Icon (23 page)

“The new American Face is on a plane taking off in five minutes,” Suyana said. “Margot has America's blessing. She's retiring Ethan before the first day of session.”

That was the day after tomorrow, and a wedding wasn't going to save him from being kicked out if Margot had made up her mind. “So why—” He stopped as he realized.

Ethan. That big, dumb grinner. All that attentive care of Suyana, done for the benefit of someone else.

“But he stood with you when the UARC bad news broke.”

“He thought he was using leverage against her, for my sake. He didn't understand her.”

The church's scattered points of light floated in her dark
eyes, and when they moved, it was his only sign she was still thinking and not just delivering conclusions. “After we drop off Ethan, we go dark while I talk to Grace and Martine.”

“Jesus Christ, what about? Who's we?”

“You and Bo and me.”

“Fuck you, why don't you ask me first?” It was quiet—he didn't have the breath for more—but it was a year of anger all at once, and she flinched. Good, he thought, somewhere deep and horrible.

He expected some rejoinder about how she'd assumed he was used to following her around. Maybe something about how Li Zhao made the decisions, not him.

Instead she just said, like she hadn't slept in two years, “I have to go get married,” and it turned out that was the worst thing she could have said.

She was moving to go; she was already the sliver of her face he always caught when she was trying not to be seen.

He picked the name that would sting. “And Magnus?”

“I don't know what he'll do,” she said, and before he could point out what a terrible fucking idea it was not to be certain about people's loyalties before you decided to stage a coup with them, she was back in front of the gold-plated altar, taking Ethan's hands gently away from his face and holding them in hers, gazing up at him as steadily as any other snake with something it's decided to kill.

Magnus was looking sidelong at Daniel. “Who's that?”

“My brother. Let's get started.”

The priest was confused, but at least it made him brief, and it was going normally until Suyana said her “I do” with such quiet, warm conviction that Daniel startled. He shouldn't have, he knew what kind of actress she had become, but still, he was happy Bo was over his shoulder and out of sight. (He hadn't looked around for any of the others. He didn't care where they were.)

At least he wasn't alone; Magnus looked twitchy about her sincerity until Ethan took a heavy breath and echoed “I do,” and it was too late for second thoughts, at which point Magnus started typing into his tablet, because of course he would.

Ethan's voice was steady, and his hands closed around hers as she spoke in a gesture—apology, acquiescence—just for her. One edge of her mouth twitched with her effort to hold it still, and suddenly the eye contact turned into something softer, something shared instead of a demand. Daniel wished he'd been looking elsewhere.

But the priest was invoking God, and the pronouncement was echoing in the rafters of the silent church, and everything around them was gleaming gold, and that was a moment to end a broadcast on. Just as well Daniel had gotten it. He'd take any victories he could come by.

He missed the kiss—he was looking up at the golden
sunburst and didn't want to drop his head too fast—but it didn't matter. He'd gotten the shot that would sell. Anybody could kiss. Didn't mean anything.

× × × × × × ×

It was nearly dawn when they filed out of the church, almost like a real wedding procession.

“Blackout,” Kate said on an exhale that sounded like Li Zhao was out of hearing. “Comms are clear.”

A woman who had been having a lively conversation on the phone slid a packet into Magnus's hand as she passed by, and Ethan (with Suyana's hand tucked into the crook of his elbow like this was a real wedding) took it from Magnus without even feigning surprise that he was going to have a ten-second honeymoon.

“It's a Canadian ID,” Magnus said, “and enough money to make some people forget you. Decide which ones.”

“It's impossible to disappear when you're me.”

Daniel didn't even begrudge the guy his ego. It was probably true. One thing for Li Zhao to disappear after a few months, back before the network was so fast and the Faces so ubiquitous. Another thing for Suyana to disappear, when she had played parts so long and people were inclined to make assumptions and feel superior and let themselves forget. Trying to get the American Face to drop off the edge of the world was going to be a different problem.

