Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel (40 page)

“Gotcha,” Ellen said, but Nikki barely heard her. She was concentrating on the humming of Jenny’s rope. She had a job to do and she couldn’t afford to get it wrong.

Jenny hit the floor, grabbed Lindawati, and Nikki hit the Recall button, laying down cover fire as the two rose through the air. Once they were over halfway up, Nikki launched herself off into space, firing at the shooter on the third floor. She thought she ought to be able to hear more gunfire, but she could only see the flash of muzzles. It was if she’d gone deaf and things were moving in slow motion.

She hit the bottom floor and everything sped back up. She disconnected herself from the rope and looked around for Lawan. She caught sight of Z’ev chasing Sarkassian up the back stairs to the second floor. Lawan had found a gun and was firing at the retreating backs of several men as they ran after Sarkassian and Z’ev. Stomper and Saman had crashed through a wall and into the lobby. Nikki took another look around for Val, but still didn’t see her.

“Come on,” she yelled, and grabbed Lawan by the arm. She could hear the high-powered rounds from Ellen’s rifle singing through the upper floors. There was a small explosion as someone hit a booby trap that Jenny had set up before the meeting. Nikki dragged Lawan out to the front of the hotel just in time to see Saman put a flying elbow into Stomper’s chin. The bigger
man staggered and went down as if he’d been hit with a load of cement, and he didn’t get back up again. Might never get up again, Nikki thought, looking at his face. Amein, at least, might rest a little easier for that.

Saman looked up, and Nikki shoved Lawan at him.

“Get her out of here,” she yelled, pointing at the door.

“Where are you going?” Lawan yelled, as Saman pulled her away.

“I’m going to help Z’ev,” Nikki yelled back, but Lawan shook her head, not understanding. Nikki pushed her at the door and then turned and ran for the stairs.

Taking them two at time, the blood pounding in her ears, she sprinted up the back stairs, her breath coming in gasps. She rounded the bend and headed for the second floor. Cautiously opening the door from the hall, she slithered out onto the carpet next to an upright piano.

She could just make out Z’ev behind one of the large pillars. Directly in front of her, she saw the body of one of Sarkassian’s men. He lay in a pool of his own blood. Nikki was grateful that she couldn’t see his face as she picked up his gun. Two men were firing at Z’ev from behind another pillar farther down the length of the balcony. As Nikki watched, Z’ev’s gun ran out of ammo. The two men began to sneak forward, firing at Z’ev’s column. Nikki fired her .45, mostly at random, and ran forward, aiming for the marginal cover of a huge potted fern.

“Z’ev!” she yelled, throwing him the MP5, as she dove behind the enormous pot. Z’ev caught it with a look of surprise, but used it without hesitation, spraying bullets at the pair of Sarkassian’s men. One went down. The second man, checked in his tracks, took cover behind a pillar. Z’ev used that momentary advantage to run forward, shooting with steady kachunka-chunka-chunka.
Nikki’s heart was in her mouth. There was no way Z’ev’s ammunition was going to hold out. And it didn’t. There was a click, and Z’ev was empty. The man behind the pillar jumped out with a triumphant look on his face, but Z’ev didn’t hesitate and continued on at a sprint, barreling into him and busting him across the face with his now-empty gun. The man had time to register one look of utter surprise before crashing to the floor.

“Nikki!” Z’ev yelled. “Move it.”

Nikki ran forward to join him.

“Gee, honey,” said Z’ev, holding up the MP5 before dropping it on the floor and picking up the unconscious man’s weapon. “You give the best gifts.”

“Well, you’re easy to shop for,” she answered, breathing hard.

“Where’d you come from?” he asked, collecting the clips as well.

“I came with Lawan,” she lied. Mentally, she crossed out
lied
and inserted
simplified the truth.
“And I heard gunfire, so I figured you were involved.” It was sort of true.

“Most people run
away
from gunfire,” he commented, peering around the pillar.

“Oh. Well. No one ever said I was bright, did they?” It was weak, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment. She’d never been in a gun battle before. She was just glad Mr. Bamoko couldn’t hear her. Her witty repartee was kind of sucking.

“OK” Z’ev said, turning around to look at her. “I’m going to cover you. Go out the way you came in. My people will handle it.”

