Dark Zone

34

“Lia?” said Chafetz.

Go away, Lia thought. Leave me.

The attendant said something in Arabic, harsh words, as if she were yelling at Lia for messing the stall.

“She’s asking if you’re all right,” the translator told Lia. “Tell her this.”

Lia had to listen to the phrase three times before she could attempt it; her voice stuttered as she spoke. The attendant asked if she was sure.

“Pregnant,” whispered Lia under her breath. She wanted the words to tell the woman — it was the perfect excuse, wasn’t it?

The translator, however, either didn’t understand or couldn’t hear.

“Pregnant,” Lia tried again, slightly louder and coughing.

The attendant came to the door and knocked.

“I’m pregnant,” Lia said in English. And the translator finally caught on, supplying a line about how Lia was expecting.

Men.

The woman began clucking sympathetically, offering a stream of advice. Lia moaned in agreement. She was ready with a cover story about her English: her identity was supposed to be Chinese, but she usually spoke English because most of the people she worked with did. But the woman didn’t ask.

The woman also didn’t move away from the door. While the metal stalls went all the way to the floor, there was enough of a crack at the opening for the woman to see through.

Lia couldn’t think of anything to say to get her to go away. With her brain seeming to move only in slow motion, she wiped her face, hoping the woman would eventually run out of steam.

“A cloth for my face,” said Lia finally, this time in Chinese. The translator relayed the Arabic words back and she repeated them. Lia waited until the woman went back to the washbasin, then rose and went to the stall. She opened the door just a bit.

“You can tell her you’re sorry,” said the translator, offering words. But Lia didn’t need any; the woman nodded and handed her a wet towel, calling her daughter and telling her about her own trials. Lia listened for a bit, offering a weak smile and finally handing back the towel. She retreated back into the stall, closing the door. The woman went back to her post by the door.

Her stomach still queasy, Lia pushed herself to the floor. She clawed at the bolt cover; it broke from the floor with a loud snap. Lia coughed several times and then reached down to retrieve the old bug. It was two inches long but only three-eighths of an inch thick, a slightly misshapen pen top. She pulled out the replacement and slid it in, then reached for the transponder device to activate it.

It was gone.

Lia locked her mouth against the bile rising in her chest. She was going to do this.

As she slid her head down to get a breather, she saw the device sitting near her knee. She snatched it up, thankful that she hadn’t crushed it by accident. She twisted it, then put her hand over the bug.

It beeped softly.

“Very good,” said Chafetz. “We’re getting data. Go.”

Lia stood up, the old bug in her hand. She felt calmer now, not in control but calmer: she’d had a crisis but gotten over it.

This wasn’t her, the nausea, the fear. Maybe she was pregnant.

The idea literally shook her. The old bug slipped from her hand into the toilet. She was supposed to bring it out with her — it was worth several hundred thousand dollars and would be good as new once the battery was replaced — but there was no way, just no way…

She flushed the toilet. The water rolled up the sides of the bowl so quickly she thought to herself that it was going to go over the lip of the toilet.

But it didn’t. As it receded, she saw that the bug didn’t go down. It spun around in the water, mocking her.

Lia closed her eyes and flushed again. This time the water barely stirred in the bowl; the tank hadn’t had enough time to refill.

She forced a slow breath from her lungs, pushing the air out from the bottom of her diaphragm, exhaling as carefully as she could, forcing herself to calm down or at least be patient, be more patient.

The third time, the water seemed to explode downward, and the bug went with it.

Lia fixed her skirt and took a breath. It was all downhill from here. Lia pulled open the door and stepped out, only to find one of the guards pointing his gun six inches from her face.