Excerpt: Mayday March

All the freaks in Zurich these days had Rothing coins on them, and Natalya Hirsch had two. She hadn’t told anyone about them other than her husband and a couple higher-ups in the org, of course. But word always got out, and the one in her back left pocket was buzzing with the presence of a stranger.

Remote possession was being commercialized. What was the world coming to? Nat could tell those Rothing folks a thing or two, about their poor clarity and control and the way the possession experience reeked like cheap instant coffee. She zeroed in on the nearest bench and when she got there she sat down very forcefully.

“Entrepreneurs,” she muttered. “Have they always been this loud and freakish?”

Her phone rang; Evan had set the ringtone to a concerto by Vivaldi because he thought it was more tasteful than the shitty screamo band she’d had previously. Evan had issues.

She flipped it open and snapped “Hirsch” in the way that made some people mistake her for Evan (of course he never answered the phone like that, since that wasn’t tasteful enough for him either).

“Ms. Hirsch?” said a feminine voice. “It’s me.”

“Oh, it’s you, isn’t it. Lovely to hear that, and so enlightening.”

“I made contact.”

“Good.” That was what Nat had asked her to do, wasn’t it? These juveniles hadn’t yet learned that she expected them to be competent until they proved otherwise. They were so insecure.

“I don’t know if they took the bait, though. I haven’t seen any activity on the accounts I’m watching.”

“You’ve got to give them a few days. Not everyone is as efficient as we are.”

“N-no, I suppose not. But are you sure I shouldn’t drop another hint?” She sounded worried.

“We don’t drop hints; we drop blackmail letters and C-4. Grow a pair, liebchen. Proceed with your plan.”

“I did. I mean, I sent the text. I haven’t gotten a reply.”

Nat crossed her legs and rolled her eyes at the grey clouds. “Well you knew that was going to happen! He has to work up the nerve. He’s sensitive!”

“I don’t think he is, not really.”

“You always think people are psychopathic,” said Nat cheerfully. “Eventually you’ll realize that they're like that without any mental problems to help. He’ll come. The timing is perfect. I couldn’t have done better myself!”

“Th-thank you. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“Keep it up,” she told the girl, “and we’ll have him.” The kid wasn’t a bad sort; she had heaps of potential and at least a bucketful of skill. No assertiveness, though. They all needed handling, and that’s what Nat Hirsch was here for.

Nat hung up. She felt the Rothing coin still shuddering away, and wondered who it was and how much it knew. It didn’t matter. She slid it out of her pocket along with her wallet, extracted something not quite the size of a matchbook, and held it to the small bronze coin.

There was a spark, a split-second long and pure blue. The coin went still.

Rothing coins had a flaw, and it was a fatal one.