City of Saints & Thieves(80)

“Why do you think Bug Eye brought you into the Goondas, eh? Not because he cared what happened to you. Because I told him to find you. And why do you think you weren’t put out on the streets with the other girls? Why did you get away with being cheeky? With being different?”

His face is so close that I can see the tiny web of veins in his eyes. “You never noticed that you were treated better than the others? You think it was because Bug Eye and those idiots liked you?” He laughs. “That’s not how it works, Christina.”

It’s all lies.

My whole life is built on lies.

I swallow hard. “You killed my mother.”

“Your mother told Greyhill I was stealing from him.”

“But why did you have to kill her?” I gasp.

He looks at me like I am slow. “Christina, in this business, your reputation is everything. What would I be if I let a woman spoil things and walk away?” He waits, making sure I get it. “She was tricky, your mother. You have to give her that, going and telling Greyhill my secrets in exchange for protection from me. It took some time, but I found a way to teach them both the lesson they had to learn.”

I try desperately to get my breath. “You tortured my mother. You raped her. I’m only here because of what you did.” I feel myself coming unhinged, separating from my body. “Wasn’t that enough?”

Omoko’s voice switches to a growl. “She got as much as she deserved. She told Greyhill about things that didn’t concern her. My things. My business. I earned every cent of that gold and he knew it! I was loyal. I did his bidding. I dealt with these savages so he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty.”

And then it hits me. The hidden file behind her photo. She brought Omoko’s secret accounting sheets to Mr. Greyhill. She must have seen him stealing gold and looked for something that would prove it.

Omoko continues, “She poisoned my relationship with him. He used his connections to freeze my bank accounts. I had to start again from nothing. You think that’s easy? It’s not. It takes time. And money. And blood. Lots of money and lots of blood. Scratching my way back up.” He looks at the tent ceiling. “Goondas,” he sneers. “Before I came along they were a bunch of morons, bashing their heads together like cavemen.”

I am trying as hard as I can to hear everything Omoko is saying and process it, but my mind is beginning to cloud with red rage. Soon there won’t be room for anything else.

“Now.” Mr. Omoko slaps his knees and stands. “I am on a deadline. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to call up Roland Greyhill and tell him we’ve got his son. I have it on good authority he’s in the neighborhood, and we’ve got a satellite hookup, so he can actually get his son back as fast as he can transfer money to my accounts.” He starts to leave. “We couldn’t have orchestrated the whole thing better if we’d tried.”

I raise my head. “We?”

He stops at the tent door. “Excuse me?”

“You keep saying we. Are you expecting my help?”

He blinks. “I suppose your part is over, if you like.”

I stare. “Do you think I’m just going to go along with this like I’m still one of your Goondas?” I choke. I feel my mind clearing, my anger collecting like an explosion condensing the air before it bursts. “I am going to kill you.”

With the adrenaline that’s pumping through me I will dislocate my thumb and rip out of the wires holding my wrists. I won’t be able to strangle him, but I will stand on his neck until it breaks. Right here. I press my thumb into the side of the chair and start to push.

“No,” Omoko says, with something like disappointment. “I don’t think you will.” He comes back to me, pulling a phone from his pocket.

I pause, confused. What is he doing?

He looks down at the screen. “Damn thing, I’m getting too old to read it.” He smiles and takes a pair of reading glasses out of his pocket and puts them on. “That’s better. You know, I didn’t want it to come to this, Christina, but I suppose I know you better than you think.”

“What are you talking about?”

He taps the screen and then turns the phone so I can see. I squint. The photo is a little blurry, but it only takes a second to work it out.

When I do, the fight drains from me. Completely and all at once.

“Check the date. Today’s. Old kidnapper trick. I saw it in a movie once.” He chuckles as he looks at the photo with me, and points at the newspaper held up in a tattooed hand next to her face. I recognize those tattoos. They belong to Bug Eye.

“It’s a little hard to see. But trust me.” Mr. Omoko puts the phone back in his pocket. “We have a lot in common, you and I. We are practical. You, I won’t kill because you’re blood. But her, I don’t care about. She’s not mine. She’s his bastard. If he actually cared about her, she’d have made a good hostage too, but it doesn’t seem that he wants much to do with her, does it? I can’t count on her being the bargaining chip I need. The boy is better. However, she’s still useful to keep you in check. You pull too many stunts, kijana. Don’t imagine for a second you can derail any of this. She’s there in Sangui, just a phone call away.” He studies me. “You’re sensible, but sometimes you need discipline. Boundaries. Like your mother.”