Bo was talking to the pair near the fountain, and Daniel was the only outsider within earshot when Ethan turned and asked her, “If I wanted to stay, would you stand with me?”

Daniel winced even before Suyana answered, as soft, but with the knife behind it. “What was the thing you told Margot most often about me?”

Ethan didn't even go red at the ears, which meant he'd kept his bedroom secrets, but he let her hand drop. “I mostly told Margot you seemed unreachable. I didn't mind looking like an idiot so long as it kept her from being curious.”

Daniel thought two things at once. First, that Ethan was a fool to have answered, and second, that was the most interesting thing anyone could have told Margot. He didn't have to look at Suyana to know she thought the same.

It struck Daniel, like the thin end of a wound he'd feel later, the series of disasters they'd gone through to make Suyana even this knowable to him. She'd been designed otherwise. She didn't trust unless circumstances had utterly abandoned her. Daniel had been a lunar eclipse.

He kept his eyes on the fountain a little longer, until the sounds of the embrace were over. They didn't know the cameras were off; it seemed polite.

When one of the tourists by the fountain had disengaged to follow Ethan, Daniel risked a look at Suyana. Then he wished he hadn't, but an assignment was an assignment.

“Magnus,” she said. “Go home and call anyone you think has Margot hanging over them. We'll need a majority vote of no confidence and support for the new candidate. Whatever you can do would be of use.”

Magnus glanced up from his notes, hiding his abject horror just in time. “And . . . who's the new candidate?”

Daniel smiled. If he thought Suyana wanted herself in the limelight, he knew a different woman than Daniel did.

“I'll let you know when she says yes,” Suyana said, and headed toward the river. Bo fell in behind her, and after a moment Daniel joined her.

“Magnus might turn on you,” Daniel said.

“He might.”

She was wearing a light parka now, nondescript and long enough to cover the dress, and a scarf that covered her jawline. Her hair was pulled back—he supposed the long, straight weight of it would attract more attention loose, but it was strange to be able to look right at her.

“Shouldn't you have him followed?”

“We did,” Bo said, and Daniel had never wanted to punch him so much in his life.

“Surprised you didn't send me,” he said.

There was a pause that no audio recorder would have thought much of. Then she said, “I wanted you here.”

The rising sun stung his eyes. He couldn't bring
himself to actually make an apology—he wasn't wrong, there was nothing to apologize for—but he was quiet when he said, “Right. I had forgotten what you're like when you cut your losses and start doing the smart thing.”

“I never do the smart thing,” Suyana said. She wiped a hand once, viciously, down her face. “I just carry the losses.”

She sounded aged, and like she didn't expect to live until tomorrow, and it was close enough to the truth that for a moment he leaned close enough to brush against the scar from the bullet she'd taken when they'd first been in Paris,
a long time ago.

Bo didn't let her stop moving to make the phone call until they were already along the Seine, where he could keep an eye on all directions and they had options for escape if they needed them. Then he said, “You're clear,” and motioned for Suyana to get going.

Daniel snorted as Bo glanced in every direction as casually as he could. Suyana frowned. “He was your idea,” she said. “Let him be the hero if it helps.”

The look she got was something unreadable, and she nearly clarified that she was grateful, not offended, just before
Grace picked up.

“Hello, darling.”

Either Colin was there or Grace was rehearsing for a propaganda film. “I need a favor.”

“Makeup? Oh, I'd love to, I need some as well. Lyta is nice, as stylists go, but if I ever want decent lipstick, I'm on my own! You know how it is. What's going on?”

Suyana imagined Grace's trajectory from the living room to the privacy of a locked bedroom door. “We have to talk before session tomorrow. You, Martine, me. Now.”

“You should talk to Kipa as well,” Grace said. “Margot's been at her.”

Shit. “Fine. Somewhere public and loud.”

