The Windup Girl (56 page)

She pushes herself up awkwardly, cradling her damaged arm, expecting people to come charging out at her, but the apartment beyond the gate remains dark.

Emiko staggers to her feet and leans against the balcony rail, looking up at her goal.

You foolish girl. Why do you try so hard to survive? Why not just jump and die? It would be so much simpler.

She peers down into the black alley below. She doesn't have an answer. It is something in her genetics, as deeply ingrained as her urge to please. She hauls herself up again onto the railing, balancing awkwardly, cradling her throbbing arm. She looks upward, praying to Mizuko Jizo the windup bodhisattva to give her mercy.

She jumps, reaching one-handed for salvation.

Her fingers catch. . . then slip away.

Emiko lashes out with her bad hand and catches hold. Her elbow's ligaments tear away. She yelps as the bones separate, then crack wide. Sobbing, breath sawing in and out of her throat, she scrabbles for the railing with her good hand. Seizes a handhold. She lets her broken arm fall and hang limp.

Emiko dangles one-handed, high above the street. Her arm is nothing but flame. She whimpers quietly, preparing to wound herself once again. She lets out a ragged sob and then reaches up once again with her ruined arm. Her hand closes on the railing.

Please. Please. Just a little more.

She lets her weight settle onto the arm. White pain. Emiko's breath saws ragged in her throat. She hauls a leg up, feeling with her foot, scrabbling for a toehold, finally it hooks on the iron. She pulls herself up, teeth gritted, sobbing, refusing to let go.

Only a bit more.

The barrel of a spring gun presses against her forehead.

Emiko opens her eyes. A young girl grips the pistol in trembling hands. She stares at Emiko, terror-stricken. "You were right," she whispers.

An old Chinese man looms behind her, his expression shadowed. They peer over the balcony precipice, watching Emiko as she dangles. Emiko's hands begin to slip. The pain is almost unbearable now.

"Please," Emiko whispers. "Help me."

45

The gas lights in Akkarat's operations center gutter out. Anderson straightens in the sudden darkness, surprised. The fighting has been desultory for some time, but all across the city it is the same. Krung Thep's gas lamps are winking out, green points of light smothered down the thoroughfares, one by one. A few zones of conflict still flicker yellow and orange with burning WeatherAll, but all the green is gone from the city. A black blanket covers it, almost as complete as that of the ocean beyond the levees.

"What's happening?" Anderson asks.

The dim glow of computer monitors is all that still lights the room. Akkarat comes back inside from the balcony. The operations room buzzes with activity. Emergency hand-cranked lantern LEDs come to life, spattering light around the room, illuminating Akkarat's smiling face. "We've taken the methane works," he says. "The country is ours."

"You're certain?"

"The anchor pads and the docks are secure. The white shirts are surrendering. We've gotten word from their commanding officer. They will be laying down their weapons and surrendering unconditionally. The word is going out over their coded radio now. A few will fight on, but we have the city now."

Anderson rubs at his broken ribs. "Does that mean we can leave?"

Akkarat nods. "Of course. I will detail men to escort you back to your homes in just a little while. The streets will still take a bit of time to settle." He smiles. "I think you will be very happy with the new management of our Kingdom."

A few hours later they're being ushered into an elevator.

They plunge to street level and find Akkarat's personal limousine waiting. Outside, the sky is just starting to lighten.

Carlyle stops on the verge of climbing into the car, staring down the thoroughfare to where the yellow edge of dawn is thickening. "Now that's something I wasn't expecting to see."

"I thought we were dead."

"You seemed cool enough."

Anderson shrugs gingerly. "Finland was worse." But as he climbs into the car, he has another coughing fit. It goes on for half a minute, wracking him. He wipes blood off his lips as Carlyle stares

"Are you all right?" Carlyle asks.

Anderson nods as he gingerly pulls the door closed. "I think I'm busted up inside. Akkarat used a pistol on my ribs."

Carlyle studies him. "You sure you haven't caught something?"

"Are you kidding?" Anderson laughs, which makes his ribs hurt. "I work for AgriGen. I'm inoculated against diseases that haven't even been released yet."

The car accelerates away from the curb with an escort of kink-spring scooters swarming around the coal-diesel limo. Anderson settles himself more comfortably in his seat, watching as the city slides past beyond the glass.

