“Let’s go,” Lott ordered his Fingers. “We’re done here.”
Kenjo grumbled, “We found those crooks and the Mountain takes all the credit? I don’t think Ayt Ato even drew his weapon. What do we get out of it?”
Lott turned on the Finger with a black glare. “We kept those foreign arms dealers from putting Fullerton machine guns into the hands of clanless scum, that’s what we get. Have you forgotten that extremists nearly killed the Pillar and still want to destroy the country? We helped the Mountain in the Stump today, so Aben Soro will do the same for us in one of our territories in the future. Do you remember what it means to be a Green Bone, or do you think we’re out here to get on television?”
Kenjo dropped his gaze, chastised. “Forgive me for thinking so selfishly, Lott-jen.”
Lott spoke to Niko with blunt reassurance. “Don’t worry about what happened back there. You’ll have plenty of other chances, Niko.”
Niko wished Lott hadn’t said anything. But now he knew it was true, that it hadn’t only been in his head. Everyone really was waiting for him to distinguish himself, to make as much of an impression as Ayt Ato. Tonight might’ve been that night, a moment to repair his reputation after the incident with Kitu, but it hadn’t turned out that way.
Three other Mountain Green Bones had arrived to help the Kobens, who were rounding up half a dozen civilians. Four men and two women were kneeling on the glass-strewn sidewalk in front of the ruined Tialuhiya Nights pool hall. The bartender and two staff members were among them. Some of the people in the line were weeping or pleading with the Green Bones, others were quiet and resigned, heads bowed. Sando Kin, his wounded arm roughly bandaged, emerged from the neighboring barbershop and deposited the protesting barber on the ground next to the others.
Ayt Ato broke off talking to the press but glanced over his shoulder to make sure they kept watching him as he walked down the row of kneeling Uwiwans. Ato looked at each frightened face with concern and disappointment. At last, he stopped and declared in a loud, clear voice, “You all worked in the pool hall or in the neighboring shops. You knew the men we came for tonight were criminals and enemies of the clan. If you deny it, every Green Bone here will Perceive your lies.”
An interpreter supplied by the police department translated the Fist’s words into Uwiwan through a bullhorn, so all the nearby residents and bystanders could hear. “You could’ve gone to any Finger with this information, but you chose to shelter these clanless dogs in your neighborhood. You’re not in the lawless Uwiwa Islands anymore, where there are no consequences to your actions.”
Lott muttered under his breath, “Here we go with the drama.” He walked back toward the Lumezza, examined the broken taillight, and spat on the ground in disgust. He got into the car. Sim and Kenjo followed.
“Extremist elements are like cancer cells in a body. They have to be identified and cut out, and those who feed the cancer have to be held to account.” Ato must’ve received extensive speech training because he was nearly as good an orator as his aunt Mada. His smooth face was serious and determined. Every eye and camera followed him hungrily. Earlier in the evening, Niko had wished he could muster more personal dislike for the man. Now he found it easier to do so.
“If I committed an offense against my clan, I’d cut off my ear and carry that disgraceful scar with me for the rest of my life,” Ato went on. “Anyone who supports anti-clan activities, through action or inaction, should face their neighbors every day with the shame of their wrongdoing, so they’re always reminded of the need to better themselves.”
Koben Ashi held a short steel pipe. As the police translator repeated Ayt Ato’s words in Uwiwan, Koben started up a butane torch and held the end of the pipe in the flame until the metal glowed red. Sando Kin held down the wide-eyed, struggling owner of the barbershop as Koben pressed the end of the hot pipe to the man’s cheek. The barber shrieked loud enough to waken the dead. The nauseating smell of scorched flesh hit Niko’s nostrils. When Sando released the man, he dropped to the sidewalk, curled in pain, a perfect circle burned into the side of his face. Koben Ashi reheated the end of the pipe with the torch and moved on to the next person.
Niko opened the passenger side door and got into the Lumezza. Lott Jin’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel and his face was a stiff mask. The First Fist was a fierce fighter but the sight of cruelty against helpless creatures could set him off. Niko had heard a rumor that Lott had once beaten a fellow Fist for kicking a dog. Lott started the car and threw it into gear, then cursed as he was forced to edge slowly around all the other vehicles parked in the street.