Chapter 25

Snow coated the streets in a layer of dirty slush. Rizzi prowled through them, dressed against the weather and hood up over her head. She stopped before a laundromat, one that looked no different from countless others throughout the city. Tugging the door open, she stepped in to the sound of chattering washers and dryers. Bored-looking people sat around in the plastic chairs, fixated on their phones while waiting on their loads. The whole place looked worn and old, like it had been around for several decades, but well cared for and kept clean. Rizzi moved to the back where a clerk sat behind the counter.

"Whaddya need?" she said, flipping a pair of dreadlocks from her face.

Keeping her hand out of sight from the rest of the laundromat, Rizzi opened her fist to display the gold coin she held. "Is Mama Lucy in?"

The clerk nodded. "She's in the back," she said, and walked over to a nondescript door as she pulled a ring of keys from her pocket.

"Thank you," Rizzi said as the clerk held the door open, and walked through. Moving past the rear office, she entered a storage closet.

A few steps lead to a shelf laden with boxes of fabric softener at the far end. Rizzi tugged at the rightmost box on the bottom shelf, then reached up to the top and flipped a disguised lever. The shelf and the wall behind it swung smoothly aside on well-oiled hinges, revealing an old brick tunnel. Its musty scent greeted her nose as Rizzi made her way inwards.

The tunnel ended in a small, cavern-like chamber that looked like equal parts speakeasy, boarding house, and modern home office. The smell of the tunnel gave way to the aroma of pie and roasted chestnuts. A matronly black woman looked up from the array of screens before her as Rizzi entered. "Well, if it ain't Miss Rizzi. Heard you was in town. What took you so long to visit?"

"Hello, Mama Lucy," Rizzi said with a respectful nod. "I'm afraid I've been busy."

"Working for Marco Fabbro. What's a good girl like you doing with somebody like him?"

"You have a funny definition of 'good girl,'" Rizzi said. "It's just a contractor's life, I'm afraid."

Mama Lucy nodded and plucked at an imaginary piece of lint on her shoulder. "Fair enough. So, what can I do for you? You need to make some people vanish again? Those girls you sent me are gone now. I ain't telling you where, you know how it works."

"That's fine," said Susan. "I'm not asking." The girls Mama Lucy had been referring to had been from the Silver Mountain laundromat she'd hit a ways back. Lost, poor, and disenfranchised young women that slipped through the cracks and found themselves preyed upon by those in the shadows and in power.

Lucy had long been involved, she knew. Working in the shadows to move people, smuggle them through borders and making people vanish. The matronly woman had plentiful contacts not only throughout the city, but as far as Susan could tell much of the world. And yet the term "human trafficker" seemed an ill fit for Mama Lucy. She had a reputation for being picky about her jobs, focusing on helping those on the run from darker things or previously trafficked individuals start over.

"So what is it now?" Lucy asked. "You got more bystanders you need whisked away?" She twitched a finger in Rizzi's direction. "Always like that about you, young lady. Keeping the body count low. I can respect the effort."

"Not right now." Rizzi paused, taking in the scent of pie for a moment. "Mama Lucy, are you connected with the Exodus Railroad?"

Lucy stared at her for a moment. "Dangerous thing to be asking, Miss Rizzi. What makes you wonder such a thing?"

"It's a logical assumption, isn't it? You move people around the world, you've got contacts and networks all over, and I know there's no way you do all that on your own. And we know what kind of moving jobs you do."

"You know appearances can be deceiving."

"Yes I do. You gonna give me a straight answer?"

Mama Lucy laughed, loud and boisterous. "Even if I were, you really think I'd just tell it to you like that? Come on now, girl, you know that sort of thing makes heads roll in the wrong circles!"

"Just thought I'd ask," Rizzi said, holding her hands up.

"What makes you so interested in this suddenly?" Lucy asked. "You never cared much about the Rail before."

"We stayed out of each other's ways. Keeps things simple."

"Could be, could be."

"Do you know of Elijah Wu? He said once he'd worked with Exodus teams before. Any truth in that?"

Mama Lucy smirked. "Elijah Wu, is it? That cat in town?"

"So you know him then. Is there any truth to that? The Exodus teams?"

"What's it to you, sugar?" She gave Rizzi another smirk. "You got that air about you…"

"The what now?"

"I seen it before. You looking for a reason to kill him, trying to work yourself up to it."

