The Rule of Luck (19 page)

He laughed. “I never imagined I might one day be considered a stereotypical Russian.”

We were moving dangerously close to flirting so I tried to rein myself in. “So what's the plan?”

“Today is the feast of
Nossa Senhora das águas
,” he said, signaling the bartender for another drink. I contemplated getting one myself but declined when he looked expectantly at me. He might not get drunk, but I would. With Petriv, I needed all my wits about me.

His drink came with relative speed. I noted the clear liquid served straight up, three fingers in the glass.

“Our Lady of the Waters,” I translated from the Portuguese. “I've never heard of it.”

“It's a local religious holiday commemorating two days more than three hundred years ago when the Blessed Virgin saved the city from the rising oceans. The story goes that people prayed continuously as the ocean rose and threatened to swamp the countryside. On the third day, the moon eclipsed the sun, the sun swept down across the land, the Blessed Virgin spoke and told the citizens they needed to overthrow false gods, revealed three secrets, and the waters receded. Every year, the city shuts down for two days in commemoration and celebration of the miracle.”

I nodded. Who was I to judge miracles and faith? After the terror of the Dark Times, people swung back to religion with fanatical furor. My family held a wide range of beliefs. I burned incense to any number of deities—Christian included—I liked to cover all my bases.

“How does that relate to my mother and TransWorld?”

“It doesn't,” he said, offering up a grin before taking a sip of his drink.

“I'm not following. If we're not going to confront her, why are we here?”

Another sip of vodka. “Because I don't yet have the evidence I need. I've nothing to work with.”

I wanted to bang my head on the bar in frustration. “Then maybe I should be drinking too. I thought you told your Tsarist friends they could expect results.”

“Telling them what they want to hear makes things much simpler.”

“What happens if you can't deliver? Do they break your legs? Or mine, for that matter?”

Petriv cast a look at my legs, left bare thanks to the butt-brushing tube-mini. He spent a long moment considering—so long, I felt myself flush. “I would say there's no danger of anything happening to your legs or other parts of your anatomy. Not from them, at least.”

Yup, that did it. The flush grew, even as I tried to fight it. Petriv went back to his drink.

“I'm not without ideas,” he continued. “Just nothing concrete to present. As I was saying, the city shuts down for two days for the feast of
Nossa Senhora das águas
. TransWorld is a large employer here, so they host a companywide picnic at the botanical gardens. The entire city is invited. Based on research, we know your mother usually attends. My hope is to intercept her and use your presence to force a reaction.”

“Sounds like wishful thinking,” I offered. “After what happened at the auction, she may even be expecting me.”

“Well, it's not without its flaws, but the timing is perfect. If I get what I need to spoil the bid now, so much the better. If not, we try again. We have two weeks, after all.”

“What happens if you fail? What will the Consortium do?”

He drained his drink in a long swallow then set the glass down with deliberate care, as if uncertain whether or not he might smash it. “I won't fail.”

“But what if you do?” I pressed because I couldn't seem to stop myself. “What makes you so confident?”

He turned to me, his gaze appraising where before it was playful. Then he stepped in close, one leg finding its way between my knees a one hand coming to rest on the back of my barstool. He placed his other hand on my thigh, his long fingers brushing just under the hemline of my dress. His thumb rested close to my left hip bone and began to circle gently. The overall effect left me both aroused and confused. I fought not to move, feeling like I might startle a wild animal if I did. “Have you seen something of interest in your cards, my little Tarot card reader?”

I thought of the countless readings I'd done on him, Death and the Lovers appearing over and over again, and my throat went dry. “Nothing I can recall.”

Petriv cocked an eyebrow. “Should that change, please mention it. What I'm paying you should entitle me to at least one reading. In answer to your question, I'm confident because I was born for this. One day I will lead the Consortium. Failure in this, or in anything, is not an option. TransWorld is only a stepping stone. Beyond lies true power.”

“You're aware you sound like a megalomaniac, right?” The words were out before I could stop them. It was all I could do not to clamp a hand over my mouth.

“Perhaps. I've been called worse.” He barked a laugh, but it sounded bitter. The rubbing on my hip stopped and he removed his hand. When he stepped out from between my knees I felt a mixture of both relief and disappointment. “Time to go, Ms. Sevigny. We have a picnic to attend.”

He reached out and eased me from the barstool. My inner thigh accidentally brushed his. Our eyes met and again I saw the heat in his gaze.

