by HD Smith
I could have requested Wyatt meet me in my office on the first floor, but that would have been rude. He was not a client, and considering he had a ninety-nine-year lease, it was more appropriate to invite him in and offer a coffee or other beverage. Having a good relationship with the underworld crime doctor would be better than the alternative.
I checked the myst stats. The ambient myst was high within the building, which was one of the reasons I liked this location. I fired up several of my personal protection spells as well as a few subtler spells I used for scanning a new client. The activation flashed around my cornea then faded to a dull ring. If Jameson Wyatt noticed it, he’d probably assume it was a simple vision enhancement, not a spell to detect metal and magic.
I opened the door just as Wyatt was preparing to press the buzzer for a third time. He was tall, mid-thirties, and at least 6’ 5”, which meant he could easily look me in the eye. He had the type of skin described as bronze, short blond hair, and piercing green eyes.
“Do you always keep people waiting?” he asked.
His voice matched his look, gruff and determined. Jameson Wyatt was the kind of man who didn’t give a shit and didn’t care if you knew it. My enhanced vision took a closer look. Overlaid on top of his person, I saw a white glow near his wrist—his chip. I considered pushing in to see the data, but that might be noticed. Silver glyphs appeared over his right hip and thigh, as well as a circle of tiny glyphs around his upper right arm. He had no nanites or other embedded tech. I didn’t recognize the spells around his arm, but the one on his thigh looked similar to the spell I had for jumping—but that was unlikely.
Unless Jameson Wyatt was a Gemini sleeper agent—or someone my uncle had hired and owed a favor. Dammit, that last option was likely. But I had no way to discover the connection without risking him discovering mine, which I wouldn’t let happen. Wyatt had too many bad connections to risk him learning the truth about my identity. Even if he wasn’t directly connected to Dalton, I had to stay hidden.
I smiled, trying not to lose my cool. Checking his eyes, I could see that he didn’t have them spelled to scan me.
“My apologies,” I said. “I only just learned of your existence.”
His left eyebrow rose. “Doubtful, since you outbid me for this building.”
“My assistant handles those things,” I said, not realizing how pretentious it would sound until it was out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long morning. Would you care to join me for a coffee?”
“No,” he said, remaining outside the unit. “Security is out in the building. You’ll have that fixed today, correct?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. Stay out of my unit and we won’t have any problems. I have sensitive equipment and extensive wards. Also, don’t scan me again without my permission. That’s a violation of Tau law, as I’m sure you are aware.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he was done with the conversation. He turned to leave.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said as he headed toward his side of the building.
I closed the door and deactivated most of my analysis spells. That was when I felt it. It was ingenious, really—a stealth bug meant to be invisible. With my spells up, I hadn’t noticed it. But as soon as I shut them down, I could feel the worm trying to burrow into my tech, hitting against my other protective spells.
I activated a spell the Peacekeepers used to capture evidence. I wrapped the worm in a quarantine spell and buffered it with a touch-me-not barrier. The bubble of static would give it something to chew through while I decided the best way to handle it. If the worm started to escape, I’d know it.
This tech was most likely a standard benign tracker with an alert beacon. He probably had it coded to let him know if I entered his side of the building. And since he was adamant that I should know my stealthy scan attempt was illegal, he’d also know this type of worm spell was illegal on Tau, at least for an average citizen. The Peacekeepers could use it with a court order, which wasn’t something an underworld medic like Jameson Wyatt could acquire.
“Call Dexter.” The call connected and Dexter’s holo-vid materialized in the room. “I have a worm for you to analyze. Courtesy of Jameson Wyatt.”
“Wow. He does realize you’re the landlord, right?” Dexter asked.
His new look was a grungy street kid circa OE 1990s Seattle. His green spiky hair was now a dull blue black, and the eyeliner was twice as thick.
“I don’t think he cares that I’m the landlord. When you analyze his scan, compare it to mine and see if you recognize any of his spells.”
From the VF interface I grabbed the quarantined spell and Wyatt’s scan, then transferred them to Dexter’s profile-vid, which unlike his life-sized vid-holo, didn’t change often. The tiny pic in the corner of my VF had been the same spiky green mohawk for about six months.
“Okay, that might be illegal,” he said.
“It’s illegal as hell. He told me as much, but then he left me with the tracer worm. Just see what you can find,” I said.
“You got it. I booked you an appointment with the Office of Security and Housing, but the guild is walk-in only.”
I glanced over at my calendar, which now included stops at City Hall and Guild Headquarters. I spotted the Donovan new client meeting, which reminded me I had a dangerous woman who wanted to do business with me.
“When did Donovan book?” I asked.
“About ten minutes after I sent your initial paperwork to the guild. Why?”
I wasn’t yet licensed to work as a relic broker on Tau, so why did Donovan pick me?
“Is she local?” I asked, as I opened the initial dossier.
“Yes.”
I scanned the details, remembering what Dexter had said earlier. It was all here. Mrs. Donovan was a socialite with high connections to House Windsor. There were lots of images of her with powerful men and women, Heads of Houses or government officials. The dossier listed her marriage to Major League Danger Ball player turned politician, Archibald Donovan.
