Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER THREE

icon


It took me nearly fifteen minutes to find and disable the car’s tracker in a way that wouldn’t send up any red flags. Fortunately, the rain stayed mostly moderate, which meant I got wet but avoided the drenching I’d been concerned about. I stepped through the door to Panza’s Café, shook the water off my jacket, and looked around.

I’d already concluded from the activity around the fish shop that Bilswift was in the middle of its usual dinnertime. The crowd packing Panza’s was just an extra underscoring to that inference.

In cold-approach situations like this, I’d found that the bar was usually the best place to start. I worked my way through the maze of tables and chairs toward the waist-high wooden structure at the back, avoiding hurrying servers and strolling patrons, and doing a quick scan of the tables and booths for anything that looked like a Patth robe.

Nothing. Apparently, our gourmet Patth was eating in tonight.

The place was busy enough to need four bartenders: one Saffi, one Drilie, and two humans. I headed toward one of the latter, still dodging people and catching snatches of conversation as I walked.

Like most professional bartenders I’d encountered over the years, the one I was aiming for had already tagged me as a newcomer to his establishment. By the time I sidled my way between a pair of unoccupied stools he was waiting for me with a smile and a look of polite anticipation. “Evening, bud,” he greeted me, just loudly enough to be audible over the buzz of general conversation. “What can I get you?”

“Large Dewar’s,” I said, pulling out a fifty-commark bill and laying it on the counter. “And an introduction.”

His smile didn’t disappear, but it took on a decidedly knowing edge. “Anyone in particular?”

“I’m told her name’s Lukki,” I said.

“Lukki,” he repeated as if pondering the name. “Don’t know. That’s a pretty common nickname around here.”

“I’m sure you know the one I’m talking about,” I said, laying down another fifty. “Does a brisk indenture business.”

“Ah,” he said, giving the two bills an evaluating look. “Yes, I know her. Not sure she’s in tonight.”

“Too bad,” I said, scooping up the bills. “On second thought, I can probably find a Dewar’s somewhere else.” I paused, my eyebrows raised in silent question.

His lips puckered. “Third booth clockwise from the door,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, putting the two fifties back on the bar and adding a third. “You can send the Dewar’s to her table, along with another of whatever she’s drinking.”

“Sure,” he said, picking up the money. “Tell her Lefty sent you.”

I nodded and headed back across the room. The woman in the third booth was younger than I’d expected, wearing an expensive form-fitting black suit topped by a loose burgundy half cloak that covered her left arm and shoulder. Even from across the room I could see the sheen of moisture on it; apparently, she’d come in through the same rainstorm I had.

Cloaks were great for keeping out the weather. They were also a favorite of people who wanted to carry weapons without anyone seeing them but didn’t want to bother with the kind of expert tailoring that could achieve the same result with more subtlety. Like the bartender, she’d already noticed me and was watching as I made my way to her booth. “Evening,” I said politely as I reached her. “I’m looking for a lady named Lukki. I’m told that’s you?”

“Could be,” she said. Her voice was a pleasant alto, but I’d met too many nasty people with lovely singing voices to make any assumptions about her character either way. “You have a name?”

“Roarke,” I said. “I was hoping we could talk a little business.”

“Could be,” she said again, gesturing to the seat across from her. “What sort of business?”

“The kind of business you’re in,” I said. I sat down, folding my hands together on top of the table. “Incidentally, the bartender said to tell you Lefty sent me, by which I assume he wanted to warn you I was an armed stranger not necessarily to be trusted but not showing any obvious threat.”

Her eyebrows went up a millimeter. “You got all that from his nickname?”

“He’s not left-handed,” I said. “And, of course, you’re currently holding a gun in your left hand and pointing it at me under the table. Not a very inventive password; but then, it doesn’t have to be.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed, frowning at my face. “And for the record, I’m not holding a gun on you. Never carry them myself—I’ve got people for that.”

“Ah,” I said. She was lying about that last part, of course. The cut of her cloak and the subtle tug on the fabric of her shirt showed she was carrying something out of sight down there. But people lied about weapons so often that I was more surprised when they didn’t.

And given that shirt tug, she probably did indeed still have it holstered.