Carlyle taps a leather armrest thoughtfully. "I'll have to get me one of these. Once the trade starts flowing, I'm going to have a lot of money to spend."

Anderson nods, distracted. "We're going to need to start shipping calories right away. Famine relief. I want to commission your dirigibles immediately, as a stopgap. We'll bring U-Tex in from India. Give Akkarat something to crow about. Benefits of open markets, all that. Lots of good press from the whisper sheets. Get things cemented."

"You can't just enjoy the moment?" Carlyle laughs. "It's not often you escape a black hood, Anderson. The first thing we do is go find some whiskey and a rooftop, and watch the damn sun rise over the country we just bought. That's what we do first. The rest of the crap will all wait for tomorrow."

The limousine makes a turn onto Phraram I Road and their escort forges ahead of them, hurtling across the rapidly lightening city. They come down off a flyway and detour around a rubbled Expansion tower that has been entirely toppled in the fighting. A few people are scavenging in the wreckage, but no one is armed.

"It's over," Anderson murmurs. "Just like that." He feels tired. A pair of white shirt bodies lie half-off the curb, rag-doll limp. A vulture stands beside them, edging closer. Anderson touches his ribs gingerly, suddenly glad to be alive.

"You know someplace we can buy that whiskey?"

46

The old Chinese man and the young girl crouch away from her, watching carefully as she guzzles water. Emiko was surprised when the old man allowed the girl to help her crawl over the balcony's edge. But now that she is safe, he keeps his spring gun trained on her and Emiko understands that he is not motivated by charity.

"Did you really kill them?" he asks.

Emiko gingerly lifts her glass and drinks again. If she didn't hurt so much, she could almost enjoy the fact that they are afraid of her. With water, she feels vastly improved, even with her right arm lying limp and swollen in her lap. She sets the glass on the floor and cradles her wounded elbow close. She breathes shallowly through the pain.

"Did you?" he asks again.

She shrugs slightly. "I was fast. They were slow."

They are speaking Mandarin, a language she hasn't used since her time with Gendo-sama. English, Thai, French, Mandarin Chinese, accounting, political protocol, catering and hospitality. . . So many skills she doesn't use anymore. It took a few minutes for her memories of the language to surface but then it was there, like a limb that had atrophied from long neglect, and then miraculously turned out to be strong. She wonders if her broken arm will heal as easily, if her body still holds surprises for her.

"You are the yellow card secretary from the factory," she says. "Hock Seng, yes? Anderson-sama told me that you ran away when the whites shirts came."

The old man shrugs. "I came back."

"Why?"

He grins without humor. "We cling to whatever flotsam we have."

Outside, an explosion rumbles. They all look toward the sound.

"I think it's ending," the girl murmurs. "That's the first one in more than an hour."

Emiko thinks that with the two of them distracted, she could probably kill them both, even with her shattered arm. But she is so tired. Tired of destruction. Tired of slaughter. Beyond the balcony, the city smokes against a lightening sky. An entire city torn to ribbons over. . . what? A windup girl who couldn't keep her place.

Emiko closes her eyes against the shame of it. She can almost see Mizumi-sensei frowning disapproval. She's surprised that the woman still holds any power over her at all. Perhaps she will never be free of her old teacher. Mizumi is as much a part of her as her wretched pore structure. "You want to collect the reward for me?" she asks. "Wish to profit from catching a killer?"

"The Thais want you very badly."

The apartment's locks rattle. They all look up as Anderson-sama and another
gaijin
stumble through the door. Dark bruises decorate the foreigners' faces, but they're laughing and smiling. They both stop short. Anderson-sama's eyes flick from Emiko to the old man, to the pistol that now points at him.

"Hock Seng?"

The other
gaijin
backpedals and slips behind Anderson-sama. "What the hell?"

"Good question." Anderson-sama is studying the scene before him, pale blue eyes evaluating.

The girl Mai makes a reflexive
wai
to the
gaijin
. Emiko almost smiles in recognition. She too knows that knee-jerk urge to show respect.

"What are you doing here, Hock Seng?" Anderson-sama asks.

Hock Seng gives him a thin smile. "You aren't pleased to capture the killer of the Somdet Chaopraya?"

