Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel (31 page)

Nikki was about to ask him about his high-school career when the next fight began. The sound of the band increased, and they had to shout a bit over the din of the arena.

The arena was underlit and the atmosphere was muggy and heavy with cigarette smoke and incense. Nikki knew that for proper femininity she ought to be deploring the violence or covering her eyes, but the best she could manage was to duck when sweat flew her way. Z’ev didn’t seem to notice, and in between fights, Nikki found that she was leaning comfortably into his shoulder, and the arm on the back of her chair seemed suspiciously close to being around her.

“The title fight’s up next,” Z’ev said, as two fighters marched into the ring. Scar Face and Electro Hair jostled past each other on the narrow ramp down to the ring. The audience was on their feet and cheering.

“Would you like a program, sir?” said an usher who had suddenly appeared beside Z’ev.

“No thanks,” Nikki said, looking up at the usher. “We already have one.”

“This is a special program,” said the usher, shoving the program at Z’ev. Nikki took another look at the usher and noticed that his white jacket was ill fitting—short around the wrists, tight in the biceps—and that his knuckles had the callused, scabbed look of a fighter.

Z’ev accepted the program with a nod, and the usher walked on. Nikki frowned as Z’ev began to flip through the pages. Looking around for the usher, she saw him hurrying up the ramp toward the fighters’ entrance. The title fighters were entering the ring–beginning their dance.

“I have to go now,” said Z’ev. “This is the part where you wait here until I come back?” He clearly had intended that to be a statement, but it came out as a question.

“Yes, all right,” she said, smiling, because she didn’t mean it. Val couldn’t be right about him, she would prove it.

As Z’ev hurried up the aisle, his tall figure easy to spot among the shorter Thais, Nikki heard her cell phone buzz. Digging blindly into her bag, she tried to keep one eye on the usher, who was now departing into the fighters’ area, and one eye on the rapidly disappearing Z’ev.

“Hey,” Nikki said, picking up the phone, expecting it to be Val.

“Nikki, it’s Jane. I’ve deciphered a lot of the info you sent me from that SIM card. We’re still tracking down numbers and so forth, but we’ve come across something fairly disturbing that I think you should see. It’s a picture we found on Victor’s phone.”

A particularly resounding smack sent Scar Face to the floor, and for a moment Nikki stared directly into his face, with only
a few feet separating them. The shock of eye contact made her focus on the fight.

“Jane, I’m a little busy at the moment. Can you tell all this to Val?”

“She’s not answering her phone. I’ll hang up, but I just wanted to warn you before I sent the picture.”

“Yeah, OK, send it my way,” said Nikki, looking for either Z’ev or the mysterious usher, but they were gone. She hung up the phone and threw it back into her purse. She had scooted to the edge of her seat, but was stalled temporarily, uncertain of her next move. Why wouldn’t Val answer the phone? She brushed the thought aside and tried to focus on Z’ev, ignoring the faint alarm bell in the back of her mind.

Scar Face had regained his feet and bounced back into action. Scar Boy, in her opinion, should have been spanking Electro Hair, but apparently he was having an off night because he was slow to reach for an opening and the lighter Electro Hair was walking all over him.

“So,” said Victor, suddenly sliding into the seat next to hers. “Who will be winning this one?” His dark hair was slicked back above his broad forehead and crooked nose, which gave him the air of having just slithered out of a swamp. An impression not helped any by his faux alligator skin button-up shirt with orange embroidered detailing. Nikki froze in position.

“The guy with the scar,” she said, hoping she sounded conversational and cool. “If he gets his act together.”

“Not going to happen,” answered Victor smugly.

She glanced around, hoping Z’ev would come back.

“I think maybe I should go,” she said, starting to stand.

“I think you should stay with me,” said Victor, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back into the seat. “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?” asked Nikki, playing dumb.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his grip on her wrist tightening to a painful level. “Where’s Jim? I know he’s here somewhere. Tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nikki said, trying to regain control of her mind. She had trained for this. There were things she was supposed to do. There was a checklist. Step one: assess threat level. OK, yup, Victor seemed a danger to her physical self and to the mission. Step two: formulate escape plan. Uh . . .

“You think I didn’t see the two of you at the club last night? He’s up to something, and I think you’re going to tell me what it is. Aren’t you, pretty girl?”

