journey trying to get
Tiger to meet her eyes, but he wouldn't. He sat close to Bat and acted
as if Jackal were invisible. In spite of herself, she was starting to
feel irritated. She told herself he had a right to be mad, but part of
her just wanted to shake him until his damn nose fell off. Snow would
have laughed and offered to help, and eased Jackal's tension: but Snow
was on her way to Quanzhou for a three-day conference on
macroengineering challenges in Asia. “I'm proud of you. You're the glue
that holds the web together,” she had told Jackal when they said
good-bye.
At Immigration, the web was herded into
the ends of several long lines at the row of checkpoint counters that
separated arriving passengers from the cavernous main waiting area of
the omniport. Surveillance optics in the ceiling and walls blinked red,
green, red, green as they recorded still frames in preset sequences.
Guards patrolled the lines and stood at the exits and counters. All
were Chinese; no one else was allowed to carry a weapon in Hong Kong or
the mainland. The guard nearest Jackal paced back and forth along the
last third of their line, talking to himself in an angry voice.
She was always uncomfortable here,
although she had regularly breezed in and out of Hong Kong since the
age of eight. It was the interminable standing and the sour smell of
the room that made her itchy; it was the size of it, the way that she
could never quite see the far wall. She usually believed it was her
imagination, and lately she had wondered if she would ever again feel
confident at any identity check. But today, looking around, she
realized that the entire space was designed to make the occupants feel
crowded, pushed, hemmed in. Trapped. And, paradoxically, isolated and
revealed.
She and Turtle and Mist talked about it.
“It's not just the drugs-and-guns people anymore,” Turtle said. His
voice was low, even though it was hard to hear over the loudspeakers
that constantly announced arrival and departure schedules in four
different languages. “The Chinese will find them and take them out if
they can—” he paused as the guard passed by “—but what they're really
worried about is Steel Breeze.”
Jackal nodded, and after just a moment too
long, so did Mist. Normally, Jackal would pretend not to notice and do
Mist the courtesy of letting her figure it out as the conversation went
along. Mist wasn't stupid, after all, just lazy about the world outside
Ko. But today was different; today Jackal wanted honest conversations.
“Do you know what we're talking about,
Mist?”
Mist looked startled; so did Turtle. Mist
widened her eyes and smiled with half her mouth. “Well, of course.”
“I don't think so. I'll bet you don't know
anything about Steel Breeze.” The muttering guard wandered back, and
Jackal had a bad moment wondering if he had overheard. Like Turtle, she
was trying to keep her voice low. Just talking about Steel Breeze in a
government facility could get her a frightening hour of detention and
hard questioning before her identity was established.
“Why are you being so mean?” Mist said in
a small voice.
“I'm not being mean. Honestly. I'll be
happy to give you the short course in international terrorism so you're
better informed. I just hate it when you go along with people like
that. Some day it'll get you into trouble, hermanita .”
“People like being agreed with,” Mist
retorted, surprising her. “Nobody but you thinks there's anything wrong
with getting along.”
“I get along with people.”
“Oh, sure. Don't you mean that the other
way around?”
“Mist—” Turtle tried to cut her off, but
Jackal could see that there was no chance Mist would stop now.
“Everyone gets along fine with you because they have to,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” When Mist
did not answer, Jackal turned to Turtle. “What's this all about?
Turtle?” Her face was hot. Turtle stepped hard on Mist's left foot.
Mist winced,
Tiger to meet her eyes, but he wouldn't. He sat close to Bat and acted
as if Jackal were invisible. In spite of herself, she was starting to
feel irritated. She told herself he had a right to be mad, but part of
her just wanted to shake him until his damn nose fell off. Snow would
have laughed and offered to help, and eased Jackal's tension: but Snow
was on her way to Quanzhou for a three-day conference on
macroengineering challenges in Asia. “I'm proud of you. You're the glue
that holds the web together,” she had told Jackal when they said
good-bye.
At Immigration, the web was herded into
the ends of several long lines at the row of checkpoint counters that
separated arriving passengers from the cavernous main waiting area of
the omniport. Surveillance optics in the ceiling and walls blinked red,
green, red, green as they recorded still frames in preset sequences.
Guards patrolled the lines and stood at the exits and counters. All
were Chinese; no one else was allowed to carry a weapon in Hong Kong or
the mainland. The guard nearest Jackal paced back and forth along the
last third of their line, talking to himself in an angry voice.
She was always uncomfortable here,
although she had regularly breezed in and out of Hong Kong since the
age of eight. It was the interminable standing and the sour smell of
the room that made her itchy; it was the size of it, the way that she
could never quite see the far wall. She usually believed it was her
imagination, and lately she had wondered if she would ever again feel
confident at any identity check. But today, looking around, she
realized that the entire space was designed to make the occupants feel
crowded, pushed, hemmed in. Trapped. And, paradoxically, isolated and
revealed.
She and Turtle and Mist talked about it.
“It's not just the drugs-and-guns people anymore,” Turtle said. His
voice was low, even though it was hard to hear over the loudspeakers
that constantly announced arrival and departure schedules in four
different languages. “The Chinese will find them and take them out if
they can—” he paused as the guard passed by “—but what they're really
worried about is Steel Breeze.”
Jackal nodded, and after just a moment too
long, so did Mist. Normally, Jackal would pretend not to notice and do
Mist the courtesy of letting her figure it out as the conversation went
along. Mist wasn't stupid, after all, just lazy about the world outside
Ko. But today was different; today Jackal wanted honest conversations.
“Do you know what we're talking about,
Mist?”
Mist looked startled; so did Turtle. Mist
widened her eyes and smiled with half her mouth. “Well, of course.”
“I don't think so. I'll bet you don't know
anything about Steel Breeze.” The muttering guard wandered back, and
Jackal had a bad moment wondering if he had overheard. Like Turtle, she
was trying to keep her voice low. Just talking about Steel Breeze in a
government facility could get her a frightening hour of detention and
hard questioning before her identity was established.
“Why are you being so mean?” Mist said in
a small voice.
“I'm not being mean. Honestly. I'll be
happy to give you the short course in international terrorism so you're
better informed. I just hate it when you go along with people like
that. Some day it'll get you into trouble, hermanita .”
“People like being agreed with,” Mist
retorted, surprising her. “Nobody but you thinks there's anything wrong
with getting along.”
“I get along with people.”
“Oh, sure. Don't you mean that the other
way around?”
“Mist—” Turtle tried to cut her off, but
Jackal could see that there was no chance Mist would stop now.
“Everyone gets along fine with you because they have to,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” When Mist
did not answer, Jackal turned to Turtle. “What's this all about?
Turtle?” Her face was hot. Turtle stepped hard on Mist's left foot.
Mist winced,
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