Our Lady of the Ice

“Payment.” Cabrera shoved his half-eaten steak aside. “Are you so stupid you didn’t realize this was a punishment?”

“You pay your men when they kill for you. Why should I be any different?”

Cabrera looked at her, considering. His eyes flicked over to Marianella. “I bet this comes as a surprise, doesn’t it?” he said. “One of your own bringing you to me?”

Marianella stared at him. Her whole body was shaking. Sofia twisted with sadness. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and this would all be over.

“Fuck you,” Marianella said.

Cabrera laughed. “You think that’s going to save you?”

“No,” Marianella said.

“Smart girl.” He gestured at the table’s empty chairs. “Have a seat, Lady Luna.”

Marianella hesitated. Cabrera slid his steak back in front of him and cut off a piece.

“Go on,” he said.

Marianella sat. She kept her head down, her hands folded.

“Now,” he said. “What payment do you want, Sofia?”

“An icebreaker.”

Cabrera sawed off another hunk of steak. “That’s more than I pay my men. And you didn’t even do what I asked.”

Sofia was ready for this. “I’ve no need for money. The amusement park operates independent from the rest of the city. It doesn’t need to be one of your nicer ones. A converted cruise ship would be fine.”

Cabrera chewed his steak. Sofia glanced around the room, taking in the shadows and the light, looking for secrets. She saw nothing but tables stacked with chairs, a dusty empty stage, and Sebastian, standing by the doors. Sebastian had his gun pointed at Marianella’s head.

“An icebreaker,” Cabrera said. “That doesn’t make this much of a punishment, does it?” He laughed and looked over at Marianella. Sofia felt her stiffen.

“You haven’t gone to the police about what I tried to do to you.” He slivered off another piece of steak. “You don’t want them to find out your little secret, I imagine.”

Marianella stayed quiet. Sofia wished she could reach over and take her hand, tell her everything was going to be fine.

“I thought about letting you go,” he went on. “What harm can you do to me now? But this one—she needs to remember that I’m her employer. Her master.” He looked at Sofia.

She quaked with rage.

“It’s rather quiet in here, don’t you think?” he said. “I’ve never liked the silence. Mateo! Put on some music.”

Sofia lifted her chin and said nothing. The music that came spilling over the speakers was a recent song, what she would once have called a safe song, and Cabrera sawed at his steak as if he expected nothing to happen.

“There,” he said. “Isn’t that better?”

“No,” said Sofia.

“I promised not to play any music from before 1936.” Cabrera peered up at her. “Now. I’m not giving you an icebreaker.” He sliced off a piece of steak. “But I’ll loan you one. The Snow Queen is currently docked. We’ll go out there when I’ve finished my lunch; I want to make sure you do as I’ve asked.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said, a phrase that was like speaking with knives.

Marianella squirmed in her seat, her skin shining with sweat.

“The cops have pulled back lately,” Cabrera said, chatting around his food. “Not sure why. I haven’t upped their payments.” His laughter bled in with the soft whine of the music. “Still, it’s been making business easier. And what’s good for me is good for you, isn’t that right, Sofia?”

“Yes.” She didn’t take her eyes off him. She was watching for tells—a change in his heart rate, a quickening of his breath. But so far he was only eating.

“By the way, your last part should be arriving soon. The programming key, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sofia said.

“Weird little thing. Had to buy off a fellow in Colombia for it.”

Sofia didn’t answer. Cabrera was watching her. His fork moved into his mouth. His jaw worked up and down. There were only a few bites left of steak on his plate. That steak was a timer. A countdown.

Fortunately, Sofia had a countdown of her own, ticking away inside her head. The drones were amassing as they waited, responding to the electronic pulses she sent out in waves, u

Two or three bites of steak remained on Cabrera’s plate. Marianella shifted beside Sofia, and Cabrera jerked his head up, glaring at her.

“Careful,” he said. “If you move too much . . .” He nodded at Sebastian. Diego had vanished. “He might get overzealous.”

Marianella glanced at Sebastian, then turned away quickly.

“As for you.” Here Cabrera pointed at Sofia with his fork, a hunk of steak dripping at the end. “We’re going to be certain that you do as I ask.”

“Oh, Ignacio,” Sofia said. “It’ll be so much easier aboard the icebreaker. You won’t have to clean up the mess.”

Cabrera looked at her with his glittering black eyes. He set his fork down.

“I never clean up my own messes,” he said.

The music stopped, midsong. The silence buzzed around them. Sofia tensed. She stared right back at him. She didn’t move.

“Mateo,” Cabrera said.

Music flooded into the room, loud enough that Marianella jolted in her seat and put her hands over her ears—a human gesture, worthless, that she didn’t need to bother with. At first Sofia didn’t recognize the music, but when the singing began, mournful lyrics swelling through the room, she knew she had heard this song before. It was just that she had never heard it, not without her programming interfering with her thoughts. It was “Paciencia,” the song Cabrera had used on her before to make her pliable.

Sofia broke into a smile. She laughed, the sweet twinkling laugh she’d used on clients all those years ago. Cabrera’s eyes widened.

“Oh, you didn’t really think that would work, did you?” she said.

Cabrera’s knife clattered to the plate. “Impossible,” he whispered.

Sofia just laughed harder. She could feel Marianella in her periphery, watching her, frowning, but Sofia didn’t care.

“You are not my master,” Sofia said.

And with that, the countdown hit zero. Sofia sent out one more electronic pulse, not to the drones but to Marianella, and together they moved like lightning.

Sofia slid forward, across the table to Cabrera. Marianella ducked beneath the table, angling her body sideways.

The emergency hatches in the walls split open, and the maintenance drones poured in.

Gunfire arced across the room, light and smoke and heat.

The music was still playing, and for the first time Sofia could appreciate the beauty in Echagüe’s voice and in his words as the song hung like a tapestry in the background of the restaurant.

She wrapped her hands around Cabrera’s neck. His chair tipped, and they both slammed against the floor, and Sofia squeezed and Cabrera choked and wheezed. She shut out the music, the gunfire, the muffled shouts from the men who had been waiting—she’d known it—in the back corridor. She focused only on Cabrera, his neck soft beneath her hands.

“Do you know why they designed me the way they did?” she whispered. “Designed me to look like your kind?”

Cabrera tried to speak, but she didn’t care what he had to say.

“Humans have never liked machines that look like machines. Sixty years ago you made us look and act like you so we’d blend in. But then that made you nervous, too, so now you tuck my kind away in the rafters, where we can’t be seen.”

Sofia squeezed harder. His windpipe crushed under her fingers. Cabrera thrashed beneath her, his face red and his eyes bulging, but she was designed to stay put.

“That will be your downfall,” she said.

And with one more strangled cry, Cabrera died.