Benedikt pressed down on the brake, halting the car. A few steps forward, and they would be within view of the crowd.
“Second to Roma,” Juliette resumed quietly, “there’s only me.”
Gangster royalty, dead by his hands. The two empires of Shanghai’s underground—the heirs of families that had kept this city rumbling on capital and foreign trade, on hierarchy and nepotism—both fallen and executed under his bullet. It was too good to pass up. Too good for Dimitri to decline. Juliette was counting on it.
“He will sense a trick.”
“He will,” Juliette said. “But by then it will be too late.”
She would offer to trade herself for Marshall and Alisa. Once Marshall and Alisa were away from the scene, Benedikt would activate the monsters, Juliette would give Roma the vaccine from Lourens, and even if all the insects came out, they would be safe, and they would leave, and that was that.
Easy as pie.
Juliette pulled off her coat, tossing it to the floor of the vehicle. When she reached for the door, Benedikt’s arm shot out suddenly, closing around her wrist.
“He’ll be safe,” Juliette promised before Benedikt could say anything. “Marshall and Alisa are the first order of priority.”
Benedikt shook his head. “I was only going to say be careful.” He let go, casting a look into the back of the car, where the hose sat awaiting.
Juliette took a deep breath and got out. The street was on a decline. When she started forward, the angle immediately gave Juliette a perfect view of the small crowd and a perfect view of what they were clustered around: Roma, being tied to a wooden pole, his hands behind his back, rope secured around his waist.
All she could do was put one foot in front of the other and keep walking, eyes pinned to the scene, to the armed workers under Dimitri’s command who were moving to finish up their final knot on Alisa next. Juliette wondered where the wooden poles had come from. It was that which her mind wandered to, of all places—whether the poles were nailed into the ground or wedged into the tram lines running down the middle of the road.
Her eyes scanned the waiting crowd. There weren’t many here—there couldn’t be, or the noise would stir trouble with the soldiers nearby. Twenty, maybe more, but twenty was all you needed for word to spread about Dimitri’s good deed. They appeared curious, unbothered as the armed workers walked their outer edges, rifles at the ready in case soldiers approached.
At the periphery of the crowd, Juliette sighted the man who had followed them onto the train. The French White Flower. Her blood started to run hot, pumping adrenaline into her body, keeping her warm even as the cold breeze blew on her sleeveless dress.
Juliette had shed her coat intentionally. She wanted immediate recognition in her bright and beaded getup the moment she approached the crowd.
And she got it.
Benedikt needed to work fast, but it was hard when his palms were slick with sweat. He pulled the end of the hose taut, then adjusted it on the roof edge, aimed at the scene beneath him. They had stolen dozens of gallons of gasoline. They could afford to be liberal. But it had to work. It had to flow properly through a very, very long tube, and he couldn’t screw this up.
Too much was riding on it.
“Okay,” Benedikt muttered. It looked set. On the street below, Juliette had reached the crowd, her arms held up, ignoring the whispers as her name echoed through like a chant.
“I come unarmed,” she called.
Benedikt stepped away from the rooftop, hurrying through the building and back to the gasoline in the car. He hadn’t prayed to God in years, but today he was going to start.
“Is that—”
Slowly, Juliette put up her hands, showing herself to be weaponless.
“I come unarmed,” she called. The crowd had fallen silent. Whatever Dimitri might have been in the midst of saying was cut off as he stared at her, eyes steely with consideration. To his side, Roma looked aghast. He did not speak, did not yell her name in horror. He knew that Juliette was up to something.
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” Dimitri said. He waved his hand. The nearest armed worker leveled his rifle at her.
“Pat me down and you’ll see I bring nothing. Only my life. In trade.”
Dimitri hooted with laughter. He threw his head back with the sound, drowning out the gasp that Roma made and the muttered confusion coming from Marshall.
“Miss Cai, what makes you think you have any trading power?” Dimitri demanded when he turned his attention back to her. “I can have you shot—”