"Do you have anything to offer on that front?" Rizzi asked.

"I can tell you that killing Mister Wu won't make you many friends in the Rail."

"So he has worked with them before."

"Releasing the captives' chains." She gave Rizzi a pointed look. "Not so dissimilar from yourself, girl."

Rizzi moved over to the long, wooden table sitting next to the little kitchen space in the chamber. Here the aroma of pie was even stronger, and the heat cast by the old-fashioned, iron oven a warm comfort. She sat down at the bench and buried her face in her hands, releasing an exasperated groan. "So he's on the up-and-up with the Exodus Railroad."

"Some would say he's a damn hero," Mama Lucy said. "So I hear."

"Uh huh." Rizzi grinned at her, shaking her head. "I'm sure you've no idea where that notion came from."

"None whatsoever. That's what you came in for? I ought to feel insulted." She smiled back at Susan, showing she wasn't serious, and sat down across from her.

Rizzi glanced around the chamber; it had definitely been a speakeasy once during Prohibition. Rumor held that the place had even existed before that, as a part of the Underground Railroad. She didn't know if that was true, but enjoyed the idea given what Mama Lucy used it for. "I've got a contract for him."

Mama Lucy grunted once. "Silver Mountain and Fabbro going at it, fighting over what's left after Viggo went and got himself killed. Like two rats on a ship squabbling over a piece of cheese while the whole damn thing is sinking. Fools, the lot of them. And here you are, hiding in my sanctum instead of out there in the streets stalking him. Now why is that, I wonder?"

"Grilling me for information now?" Rizzi said.

"I'm naturally curious," said Mama Lucy. "Folks don't come here except to get themselves lost."

"I don't need your services right now."

"I wasn't talking about setting you up with another life. Just pointing out that you're hiding from something."

"It's complicated," Rizzi said with a sigh. "It's… I don't know what. And don't ask. Like I said, I don't know."

"That's a dangerous position to be in," Mama Lucy said, again pointing a finger towards her. You've got to know yourself, Rizzi. Everything else flows from that. Tell me: did you come in here looking for a reason to kill that cat, or a reason not to?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me it don't. But I suspect it might to you, girl."

Rizzi made a disgruntled noise. "It shouldn't," she muttered.

"S'all good." Mama Lucy stood as a timer rang in the kitchen space, bustling off and humming to herself. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

Susan looked back up. "Is that chestnut pie I smell?"

"Last time, you said that this pie was for suckers and fools. Romantics drawn in by the holiday season." Lucy smirked as she returned with a piece on a plate and a fork. "People in love, you said."

"Things were different with me last time," Rizzi said, inhaling the scent of roasted chestnut and buttery pie crust.

"You weren't in love last time?" Mama Lucy suggested as she slid the pie before Rizzi.

"I wasn't hungry last time."

Mama Lucy burst into laughter, a musical rumble that echoed in her space. "And what's wrong with loving?"

"Nothing, except for the part where most of the time it's nothing real. Or the part where people think they're in love and do stupid things that end up getting them killed. Or the part where 'love' is just neurons in the brain misfiring. Take your pick."

"Ah, you're wrong there," said Mama Lucy. "Love is an exercise of will, one of the few cases of genuine agency allowed to us in this life."

Rizzi speared a chunk of pie and popped it into her mouth, savoring the extraordinary flavor. "You've lost me," she said after swallowing.

"Young folks these days. Y'all think life's just about the meat. Organs and guts."

"Gotta know where to put the bullets."

"Life's more than that. You can't ignore the will. It's the expression of the soul."

Rizzi laughed quietly. "That's… that's some major crap you're talking, Mama Lucy."

"Am I? You never been in a situation where you had to do something you didn't want to? Pull the trigger on somebody you didn't want to?"

"That's part of life. There's always something you don't have a choice about."

"Exactly!" Mama Lucy smiled at her. "There's all sorts of things we don't get to have choices about in this world. Love is one of those things we do. And I ain't talking that Mickey Mouse cartoon nonsense. Love is an exercise of will, a decision to commit to something or someone beyond yourself."

"Like I said, that's a lot of crap."

"You're very opposed to the idea. What's the matter, does it clash with the stone-cold killer image?"

"It clashes with the fact that I murder people for money." Strange, saying that out loud.

"Everybody has shortcomings," said Mama Lucy.

A laugh, high and manic, escaped from Rizzi. "Most would consider that one hell of a shortcoming!"

