Mena picks up my glass, throws back the rest of the drink, and stands, then grabs my stool and pulls it away from the bar top. I nearly fall off. “C’mon. Have some cake.”
I sit there for a minute, planted on the stool. I’m overwhelmed by this feeling that, by going over there, by taking part in that, I’d be intruding. That I wouldn’t belong. I’m not one of them. Two months here, and besides the connection I’ve made with Mena, I still feel like it’s just a matter of days before I have to pack up and go home, even though this is supposed to be my home now. I want to say this to her, and I can’t, but also, I don’t have to, because she takes my hand and says, “It’s okay.”
She leads me to the table, and everyone looks up, almost all at once, and their faces erupt in smiles.
“There she is!” Reg says, pulling out the chair next to him. “Thought we weren’t cool enough for you.”
“I’m a little disappointed we didn’t get to hear you sing,” Cameo says, “but, maybe next time.”
I want to say something clever, but truly, I got nothing. I just sit. Mbaye is cutting the cake, a large sheet with delicate pink and purple frosting florets, placing them on the expensive plates that are usually reserved for the guests, but tonight, it’s for them.
For us.
He slides a plate toward me and smiles. “My mother made this kind of cake for me when I was a child. It’s not as good as hers, but I try my best. I hope you like it.”
I take the plate and pick up the fork perched on the edge, but before I carve off a piece I look up, and everyone is staring at me. Waiting for me.
Is this what it feels like?
To be a part of something?
It’s so much I can barely breathe, but I don’t want them to see that, so I nod toward Tierra and say, “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you, love,” she says.
Mena hovers behind me and she gives my shoulder a little squeeze. I take a bite, and the cake is sublime, flooding me with this feeling of…
My hands are on the railing, my heart feels like a bottomless pit, the slip extinguished by a cry for help.
GENERAL RELATIVITY
The cry came from somewhere below, so I take off for the ramp and make it down to the next level, where I find Osgood, his smart gray-and-purple suit disheveled, holding himself up against the wall outside of a bathroom, clutching his temple. Blood seeps from between his fingers.
There’s a flash of movement and a black-robed figure ducks around a corner.
Eshe.
And I start running again. I don’t have time to worry about Osgood—his call for help has drawn attention and while he’s clearly injured, it doesn’t seem life threatening.
By the time I make it to the corner, to a long hallway that constitutes the business center, it’s empty.
She had a good start on me so she could have ducked into one of the offices lining the hallway. Twelve doors on either side, all closed.
I make my way down the line slowly, swiping the locks on the doors, pushing them open, checking the offices inside without taking my eyes off the hallway.
Each office is fairly small—a desk, lots of outlets, no windows. They all seem to be empty at the moment, and there’s not much room to hide.
It gives me a second to wonder what the hell is going on. Why would Eshe attack Osgood? It seems out of character, though in fairness, I don’t know much about her.
As I make my way down the hall I hear something nearby. A scratching sound. I wonder if it’s a slip, but I don’t feel the accompanying charge in my head. After a few moments it happens again.
It sounds like it could be coming from above me? Then I open an office door and find one of the ceiling panels slightly askew. I scale onto the desk and move the panel aside, and as I’m about to pull myself up, a robed figure darts across the hallway. I drop down and head after her, catch her turning the corner, and by the time I make it to the end of the hallway, she’s disappeared, with three potential directions she could have gone. There’s no one around to tell me which way to pick.
Ruby catches up to me and I ask, “Got eyes on her?”
“The cameras are, once again, giving me problems.”
“Great, so whoever got in is back inside?”
“Actually the system has been shut down for routine maintenance. Though it usually only happens at night, and only when they detect that there is nobody out in the hallways and there’s nothing to currently make a record of. It’s not supposed to happen at a time like this.”
“Do you think it’s an accident?” I ask.
“No,” Ruby says. “I believe our infiltrator is just getting creative.”
“Lovely.”
I jog back to the bathroom, and find Osgood is now surrounded by a large group of people. Someone has passed him a handkerchief, which he’s holding against the wound on his head. The front of his pants is soaked in either water or urine, I can’t tell. Nik is jogging from the other side of the hallway, and we arrive at the same time.
“What happened?” I ask.
Davis squints his eyes at me, confused for a moment, then says, “I was using the facilities and someone grabbed me from behind. Put their arm around my throat. I didn’t even see who it was. I struggled, threw some elbows, and then it sounded like someone came in and scared them off…”
“C’mon,” Nik says, taking his arm. “Let’s get you down to the doc.”
I watch as Nik leads Osgood away, and, none of this fits. The guy is, what, fifty? Sixty? Eshe is a professional, with no clear incentive to just randomly attack one of the bidders. Two plus two is currently equaling fish.
“Ruby,” I say. “Find Eshe for me, now.”
* * *
—
Ten minutes later and I’m sitting across from Eshe in the security office. Just me and her, no table between us. Her hands are neatly folded in her lap. Her entourage, along with Allyn, is crowded outside in the lobby, but I insisted on having a moment alone with her.
I don’t want to call it an interrogation. Because none of this feels right to me. Starting with the fact that Eshe voluntarily walked into the room.
She waits for me to speak. I know that I could sit here for the next hundred years and she’ll never say the first word, so I don’t concern myself with trying to get the upper hand. I don’t have the patience.
“Did you try to kill Osgood?” I ask.
“If I tried he would be dead,” she says. “Nor would you suspect me.”
I believe her, and that pretty much sums up why I don’t think it was her. We sit in silence for another minute, listening to the raised voices arguing outside. Mostly members of MKS’s entourage arguing in English and Arabic about the hostility of our reaction. I can hear Teller, too. Of course he got involved. He’s probably thrilled.
“Someone attacked Osgood, and they were wearing a burka.”
Eshe nods. “And whom do you suspect?”
She’s confident, I’ll give her that. “Not sure yet. My mind goes to Grayson, but he’s a big dude. The person wearing it was slim. Body type closer to yours.”
Eshe nods again but doesn’t speak.
“You have an alibi for the last hour or so?”
“No.”
“That doesn’t help me,” I tell her. “Or you.”