“Roarke,” she said, frowning. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“I used to be a bounty hunter, if that helps,” I said. “Mostly retired now.”

A sudden knowing look flicked across her face. “Gregory Roarke. Yes, I remember now. You and your—” Another flash of understanding. “Your Kadolian. I’ll be damned. You’re here to talk about Tirano, aren’t you?”

“Very good,” I said, impressed in spite of myself. Of course, as my father used to say, Always assume the mind reader has a plant in the audience. It would be easy for Lukki to jump to the right conclusion if one of the Javersin brothers had already called to warn her I was on my way. “Now that we’ve established who we are, let’s get down to business. How much to buy the boy away from the fish shop?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. Not how it works.”

“Why not?” I asked. “You sold him to the Javersins. Buy him back and sell him to me instead.”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “No one’s been sold, Roarke. Selling people is illegal, remember? No, this is a purely aboveboard indenture. I match workers with employers, a contract is drawn up, and they all go on their merry way.”

“Right,” I said, nodding sagely. “Because you can’t spin in a circle without hitting a Kadolian wandering the streets looking for work. All of them need someone to set them up with a job.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a dealer in exotics—everyone knows that. The point is that once the deal is made, I’m out. Whatever the Javersins and Tirano have going, it has nothing to do with me.”

“Of course not,” I said, trying hard not to be too sarcastic. Just because slavery was illegal on all Commonwealth worlds didn’t mean there weren’t loopholes people like Lukki had learned how to find and exploit. “So what are the terms?”

“You’d have to ask the Javersins about—”

“What are the terms?”

She regarded me coolly. “Let’s cut through the fog here, shall we?” she said, her voice changed to something considerably less pleasant. “You want to know how long before Tirano’s out of his indenture and a free man. Free Kadolian. Whatever. Right?”

“That’s a good place to start,” I agreed. “So?”

She gave a small shrug. “Like I said, you’ll have to ask the Javersin brothers. All of that is up to the employer.”

“You said there was a contract.”

“Certain details are, shall we say, a little squishy.”

I took a calming breath. “So speculate a little,” I said. “How long?”

Her eyes flicked over my shoulder toward the bar. “I’ve been by the Javersins’ place a few times,” she said. “Purely out of curiosity, you understand, to check on how it’s working out. Given how vital a part of the business Tirano is, what with the mari-mari and their other time-critical products, I’d guess it’ll be awhile.”

“As in probably never?”

“As in possibly never.”

“So it is slavery.”

Lukki’s face hardened. “You said you’re not so much a bounty hunter anymore. So what are you?”

“Selene and I are crocketts,” I said, the back of my neck tingling. That look over my shoulder had likely been a signal to however many goons she had sprinkled around the bar. “We hunt for useful planets—”

“Yeah, I know what crocketts are,” she said, her suspicious look still in place. “You wouldn’t by any chance be working for the Commonwealth government on the side, would you? Maybe teamed up with some politician who’s gotten it into his head to harass honest businesses with completely unfounded accusations of slave-trading?”

“If I was working for the Commonwealth don’t you think I’d have brought at least a little backup with me?” I countered, trying to sound both sincere and irritated by her question. Technically speaking, I was working for the Commonwealth, or at least whatever corner of it was funding the Icarus Group.

Which had nothing to do with Lukki and her borderline illegal activities, of course. But even if that was a topic I could talk about, I doubted she would appreciate the subtleties involved.

“Wouldn’t have done you any good if you did,” Lukki said, looking casually around the room. “Say hello to Willie and Braun.”

Right on cue, there they were: one thug detaching himself from the general crowd of passersby and taking up position beside her seat, the other one coming up from behind me and settling into a similar spot at my side. Their clothing was bone dry, which meant they’d been here and in position before Lukki herself slogged in. Not the ideal bodyguard technique, but good if you liked springing ambushes. “Hello,” I said calmly. “Which is which?”

“Willie,” Lukki said, gesturing up at the man beside her. “Braun.” She pointed at the one beside me. “They’ll see you out.”

“Fine,” I said, starting to sidle out of my seat. Braun caught my left arm as I did so, hauling me out from behind the table and into an upright position without giving me the opportunity to do the job myself. “I was leaving anyway.”