“Careful, Ms. Sevigny,” he whispered, his lips at my ear. “I believe we still have some unresolved business.”

Oh yes, Petriv had definitely come out to play. “And if we had the time, maybe I'd let you resolve it. But as you said, we have a picnic to attend.”

He laughed, deep and throaty without any trace of the earlier bitterness. Then he stepped back and held out an arm for me to take, grinning at me, clearly amused. Odd, but knowing I could make him laugh somehow took the pressure off. I felt less like I was in the middle of a sexual powder keg.

Unfortunately, I realized that by not being so focused on Petriv, I had a host of other problems with which to concern myself. I had plenty of room left in my brain to worry about my mother. Today may or may not be the day I met her after years of thinking she was dead. What would I say to her? How would I react? What emotions was I supposed to feel? Hell, was I even emotionally ready to see her? I didn't know, but with Petriv dragging me inexorably after him, I was certainly going to find out.

A flight-limo dropped us off a block from the picnic. With the streets closed and filled with foot traffic, it was as near as we could get. The weather was hot, the sky cloudless, and the sun beat down mercilessly. Petriv's suit and Tru-Tan meant he was better protected against its damaging rays, but we both applied UV protection spray to any exposed skin. In ten minutes, the intense Brazilian sun could cause terrible burns.

The streets were lined with palm trees. Urns filled with exotic flowers I didn't recognize were spaced every few meters, though I could scan them with my bracelet if I was curious. There were also open-air shops and cafes. The atmosphere was one of general celebration as people waded around us. I watched through my sunshades—couples and families of three, laughing and enjoying the holiday without a care. A week ago, I'd been one of them.

All at once, it hit me again. Sharp, piercing rage filled me and I felt like my heart would beat its way through my chest. I thought of Roy and his stupid, pregnant wife and wanted to lash out with a vengeance that staggered me. How could anyone do that to a person? How had he rationalized our relationship to himself? I had to stop walking, both hands clutching my chest as if that would hold me together.

“Ms. Sevigny? Are you ill?”

“I'm fine. Give me a second,” I said, the words a grunt. Better that than crying.

Petriv steered me away from the crowd until we were shaded by a line of palm trees. I let him. Easier to do that than resist. Besides, I didn't feel like resisting. Not when the rage turned to a gnawing sadness. Even if it had been all lies, I'd still loved my easy life with Roy with its lack of complications.
Or passion,
I reminded myself. Maybe that's why it had been so simple—he fit into the fantasy of what I thought my life should be. After Dante, it was so much easier not to care too much. That way, things hurt less when they all went wrong and you ended up disappointed. Perhaps I could have inserted any man. No, not true. For a second, I tried to imagine what a life with Alexei Petriv might be like, and couldn't. It was beyond anything I could envision.

“You're not fine,” Petriv said, bringing my attention to him as he tipped my face to his. He'd already removed his sunshades and tucked them into a jacket pocket before he plucked mine from my face to study me. “You're anything but.”

I sniffed and fought back tears. “I'm just having a moment. That's what I do. I cry and have dramatic moments all the time.”

He smiled. “So far, you haven't struck me as the type unless the situation calls for it. What's wrong? Nerves?”

“No. Not yet, anyway,” I said, shaking my head in his loose hold. “It just hit me that this wasn't the life I ordered. I'm nowhere near where I thought I'd be.” I gestured vaguely to the people around us. “I thought I'd have…
that
by now.”

“Few get exactly what they want in life.” He smoothed a piece of hair back from my face, one Oksana had left free to be artfully wispy. His smile faded. “If you want, I will kill Roy for you.”

My eyes went wide. I could see it in his face. He would kill Roy if I asked him. My heart dropped into my stomach as I again realized the world I'd fallen into.
Hello, Alice. Fall through the looking glass much?

“No, don't. He's going to be a father and I don't want that on my conscience.” I thought a moment longer. “I don't think I care about him enough to want him dead.”

“As you wish,” he said, inclining his head in a small nod.

I pulled away, or tried to. It unnerved me to have him touch me so intimately as we stood beneath the palm trees and discussed murder while the rest of the world strolled around us. I needed our relationship to get back to normal—whatever qualified as normal.

After a few seconds, he let me go and handed back my sunshades. Our fingers touched and he murmured, “What I said is a standing offer. Say the word, and I will do it.”

