in one of the chairs and rubbed my hand over the leather armrest. I pictured the girl I’d seen on Ollie’s screens at the Marriott, a pretty black girl with red highlights in her hair.

“My wife and I adopted Sasha four years ago. As I said, she’s doing well despite her disabilities.”

“Disabilities?” I was amazed that I was not screaming at him.

“She’s mute,” he said. “And in the past she’s experienced hallucinations, though her doctors think that’s under control now. She’s intelligent, though, and she has other gifts.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a piece of smartpaper. He ran his thumb over it a few times, then set it on the table and pushed it toward me.

I looked at it without picking it up. It was a charcoal drawing, or rather, a picture of a charcoal drawing. On it, a grizzly bear stood on its hind legs, its mouth open in a roar. It was beautifully done, full of mass and movement, and very realistic, except for the fact that the bear was thrusting a curved sword into the air, and wore a black eye patch.

“Like the rest of you, she’s artistically gifted,” Eduard said.

I stared at the picture.
Like the rest of you.
What he was
not
saying filled the room like a shout.

“Call your father,” I said to Eduard. “Right fucking now.”

Eduard regarded me with an expression like pity. “She’s better off with us. Until she’s of age, you won’t be permitted contact with her. You’re obviously…”

“What?”

“
Unfit,
” Eduard said. “Multiple suicide attempts. Multiple drug charges, two DUIs, too many hospitalizations to count. My staff tell me that you’re not even here, because you’re in Toronto under house arrest, serving time for a car accident that injured several people.” He stood up. “I will not allow you to harm my family. If I ever see you again—if I
sense
you within a mile of me, my father, or Sasha—I’ll have the police haul you back to Canada before you know what hit you.”

He walked toward the door. The bodyguard followed, but kept his body between me and his boss.

Eduard paused at the door, then looked back at me. “Get help, Lyda. I mean that sincerely.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Think about it,” I told the girl. “
The end of religion.
” I say “girl” but she was in her mid-twenties, a sleek brunette in black tights and Marc Caisan shoes. Her pupils were the size of dimes. She worked with Rovil at Landon-Rousse, or perhaps worked
for
him—I was not in a state to catch details. Half the people in the bar seemed to be employees of Big Pharm. Pharm Boys and Pharm Girls.

“If you had your own god,” I said. “If She was right there with you, what would you need church for?” My voice had gone gravelly from shouting above the music. “You wouldn’t need to
seek
God. You wouldn’t need to learn about Her. You sure as hell wouldn’t need to learn the
rules
of your religion—She’s right there! Ask Her!”

The girl nodded as I talked, her fingers automatically unfolding a white piece of paper.

Dr. Gloria said, “You’re making a fool of yourself.” She was perched on the back of the loveseat just behind me.

“Church isn’t for people who already
have
God,” I said. “It’s where they go when they’re looking for God’s last known address.”

“Here,” the girl said, and handed me the paper. “You need this.” On its face was a cartoon duck holding a red-and-blue beach ball.

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Gloria said. “You have no idea what that—Lyda!”

The paper dissolved in my mouth. “What is it?” I asked. I’d taken a lot of paper tonight. Also a lot of scotch. It turns out that Rovil’s coworkers liked the old-fashioned drugs as well as the new ones. I admired the closed-loop economics of their field: Make the drugs, sell the drugs, use the money to buy the drugs. But where
was
Rovil? And where was Ollie? Oh right—she was back at Rovil’s apartment. She’d refused to come with us, and gotten angry with me that I was leaving the apartment at all.

Well, that high horse don’t ride itself. I reached for my scotch glass just as the paper went off in my brain. COLOR BOMB! Maroon and aquamarine light exploded behind my eyes with a thunderclap. Dr. Gloria tumbled off the back of the couch and hit the ground with a thud that shook the building.

“Paintball,” the girl said.

I blinked hard. Coral and turquoise smeared across my vision. “I like it,” I said.

Dr. G pulled herself to her feet, looking bedraggled. She shook out her wings, and loose feathers drifted down. “What was
that?
”

“You seem sad,” the girl said. “What do you take?” I gave her a blank look, and she said, “Let me guess—Paxil. I can always tell. You seem like a Paxil person.”

“Lately I’ve been taking it straight,” I said. “Sorrow, no ice.”

“Not tonight you aren’t,” Dr. G said. She put out a hand to steady herself.

“I’m on Nardil and Oleptro,” the girl said. Her skin had turned gecko green. “But not for long, right?” She laughed like I was in on the joke, and I laughed with her.

“Everyone develops a tolerance to happiness,” I said.

“Rovil
has
told you about Stepladder. I knew it. He’s so paranoid about the NDA, but he can’t stop bragging about those mice. As soon as he kicks the tolerance problem, we’re golden.”

Stepladder? “He does love his mice.”

“We’ve got some
very
happy mice. LR is going to sweep the competition with this. Forget Paxil and Marvoset and Nardil. We will
own
this space.” The girl leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He told you to buy stock, didn’t he? Everyone’s buying stock.”