Nazarin gets up and brings back two glasses of water. I gulp mine down. He takes a breath. “Veli was once CEO of Sudice, Inc.,” Nazarin says. “Veli Carrera. Alex Mantel’s father, Peter Mantel, and Carrera started Sudice. They created Zeal. After Peter died, Alex ousted Carrera, wanting Sudice to be a family-run affair. Carrera didn’t take it well. Alex thought it was dangerous to leave Carrera … untethered, and so he tried to kill him, hiring a hitman, probably hired from the Ratel. But Veli Carrera escaped and found his way into the mob. He changed his face so that no one would find him. The SFPD think that he worked his way up from the bottom and became … Ensi.”
I let that sink in. “So Ensi is the man who helped invent Zeal in the first place. It explains why he was able to fabricate Verve. He has the technical foundation. It also explains why he’s interested in weakening Zeal’s hold on the city and replacing it with Verve. They can break down the city, and hurt Sudice in the process.”
“Exactly.”
“So many layers and secrets.”
“I told you. The further undercover you go, the more there seem to be.”
We lapse into silence.
“I think he might be coming up with a form of Verve that doesn’t need a Chair and implants,” I say carefully. “He dosed me with Verve, I think, before the Test.”
“Easier to dose large numbers of people that way, or in places they don’t expect.” Nazarin rubs his face.
“He’ll be able to peek into everyone’s heads at will. No secrets. Not from him.”
“Exactly.” Nazarin sighs. “One good thing, I suppose. Ensi’s asked me to be his bodyguard. That drop from the Hearth? I’m going to be right there by his side, with a perfect view to record everything.” He taps his temple.
“One good thing, good being relative,” I say. “After the drop, I think we need to duck out. This is growing too dangerous.”
“I agree completely. If we can find out what the Hearth is delivering, prove Ensi is receiving illicit material, and that Alex Mantel is involved, that’s enough that we can bring the force of the law down on the Ratel. We’re not needed after that.”
“Just until the drop,” I say, in almost a sigh.
“Just until then.”
Then it’s over.
*
Monday ends. Tuesday passes in a blur of last-minute preparation and too little sleep. Then it’s Wednesday. The drop will happen at midnight.
Nazarin will be there, guarding the King. I’ll be on my own, trying to move close enough to watch and record from another angle. Nazarin said I didn’t have to go, that he could do it alone; but I can’t back out now, not when we’re so very close to the end. If there’s anything connected to the Hearth, I’m the best person to figure out what it is and who’s behind it on the other side of the bay.
Yesterday was a long day. I didn’t have to go to the Verve lounge, at least, and with luck, I’ll never have to set foot there again. It was more training, more last-minute information. I picked through the information on Veli Carrera, or Ensi in a previous life, wondering what he was like back then. Sudice betrayed him, but he didn’t have to turn to crime. Yet he did.
Now it’s Wednesday. The last night of having to do this.
No more watching people’s Verve dreams. No more pretending to be Tila and losing more of the Taema I used to be each day. No more putting myself in danger.
That’s the plan.
The King of the Ratel doesn’t often get his hands dirty, but it seems he’ll attend this drop personally. It’s clever that Ensi stays out of things as much as possible. Nazarin has seen so many crimes over the past year in his time with the Ratel; but it’s always other people. If they were arrested, nothing would really change. They’d be replaced the next day, and Ratel business would continue as usual. We still only have proof of Malka killing someone. We don’t have direct proof of Ensi doing anything illegal. Hopefully, in fifteen minutes, we will.
The pier appears abandoned, but the Ratel own it, and no one trespasses. The cranes, built in water, tower over us like strange mechanical beasts. Dotted around the pier are reinforced docks, stacked with rusting cargo bins. I’m hidden behind one, dressed in a black Kalar suit. I’ve been here half an hour, waiting and watching; Nazarin gave me a gun, now tucked into the small of my back. The air is cold, and I shiver. The green glow of the algae in the water lends everything a sickly tinge, but it’s enough light for me to see.
They haven’t arrived yet. I worry that I’ve messed up and read the notebook wrong, or that Ensi changed it at the last moment and Nazarin couldn’t tell me.
Off to my right is movement. There they are. I push the hollow of my throat three times. The headache returns, worse than it was at the Verve lounge. I nearly throw up the scant meal I had a few hours earlier. I bend over, breathing hard, before I peer out around the crate. It’s a man, tall and muscle-bound, patrolling the perimeter. There’s Nazarin, standing next to other muscle-bound men. Waiting. The men begin to patrol. I press myself into the shadows.
I can see Ensi’s profile, his hair in disarray from the wind. He’s standing with just one or two other people. The lights of the ships pulse overhead as they slip into the Ferry Building. Ensi’s body language is impatient.
There it is.
A ship that looks almost identical to the supply ships that came once a month to Mana’s Hearth drops down, its engines flaring. The light illuminates Ensi’s face in the green fog. He’s smiling to himself.