I swallowed, breathless. “Okay.”

He put his own glasses back on and held out his arm. “Shall we continue? My people on the ground have sighted your mother at the picnic. However, we can try again tomorrow if you're not ready.”

A few more seconds of my bumbling as I put on the sunshades. “But she won't be there tomorrow, will she?”

“There is that,” he conceded.

The prospect of running was tantalizing, but that was fear talking. I had to keep going if I wanted my life back. My gut agreed. It pushed me forward with an intensity I rarely felt. In fact since meeting Petriv, the kick in my gut feeling seemed to have increased a thousandfold.

I took his arm and squared my shoulders. “We're here. Let's do this.”

A short time later, we waited in line for the botanical gardens. From where I stood, I saw the main greenhouse. I also caught the telltale shimmer of the nano-sunshade over the entire affair. It filtered out the worst of the sun's damaging rays while letting in the rest of the elements. I closed myself off to the laughing children and the chatter of families around us, and concentrated on the task at hand. Unfortunately, I couldn't block out the scents as the perfumes of hundreds of flowers filled the air. They even managed to drown out Petriv's cologne—a good thing, I decided.

At the entry gate, all attendees were allocated five extra calorie consumption points. I saw them pop up in the calorie monitor on my bracelet with a giddy thrill, then realized I had to use them at the festival or they'd be deducted within the next three hours. Then we were directed to pass through a weapons scanner. I went first and made it without so much as a beep. Petriv followed while I watched with interest. He came out clean as well.

I arched an eyebrow when he took my arm again. “I didn't expect it to be so easy.”

“I'm offended, Ms. Sevigny. Did you think I would shut down the whole event with a secret weapons cache?”

“I think you'd do whatever you needed to get what you wanted.”

“Well, to your point, I wouldn't carry it with me. It would already be onsite.”

“Nice to know I wasn't completely wrong.”

He grinned down at me. “No, not completely.”

He stopped then, looking around the picnic. I followed his gaze, but also tried to determine in which direction my gut wanted me to go. We were standing in a courtyard, with plants and trees arranged to create pathways leading off in numerous directions. Though I saw no overt signage, a check of the CN-net showed the grounds' layout. The smell of food wafted around me from the food pavilions ahead. In another direction, I heard playful screams and laughter, which must have been where the rides were located. Costumed performers danced to piped-in music, juggled, and worked magic tricks. This was one hell of a picnic; TransWorld certainly went all out when it came to keeping everyone entertained.

“If you win the bid, does all this stop?” I asked Petriv.

“People still need their bread and circuses, Ms. Sevigny,” he answered as he scanned the crowds. “Just because one thing changes doesn't mean the world changes with it.”

I noticed a group of young women eyeing Petriv: five in total, in their early twenties. They were no more than babies, really, not even old enough to begin the Renew treatments. All wore open-back, tailbone skimming dresses that displayed their tats—sequined butterflies with holographic wings that actually flapped—as well as the latest fad in color-cycling filament braids, linked to their t-mods and changing color depending on their mood. I felt a spurt of envy. Stupid, yet I couldn't help it. To them, I was a lesser being: an unmodified human, a spook. They were the future. Yet as different as each tried to be, they still looked the same—tall, thin, busty, long straight hair—all striving to reflect One Gov's predetermined ideal based on gene decisions their parents had made before conception.

The girls stood by a pair of massive stone urns filled to overflowing with colorful hydrangeas. I thought of Belikov and hoped he didn't cast me in the same light as these bauble-heads as they giggled and shot glances at Petriv. The most brazen of the girls gave me a pointed look, presumably hoping I would drop dead or go away. Part of me nearly laughed aloud at the idea of her trying to handle Petriv.

“You have admirers,” I couldn't help but point out.

In return, his arm settled around my waist and he drew me closer until my hip brushed his thigh. “No need to be jealous,” he said, mouth close to my ear. “I'm flattered by the attention, but I don't have patience for giggling females.”

“What do you have the patience for?” The words were out before I could stop them.

He hit me with the smile I'd caught back at the hotel. “I am constantly surprised by the ever expanding list of things I want.” His smile faded and his expression grew vacant until a beat later, he frowned at me. “It seems TransWorld is aware of our presence and is moving to intercept. We need to leave.”

I recalled the mess in Denver and what could have happened if not for Pennyworth. Petriv was right; we had to leave. Except…my gut said otherwise. I looked around as if I could figure out what to do based on sight alone. Useless, as usual. I couldn't see what I wanted. I had to feel it.

