The Burn Zone (19 page)

“
BeauVisage
!
”
the elevator called behind me, hammering my 3i with contact info as I stalked away.
“
The company is
BeauVisage
! They can fix you!
”

The hallway upstairs didn
’
t smell much better. I passed a few more guys in the hallway, but nobody bothered me as I turned the corner and found the door marked 423.

I waited until the coast was clear, then slid the key card through the slot and waited for the click. The second I heard it, I slipped through and shut the door behind me.

The room was dark except for slits of light that shone in through the closed window blinds on the far side of the room. The air stank of heavy cologne mixed with something else, something edible that hung just underneath it.

The room was empty, and the bed still made. On one nightstand I could see a cell phone, so he hadn
’
t gone far, but it looked like I had the place to myself at least for a little while. I looked around and saw a pill sheet with six double-cross tabs still in the blisters on the nightstand next to a woman
’
s handbag. Wherever he was, he wasn
’
t alone.

I tore one of the pill tabs off, and as I slipped it in my pocket I looked back and saw light coming from under the bathroom door. I hadn
’
t even thought to check the bathroom.

Holding my breath, I crossed past the closet and back
toward the closed door. I shouldered off the backpack and unzipped it, taking out the stun gun before knocking three times.

“
Eng?
”

No one answered. I opened the door and peeked inside. The overhead light had been left on in there, one of the two exposed tubes faded to a soft gray, and I could see little bottles of man products lined up along the back of the sink along with a stick of women
’
s deodorant.

As I stepped into the room, I smelled the food smell again and my stomach growled. There was food here, or there had been, and not just ration packs either. The smell came from real meat.
Street meat.

I
’
d lived in a hotel room on the Row for a year before I got grabbed and eventually rescued, and I
’
d worked cleaning rooms for the old super, Wei, for most of it. I knew where to stash stuff. I lifted the porcelain back of the toilet off with a hollow scrape and laid it against the wall next to the sink. Sure enough, a little metal cooler sat just under the surface of the chemical soup
there. I pulled it out warm and dripping, then laid it down in the shower basin and popped the latches.

Inside were more pill sheets, passports, forged ration sheets, and a handwritten order list he
’
d crossed some names off from. I quickly scanned down the column of names, until one of them caught my eye near the bottom:

Shao, Dragan (sec).

Like a lot of the others, his name was crossed off, maybe indicating he
’
d already picked up the passports. He had been here.

I thumbed past the stacks of paper and found the edge of a plastic bag with my finger. There were six vacuum-sealed packets in there. Each was filled with cubes of meat, each topped with a square of browned, fatty skin, all suspended in a stew of stock, spices, and rendered fat. Each was labeled with a handwritten sticker.

Scrapcake.
Human meat.

“
Fucking creep ...
”

I didn
’
t even think before I used my pocketknife to slit open the first bag, and then squeezed the glop into the toilet bowl. When I
’
d pressed out the last of it, I stopped myself a second before unconsciously sucking the grease off my thumb. The smell was intoxicating, making my stomach growl, and making me hate myself for not being able to help it.

I dumped them all, and dropped the empty bags in the trash. One cube floated on top, the edge of someone
’
s tattoo still visible on the attached skin, and I had one hand on the chain when I noticed something else in the toilet
’
s basin. There was another bag in there that had been tucked under the cooler. It didn
’
t have food or drugs in it, though. It was tightly wrapped around some kind of little cylinder.

I reached in and pulled out the bag, unraveling it and then shaking it dry. Down in the bottom was a little white plastic cylinder with a tiny, hair-thin plug on one end. It was a wet drive. What had the soldiers said?
“
Get his wet drive.
”
They had been looking for Dragan
’
s.

I broke the bag
’
s seal and carefully removed the drive. It was Dragan
’
s; I was sure of it. He
’
d come here before going back to the apartment, and he left it here, just in case.

The lock at the front door clicked as someone fed a key card into it. I wrapped the drive in a sheet of toilet paper,
then
stuffed it in my pocket just as
the hotel room door opened and a gaunt, middle-aged man, Eng, no doubt, stepped in carrying a small plastic shopping bag in one hand.