“I don’t see anything here about her connection to the underworld,” I said.
“That’s not the kind of thing you put in a report,” Dexter said.
“Seriously?”
“You know now.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd? She booked me before I’ve even announced I’m open for business on Tau.”
“I can call and reschedule.”
I considered it, then decided against it. She was too well connected to rebuff her just because I was apprehensive. I needed all of Tau’s elites to come to the auctions. I couldn’t ignore her if she had influence. Fifty percent of my business was word of mouth. Perhaps she knew someone on Vale who had recommended me. I’d take the meeting and see.
“No. If it doesn’t feel right, I’ll turn down the job. Don’t book anyone else for a few days. Between the auction and my new tenant, I’ve got plenty going on.”
“Roger that, boss,” Dexter said. “Anything else?”
“What do you think she wants me to find?”
“She just booked the meeting, no details.
“Okay. Is the office ready?”
“Yeah. It has your usual setup, but I’ve contacted an interior designer to upgrade the space. We want potential buyers to see a guy who knows how to sell expensive stuff. To emphasize the high-end aspects of your auctions.”
“Are you saying the desk I have now, the ten-year-old waiting room chairs, and panel siding doesn’t scream ‘Give me your money’?”
Dexter chuckled. “It’s better than that, but yeah, that’s what I’m saying. She’ll send something over for review later today.”
“Sounds good.”
A notification popped up on my VF. The Donovan meeting was in half an hour.
“Be careful with Donovan. I’ll monitor during the meeting,” Dexter said, then disconnected.
I jumped in the shower and switched into my best suit. I wasn’t sure why Blythe Donovan
was interested in hiring me, but I’d always found it easier to politely decline a job if my appearance matched the elite trying to hire me.
I was contemplating making another espresso when the buzzer from the front entrance of my office suite sounded. I gestured to activate my vid-feeds.
There was a striking, dark-skinned woman standing in the hallway outside the door to my office suite.
I activated the intercom and pressed the door release. “I’ll be right with you, Mrs. Donovan. Please take a seat in the waiting room.”
I stepped into the fold and materialized within my office on the first floor. Immediately I touched the ward spell near the door to my outer office. I activated the wards I’d installed years ago when I first started using this building. The spells were embedded into the walls, hidden, invisible to the eye. Gesturing, I activated a floating panel and brought up the waiting room cameras.
I studied Donovan’s demeanor. She was calm and perfectly dressed in a designer business suit, her dark skin set off nicely against the light beige material. She was showing just enough cleavage to entice but not enough to be vulgar. She was stunning, and she knew it.
As she turned her head, her chin-length black hair caught the light. A dark red shimmer bounced off the curve of her sleek bob, and a line of House tats that went down the side of her neck had a similar iridescence. Her eyes were the color of warm honey, another common trait of House Windsor elites. I wondered how much of her look was glamour. I considered the details I’d read in her dossier.
She was an elite member of House Windsor, a socialite who also ran the underworld, but she wasn’t listed as a royal. Her poise, complexion, and style would suggest otherwise, but no House Windsor elite would forgo using her birth title.
She’d also been married to Major League Danger Ball player-turned-politician Archibald Donovan. Since his death, she’d remained on the political scene. Which might have seemed odd based on her connection to the crime world, but too often those groups were in lockstep, one or the other bribing, blackmailing, or backstabbing to get what they wanted.
House Windsor was known for its judicial shrewdness and dubious ties to Old Earth royalty. A House of lawyers and high-born elites, they used their power and influence to make headlines, but their political connections and knowledge of the law allowed them to crush their competitors. They had once been accused of racketeering, but the corporation that made the claim soon found they had bigger problems. That company no longer existed. Maybe House Windsor had always run the underworld. Or maybe Donovan had made a name for herself in spite of her Houses expectations.
In either case, I’d need to be careful dealing with Blythe Donovan and her crew.
“Dexter,” I said. “Audio only.”
His voice sounded in my ear. “Yeah, boss.”
“Donovan’s here. Are all the normal precautions in place?”
“Yep, everything is being recorded, and I’ll keep an eye on the live feed,” Dexter said.
“Where is her security? I’m sure she didn’t come here alone.”
“There are three bullet-proof AutoDrives out front and two B-Series PKs guarding our front door.”
“Good to know.”
I switched on my personal myst sensors, blinking as my corneal implant flooded with myst and activated.
I’d hear her out, but I didn’t need another job right now. Of course, with her connections, maybe she was here to run me out of business, although I didn’t think the Windsors or the underworld dealt in relic retrieval, at least not in a business sense. All the Houses dabbled when it suited them, but not many House-run operations existed. It was a niche business of independent contractors, not giant corporations.
Opening my office door, I donned my best ‘new client’ smile. “Mrs. Donovan,” I said, “please—join me in my office.”
Mrs. Donovan rose from her chair with the kind of grace and poise old money could buy.
“I appreciate your ability to see me on such short notice,” Mrs. Donovan said, her voice as smooth and cultured as her comportment.
“No problem at all,” I said, closing the door behind her. “Please take a seat.”
