“OK, great. You’re happy,” Marta said. “Let us go.”
June smiled a thin smile. “Our happiness is contingent on the whims of a very bad man. It’s fragile. If that man decides he doesn’t like how we’re doing things, or what we’re doing—we’re done.”
A very bad man. Marta’s hands started to tremble, and she hid them behind her back.
“Again,” Wes said, “very interesting, very unfortunate. What’s it to me?”
June pressed the Stamp scar on her cheekbone. “This is the only Stamp I’ve received since I was a child. I gave it to myself fourteen years ago. Not because of a bite. I haven’t been bitten in a long time. Wes, I haven’t been bitten in your lifetime. And it’s not because I spend my days wearing fancy long johns, either.”
Wes fumbled with the pull on his microsuit’s zipper self-consciously.
“No. This Stamp was an act of solidarity with my people. A symbol of what we’ve lived with. A reminder of what we’ll never again endure.” Aware, it seemed, that her tone had strayed too far from its winning folksiness, she dropped her hand from her cheekbone and wove her fingers together across her midriff, as if she were about to sing a few notes from “Do Re Mi.” “The upshot is that we have a cure. Or, rather, a kind of medicinal repellant. Against the tick bites.”
“That can’t be true,” Wes said. “If such a thing were even possible with the current technologies, it would already exist. Atlantic Zone alone has spent billions on research. Everyone in the world has been working on this thing, and you’re trying to tell me that the cure’s been out here all along?”
“Not all along,” June said. “But yes. It’s here. And I tell you, it’s possible. It exists already. My father spent his life hybridizing this flower. I refined the processing methods, and with the help of this community, I standardized an inoculation dosage. Haven’t you noticed our young people? The ones working the flowers earlier today? Did you see a mark on them?”
Wes was shaking his head, hands on his hips. “I just—I just can’t. I don’t know. If you have what you say you have, I don’t know why you didn’t have Andy or someone on the inside notify the proper authorities.”
June laughed. “The proper authorities! You’re so accomplished, Mr. Feingold, that I forget how young you are.”
He flushed dark red. Marta could see this even in the smeary light, and it occurred to her that this was, oddly, the first time Wes had seemed anything other than genial to her. June had triggered a threatening vulnerability in him. She’d be wise, Marta thought, to proceed carefully.
“Let’s try looking at this from another angle. Wes, I’ve heard a rumor that you’re about to make a big investment in”—she made a show of looking him up and down—“well, fashion.”
The righteous redness in Wes’s face drained away. “How did you—” He stopped himself and shook his head, lips pinched together.
“Don’t be so shocked. Outer Limits Excursions is invested in your deal happening, and they’ve taken steps to make sure that your little publicity stunt goes perfectly.”
“What do you mean, publicity stunt?” Marta asked.
June turned to Wes, politely concerned. “Is this a secret? Should I send her away?”
Wes rolled his eyes. “Jeez. It’s not a done deal yet. Pocketz is looking to partner with SecondSkins microsuits. I came on this trip to test-run the product myself. If it goes well, we make the announcement when I get back.”
David’s major “legit” deal, Marta realized. So this was it. This was the reason he wanted eyes on Feingold.
“So now we circle back to my original point. You said ‘if it goes well,’ Wes. And I’ve told you that OLE is very, very determined it go well.”
“OK,” Wes said. “So?”
June peered at him. “I wasn’t sure if you knew or not. My guess was that you did. But now I wonder.”
“For God’s sake. What?”
“You’ve been taking Ruby City’s inoculation for three weeks, as part of your regular vitamin supply. You could strip that suit off now and roll around in the grass naked, Wes. No tick is going to bite you.”
“Bullshit,” Wes said.
June shrugged. “Nope. Not bullshit. The drug exists, and people in-zone know about it. Some of them even get to take it.”
“What about everyone else on the excursion?” Wes asked.
“This is where I get a little confused,” June said. “For more reasons than one. The Tanakas got the vitamin. At extraordinary cost, I’ll add. And, for some mysterious reason”—she paused dramatically—“Marta Severs. That directive came down to Andy from the very top. He did as he was told.”
“But Marta got bitten,” Wes said with satisfaction. “I gave her the Stamp myself.”
“Again,” said June, “that’s why I’m confused. Marta? Any insights here?”
She hesitated for a moment, but didn’t see the profit in lying. “I didn’t take the vitamins. I’ve been dealing with . . . a stomach thing. They made me sick. I had no idea what they were actually for.”
“Well, that’s one mystery solved. What about the other? Why you?”
Marta shrugged uncomfortably. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
June smiled humorously. “I’ll bet it is. But let’s leave it alone for now. There’s too much to discuss. There’s the matter of your new business partner, for instance. What do you know about David Perrone, Wes?”
Marta’s face burned. Thank goodness it was dark.
“Stop playing this out. Just tell me what you want to tell me.”
“OK. I will. He puppeteers an entire economy that your Pocketz doesn’t touch,” June said. “Or touches indirectly. Drugs, of course. Our street Salt, for example. Illegal electronics and data mines, contraband of every possible stripe. And girls. Boys, too. Some women. But mostly girls. It might fascinate you, Wes—this shadow economy. The outer-zone camps like the one where Violet’s life began still exist. The one at Flat Rock still exists. Groups like yours travel out here on vacation. The accommodations can be pretty luxe, from what I’ve heard.” She eyed Marta now for some reason, shrewdly. “Of course, prostitution’s legal in Atlantic Zone now, so these camps have to cater to somewhat”—she pursed her lips around the word—“specialized interests. OLE makes regular runs out to Flat Rock and another camp up near Roanoke. They’re booked as hunting excursions. Andy has led several of them. He tells me that hunting is sometimes involved, matter of fact.”
“Oh my God,” Marta said softly.
“Yes,” June said.