“No,” I said, a hand on his chest to steady myself. “Not yet. If we leave now, we'll lose…well, we'll lose whatever opportunity you hoped to gain. I can't explain it, but I can't go.”

“Then what do you suggest, Ms. Sevigny?” I heard both frustration and amusement in his voice. “No secret weapons cache, remember?”

“Just…follow me.”

I walked farther into the gardens to where the rides were located. The crowds grew dense, the noises louder. I pushed through it, keeping a hand on Petriv's wrist, afraid I'd lose him if I let go. Or rather, he'd lose me. The smell of manure wafted through the air, strong and pungent. A minute later I saw the reason: we'd stumbled across a petting zoo with real, live animals.

I entered the gated enclosure, unconcerned about those waiting their turn or the gatekeeper who barked in protest as we passed. Straw crunched and snapped underfoot. I stepped around small children, overturned food bowls, and a parade of tiny chicks. I led Petriv by the pigpen, past several cows, and around the goat stall. Something was there. So close. Only a little farther now. My gut was so insistent I would have started running if not for the fact that it would have been impossible given the crowds.

Past the sheep, I saw what my gut wanted me to. I stopped in my tracks, staring, trying to make sense of it. Pony rides. There were seven ponies in all, each a dull brown and white color, indistinguishable from one another. They walked a predetermined circle, moving with docile gentility. On each sat a child. The youngest was three or four, the oldest no more than ten—all girls. Beside each was an adult, either male or female, ensuring their charges remained in their saddles. It made sense for the youngest children, but not the ten-year-old. Looking closer, I noticed that none of the children laughed or smiled. Gods knew I'd wished for a pony often enough, and the fact that they didn't seem to care struck me as odd. Some had contented looks on their face, but for the most part, they were blank slates without emotion. There was something…
off
with these girls, something that didn't add up.

Petriv was speaking. Words came out of his mouth, but I couldn't grasp their full meaning. I tore my eyes from the girls.

“They seem to have a form of neurological impairment, though I don't have enough information to judge what the cause might be. That would require neural scans and testing to determine the full extent,” he said. I looked at him blankly. “The development of their brains and central nervous systems has been tampered with, causing a host of mental and emotional disorders. There are no other known cases of such neurological damage in the world at present. Genetics therapy would have eliminated it.”

“And yet here they are,” I whispered. “But there's something else. Those things…You wouldn't know this…I mean…how could you? How thorough could your background research be?”

“Say it, Ms. Sevigny. We're rapidly running out of time.”

“They look like me.” I glanced up at him. “Back when I was a little girl. All of them. They are…identical to me when I was growing up. Honestly, I'd say they could
be
me.”

He swore under his breath. I followed his gaze and froze. Standing beside the pony circuit, arms crossed, overseeing the entire production, was my mother. Blond hair was pulled back from her flawless face; she was as gorgeous as she'd been in the picture Petriv had shown me days ago. She watched over the ponies, nodding at the girls when they deigned to look at her. These were the children my cards had seen. I wasn't the only child my mother had produced. She'd gotten around the Shared Hope program regulations…Or had she?

“Clones,” I breathed in horror. “Those are clones of me.”

A beat of silence from Petriv, then, “You're sure of this?”

“Wish I wasn't, but yes, I'm sure.”

I didn't know what to do next. Confront my mother? Pull the clones off their ponies and take them with me? But it didn't matter. In that moment, as if she'd sensed me, my mother's eyes met mine. A touch of shock crossed her face before it smoothed over. Then she nodded, small and precise as if greeting an old friend. Or an enemy. She knew me. Yes, she knew exactly who I was.

Petriv grabbed my arm. “We've got company. Time to go.”

Like at the auction, TransWorld security had found us. I counted four beefy guards closing in. Petriv backpedaled us through the crowd. Animals and people dashed out of the way as we charged by. I threw a backward glance at our pursuers. They were closing in.

“What now?”

“We run.”

Our escape from the botanical gardens wasn't as dramatic as it seemed. Petriv's people quickly stepped in and dealt with the TransWorld goons. We left unscathed with relative haste, jumping into the waiting flight-limo just outside the gardens. I wasn't sure what fancy maneuvering had been required to have a getaway vehicle in place given the trouble we'd had on the way in, but we made it out with little fuss.