Anderson-sama doesn't respond, just looks from Hock Seng to Emiko and back again. Finally he asks, "How did you get in here?"

Hock Seng shrugs. "I did, after all, find this flat for Mr. Yates. Presented the keys to him myself."

Anderson-sama shakes his head. "He was a fool, wasn't he?"

Hock Seng inclines his head.

With a chill, Emiko sees that this confrontation can only turn against her. The only person here who is disposable is herself. If she is quick, she can simply strip the pistol from the old man's hand. Just as she took the pistols from those slow bodyguards. It will hurt, but it can be done. The old man is no match for her.

The other
gaijin
is slipping out the door without another word, but Emiko is surprised to see Anderson-sama does not retreat as well. Instead, he eases into the room, hands held up, palms out. One of his hands is bandaged. His voice is soothing.

"What do you want, Hock Seng?"

Hock Seng backs away, keeping space between himself and the
gaijin
. "Nothing." Hock Seng shrugs slightly. "The killer of the Somdet Chaopraya, righteously punished. That is all."

Anderson-sama laughs. "Nice." He turns and settles carefully into a couch. Grunts and winces as he leans back. Smiles again.

"Now, what do you really want?"

The old man's lips quirk, sharing the joke. "What I've always wanted. A future."

Anderson-sama nods thoughtfully. "You think this girl will help you get that? Get you a nice reward?"

"The capture of a royal assassin will surely earn me enough to rebuild my family."

Anderson-sama doesn't say anything, just stares at Hock Seng with his cold blue eyes. His gaze turns to Emiko. "Did you kill him? Really?"

A part of her wants to lie. She can see in his eyes that he wants that lie as well, but she can't force the words out. "I am sorry, Anderson-sama."

"And all the bodyguards, too?"

"They hurt me."

He shakes his head. "I didn't believe it. I was sure Akkarat set it all up. But then you jumped off the balcony." His unsettling blue eyes continue to watch her. "Are you trained to kill?"

"No!" She recoils, shocked at the suggestion. Rushes to explain. "I did not know. They hurt me. I was angry. I didn't know—" She has an overwhelming urge to kowtow before him. To try to convince him of her loyalty. She fights the instinct, recognizing her own genetic need to roll over on her back and bare her belly.

"So you're not an assassin, trained?" he asks. "A military windup?"

"No. Not military. Please. Believe me."

"But still dangerous. You tore the Somdet Chaopraya's head off with your bare hands."

Emiko wants to protest, to say that she is not that creature, that it was not her, but the words won't come out. All she can do is whisper, "I did not take off his head."

"You could kill us all if you wanted, though. Before we even knew you were coming. Before Hock Seng could even lift his pistol."

At these words, Hock Seng whips his spring gun back to point at her. Pathetically slow.

Emiko shakes her head. "I do not wish it," she says. "I only wish to leave. To go north. That is all."

"But still, you're a dangerous creature," Anderson-sama says. "Dangerous to me. To other people. If anyone saw me with you, now." He shakes his head and grimaces. "You're worth far more dead than alive."

Emiko readies herself, prepares for the excruciating pain that will come. First the Chinese, then Anderson-sama. Maybe not the little girl—

"I'm sorry, Hock Seng," Anderson-sama says abruptly. "You can't have her."

Emiko stares at the
gaijin,
shocked
.

The Chinese laughs. "You will stop me?"

Anderson-sama shakes his head. "Times are changing, Hock Seng. My people are coming. In force. All our fortunes will be changing. It won't just be the factory anymore. It'll be calorie contracts, freight shipping, R&D centers, trade negotiations. . . Starting today, everything changes."

"And this rising tide will raise my ship as well?"

Anderson-sama laughs, then winces, touching his ribs. "More than ever, Hock Seng. We'll need people like you more than ever."

The old man looks from Anderson-sama to Emiko. "What about Mai?"

Anderson-sama coughs. "Stop worrying about small things, Hock Seng. You're going to have an almost unlimited expense account. Hire her. Marry her. I don't care. Do what you like. Hell, I'm sure Carlyle would find a place for her too, if you don't want her on your own payroll." He leans back and shouts out into the hall. "I know you're still out there, you coward. Get in here."