“It was,” said Omar, answering just as angrily, “but the Maldonados can’t control La Sesenta with all our money tied up in this damn operation.”
“That’s what Calaca was talking about when he shook down the restaurant,” said Marisa. “That the Maldonado money had dried up—”
“That’s where the money went?” shouted Anja. “They’re helping make Bluescreen?”
“Can you all please be quiet?” said Bao. “We can freak out about this later, let’s listen to it first.”
“We can’t pay you,” said Nils. “Lal explained this before—you made an investment, and we won’t have anything to give back to you until that investment pays off. That’s what an investment is.”
“Your business plan didn’t say anything about shooting up the barrio!” shouted Omar. “I don’t care what you have to liquidate to pay us back, but you do it now—you shut this down, you sell your equipment, you get us our money.”
“I don’t even know if that’s possible,” said Nils. “I’m not the money guy—you need to be talking to Lal.”
“So where is he?”
“I don’t know,” said Nils, and seemed to notice the nuli for the first time. “Rosa, did you order food?”
A woman answered from across the room. “No, maybe it was Steve.”
“Well, get it out of here.”
“Stop changing the subject,” said Omar. “Where is Muralithar?”
Rosa came into view as they talked, collecting the food from the delivery nuli. Marisa thought she maybe recognized her, but she wasn’t sure; the woman was definitely Hispanic, but so was half of Los Angeles.
“I don’t know,” said Nils, “out with that girl he keeps talking about, maybe—I’m not his secretary. I’m a programmer, and that’s all I do here.”
“You mean when you’re not murdering college students?” asked Omar. Nils looked shocked, and then the nuli turned and flew away, and all they had left was the audio.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about eLiza,” said Omar. “Or did you think we weren’t going to figure that out?”
“That wasn’t me,” said Nils.
“But it was your organization,” said Omar. “It was your pinche Bluescreen—just like Tì Xū Dāo is your pinche muscle.”
“I didn’t hire them,” said Nils.
“That’s not how this works!” said Omar. “You’re a partner in this; you need to take responsibility—”
“You’re a partner, too,” said Nils. “Or your father is. I do the code; Lal does the business; your father does the money—that was our agreement, and once we finally get into Ganika we can pay you back and you can be done.”
“Oh, schiess,” said Anja.
“Wait, what about Ganika?” asked Omar. “What’s the plan for Ganika?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” said Nils, “I’m—I’m not the business guy—”
“Stop saying that, and tell me what you know!” Omar shouted. “What is Lal planning?”
“Do you know what he’ll do to me if he even finds out we’ve been talking?” Nils shouted. “I don’t even go home anymore—I couldn’t sleep if I tried. It is a nightmare in here, and we’re trapped in it, and anyone who crosses Lal gets—”
The audio cut off.
“Get it back,” said Sahara.
“What was he saying about Ganika?” asked Anja.
“And who’s Lal?” asked Marisa. “Saif, this is the third time I’ve heard them talk about someone named Lal—have you ever met—whoa, are you okay?”
Saif was leaning heavily against the wall, sweating. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” asked Marisa, stepping toward him. She put a hand on his cheek. “You’re burning up.”
“Just nerves,” said Saif, “this is . . . bigger than we thought it was, we need to—”
“It’s way bigger,” said Anja. “I’ll bet you anything they were talking about the new Ganika plant in LA. That’s what their whole plan has been building toward.”
“We already know they’re going after major corporations,” said Sahara. “Like your dad and Abendroth—if they get the right people they can bypass biometric security, they can control buying and selling decisions, manipulate the world economy—”
“No,” said Marisa, “she’s right. Control a few djinnis and you control Abendroth, but control Ganika and you control djinnis themselves.”
“Oh, scheiss,” said Bao. “I assume that’s an appropriate curse word for this situation?”
“If they get access to the Ganika production floor, they can do anything they want,” said Anja. “They can hardwire the Bluescreen code directly into every new djinni they make. They can add it to software updates and push it out to every customer in their system. People will upload the puppet virus directly into their own heads.”
“Sixty-five percent,” said Sahara. “Two-thirds of the world’s population, completely under Bluescreen’s control.”
Marisa sat down. “Now I’m going to be sick.”
“We don’t know this for sure,” said Saif. “This is all just speculation—”
Anja’s arm flew up in the air.