Exposed (15 page)

As if he were waiting for someone.

Jake inhaled sharply. He wasn't a top agent. The things he'd learned from Oliver at this point would probably fill no more than a matchbook. But he had instincts. And his instincts were telling him that Blue Hair was God.

Jake hunched down on his heels, trying to seem small. He didn't want God to notice him, but he didn't want to lose his vantage point. He readied himself.

It was game time.

OH GOD
.

It was
so annoying
. People were so annoying. Junkies were most annoying of all.

Most Annoying of All
God had only a handful of people to meet today, and as usual, he'd staggered his business hours. He didn't like the idea of people waiting for him in one massively long line of freak show druggies—each more stark raving than the next, the entire pathetic crew of them practically foaming at the mouth. No good, not exactly subtle. So he gave them each very distinct times—very
carefully
plotted-out times. It was all very deliberate. After all, he certainly couldn't be seen chilling out all morning—that would attract altogether too much of the wrong kind of attention.

So where the hell was Zan, then? He'd arranged to meet her at six, and it was now six-fifteen.
She
was probably the most annoying of them all—a party girl past her prime who didn't even realize that the party was over, the booze had dried up, and the record on the turntable was skipping. She wasn't even a dealer any more. But he was willing to keep her on as a client because she purchased in volume. He ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. She had exactly four
minutes to get to the park. He didn't
need
her business, after all. He didn't
really
need anyone's business, for that matter. He didn't need the money—he just needed half the city hooked on Invince. That was his job, and in that sense he was practically a workaholic.

He looked up.
There
she was.
Stupid cow
, he thought. She was loping across the grass unevenly—like a vampire, she responded to daylight like she would to an allergen, one arm flung upward to ward off any potential vitamin D. Her bleached-blond hair bounced stiffly against her shoulders. Her stark makeup caked at the corners of her mouth and eyes, making her look like a caricature of herself. God, he hated her. She looked nervous.
Good
.

But … something was off. Something in the air. Someone was watching him, he could tell. God had spent enough years in the public eye to know what it felt like to be the subject of someone's gaze. But who? Who could possibly care? Some lame-ass ex-con on halfway-house community service, picking bits of plastic foam litter off the grass and jonesing for a dime bag of weed? As if God could be bothered with such trivialities.

No
. God's eyes narrowed.
There
. Crouched against a tree, thinking he looked so suave and smooth. Thinking he blended. Wearing a white shirt. Against a tree. God knew that face.

God sat next to that face twice a day, come to think of it.

God could easily put a name to that face.

Jake Montone.

Jake Montone had seen him. And if the expression on his face was any indication, Jake knew exactly who God was.

AS A GENERAL RULE, ZAN WASN'T an especially observant person. Drugs, alcohol, and other mainstays of her hard-partying lifestyle had dulled her senses starting way back in junior high. It was ironic, actually. Drugs were what had killed any remnant of genuine emotion within her, but at the same time, drugs were what she now used to dredge up artificial sensations. She was wholly self-managed and wholly self-medicated to adapt to her surroundings as she saw fit.
Wouldn't have it any other way
, she thought as she crossed the thick patches of grass that constituted one of the many “lawns” of Washington Square Park. She rubbed her elbows with her palms absently.

Slow Motion
At present, her primary concern was that she was late to meet God, which even she, within the deep recesses of her sluggish consciousness, was aware was
Not Good. Tardiness was definitely frowned upon by God. And however ridiculous, however wannabe badass tough she knew God was, she wanted to stay on his good side. No question about it.

So she wasn't really thinking about her surroundings as she scurried to meet her dealer. If anything, the sunlight felt too bright against her face. As soon as she scored, she planned to retreat back into the dark, cozy cavern of her bedroom at the boardinghouse. But she happened to glance up at a particular moment, hoping to get a sense of exactly how impatient God was growing. Scale of one to ten and all. And that was when she saw it.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, Zan's eyes were at that exact moment widened, peering, the pupils dilated, though barely comprehending. But she sharpened up fast. Because she saw God. He was leaning against a tree, in his typical hipper-than-thou posture.

And he looked decidedly cross.

She followed his gaze, and her heart caught in her chest.

There, not ten feet away, was Gaia's hunky boyfriend, Jake. Gaia's
stupid
hunky boyfriend. Who did he think he was? Did he think God couldn't see him, out in plain sight, stalking? Please. Okay, so maybe he wasn't dressed like Big Bird (which, even in
Washington Square Park, might have stood out a little), but he wasn't, like,
invisible
.

And he certainly wasn't invisible to God.

Zan looked at God and saw him see Jake. And she looked at Jake and saw Jake see God. To her mind the scene unfolded as if in slow motion. God blinked, then straightened, casual and aloof. Jake shook his head slightly, then backed away. The two studiously avoiding looking at each other again. They were pretending now that they hadn't seen each other. But they had. And Zan—Zan, who hardly ever knew anything other than where and what to score and maybe where to go to party—Zan knew it.

Oh
jeez. Oh my God. No pun intended, but oh … my …
God
.

That girl, that girl was wrong: God's not dead.

God is
Chris
.

Chris Rodke is God. Chris Rodke is dealing drugs. Chris Rodke is dealing
Invince
.

JAKE
But why?

This discovery basically confirms a few key points:

1. The Rodkes are definitely behind Invince.

2. The Rodkes are definitely after Gaia.

3. There must be some connection between Gaia and their Invince research.

But what?

It's like I've just opened a five-hundred-piece puzzle and turned it over onto my bed. All of the pieces are
right there
, and they all fit together to make a bigger picture. A picture that will be revealed to me clear as day just as soon as all the pieces fall into place.