He shook her arm, jerking her whole body back and forth, and for the first time Nikki looked him in the eye. She’d had enough.

Step three: execute plan with the full force necessary.

THAILAND IX

Riot, Part Deux

From the fighters’ entrance a noise erupted. Nikki and Victor both looked up to see a man dressed in a short-sleeve yellow button-up shirt and brown polyester slacks come running down the aisle toward the ring. He was dripping blood from a cut over his eyebrow. He reached the ring and grabbed for one of the fighters, shouting something in Thai. The entire arena burst into shouts and yells. From the betting section came an immediate flurry of paper and screams. The entire arena seemed to be stampeding for the ring.

Seizing the opportunity, Nikki snapped her arm out of Victor’s grasp and hit him in the face with the nearest thing to hand—her purse. She knew it was a girlie move, but her purse did pack a significant heft, and he jerked back in surprise and pain. Dodging away, she made it to the aisle and began to battle her way toward the exit. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if Victor was following, but he was being pushed toward the ring and away from her. Arriving in the front hallway, breathless and skidding on spilled drinks, she looked around for an escape.

“Nikki!” Z’ev was bullying his way through the crowd by his sheer height, and seemed to be dragging someone along in the wake behind him.

“Victor!” she yelled, pointing back the way she had come. Z’ev frowned, reached behind him, and pushed the someone out in front of him, bringing Nikki face to furious face with Lawan Chinnawat.

She was a small woman—slender and just over five feet tall. She wore her black hair in a no-nonsense shoulder-length bob and blunt-edged bangs. If it weren’t for her determined and angry expression, her perfect cupid’s bow mouth and almond eyes might have looked sweet. Instead, she looked as though she might start breaking things momentarily.

“In here,” ordered Z’ev, shoving both women at a door.

“We can’t go in there,” Nikki protested, digging in her heels. “It’s the men’s room.”

“So? You’ve been in there before,” said Z’ev, recalling the Canada incident and what Nikki thought was a very inopportune moment, and pushing them through the door.

“Who the hell are you?” demanded Lawan, turning to Nikki.

“My name’s Nikki Lanier,” Nikki said, speaking quickly. “I work for Carrie Mae. Laura Daniels sent me to help.”

“Sent you to help? You call this helping?” She gestured angrily around at the men’s room. Nikki’s phone rang out of the depths of her purse, but she ignored it.

“I didn’t start the riot!” snapped Nikki.

“You are leading them right to me!” yelled Lawan.

There was a shuddering thump on the outside of the men’s room door. Nikki’s phone blared insistently, and there was another crash on the bathroom door.

“I think,” said Nikki, breathing deeply. “I think it would be better if you went in here.” She indicated a stall.

“I’m not hiding in a stall,” Lawan said flatly.

“Well, unless you have Tony Jaa skills that I don’t know about,” Nikki said, pushing Lawan in and shoving her purse at the angry woman, “I really think you should.” She reached into her purse, extracted the stun gun, and pulled the stall door shut, just as the bathroom door broke off its hinges, sending Z’ev and Victor sprawling across the floor. Closely following them were two equally burly men. Victor was the kind of man who traveled with a pack.

“Get her!” yelled Victor, pointing at Nikki. Whatever he had been going to say next was cut off as Z’ev threw him into a stall. The two goons were clearly torn between helping their boss and following instructions.

“Your move, fellas,” Nikki said, palming the stun gun and hoping she didn’t sound as scared as she was. The two men split up, one going after Z’ev and the other reaching for Nikki. He was surprisingly fast, but she was ready for him. She faded left and kicked him in the stomach. He grunted and spun around after her. Dimly she was aware that there was suddenly a great quantity of water spraying in the air and her phone was still beeping. The goon closed the distance, reaching for her neck, but he never got that far as she slid the stun gun out and up into the soft spot under his jaw. The man dropped, hitting the floor with a smack that made her wince.

She looked up to see how Z’ev was doing. The bathroom was covered in water from a spraying pipe that had been wrenched from the wall. Z’ev was in the process of giving the second goon a swirlie. Victor was shaking his head, staying upright only through the aid of a urinal. Just as Z’ev stood back from the unconscious man, Victor recovered from his stupor, lunged forward, gripped Z’ev in a bear hug, and heaved him into the air. Z’ev cracked his
head backward into the man’s face, then threw his body weight onto Victor’s grip. Victor, surprised by pain and slippery from the spraying water, let Z’ev loose. Z’ev landed firmly on his feet and sent the man stumbling back with an elbow to the chest. As Victor skidded backward in her direction, Nikki took advantage of the moment and jabbed the stun gun into the base of his skull. Victor made a high-pitched grunting noise and hit the floor, where he lay twitching.