He spotted me immediately, and his free hand reached into his jacket before he got a good look at me. Once he did he relaxed a little, his watery eyes peering down at me from under the brim of a panama hat. He stepped under the air conditioner vent, and the current blew
down his unbuttoned neckline, inflating the silk and flashing a patch of sinewy chest and greasy black hair.

“
Jesus, you want to get shot or something?
”
He looked at me more carefully, and grinned a little.
“
What happened to you? Cut yourself shaving?
”

“
Look, I
’
ll cut you a break. Put back whatever you took and beat it before I cut out your—
”

“
Are you Eng?
”

His eyes narrowed a little.
“
Who wants to know?
”
He looked toward the bedroom.
“
Where
’
s Kala ...
”

His voice trailed off as his eyes went to the floor and saw all of his contraband spread out there. Color crept into his face, a vein beginning to bulge in his neck as he looked down into the toilet bowl.

“
Don
’
t you fucking dare—
”
he started, and I flushed it.

He dropped the bag in the hallway and shoved past me to drop down on his knees in front of the toilet. His hands were poised over the meat gray swirl like he meant to go in after it, but he was already too late.

“
You stupid little
cun
—
”
He turned to me, his ugly face twisted in fury.

“
That was twenty thousand yuan you just flushed,
”
he growled, standing and glaring down at me. I backed out of the bathroom, and he followed.

“
You owe me,
”
he said,
“
big-time.
”

I reached into my backpack and pulled out the gun, sticking it out in front of me. He stopped short, his chest only a few inches from the shaking barrel.

“
Whoa,
”
he said, holding his hands up in front of him.
“
Hey, take it easy, kid.
”

“
A man named Dragan Shao contacted you,
”
I said.

“
That name doesn
’
t sound
fam
—
”

“
His name is on your list!
”

He glanced back toward the rug, where the passports and the rest of it sat.

“
So maybe he did,
”
he said.
“
What
’
s it to you?
”

“
Why?
”

I felt a warm trickle down one cheek and wiped it away with one hand while I kept the gun on him.

“
He wanted fake passports,
”
he said,
“
and passage to Duongroi for four.
”

“
Four?
”

“
Himself, two women, and a kid.
”

“
Who was with him when he came?
”

“
Nobody.
He was alone.
”

“
Why did he want to get to Duongroi?
”

“
He didn
’
t say, and I didn
’
t ask.
”

“
Why did he leave his wet drive with you?
”

“
For safekeeping, in case he got pinched before he got back.
”
His face changed then, as something clicked.
“
Wait a minute, I know who you are.
”

Another tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it away.

“
You
’
re the girl,
”
he said.
“
I made your passport.
”

I put both hands on the grip of the pistol to hold it steady while I aimed at his chest.

“
How did they know?
”
I asked.

“
How did who know what?
”

“
Dragan was still deployed. He snuck back early. How did they know he
’
d be home?
”

Eng didn
’
t answer.

“
He left here, and by the time he got home, they
’
d already caught up with him. How did they know?
”

He still didn
’
t say anything, but I could see it in his eyes. More tears came, blurring my vision and making my throat burn.

“
There was a reward, wasn
’
t there? When he came you checked the security feed, and saw they were offering—
”

“
I don
’
t turn clients in for money, or rations.
”

“
I should kill you,
”
I said.
“
They came to our apartment, and they ... they ...
”

I had my finger on the trigger, and I wanted to pull it, but I couldn
’
t. I couldn
’
t do it. The gun wavered as I lowered it a little.

“
I should kill you,
”
I said again.

Eng lashed out and grabbed my wrist. I struggled, but he was a lot stronger than me and he forced the gun away. Once he was in the clear, he didn
’
t try and hit me or anything. He just took the pistol from my hand and tossed it down onto the bed next to him.

“
Quit crying,
”
he said. When I looked up at him, I saw his face and neck were flushed. His gruff face looked sheepish and guilty.

“
He trusted you,
”
I said.

“
Yeah, well, I didn
’
t know he was a Pan-Slav agent. What was I supposed to do? This doesn
’
t exactly help me, you know.
”