Читать книгу Rules of the Game - Джеймс Фрей, James Frey, Nils Johnson-Shelton - Страница 19

An’s heart is full.

After the explosion Nori Ko moved to the Defender’s backseat. She said in Mandarin, “Drive west.”

He did.

He watched the road slip under the car and continue to unfurl before them and he watched her in the rearview mirror and he watched the road and he watched her. The road and her. Road and her. He did not speak. He did not need words. He did not speak for over three hours.

She did not bother him with words either.

Chiyoko would have done the same.

ChiyokoChiyokoNoriKoChiyoko.

Now they’ve stopped to refuel. He’s outside. She’s in the car, her head propped against the far window. He’s in the stifling heat, a gas pump in his hand. The paved highway lies to the north. A few kilometers earlier they entered a jungle reserve and now trees rise all around, making the air a couple of degrees cooler than it is out by the open fields of jute and corn. Behind the filling station is a low concrete building, a white bull lolling under a jackfruit tree, its leafy boughs heavy with oblong fruit. Aside from the attendant in the air-conditioned booth, no people are around.

An finishes and pays and gets in and drives.

“West?” he asks.

“West.”

He merges onto State Highway 2, headed for Bishnupur. They drive through the jungle. An doesn’t see any buildings or signs of people except for the road they’re on and a brief glimpse of a derelict metal hut hiding behind the trees. He thinks nothing of it.

After another quarter hour, An says, “I’m ready”—blink—“I’m ready”—blink—“I’m ready to talk.” SHIVER. “We have to talk.”

“We do,” Nori Ko says. She moves An’s rifle from the front passenger seat and climbs forward. “You have questions.”

An nods. “Why did you find me?”

“I found you because I also loved Chiyoko.”

His skin crawls at hearing another person say her name. Even this one, who comes from her stock and looks so much like her. He’s reminded of the British interrogator on the destroyer who insisted on saying it. That one who wielded the name like a blade. Drove it into An’s ears and twisted it. An almost tells his new ally that she should not say Chiyoko’s name either, but he knows he doesn’t have the right. Whoever Nori Ko is, she was someone to Chiyoko. That counts for something.

“Chiyoko,” Nori Ko says quietly.

Yes, it counts for something. But …

The name is mine now, he thinks. Chiyoko. Chiyoko Takeda. My name.

Nori Ko reaches across the inside of the car, her fingers yearning for the necklace that hangs around An’s neck, breaking his train of thought.

SHIVER.

He moves away from her.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I want to touch her. Like you do.”

BLINKSHIVERBLINK.

She touches the necklace. After a moment Nori Ko returns her hands to her lap. Her fingertips rub together, the residue of Chiyoko on them.

“I love her,” Nori Ko clarifies. “After what happened I couldn’t sit idly by. That’s why I found you.”

“After what happened?”

“I am Mu. A high member of the training council. I know much about Endgame.” She pauses, and then says quietly, “I saw a recording of your conversation with Nobuyuki. I saw how you killed him.”

SHIVERSHIVER.

“Yes, I saw it, Shang. There was a black box containing surveillance recordings that survived the fire in Naha. I heard what you said, what he said. I thought Nobuyuki was unfair to you. Under no circumstances would he have allowed you to Play for the Mu, but I thought it not right of him to test you like that.”

“He deserved what he got,” An says.

“No, he did not.”

SHIVER.

She says, “You didn’t need to honor his request for Chiyoko’s remains. You did not have to respect Nobuyuki the way you respected Chiyoko. But for that same reason, you should have spared him. Not for his sake, but for hers. Killing him dishonored Chiyoko, An. As well as yourself. It did nothing to tarnish the honor of Nobuyuki Takeda.”

BLINKBLINK.

Her voice is cold.

SHIVERBLINKblink.

“You speak like him,” An finally says.

“I can speak like him. But I am not him.”

An wrings the wheel in his hands. His knuckles whiten. He pushes the gas a little more. The car accelerates.

Her voice is cold.

Her words cut.

“I loved Nobuyuki too,” she says. “But don’t worry, I’m not interested in honor like he was. I’m not here to punish you for his death.” The thought of this woman punishing him almost makes An laugh. She continues. “I chose you precisely because I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”

Death, he thinks. She wants death.

“What were you to her?” An asks.

“A trainer. Bladed arts, karate, acrobatics, evasion, disguise. She was my best student. I’ve never met anyone faster or more ruthless. She was—”

“She should not have died.”

“No. She shouldn’t have.”

Silence. One kilometer. Two.

“You love her,” An says. “I love her. This doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Because I want the same thing you want.”

“And that is?” He’s glad to be wearing Chiyoko right now. She gives him strength. Allows him to speak without too many glitches or tics.

So glad.

She is like you, love, Chiyoko says to him.

Nori Ko says, “What you want is as plain as the nose on your face, An Liu. Love multiplied by death—by murder—has only one solution.”

Pause.

“Revenge,” An says.

“Revenge,” Nori Ko says.

More silence. The sky is bright. They pass a multicolored Tata truck laden with rebar.

She doesn’t lie, love, Chiyoko says. Her anger makes her strong.

