“Ninaomba msaada,” Mira said, a plea for help directed at the two brutes standing by the door. But it just made them laugh. She then asked if they had souls, and if they were worried where they would end up in the afterlife. Apparently, they weren’t worried because their response was a simple shrug of the shoulders. “Well, can you at least check on my father?” she asked in English. “Please?”

Her father had stopped moving since Chuck left the room about fifteen minutes ago. On one hand, it was a nice reprieve from having to witness his agony, his twisting and groaning on the floor. But now, with his stillness, and the blood pooling into the carpet beneath him...

“Is he even breathing?” she asked as one of Chuck's goons poked her father with the sharp end of a snapped broom handle. “Is he alive?” Her voice rose in pitch and Mira felt like she was only a few breaths away from slipping into hysteria.

“He's fine,” said the man with the stick. “Kulala.” Sleeping.

The door suddenly swung open and Chuck appeared. He looked angry. Beads of sweat were glistening across his forehead. “Why do I hear talking?” he asked his guards. “Don't say a fucking word to her. Got it?” And then he turned his attention to Mira. “You think they'll help you just because you speak Swahili?”

“I just wanted to—”

“Stop it. Stop trying to get into their heads,” said Chuck. “They're dumb as rocks, anyway.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and then walked over to the table with the wine bottle, grabbing it and taking a few more gulps. “And on top of that, these are some real sinister dudes right here. Who do you think beat up your dad like that? Huh? Not me. You think I've got the strength to crack his skull like that? The guy probably has brain damage.” He turned to his thugs. “Hey? This guy got brain damage or what?”

They shrugged again and started chuckling like the evil henchmen they were.

“Yeah, you cracked him up pretty good. You shoulda seen him, Mira. Fuckin' blah-blah-blah, babbling like a retard after that. Brain damaged, probably. Now, if you want, we can keep going. It doesn’t matter if he's already unconscious, we can keep going. It's all up to you.”

“I'm... I'm doing everything that I'm... Uh... I'm translating. I'm working. Can you just—”

“What are you doing?” asked Chuck.

“What?”

“Read it out to me.”

Mira scrolled to the top of her new document, reading a rough translation which summarized the details of a deal going from bad to worse. The language from his Kenyan contacts had become increasingly hostile. Threatening, even.

“Your lack of response... timely response, has led us to assume... negligence... That negligent action on you, your, uh...” Mira sighed. Exhaustion was starting to wrestle with her fear, and she felt it seep into her bones.

“And then what?” asked Chuck.

“That's it.”

“That's all it says?”

“It's as far as I’ve gotten.”

Chuck shook his head, saying, “Mira, Mira... I'm sorry, but this whole process is taking way too long. I don't know if you're sandbagging or what, but you’re really starting to annoy me.”

“I'm trying! I'm trying, but... I'm scared.” She looked down at her screen, to a small window in the lower corner which meant that Tansy was still in contact with her.

“Were you scared when you copied our files?” asked Chuck with a sneer. “Or when you sent in that virus? You seemed to handle that pretty well.”

It was all a matter of buying time, that much she knew. The longer she held out, the more time Jackson had to locate her. “I'm going as fast as I can, Chuck. I am.”

“You can understand why I'm upset, right? I mean, here I am just working, just trying to make a living. And then you come along and ruin all of my business deals. My relationships.”

“I'm sorry,” Mira said, doing her best to sound meek, compliant.

“You're sorry?”

“I mean... I had no idea you were involved.”

“Okay, stop. Stop what you're doing. Okay? Forget their messages. Forget translating them.” Chuck reached into his jacket breast pocket and pulled out a small silver vial. “What I need now, is for you to write and encrypt a response for them. Can you handle that?” He unscrewed the vial and tapped out a line of white powder on the top of his hand. And then he turned to his guards. “Here, you guys want some, too? Nah, I'm just kidding. Alright, anyway...” He brought his hand to his face, consuming the powder in a loud snort. “Anyway, Mira, get on that. Apologize to them, and then explain that we've had an infiltrator.” He licked the rest of the powder off his hand. “But now we've neutralized it.”

Mira started writing out the words. Out of a combination of disobedience and fear, she did a half-assed job, presenting him with an intentionally misleading interpretation. But sending it, actually putting him in contact with his Kenyan criminals to have the weapons released was a different story. She couldn’t let his message actually send.

“In case you're wondering,” he said with a smile, “that's you. The infiltrator. And you've been neutralized. To what extent we further neutralize you and your father is still up in the air. And I guess it depends on how well you cooperate from here on out.”

Mira knew exactly how far she’d cooperate. If she did anything to actually help facilitate the arms deal, even if the whole ring eventually got busted... No, she couldn’t do it. And as much as she loved her father, she knew he’d feel the same way.

“Mira? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I'm cooperating.”

“No, you're not. You're just sitting there, staring at me like an idiot.” Chuck started pacing around the room, his face sweaty and flushed. “Well, go! Get busy!”

Mira went back to work on the laptop, opening up a new window.

“See? That's exactly what I mean. You're stalling.”

“I'm not!”

“It's so funny how fast you were to fuck me over. You jumped right in. But now you—”

“Can you shut up!?” Mira felt herself unraveling. “Please! I'm working as fast as I can!”

Chuck stood still for a minute, just long enough to dump out another line of coke on his hand. “Do you know how quickly you ruined everything for me?” He snorted it as fast as he'd laid it out. “It happened like that”—he snapped his fingers and a tiny remnant of fine white powder flew into the air—“Just like that. And it had nothing to fucking do with you! That's the part that kills me. It absolutely kills me, Mira.”

“Well, get over it,” she said, her voice cold.

“I don't know,” said Chuck, standing menacingly over her father. “I just don't know if I can.”

Mira didn’t like how he was looking at her dad. “Alright, Chuck... Who do you want to get in contact with? Tango Man? Fisherking? The Fox-Trotter?”

“Who the fuck are they?” asked Chuck, walking over to her. “What are you looking at?”

“Well, who am I trying to reach?”

“Mark Dyson,” he said.

Mira let that sink in, a new name to add to her list.

She lost herself for a minute, imagining the glorious day when all of Langhorne's scumbags would be carted off to jail. Then Chuck's hand smacked the back of her head.

“What is that?!” he screamed.

Oh fuck... She’d left the dialogue box with Tansy open.

“You fucker! You fucking whore!”

“What?” cried Mira, feigning innocence. That was about the only hope she had left.

He grabbed the laptop away from her and inspected it. “Why is the fuckin' webcam light on?!”

Mira felt something cold and hard pressed against her temple. There was a blinding flash and then everything went dark and quiet.