Lawan came out of the stall, dropping Nikki’s purse. When she saw Victor’s body, her face contorted with rage, and she began kicking the prone man and screaming in Thai.

“Whoa,” said Nikki.

“Hey,” Z’ev said, his tone sharp and commanding. When Lawan didn’t respond, he grasped her under the armpits and lifted her away from Victor, her legs still flailing.

“What goes on here?” asked a voice, and they all turned to find the room was suddenly filled with Thai boxers. Nikki recognized the one in front as the “usher” who’d given Z’ev the program. “Are you all right?” His question was clearly directed toward Lawan.

Z’ev put Lawan down, but she continued to yell angrily in Thai, pointing at Victor and then at Z’ev. At one point she even gestured toward Nikki, and Nikki tensed. None of the kickboxers was big, but they looked as if they’d been carved out of teak. They might only have weighed a buck twenty apiece, but Nikki was willing to bet that it was a buck twenty that bought a whole lot of pain. If this was going to be a fight, she was thinking she maybe should have brought her gun. The kickboxers made a move toward Victor.

“I can’t let you take him,” said Z’ev, stepping between Victor and the kickboxers.

“If you’re not going to help,” said Lawan, “then stay out of my way.”

“I’m trying to help,” Z’ev said, “but I have to do it my way. We need him.”

“That doesn’t help Lindawati,” said Lawan.

“I’m doing my best,” Z’ev said.

“Not good enough, government man,” said Lawan, turning on her heel and storming around Victor’s prone body and out of the room. The kickboxers went after her, leaving Nikki and Z’ev under the steady drizzle of the burst water pipe.

“They tore your suit jacket,” Nikki said, picking up her purse and slipping the stun gun into it. She was certain there were more pertinent things to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

Z’ev glanced at the place where the pocket had been ripped from his jacket. “Yeah, they did,” he said, straightening up. He turned to the mirror and wiped the blood off his lip with the casual air of someone performing a routine task. “Come on,” he said, opening the door for her. “We’re getting wet.” He followed her out into the hallway. The sound of crashing seats and angry voices still came from the arena.

Picking up a janitor’s broom, placed to the side of the hall like a piece of flotsam, he shoved it through the handle on the door, locking Victor inside. Then he flung his torn and bloody jacket casually over his shoulder so that none of the damage showed.

“What happened out here?” Z’ev asked as a few people ran by.

“I’m not sure,” Nikki answered. “There was some sort of upset about the fight.”

“Yeah?” he said, putting one hand on her shoulder and steering her out of the arena. She could tell that he wasn’t really listening.

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, as they left the building.
The walkways were crowded with knots of chattering fight fans. Lawan and her kickboxers were nowhere to be seen.

“Um . . . yeah,” answered Nikki, delving into her purse again, pushing aside the stun gun, her sunglasses, compact, and lipstick she was hoping was of the nonexplosive variety, before pulling out her cell phone.

“That button and dial,” said Nikki, pointing out the call buttons. “But not those two! I haven’t read far enough in the manual to figure out what they do yet,” she explained hastily. She didn’t want to mention that she was worried that he would push them and accidentally blow something up. He took the phone with one hand, but his eyes remained fixated on her purse.

“Think you’ve got enough crap in there?” He started to dial without looking, still staring. “And how do you fit it all in there? It’s not like it’s a big purse.”

Before Nikki could respond, someone answered Z’ev’s call and he walked a few steps off the path. Nikki stayed where she was, trying to process all that had just happened, but it was hard to concentrate over the sound of the phrase “government man” ringing in her ears. That could mean only one thing: Val had been right. Z’ev wasn’t who he said he was. Nikki was suddenly very hurt and then very, very angry. Who did he think he was? Did he really think he could just go jerking her around like that? And who cared what she put in her purse? It was her purse. And no, she wasn’t just going to stay put and wait until he came to claim her. She spotted a couple of tourists who had also been inside at the time of the fight and approached them.