“Of course you were,” Lukki said in the patronizing tone I’d always hated. “One more thing. If you ever want to sell your Kadolian, let me know. I’d give you a very good price for her.”

Patronizing, insulting, and exactly the opening I’d hoped for. I let my eyes narrow, my face tighten, and my hands bunch into fists. “Don’t you ever say something like that to me again,” I snarled. Shaking off Braun’s loose grip on my upper arm, I took a long step forward toward her as if planning words or actions that would underline that warning.

Willie was far too experienced to be taken by surprise at such an obvious and predictable threat. He took half a step into my path, put both palms against my chest, and gave me a hard shove that would have sent me sprawling onto the floor if Braun hadn’t been there to catch me.

It was a move I’d seen a hundred times, and experienced personally more times than I cared to remember. Human pinball, someone had once dubbed it, a back-and-forth between thugs designed to both humiliate the victim and take the fight out of him without inflicting any injuries he could take to the nearest badgeman. From the smug smile on Willie’s face, I guessed he and Braun had the technique down to a science.

But as my father used to say, Whenever you think you’ve got something down to a science, remember there’s always more science out there. As I staggered backward from the force of Willie’s shove, I raised my arms to chest height, flailing them as if I was trying to maintain my balance. The kind of movement that attracted attention, especially if you had concerns about a palmed weapon.

Which meant neither of the thugs was looking the right direction as I lifted my right leg, set my heel against the corner of the table, and shoved backward with all my strength.

Braun was ready for the human pinball Willie had sent. He wasn’t nearly ready enough for the human cannonball I’d suddenly become. I slammed hard into him, the impact breaking his own balance and sending both of us falling backward onto the floor.

Luckily for me, I was the one on top. Unluckily for him, he wasn’t. I caught the look of surprise and consternation on Willie’s face as he grabbed for the weapon belted at his side—

And then Willie, Lukki, and the whole damn bar went totally still and totally silent at the sight of my plasmic pointed at Willie’s face.

I let the tension play out for a couple of heartbeats. Then, keeping my plasmic trained on Willie, I shifted my attention to Lukki and raised my eyebrows. “Are we done with this silliness yet?” I asked conversationally.

For another moment she just sat there watching me. Then, a lopsided smile touched her lips, and she made a small gesture to Willie. “I think the word is touché,” she said as Willie reluctantly let go of his weapon. “Yes, we’re done. Enjoy your stay in Bilswift, Mr. Roarke.”

“Thank you, I will.” I rolled off Braun and got to my feet, keeping my plasmic in hand but no longer pointing it at anyone in particular. “Fair warning: I am going to get the boy back. If I were you I’d check the fine print and see if there’s a way for you to make some money from the transaction.”

“I’ll do that,” Lukki promised. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” I assured her. “Enjoy the drink I ordered for you if the bartender ever gets around to delivering it. Willie and Braun can flip a coin for my Dewar’s.”

Sidling past Willie, I made my way to the door, keeping half an eye on them over my shoulder as I walked. Some of the people I’d dealt with over the years would try to take one last shot at me at this point.

But Lukki was apparently a classier act than that, or else just didn’t want to have to talk to any badgemen tonight. As I closed the door behind me Willie was helping Braun up from the floor and the overall conversational buzz was starting to come back.

The intensity of the rain had increased somewhat since I arrived, the dark clouds blocking what was left of the lingering daylight. Holstering my plasmic, I stood under the doorway overhang for a moment while I looked around for a cab. But none of them were in sight. Turning up my collar, thinking unkind thoughts about a town that apparently didn’t care enough about visitors to keep up a runaround rental service, I headed west toward the spaceport. Next time, I told myself firmly, I’d make sure we rented two cars.

I was a block away before it occurred to me that I’d never found out if Panza’s had any barbeque.

* * *

I was three blocks from the spaceport, soaked to the skin, and thinking longingly about how a hot shower would feel, when everything went straight to hell.

My only warning was a small but sharp jab in my upper right back. Reflexively, I reached over my shoulder to that spot—

And even as I pulled out the tiny dart the world turned sideways under my feet and I found myself staggering in a supreme effort to keep my balance.

It was a losing battle. The vertigo drug the dart had injected into my blood was way stronger than anything my inner ear could counter. One single effort, and I saw the wet ground rushing up at me as I toppled over onto my chest.

