“Do I look like I want you to lie?”
“No, you don’t. Honestly, I think it’s because that’s the term you guys use and he refuses to sound the same. I’m not certain how close they are to your gates, though. Ours require clashing harmonic frequencies. I know how to get the right sounds and smash them together. We used to have more people who could do that, but they’re all dead. So, right now, I’m the only one.”
“Seriously? No one else has bothered to learn this skill?” Wondered if Cliff’s brain had fried or something.
“It requires some talent,” he said, rather modestly. “Nerida was right—my talent isn’t strong, but it’s specialized, and it’s the right talent for this particular job.”
“You’re right—G-Company would be thrilled to have you exclusively on their team.” Not that I was going to allow that outcome.
He blushed. He actually blushed, despite a gun barrel settled between his eyes. This guy hadn’t heard a word of praise for years, possibly decades. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And the third thing is that I want one of you to get my phone for me.” It was in my back pocket and I didn’t want to risk looking away and giving Kozlow a chance to try to grab my gun from me or similar.
“I have your phone,” Reader said. “Since I’m allowed to touch your butt because I’m gay.” He also took the kill switch, which action I totally approved of.
“No you’re not,” Jeff said.
“Says only you, Jeff. Who am I calling for you, girlfriend?”
“Chernobog.”
At this Kozlow’s eyes opened wider, but he didn’t say anything.
“Put it on speaker?” Reader asked.
“Please and thank you.”
My music switched off as the phone rang. It rang a few times but then she answered. “Hello?”
“Boggy baby, how’re they hangin’?”
“Kitty? Why are you calling me? Was Stryker’s phone busy?”
“Not sure if that’s a hint that Stryker has intel for me or something, but no, I’m calling you directly. For reasons.”
“Alright. What might those reasons be?”
“How much do you love your son?”
She was silent for a few moments. “I would prefer that you not kill Russell, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not possible,” Kozlow whispered.
“In a way it is. But I want to know, how much do you love your son? I ask because I’m sitting here with him, and he seems far more thrown by hearing your voice than by the fact that I have a Glock with a lot of bullets still in the clip sitting on the bridge of his nose.”
“I didn’t tell him I was still alive, is that a sin?”
“Not sure. Ask my Mom what she thinks about it.”
“She approves,” Chernobog said dryly. “Telling someone—someone identified as working against those you’ve aligned with, I might add—that you’re alive and well when the world needs to believe you dead is one of those big don’ts in spy craft.”
“Why so testy? Did I interrupt another Hacker International Movie Night?”
“It’s the early afternoon here, so no. Is Russell there?”
“Mother?” He sounded as freaked out as he looked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?”
“When should I have done that, Russell? When you were in the Pentagon’s supermax prison or when you were broken out of it and trying to help the lunatic who put a contract out on me to destroy the world?”
“I’m your son!”
“Yes. Yes, you are. Which is why I’d prefer it if Kitty not kill you.”
“You’d prefer it?” Kozlow sounded shocked and pissed both. “So if she kills me, what? You’ll be a little sad and then move on?”
There was another pause. “Russell, during all the time you were not in prison, how often did you call me or visit me?”
“We were both busy. You said you understood!”
“Parents say that but they’re lying,” I shared. “Trust me on that one.”
“Mother, I need your help!”
Chernobog heaved a sigh. “I’m sure you do. I helped you recently. My price for participation with that lunatic Goodman’s plans was your freedom from the Israelis, which set up a chain of events that culminated in a hit being put on my head and assigned to the best assassin in the world. And you didn’t call me then, did you? You were out, working for the same people I was. You had time. But nothing. Kitty is a better daughter to me than you were a son, and she’s not even trying to be. But I live with her, in a lovely suite, surrounded with luxury, working with people who admire me, given anything I want.”
“Other than your freedom,” I felt the need to point out. “Not that we don’t trust you by now. And, no offense, but I kind of think of you as more of a grandmother en residence.”
She snorted. “I’m ‘dead,’ remember? There is nothing more freeing and there is also no need to leave the building. Everything I want is here, and if I lack something, I contact Pierre, who gets it for me. And grandmother is perfectly acceptable. You’re a good granddaughter, is what I’m telling my ungrateful son.”
“They’re all squatters,” Jeff muttered. “Even her. Especially her.”
“You . . . you’re protecting my mother?” Kozlow asked, sounding even more shocked, if such were possible. “She’s part of your family?”
“She’s the only reason I’m alive,” Chernobog snapped. “She brokered the deal with the Dingo to fake my death. Not you, Russell, her. So if she chooses to kill you, Russell, then I will have to mourn you. As I do every day, since you never call and you never write.”
“Ah, in Russell’s defense, he’d thought you were dead. Seriously, I’d thought you’d have told him you were alive somehow.”
“Olga is here and wishes me to share that you tend to be far too sentimental. It’s a failing. We both love you for it, but still.”
“You love her?” Kozlow sounded ready to freak out or cry or both. Probably both.
“Figure of speech,” I said quickly. “Okay, Boggy, good to know where you stand and all that. Does Stryker need me or were you just assuming that I’d have tried him first because I’ve known him longest and consider him the leader of the hacker pack, so to speak?”
“No, I assumed you’d try him first because you appear to really enjoy baiting him.”
“That’s me all the way, honestly. So, intel, yea or nay?”
“Yea. He has news on the alien landing sites you asked him to research. Shall I put him on now?”
“Um, sure. Either Russell’s going into custody or into the morgue, so we can share whatever within his hearing.” Waited while the phone changed hands. Heard a lot of bickering in the background. Yep, Chernobog was in the Zoo’s Computer Lab.
“Kitty, you really have Chernobog’s son?” Stryker asked by way of hello.
“I do. Say hello, Russell.”
“Hello, who are you? My mother’s new son?” Asked with extreme bitterness.
“Well, I think she thinks of me more as a nephew,” Stryker said rather proudly. “Yuri, though, yeah, Yuri’s definitely scoring the son treatment. I think it’s because he’s Russian and that makes her more susceptible to the charm he claims to possess.”