Which they will. They
have to
. They're made to fit together. They're
supposed
to fit together.

I just have to figure out how. And I have to figure out how
before
God comes after me.

Memo

From:
C

To:
L

Re:
Problem

The boy was tracked maintaining surveillance of one “God” in Washington Square Park from 0:6:00 hours until 0:6:45. However, his undercover work was not undercover enough. J was spotted by his mark, and all evidence suggests he was recognized. This could be a problem. First, the boy may be in physical danger, depending on God's interest in covering his own tracks. Further, he may have exposed our work.

Please advise ASAP.

Memo

From:
L

To:
C

Re:
Problem

Indeed, this is problematic. Need confirmation that J was in fact recognized, and need to ascertain the lengths to which God will go in order to maintain anonymity. Please monitor and report back.

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Re:
Your new friends

Gaia—

I don't want to say too much over e-mail, and I don't want to worry you or get you all panicked, but I think we need to talk. I know you think I've been stalking you lately, following you around and hanging out at the boardinghouse talking to your housemates. I know you think I've crossed some lines, and when I apologized, Gaia, I meant it. But we need to talk, and soon.

I'm sure all of the trash I've talked about Skyler seems like petty jealousy. I don't blame you for being dismissive or pissed. But I think I'm on to something, and whether you like it or not, I've got some news. News I think you should hear.

Believe it or not, Gaia, I don't exactly
enjoy
being right {well, not in this case). But unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I am. I'm pretty sure you're in danger. Can we meet? Can we talk?

I'm going to come by the boardinghouse tonight. Please, please be there.

Gaia, I'm worried.

—J

Jake
Montone is not a stupid guy. Granted, I don't know the boy all that well, and maybe I haven't been totally, one hundred percent sober each and every encounter we've had. And to be perfectly honest, most of the encounters that I've had with him have involved him demanding to know where Gaia is and me refusing to tell him. (Just for kicks. Evil, I know.) But from what I've seen, Jake isn't dumb.

ZAN
I don't think he meant for God to see him. He couldn't have. I think, then, that he must have been taken by surprise. Whoever he knows God to be—whatever external context they have for each other—it just blew Jake away. So much so that he couldn't help but stare and stare.

And now he's done.

I don't mean to be dramatic, and normally I wouldn't think twice about God. God is clearly a low-level dealer who stumbled on the stash of the century—who had
any idea that Invince would be the phenomenon it's become? Who knows how the hell God has such unlimited—and exclusive—access to the stuff? But he's no career criminal. He's no street thug. Ordinarily I wouldn't even give it a second thought.

Except I know a thing or two about dealers. And however unaccustomed God is to exacting a little ultraviolence, something tells me that now that his identity has been compromised, he may just be willing to make an exception. To learn.

To learn to kick Jake's ass.

And Jake, meanwhile, doesn't even know what's coming, what's around the corner. For chrissake, Jake didn't even think to disguise himself this morning!

He's out of his league. And he's about to meet his maker.

Memo

From:
J

To:
Agent O

Re:
God

Well, I did what you asked—I did some digging to figure out what I could about God. And did I ever get the dirt!

It's just like we figured—the Rodkes are behind
all
of this! I tracked the Invince dealer that everyone buys from—he has some sort of exclusive handle on the drug. I followed him to the park. And who should it be? None other than Chris Rodke!

I still have no idea what the point is in leaking Invince onto the street. I have no idea what Invince is really intended for. I have no idea why Skyler has been manipulating Gaia and what she has to do with Invince. But it's safe to say that the Rodkes are in deep.

What do you think?

Memo

From:
Agent O

To:
J

Re:
God

What do I think? What I think, dear boy, is that we have our work cut out for us.

You said it yourself—we still don't know what Invince is intended for or why it's being leaked on the streets. We don't know how Gaia fits into this picture. This new information is only one piece of the puzzle. But it's certainly a start.

Of course, if you were able to identify Chris Rodke, one has to ask whether or not Chris was able to identify you? This could be dangerous. Please keep me apprised.

Well,
I'll be damned.

The boy actually did it.

OLIVER
Not to say that I didn't expect him to—I wouldn't have wasted his time or mine if I didn't think there was anything for him to learn. (Actually, that's not
quite
true. I would never have wasted my own time, to be sure, but I suppose there's no guarantee that I wouldn't have wasted his.) True, I was skeptical of his theory that the Rodkes were connected to God. But I didn't necessarily think we'd get this lucky. I didn't think the boy had it in him.

Rodke and Simon Pharmaceuticals is interested in manipulating my Gaia's DNA.

Skyler Rodke has ingratiated himself with Gaia, insinuating himself into her daily doings to the exclusion of other friends and activities (which were, admittedly, few, but no matter…).

And someone in that household is after her DNA.

One assumes that Dr. Rodke has told Chris to “leak” the drug onto the street deliberately. Human reaction is certainly a more accurate gauge than any insights a lab rat could afford. One assumes that Skyler is keeping Gaia close so as to harvest samples of her DNA. The same could be said for Liz. One assumes.

But I've learned never to rely too heavily on assumptions.

We are closer than ever, and all because of the boy. I'll admit, whatever rein I gave him, I didn't ever truly allow myself to imagine these results. I was foolish and shortsighted.

I won't make the same mistake twice.

The picture is still muddy; there's work to be done yet. I'll need Jake's assistance, but I'll need to watch my step. The more he knows, the more of a liability he is. It's a delicate balance.

Fortunately, I'm nothing if not an acrobat.