Unfortunately, this time I didn’t have a nice soft thug to cushion my fall. I managed to get my hands under me, but I still hit the ground hard. My left arm collapsed with the impact and I fell over onto my back, the impact sending a fresh splash of cold water onto the nape of my neck. I’d slowed myself enough not to have the air knocked out of me, but the spinning world kept me from bouncing back up onto my feet again.

And then, as I clenched my teeth against the waves of nausea, a brilliant light suddenly blazed into my eyes.

Blind, woozy, and queasy was the absolute worst combination for accurate shooting. But I didn’t care. Squeezing my eyes shut against the light, I snatched out my plasmic and tried to line it up on the spot where I remembered seeing the light first appear.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t really have a clue where my assailant was or where he might have moved to. Also not surprisingly, I barely had the weapon settled when it was plucked neatly from my grip. “Who are you?” I demanded, using up most of that breath’s collection of air in the process.

My answer was to have my jacket opened and my wallet pulled from its pocket. The light seemed to shift slightly, perhaps indicating my assailant was looking through the various cards or, more likely, relieving me of the weight of my cash. There was a thud against my chest, a small splash beside my head—

The light winked out, I heard hurried splashing footsteps, and it was over.

I blinked my eyes open, wincing as the rain pelted into them, trying to see through the big purple afterimage floating where the blaze of light had been. But it was no use. By the time I could see again my assailant was gone, leaving me dizzy and wet but otherwise none the worse for wear.

I fumbled a hand to my chest and found that the bump I’d felt had been the thug thoughtfully returning my plasmic. The splash I’d felt near my head turned out to be my wallet, not so courteously dropped into a puddle.

Under other circumstances I’d probably have grabbed both of them and charged off to find my attacker. But with the vertigo drug still kaleidoscoping the universe there was no chance of that. Returning my plasmic to its holster, I retrieved my wallet, shook off the extra water, and slid it back into its pocket. Then, moving carefully, I rolled up onto my right side. The holstered plasmic was uncomfortable to lie on, but there was nothing I could do about that.

Closing my eyes again, thinking even more yearningly about that hot shower, I settled down to wait.

* * *

Typical vertigo dart loads could leave the victim helpless for up to an hour. This one wore off after only twenty minutes. As I got warily to my feet, I supposed I should be grateful for that.

I slogged the remaining three blocks to the port, then walked the additional half kilometer to the Ruth’s pad. At least my attacker had waited until I was close to home before jumping me. I didn’t see anyone along the way; evidently the fine citizens of Bilswift knew enough to come in out of the rain.

Given how the rest of the day had gone, I half expected to find that Perrifil had called in a heavy lifter and sent the Ruth way the hell off to parts unknown. But no, the ship was right where we’d left it, glistening in the rain and the port’s woefully substandard lighting. There was no sign of our rental car, and I wondered uneasily if Selene had run into a hornet’s nest of her own out in the mountains.

But she could take care of herself, and anyway there wasn’t anything to be gained by worrying. Wearily, I headed up the zigzag.

I was nearly to the top when I saw the figure huddled unmoving against the entryway hatch.

I stopped short, my hand darting beneath my jacket to where I was hiding my plasmic. The visitor was wrapped in a Patth robe, I saw now, the same plain gray commoner type I’d seen being worn by the employee at the fish shop. The hood was twisted sideways to cover his face, protecting it from the rain.

Or else what was lying there was a dead body my new playmates had dropped on my doorstep as their final contribution to the day’s festivities, and the hood was arranged that way in order to preserve the fun surprise of who it turned out to be.

If it was Selene . . . 

I forced that thought out of my head. A quick look around me—the port appeared to be as deserted as the city streets had been—and I resumed my cautious climb up the zigzag. I reached the top, and was steeling myself to pull back the hood when it moved of its own accord.

It wasn’t Selene. It wasn’t the Patth from the fish shop. It wasn’t Lukki or anyone else I’d seen at Panza’s place.

“Hello,” Tirano said, his white Kadolian hair matted against his head, small rivulets of water trickling down into his face. “I think I’m in trouble. May I come in?”


Back | Next
Framed