"I don't judge."

"Now why don't I believe that?"

"You believe what you want to." Lucy stood and brushed the front of her shirt down. "You asked me about the Exodus Railroad. Now, hypothetically, if they were involved in the city, one might not be surprised for them to keep an eye on the movers and the shakers and the professionals, you following? Now the Rail believes in its work, believes something fierce. It ain't afraid to get its hands dirty."

"So I've heard," said Rizzi.

"The Rail knows who's who. And more than one professional has had a contract go sideways on account of their… intervention."

"What are you trying to say?"

Mama Lucy looked calmly at her, giving away nothing. "There's a reason that hasn't happened to your jobs."

Still not encouraging. Rizzi planted an elbow on the table and frowned. "What, Exodus has my back? I find that hard to believe."

"Didn't say they had your back, just that they weren't looking for their pound of flesh from it."

"That's not reassuring." She paused, fork frozen in midair. "Why are you telling me this, anyway?"

"Something tells me you're gonna have some choices ahead of you, Miss Rizzi. You best learn to listen to your will. You got to know yourself, your boundaries. Understand which lines you'll cross and which you won't. Know what you got to hold on to and what you can let go of."

"Now you sound like an Exodus recruiter," Rizzi said.

"Do I?" Mama Lucy gave her a thin smile. "You finish your pie, now."

There was something about rooftops, in Elijah's estimation, that epitomized a city – any city. It heightened the characteristics: the skylines grew sharper, the street layouts came into a different focus that being at street level itself couldn't offer, and in some ways the solitude that came with the lack of people further reinforced the feeling of the modern city – that odd contradiction of being surrounded by people yet so completely alone.

Wu crossed his arms as he stood at the edge of an old brick building looking down. A large satellite dish dominated a good quarter of the rooftop, its round shape casting a deep shadow over the surface. This was the sixth rooftop he'd covered over the course of the day. No Rizzi – so everything was going according to plan. And how long could they keep things that way, he wondered?

A white bird flittered past into the shadow of the dish. Wu watched it land, and wondered briefly at the sight; he'd always assumed the birds would migrate come winter. Then the staircase door creaked open.

Wu slipped a hand beneath his coat, getting a grip on his pistol. A man in a tattered coat stepped out. He wore a dark skullcap with tufts of hair peeking out from underneath. He seemed surprised to see Wu and paused in place as two more similarly dressed men filed out after him. None of them drew weapons but Wu felt certain they were armed – and a hair's breadth from action. Guards. They spread out slightly, forming a rough triangle before the doorway, and one final person stepped out.

He was an older man, dark-skinned with gray hair and beard, his bulk evident through the thick layers he wore. Clutching the lapels of his coat, he gave Wu a mirthless smile. "You're lost," he said, tone jovial and mocking. "Trespassing, even."

"My apologies," said Wu. "Didn't see a sign. I was just looking for some peace and quiet."

The man stretched a hand out and the bird – a dove – fluttered out from beneath the dish to him. "You're not a regular here."

"This here rooftop?" Wu said. "No, I suppose-"

"This here city," the man said. "You're a long way from home, Mister Wu."

"You know me?" Wu tensed, preparing to move. Draw and fire, step to the side. Closest man first. Sidestep would place that guy between Wu and the one on the far left. Buy time to switch right to the third guy before going back to finish-

"Educated guess." The man cradled the bird to his chest and grinned again. "The Silver Mountain's certainly been busy lately. Word gets around of who they're using."

"You have me at a disadvantage then, Mister…?"

The man chuckled. "I'm just one more person in this weird and wacky world of ours, friend. You didn't think this little war between Fabbro and the Silver Mountain is all that's going on in this city, did you? The world's bigger than you know." The grin disappeared. "What are you doing here?"

"Like I said, just looking for some peace and quiet."

He nodded and strolled past Wu towards the roof edge, turning his back on the assassin with a nonchalance that Wu found unnerving. "The rooftops would be the place for it in this city," he said. "Not many places you can get away from things here."

"And it seems I've intruded upon one of yours," Wu said. "Again, my apologies. I'll show myself out."

"One moment. There is the slight matter of your toll."

Wu paused, glancing between the expressionless guards. "And what might that be?"

"The answer to a question."

"That rather depends on the question, sir."

"So it does." The man nodded and turned away from the city to face Wu. "What are you running from?"

