He spread his hands out. “Then there you go. Welcome to being a Gemman in Panama.”
His words drew her up short. She had never once thought they might have any sort of shared experience like that. With a jolt, she realized that his difficulties in Panama might have extended beyond just being surrounded by provincial primitiveness. There was a social aspect she’d never considered. And with that conclusion, she suddenly drew an even more startling one. The sadness and loneliness she’d sensed from him might not have been faked. That didn’t mean he still hadn’t had ulterior motives—especially if his “second date” speech was any indication. Nonetheless, it cast him in a new light. She couldn’t fully articulate her thoughts and simply stayed silent. She didn’t know what expression she wore, but after several moments of studying her, Justin looked away and downed his drink.
“Well,” he said, getting to his feet. “The night’s not getting any younger, and her shift’ll probably be over soon. I can take it from here, noble defender. Charge anything else to my room.” He gave her a mock salute and sauntered over toward the bartender, wearing an expression very similar to the one he’d used on Mae in their first meeting. The young woman looked interested, but then, who wouldn’t be in the face of those good looks and charm? Angry about her moment of sentimentality, Mae left as well—for her room, alone.
He was in good spirits the next morning but said nothing about what had happened. She certainly wasn’t going to ask. They took another car, this time out to the edges of the city, which became significantly less affluent the farther they went. The military presence also diminished. There were a few new construction projects, but many buildings were pre-Decline or had been hastily thrown up immediately after in an attempt at safety when chaos roamed the streets. The people they saw here were obviously working-class, and even if they now had the same health and education access, it was clear these new citizens were a long ways from their more fashionable counterparts. Signs in Spanish showed many hadn’t yet learned their new national language.
Mae expected they’d go to another church, but instead, the car dropped them off at a tattooist’s shop. “Are you going to immortalize this trip?” she asked.
“Maybe later. Right now we’re visiting the family of Nadia Menari.”
“The woman you asked about back in Apollo’s church.”
He nodded. “Geraki said she was returning to someplace where people still believed. These annexed borderlands are hotbeds of religion. Even after SCI sweeps them, plenty slip through the cracks. Nadia grew up here, and even though I couldn’t find anything on her, some of her family moved back after I shut her down. If I were going to set up a low-profile cult, I’d come here.”
“And Nadia can help us?”
“Maybe. I’m more interested in finding her associate—Callista. She’s the one that’ll help us.”
Mae had a hard time imagining groups that had been busted by servitors wanting to help him. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
They stepped inside, out of the heat, finding no air-conditioning in the empty shop. A dirty glass case displayed potential designs. Mae had had a childhood fantasy of getting a tattoo but was pretty sure she wanted no part of this place’s unhygienic practices.
“Can I help you?” A tall, lanky plebeian man stepped through the door leading to the back of the shop. Justin stepped forward.
“Yes, I’m—”
“Justin March.” The man gave him a slow, long look. “I remember. I was there when you visited.”
Justin forced a smile. “Ah, well…nice to see you again. I’m, uh, here for the same reason as before. I’m trying to find Nadia.”
“Nadia? My cousin? You already disbanded her church.”
“That’s not why I’m here. Do you know if she’s in Mazatlán? I just need to speak to her.”
Mae approached, her wariness triggering the implant’s response. She didn’t like the man’s body language. He was nervous.
“Yes…yes, of course. I just need to get ahold of her.” The man managed a smile. “You know how she is.”
Justin nodded, still smiling but also confused.
The man moved back toward the door he had just come through. “Let me call my brother and see what he knows. It’ll just be a moment. Can I…get you anything while you wait? A chair? Something to drink?”
“We’re fine.”
The man disappeared through the door, which he left ajar, and Mae heard his one-sided conversation in Spanish. The only words she picked out were “Nadia” and “Justin March.”
“Something’s weird,” she said. “He’s too uneasy.”
“Yes,” Justin agreed. “But he knows what I am. These people are more afraid of federal visits than castals are.”
The tattooist returned, his smile bigger and more natural this time. “My brother knows where she is. He’s going to bring her over.”