I know, An thinks. It is the same with me. Chiyoko doesn’t say anything to this.

“How did you find me?” An asks.

“I’ve been on your trail since Naha. I was going to approach you the other day, right after you arrived in Kolkata, but then Endgame caught us by surprise, didn’t it?”

“It did. Things happened quickly. Very quickly. We were so close.”

“To Adlai?”

We were so close to killing the Nabataean, love, Chiyoko reminds him.

He nods. “Yes. We were very close,” An says to Chiyoko and Nori Ko.

Nori Ko ignores An’s use of the first person plural and says, “I tried to reach the cemetery, but I was too late to help you. Believe me, I would have.”

An thinks of what she did to the mob in Ballygunge. He says, “I believe you.”

“Good.”

Silence again. They pass roadside things. A group of women in bright clothing, a flock of pigeons rising from the treetops, a road crew patching potholes in the oncoming lane.

The other side of the world faces the apocalypse, but in India life goes on.

“What do you think of when you think of revenge, An?”

“Blood. Ashes. Swollen things.”

Nori Ko shakes her head. “No. I mean, who do you think of?”

The answer is quick. “The Cahokian. The Olmec. They were there when she died. If they hadn’t been, she would’ve lived.”

A brief silence before Nori Ko intones, “Then I want their deaths too, An Liu.”

SHIVERshiverSHIVERshiverSHIVERshiver.

“But tell me, An Liu—is there someone else you want dead?”

The car jounces over a bump. Neither speaks for a moment. He looks at the instrument panel. The Defender whips along at 123 kph. The engine hums at 2,900 rpms. It is 37 degrees Celsius outside.

“Yes,” he answers.

Nori Ko says, “The kepler.”

An nods. “Him. It.”

Nori Ko grunts. “I’m also in the mood for his blood. And I will see that you have it. That we both have it.”

An says, “You’re not like Chiyoko.”

“I’m older than she was. Age does things to a person, and people who know of Endgame age even faster and in different ways.” She waves her hand as if to bat away a fly or an unpleasant memory. “I had ideals once, if that’s what you mean.”

BLINKshiverblink.

“It is.”

“I’ve learned a lot about Endgame over the years, An. From a lot of different people, not all of them Mu. Not all of them wanting Endgame the way the Players did. My ideals, such as they were, suffered the more that I learned.” Pause. “They were dashed for good when Chiyoko was killed.”

Hearing her name again hurts. She shouldn’t say it, he thinks.

Chiyoko whispers, It’s all right. She will help you. Don’t be hard on her. She will help you. She will help us.

An shakes his head—not a tic, just a hard shake to quiet her voice, which echoes in his brain.

A car appears in the rearview mirror, driving very fast.

“So tell me—where are we headed, Mu Nori Ko?”

“You’ve been watching the news?”

“Yes.”

“And seen that someone’s destroying monuments from Maker-human antiquity?”

“Yes. Do you know who?”

“I have a hunch, but that’s not important. What is important is that we get to the next closest monument—which happens to be the Harappan one in western India. Odds are that is where the Nabataean is taking the first two keys. It is where he thinks he will win.”

“Where exactly?”

“A sunken temple near the Gujarati town of Dwarka.”

An jams the brakes and holds the wheel tightly and Nori Ko braces herself on the dashboard and the tires squeal and they come to a lurching halt.

The car that is driving fast so fast overtakes them. A small late-model sedan, one driver, bald and in a hurry. No passengers. The driver looks nothing like Maccabee and there is no one else in the car so An doesn’t pay it any mind. Everyone drives like a speed demon in India anyway.

“Why is Adlai going there?” he asks urgently. “Is it because of Sun Key?”

“Yes.”

“Is it there?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“But you think it’s at one of these monuments? The ones that are being destroyed?”

“Yes. It is. Although I don’t know which one.”

He pauses. Squints. The car disappears around the next turn. He says, “Then Sun Key could also be at the Mu monument? Or the Cahokian? Or the Olmec? Or—the Shang?”

“Yes. It could.”

An puts the car back in gear, whips the wheel around, pulls a tight U-turn, and heads back in the direction from which they came, going fast fast fast.

“What are you doing?” Nori Ko demands.

BlinkSHIVERSHIVERblinkBLINKBLINKSHIVERshiverBLINK.

She reaches out and puts a hand on his arm. He yanks it away.

China, Chiyoko says.

Yes, he answers.

“The Nabataean could already be halfway to Dwarka!” Nori Ko protests.

“I know. And if he’s lucky enough to find Sun Key there, then he’s already won, and we are already too late,” An says through clenched teeth. “Nothing we do will matter. We need to get the keys to see the kepler face-to-face. If he wins, then we will have lost our chance to meet and then kill the Maker. But …”

And then Nori Ko understands. “The pyramid of Emperor Zhao.”

“Yes. We start at the Shang monument. If Dwarka doesn’t have Sun Key—and the odds are decent that it won’t—then Adlai will go to the next closest monument. Mine.”

“China,” Nori Ko says. Accepting. Approving.

“Yes. We’re going home,” he says, thinking of all the things he hated about it, of all the pain he endured during his training, of all the suffering. “My hellish home.”