I pointed to the chair in front of my desk. I took my own seat as she sat down.
I placed my Link on the desk where Mrs. Donovan could see it. I tapped the screen and activated what appeared to be a recording app. The office was wired with everything from video surveillance to audio analysis and every magical scan and ward I could think to add. The app was a diversion. It gave an unscrupulous person the ability to focus their jamming tech on one thing. It also made it easy to see who was nervous about being recorded.
“According to my sources,” Dexter said in my ear, “she may have killed her husband.”
I’d have to have a talk with Dexter after this meeting. A woman who’d killed her famous husband should come with a warning. You know, maybe added to the report beside the also non-existent note about her running the underworld.
I didn’t let my smile waver. Showing emotion to anyone as powerful as Mrs. Donovan appeared to be would not be wise.
“Do you mind if I record the conversation?” I asked.
Mrs. Donovan raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows, then darted her eyes around the room before returning them to me.
Dexter laughed. “She knows exactly where the cameras are, and the scans are picking up a low-level hum. She’s got some type of spell on her that the wards don’t like. We may not have usable footage, so try to pay attention.”
I scanned Mrs. Donovan with my ocular implant, but got no results. She was cloaked from my tech, which meant Dexter was right—I’d better pay attention.
“I don’t mind if you record me, but let’s try not to insult each other with silly games,” she said, looking down at the Link on my desk.
I tilted my head toward her, acknowledging her request. I shut down the decoy app and put the Link away.
“Mrs. Donovan, as you know, I’ve just relocated to Tau. My docket is fairly full, so I may not be able to assist you. If you provide me with more detail, perhaps I can recommend another antiquities broker?”
“That is generous of you, Mr. Anderson, but we are both busy people, so perhaps we should cut the shit?”
Her poise never wavered as she directly challenged me. Before I could say anything, she continued.
“I know about your little antiquities business. I know the kinds of side jobs you take and where you make most of your money. I also know that you are not who you appear to be. Have I missed anything yet, Mr. Anderson?”
“What the Lucy-damn-hell,” Dexter cursed, then went on silent.
I continued to consciously keep my expression neutral. I’d spent most of my life dealing with people who had agendas, and Mrs. Donovan was no exception. She hadn’t actually said anything. The general statements could be heard by a guilty, nervous person as a list of their faults; I heard a bunch of nonsense you could have said about anyone. I had no plans to panic until she called me by my real name, which I was sure she didn’t have. If she knew I was Cassius Vance, she’d have already sold my info to House Vance. Because no matter what she wants me to get, Dalton Vance would pay any price to have me back, preferably dead.
“I’m glad we’re being frank,” I said. “I understand you’ve done some research, and you think you know who I am. We both know that’s not true. You’re bluffing, so why don’t you tell me what you want, before I decide it isn’t worth the risk that you might really know something about me to let you walk out of here alive.”
She laughed. “I was told you’d be trouble. I like that.”
She had a coy smile on her face, one that hid a lot of secrets.
Donovan continued. “I need you to locate something for me. Something I believe you are uniquely qualified to find.”
“I don’t take jobs where I’ll wind up on the wrong side of the WLA. That’s not how I operate.”
Her lip curled up slightly, but she wasn’t am
used. “Did I say I was finished?”
“No, ma’am,” I said, using the kind of ancient honorific some women found offensive and others found quaint. I was fairly sure Mrs. Donovan would find it quaint. Possibly even misjudge me as someone who could be manipulated or threatened.
“There’s a large quantity of CME on Tau. Mage Ink is trying to hush it up. They claim they didn’t authorize its creation and plan to destroy it. I want you to find where they’re keeping it.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You want me to find it, or steal it?”
She shrugged. “I’ve got a team that can secure the product, but if you want that job too, I can accommodate your request. Of course, that would put you on the wrong side of the WLA.” She put air quotes around ‘wrong side’.
I wasn’t known for stealing corporate products. Where had she gotten her information about me? I needed to shut this down. I couldn’t work for Donovan, and I didn’t want a reputation for corporate espionage.
Dexter texted.
DEXTER: She’s talking about the K12 Lab … There’s a story Mage Ink is trying to kill about a toxic spill
I remembered seeing something about that on the news, but why the hell did Donovan think I could steal it? Or would be willing to try? If she knew my true identity, she could suspect I had Peacekeeper tech, but I’d never blatantly used any of that tech on a job.
“Ms. Donovan, I deal in relics, not volatile chemicals.”
“I’ve got my sources, Mr. Anderson, and they are very rarely wrong. Does the Hancock job last year refresh your memory?”
DEXTER: Oh, right, that time you used your hidden, possibly illegal JumpNav tech and Lucy-damn folded space around yourself to enter a fortified House Hancock compound and retrieve a stolen first edition of some old book nobody’s ever heard of
Shit. I hadn’t realized anyone knew about that job or that my name was tied to it.
“Hypothetically, let’s say I’ve heard of this job,” I said. “What makes you think the person who returned a rare first edition of D.L. Conrad’s The End of the World to its rightful owner could possibly break into a lab and steal several metric tons of Concentrated Myst Extract?”