“I don’t see them here,” she responded.

“They are on the way,” he yelled back, as a hail of gunfire smacked into their pillar. The sound of bullets cut off conversation for a moment, as both of them tried to squeeze into as small an area as possible.

“People are shooting at me!” she yelped in a small pause between bullets. She hadn’t had time to process it before, but now that she’d gotten Lawan out of the building and theoretically completed her mission, she was having time to think. She felt shocked; she’d practiced for it, but it hadn’t seemed like a real possibility. And she couldn’t believe that people really wanted to hurt her. It was a terrible time for reality to be setting in.

“Yes!” Z’ev agreed, firing and ducking back behind their pillar.

“I was a cheerleader, goddamn it!” Nikki muttered, and took a firmer grip on her gun. She slid around the corner and fired a few shots before yanking herself back. “People don’t shoot at cheerleaders. I mean, stab them in the back, sure, but nobody shoots at cheerleaders! How did I even end up here?” Nikki talked to herself while she was reloading. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t help it. People were shooting at her.

“I don’t know,” Z’ev answered, changing clips himself and interrupting her monologue. “How
did
you end up here?”

“I’ll tell you how I ended up here,” she responded, slamming the clip into her gun. “Grades. I should have flunked math like all the other girls. You get good grades and pretty soon you’re going to college and then you’re picking some retarded subject like linguistics and then you’re working for Carrie Mae and getting shot at by modern-day slave traders. I should have married Billy Hollis, the captain of the baseball team, and popped out six or seven kids like Caitlin Barcourt!”

“Yes,” Z’ev said, standing up and kissing her on the mouth. “But then you wouldn’t be having this much fun.”

Victor’s men returned fire, and as Nikki ducked behind the pillar again, she caught sight of several men running toward the stairs on the first floor. Any second now they would burst through the door behind them. She was about to point this out to Z’ev, but
he seemed busy with the guys in front of them. She looked back toward the stairs, the fern, and the upright piano.

“Cover me!” she yelled to Z’ev, and ran toward the stairs. Z’ev, startled, but acting quickly, obeyed.

Nikki raced back to the stairwell door and wedged it open. Then she ran to the piano and put her shoulder against it. She could hear the sound of heavy boots on the stairs. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. Her biceps felt as though they were straining against a brick wall. With a Herculean effort, she gave a final shove and felt the small, rusty wheels give way and begin to move. She steered the piano through the door and worked up to a jogging speed.

Momentum was on her side as the piano raced toward the edge of the first stair. She could see the men rounding the corner, pointing at her, and shouting. With a final shove, the piano took its swan song, barreling down the stairwell toward four men with horrified expressions. Nikki had been so intent on pushing that when gravity took over, she nearly toppled after the piano. She teetered for a moment, watching as the men below her reversed direction or were run over. As the piano hit the bend in the stairs, it bounced twice and wedged itself in, inextricably blocking the stairway.

Nikki had just balanced herself and was admiring her handiwork when one of the survivors fired at her through a small triangle of space available to him. Startled, Nikki threw herself against the wall and returned fire. She wasn’t sure if she’d hit him or not because another of Jenny’s booby traps went off, shaking the building and sending a shower of plaster down on her head.

Slowly Nikki slid back out onto the second-floor balcony. Z’ev was nowhere in sight. Above her, she heard the sound of gunfire. The fight had apparently moved to the upper floors.

Running across the floor and up the front stairs, she gained the third floor and looked around. Z’ev had picked off most of Sarkassian’s army one at a time and now the fight had come down to just the two of them. Sarkassian was lanky and had a longer reach, but Z’ev compensated for the lost inches in weight. Nikki watched for a second, undecided about helping. She rather thought this was something Z’ev had been wanting to do for a while.

As she watched, a figure stepped out of one of the rooms. She was dressed all in black and carried a rifle. Her black hair swung in a perfect arc around her head. Nikki wasn’t aware of it, but she must have made some noise, because Val glanced over her shoulder, a cigarette dangling from her lips. When she saw Nikki, her mouth curved upward in a sly smile, before turning back and taking aim at Z’ev.

Nikki yelled something, but she couldn’t remember what, and ran forward, slamming into Val in a full-body tackle. Val spun slightly, the bullet going astray, and they both tumbled into the room Val had just come out of.