“There is no way I'm about to discuss whatever this is in public.”

“Private places aren't safe.”

“Well, I don't know,” Grace said after a moment. “I have a place I can offer.”

Suyana's heart turned over once. Her safe house. Grace was offering her new safe house. (It's going to be you, Suyana thought, sudden and fierce, so much she nearly said the words.)

“That's . . . very kind, but we'll want sound cover.”

Grace huffed a laugh. “I've taken precautions since last time, thank you. The windowsills in this place are disgusting and the floors are a disgrace, but at least I know if anyone's
been in there but me.”

Suyana knew those precautions. This life turned everyone into a spy.

There was a moment's quiet. Daniel raised an eyebrow at her.

“Send me the address, I'll meet you there. And pick up Martine. It's better than either of you being alone.”

“What about you?”

“I'm not alone,” she said, and then, for no particular reason, “Thank you.”

She hung up before Grace could ask what the thanks was for, so she wouldn't have to say, For believing me without me having to explain. That was something you saved for when you needed someone to tip in your favor. Like telling someone you were grateful, she thought with a pang, meeting Daniel's eye.

“It's all right,” he reminded her. She must have been looking for the camera, out of habit.

Bo said, “Unless you're having the meeting here, we should get going.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, and a rejoinder to Bo died in her mouth when she thought about being on the banks of this river twelve hours ago. “Good idea. Who's covering Margot?”

He paused while someone fed him the answer. “A relay team of three.”

Something in his voice made her skip the interim
questions and go right for, “When did they lose her?”

“About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Who would be most likely to know where she is?”

“Big game hunters,” Daniel said with a shit-eating grin, and then looked at Bo. “Best man for the job.”

Suyana did the math about who was the most dangerous and the most in danger, fractals spreading into possible disasters. She said, “Margot will be gathering all the support she can. I need details. Bo, if you can find her, you should find her. I'll be all right.”

“Are you sure?” The frown was audible.

“Of course. I have Daniel, for luck.”

When they were alone, Daniel took a step closer to block out onlookers and said, “Is there . . . anyone who can help you?”

It stung to hear him sound so hopeful—like he knew, like they were in this together and Chordata was still on her side. For a moment she was back in the perfume department, picking up bottles and setting them down again and waiting for Zenaida to appear in her bright hijab and heavy silk coat and smile and embrace Suyana with one arm, like a daughter gone just long enough to miss.

“No,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Some of them acted without my consent, in a way they knew would work against me. I thought I had handled it. Last night
might suggest otherwise. I have to become too powerful to disappear.”

Daniel had gone pale at the edges. “So . . . that . . . was them?” He gestured vaguely at her torso.

She rested her hand lightly on her rib cage, so he'd know where the wound was.

“No point worrying now. We have a meeting.”

As they set out side by side, he said, “They might be two sides of the same problem. Martine thinks Margot set up the research facility to blow. Once they knew Margot came after you last year, it must have made sense. Maybe Margot's infiltrating Chordata.”

She didn't need to ask how he knew—he'd learned since last year, and he'd been busy these last few weeks—but her pride was eclipsed by the news.

Of course Margot knew Chordata was looking for alternative sources. Of course Margot was working to eliminate a problem. If you had the chair of the Central Committee in your pocket, even Suyana was expendable. Fools, whoever had listened to Margot and believed her, but Suyana supposed Chordata had to have its fools the same as any other organization with five hundred legs.

Fine. She let the anger build. She'd use it. She'd need it; Grace and Martine would need to be more afraid of her than
of Margot.

× × × × × × ×

When she knocked on the door of the unassuming flat in the unassuming side street of an unassuming neighborhood not far enough from Montmartre, Daniel said, “Blackout,” so solemn that when Kipa flung the door open it startled her.

She covered her surprise with gruffness. “What did Margot tell you?” (Beside her, Daniel was rubbing his forehead with a thumb, like the introduction pained him.)