"Who says I'm running from anything?"

The man smirked at him. "Do I look new to this?"

"Not really." Wu still didn't know who this guy was – and that bothered him. But if there was one cardinal rule in their world, it was to be polite and professional. Oh yeah, and have a plan to kill everybody you met. Especially with strangers. "Alright, let's just say I'm… putting off something distasteful."

"Hmm." He nodded once and stroked the bird in his hands. "A man could wonder what a person like you finds distasteful."

"You could, sir. But that would be another question now, wouldn't it?"

"That it would, Mister Wu, that it would." The man nodded again and glanced towards the door. "You're free to go."

"I appreciate it." Wu moved for the door.

"The rooftops aren't your place," the man called. "Man on the run doesn't have any place, anywhere. Especially a man running from his own circumstances."

"I'll keep that in mind." With that he reached for the door and left quickly, before the mysterious man could change his mind.

Rizzi gunned the engine as she drove through the streets. Not the smartest thing she could do, given that the snowfall had come down and coated the ground in a dirty brown slush. She could feel the difference in the way the tires struggled to grip the road. But that wasn't what she was paying attention to. A glance at the rearview mirror confirmed her suspicion; the sleek blue SUV that she'd noticed several blocks back, keeping pace with her.

She was fairly certain she knew who was in it, too. Rizzi had spotted them as she'd left Mama Lucy's behind: a group of three Asian-looking men moving around the streets like a patrol. They'd spotted her too, even as she moved the other way and drew her hood up. There hadn't been any reason to confront them, so she'd hoped to just move on. The men had tailed her at a distance in no particular hurry. Not surprising, given that they were all in the open in the middle of the city. At least that much decorum remained. She thought she'd lost them when she got to her car and drove away, but evidently no such luck.

But maybe she was just being paranoid. Rizzi cut her speed, giving the other car an opportunity to pass. She sighed as it slowed down to match her new velocity; these guys weren't great at this whole "surreptitiously tailing somebody" thing. Almost insulting, really. She also caught a glimpse of the driver – one of the three from earlier, indeed. Another sigh, this one a mix of exasperation and relief. While it was annoying that these three had picked up on her, she supposed it was also better than having another, unknown force trailing her.

Rizzi drove on, keeping an eye on her followers. She felt the same reluctance to start anything here and now; they were, of course, still driving around the city streets. Bad idea to go loud. So maybe they'd tail her all the way to the Continental – and that would be that. It'd be suicide for them to try anything there. She swung the car through a turn – and went as cold as the dirty slush that slung through the air.

How had they found her? Had somebody tipped them off? She grimaced; somebody could only be one person. Damn it all.

She was several blocks from the Continental when the other car made its move, undoubtedly spurred by how close they were getting to neutral ground. The SUV pulled ahead with a roar, slipped into place between her car and the one in front, and braked hard. Rizzi stomped on her brake pedal to avoid rear-ending the enemy car, and slewed the wheel over, peeling into the next lane.

The other car responded by swinging over; she wasn't fast enough to avoid it, and the rear quarter of the SUV slammed into her front bumper with a loud crunch and a jolt that ran up her spine. She fought to keep control of the car, working the wheel and gas to keep herself from getting run off the street. Her bumper and the SUV's remained locked together as they careened down the road, other cars around them honking frantically.

Then the rear window of the SUV rolled down and a hand clutching a gun swung out towards her. Rizzi pressed herself to the side as the muzzle flashed once, twice. The bark of the pistol drowned out the sound of the windshield cracking, but the haze of spiderweb fractures was unmistakable. She drew her weapon and returned fire carefully, punching a hole through the car door. Past the bulk of the SUV she saw the next street junction coming up with alarming speed, the pole of the streetlight and the stone corner of the building on the street, and-

Oh, this was a really bad idea.

She floored the accelerator, making the engine roar as the car surged forward, pushing the SUV along. Rizzi braced herself just before impact. The SUV, forced along its trajectory by her car, slammed into the pole with a scream of metal and spun off into the building corner with a resounding thud. Rizzi's car clipped the pole but she regained control enough to steer it back into the street, and-

The sedan barreled through the intersection and t-boned her, its tires skidding on the wet road.