“I never should have bought you shoes,” Val said, standing over Nikki. “You feed a stray once and it follows you home.”

Nikki tried to stand up, not bothering to reply, but Val kicked her in the chest. Nikki sat down hard on her butt, rolling to her back.

“Why is it that whenever a woman finds a good thing, some other bitch has to come along and ruin it?” Val’s voice was grim. Nikki shook her head, trying to get the sparkles to clear out. “Just never know when to leave well enough alone, do you, Red?”

Nikki squinted up at Val. The day was proving to be a bright one. Val was standing between Nikki and the window. Her shape was reduced to a looming black shadow.

“What about you?” snarled Nikki, getting slowly to her feet. “Being a Carrie Mae agent wasn’t enough?”

“Sure, kid,” Val said, pacing slightly, waiting for Nikki to regain her composure. Clearly not concerned about Nikki as an actual threat. “Yeah, sure, my life’s just great. I’m forty-two. I have a mortgage and an incontinent cat. I work for a company that pays half what the CIA does and expects me to take it on the chin because it’s good for women. I’ve got a shoulder that doesn’t rotate all the way because that’s where I got shot, and the older I get the more likely it is that there will be more bullets in my future. Now, maybe when you’re twenty-five that sounds like fun, but when you get to be my age, it pretty much sucks.” She made a wide gesture, spreading her hands away from her body, and Nikki took the opportunity. She lunged forward, aiming for a tackle. Val had been expecting a punch, not a full-on assault, and only partially evaded it, managing to turn her hip, but they tumbled to the ground in a sprawling mess.

“What about all those women?” said Nikki, pulling Val into a headlock. “The ones who were going to suffocate or freeze to death inside those cargo containers, who Sarkassian was going to burn? What about Lawan?”

“Who cares?” Val grunted and slammed her elbow into Nikki’s rib cage right on top of one of the bruises left from the gunshot to the Anastasia. Nikki gasped in sudden pain. Val shrugged her off in a hip throw and tried to lunge away from her. Nikki recovered, spinning, and in fury charged after. Speed was with her, but balance was not, and they both tumbled through the window and out onto the roof.

They both went sliding down the roof before bouncing off an awning below them. Nikki landed in a selection of silk skirts, but Val fell onto a table of meditation balls. The silvery orbs bounced out of their boxes, chiming merrily into the street.

Black SUVs were pulling up to the front of the building. Men
in suits were running into the building. Nikki figured that they must be Z’ev’s cavalry, but she didn’t have time to worry about it because Val rolled off the table and ran out into the street, flagging down a motorcycle messenger on a junker sport bike. Without giving him time to react, she gave him a tremendous shove, sending him sprawling onto the pavement. She picked up his bike and left the messenger cursing in the street. Nikki ran for her own bike, parked just around the corner, and burned rubber as she peeled out after Val.

She wove through the traffic, twisting the throttle past the enjoyment level, intent on keeping sight of Val. There was a moment of panic as she tried to pull her gun out of her waistband and felt the bike dip to the side. She wasn’t really skilled enough for this, but the gun came free and the bike righted itself. Nikki edged closer to Val and pointed her gun at the other bike, trying to get a clear shot. The wind whipped into her face, blurring her eyes with tears and snapping her hair back and forth with stinging impact. She shook her head to clear her eyes and pulled closer to Val’s bike. They were nearly to the bridge.

As they drove onto the bridge, Nikki fired a shot at Val’s bike’s rear tire. Val applied the brakes and, unprepared, Nikki sped past, swerving to get around her without crashing. She hit the brakes and risked a look over her shoulder, just in time to see Val’s black bike jerk sideways and go down in a skid. Nikki looked forward again and found she was quickly closing in on the back of a truck jam-packed with construction workers. She squeezed the brakes tighter and felt the rear end slide as she watched the tailgate of the truck get closer.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” she prayed, as the construction workers hastily tried to raise the tailgate. She slid to a stop, millimeters from the bumper and face-to-face with a man in the back of the
truck. Nikki let her breath out in one long stream, and carefully released her death grip on the brakes. The construction worker echoed her movements, peeling his white knuckles off the tailgate. Then he pointed behind her.