Page 44 of Roma Queen
Twenty
PASHA
“A dentist?You want adentistto clean up the audio file?” Zara gapes at the receptionist of Dr. Choi’s Emergency Dental Surgery as I take her by the arm and guide her down the hallway toward Seo-Jun’s office.
We do not stop to ask for an appointment.
The bottle blonde behind the desk squeaks as she gets out of her chair and hurries after us. “Dr. Choi’s already in with another patient! Wait!Waitwaitwait!”
Waiting isn’t on the cards. I bust open the door to Seo-Jun’s office, and for one brief, horrible moment, I wish that I’d taken the time to knock. Just the once. If I had, I might not find myself standing in front of a naked twenty-eight-year old Korean hacker/dentist with his head buried between a morbidly obese woman’s thighs.
The woman grunts when she sees us, hardly surprised. She taps the top of Seo-Jun’s head, and the guy pops up like a goddamn meercat from a den. He has the common decency to look a little alarmed when he sees me. Or rather when he sees Zara, standing right behind me. “Holy fuck,” Zara mutters, under her breath. “Thisis the guy?”
“This is the guy,” I confirm.
Seo-Jun wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know I said any time, Rivin, but alittleadvanced warning might be a good idea in future.”
I do my best not to grimace. “Copy that. Loud and clear. This couldn’t really wait, though. Get dressed. I need to show you something.”
Fifteen minutes later, Seo-Jun’s lady friend has vacated his office, and the dentist is up to speed. I tell him as much as he needs to know, and then I take Zara to one side. The lies feel awkward and clunky as they spill out from my mouth. Half of me doesn’t think she’ll even believe me, but she does.
“Sure. I can wait here. Do you think going all the way back to your place for a gun’s a good idea, though? Wait, what the hell am I saying?Of coursea gun is a good idea. Fuck, this is such a mess.”
Kissing her forehead, I hold her face in my hands for a second, breathing in the smell of her. Savoring her. If this doesn’t go well, I have no idea what the fuck I’m gonna do, but Seo-Jun knows the script. He’ll protect Zara if the shit hits the fan, I know he will.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her. “An hour and a half. Two, max. Once I’m home, I’ll text you.”
“Fuck! You can’t. Urgh, I left my cell plugged in at your place. We left so quickly, I forgot to—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back with me. Just…just stay here, okay? Promise me. I need to know you’re gonna be here when I get back.”
I see the fear in her eyes. The worry. She doesn’t let her emotions claim her, though. “Okay. Fine. I promise. But…just please. Hurry, okay?”
* * *
The Mustang enginescreams as I hurtle across town. I blow a stop sign, and then another. Luckily the traffic light gods are watching over me this afternoon, though. I’m green-lit from Korea Town all the way to Rochester Park, and I don’t see a single cop car, either. When I hit Cross Street, I consider leaving the car in plain sight on the street, but then decide against it. A nineteen sixty-six Mustang is a rare enough vehicle, and Lazlo knows what kind of car I drive. If he sees my ride parked on the side of the road, he won’t consider it a coincidence. He’s going to know I’ve found him, and he’ll bail before I have the chance to confront him.
I leave the car in a parking structure two blocks away after collecting a monkey wrench from the trunk, and then I jog back to my destination, scouring the faces of every person I pass until I reach the staircase that descends down into the Rochester Park disused subway station. The grate is over the stairwell, of course. Patrin always makes sure it’s locked up when the clan leaves once the fair is closed down, but luckily I still have my key. The grate is open, its steel bars drawn back, and I’m closing it swiftly behind me in no time.
Common sense dictates that I shouldn’t lock the bolt on the grate after me. If I need to get out of here quickly, fumbling to get the lock open again might just end up getting me killed, but if Lazlo isn’t here right now and he does return to find something out of place, again, he’s going to bail. The sound of the lock clicking closed above me has a worryingly final sound to it.
No time to waste worrying, though.
Down the stairs, two at a time.
Along the dank, wet corridor, darkness closing in on all sides, and then through the heavy wooden doors, into the vast hall beyond. I’m not even remotely surprised to find the place lit up like the Fourth of July. It’s not as if we pay for the electricity down here—we rigged the work lamps that are affixed to the walls up to the city’s existing power supply—but still, we’re environmentalists at heart. We always make sure the lights are turned off when we’re not at home.
Everything was in darkness when Zara and I came here the other day, which had me fooled, but clearly peoplehavebeen coming and going here.
When I look up, my eyes skate over the gothic ribs and the vaulted alcove recessed into the ceiling, and I see them. The thing that had all of the puzzle pieces snapping together as we listened to the recording on Petrov’s Dictaphone: a ceiling full of beautiful, shining, elaborate golden stars.
Sarah’s speech had been slurred, but I’d understood her perfectly well.Stars. Underground? They’re so…pretty.
The Rivin Clan have been holding the Midnight Fair down here, in the disused subway station for a long time, but notthatlong. Sarah would never have come here. Would never have seen the gloriously intricate mosaic that even I had a hand in creating, back when I was a child. It would have been a stunning surprise to her, just like it is to everyone else who descends into the Midnight Fair for the first time, and I heard that in her voice—the surprise and the dumbfounded awe, through the confusion of what sounded to me like a head injury.
So.
It turns out Lazlo told Zara the truth when she picked up the payphone outside her apartment for the first time. Hehadbeen in Rochester Park, waiting for her all along.