The impact jolted Rizzi against the door as her vehicle lost its forward momentum and came to a halt in the middle of the street, the other car embedded in its flank. A pair of gunshots rang out over the din of honking and screams broke out. The occupants of the SUV, trying to finish the job. Smoke billowed out from under its hood, its left side folded around the building corner. Wrecked car, however, did not necessarily mean wrecked assailants. Move, damn it!

Rizzi fumbled with the seatbelt release for a second, snarled, and went for her knife instead. She tore it from her pocket, deployed the blade, and sawed through the seatbelt with one hand while her other raised her gun and fired back through the windshield at the Silver Mountain car. The seatbelt came apart with a sudden release of tension and she kicked the driver door open.

She dove out of the car and rolled to her feet. The driver of the sedan that had hit her bailed out of his vehicle and ran the other way at a dead sprint. Away from the gunshots – smart guy. Rizzi moved towards them.

The passenger door of the SUV swung open and she pressed herself behind the engine block of her car. Contrary to the bullshit that Hollywood tended to perpetuate, car bodies didn't stop bullets any more than pie crust stopped a fork tine. One of the men stepped from the passenger door, looking a little worse for the wear. Understandable, given that his car had just embraced a stone building. Rizzi almost felt bad, lining her sights up. She pressed the trigger four times and the man dropped.

A barrage of return fire forced her down, soaking her legs through in the melting snow. She needed to end this quick; it wouldn't be long before emergency services arrived. Rizzi reached back through her car door and tugged the trunk release handle. She fired several more shots at the smoking SUV, felt her pistol lock empty, and holstered it. Staying low, she fast-crawled towards the rear of her car as distant honking filled the streets again.

Rizzi made it to the trunk and pulled her messenger bag out. She threw the flap back, tossed it over her shoulder, and pulled her carbine out. Unfolding the stock with a swift tug, she raised herself to a high crouch, brought the weapon to her shoulder and lined her eye up with the red dot sight.

The rear door of the SUV flung open, propelled by a booted foot. Rizzi moved forward at a fast walk, firing between each rolling step. She placed the shots into the opening, heard the cry of pain from within, and fired several more shots to be sure. The roar of the discharging rifle made harsh, flat echoes in the cityscape canyon.

She came up to the rear of the SUV, peered in through the rear window, and put two more through it into the back seat. Excessive, maybe, but this wasn't exactly a finesse situation. A second later, when no bullets came back towards her, she stepped around to the side of the car, weapon at the ready.

The occupant in the back seat wasn't going to be moving, talking, or doing anything other than wait for a trip to the morgue. Ditto the one sprawled outside the passenger door. She swung her carbine over to the driver. The impact of the crash had crumpled the driver door in and pinned him in place. Airbags hung flaccid around him. The man, who had colorful tattoos going up his neck, had his left arm pressed up against his chest by the disfigured door. He was trying to reach a pistol that had fallen to the floor of the passenger seat.

Rizzi's finger tightened on the trigger – then she backed off it, and keeping the muzzle trained on the man, reached out and nabbed the pistol. The man looked up at her, a mix of fear and resignation in his face.

"Who sent you?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"How'd you know where I was?" She jabbed the rifle forward. "WHO SENT YOU? How did you know?"

The man stared back at her, his confusion evident. Rizzi shifted the rifle, lining the muzzle up with his eye. "We… didn't." He raised his free hand towards her, palm outstretched in entreaty. "We didn't! Nobody sent us!"

She glared at him for a moment; he did look very confused by her questions, but then that could be the car crash talking. "Who sent you!?" she said again.

He groaned, shook his head. "Just patrolling," he said. "Saw your hood." They hadn't known about her specifically. Of all the dumb luck… Well, better than the alternative.

Rizzi tightened the carbine against her shoulder. It'd be cleanest and easiest to execute him now. But… this person wasn't an immediate threat anymore, and killing him would just be cruel, not that it would have stopped her once upon a time.

She backed away from the wrecked car, gun still at the ready, until she made it back to her car. The faintest wail of sirens had started to sound in the distance. Time to go.

The Continental was only several blocks away now. Rizzi rummaged through the car's emergency kit and seized a road flare. She put two rounds into the gas tank, then snapped the carbine stock closed and stowed it into her bag. With gas dribbling to the ground, she lit the road flare and tossed it into the growing puddle. The rental company wouldn't be thrilled, but she'd put up with some polite reminders to not destroy vehicles in return for ditching some forensic evidence. As the flames licked up from the pool of gas to the car, Rizzi ran from the scene for the Continental.