by Dan Moren
Cortez didn’t blink. “Anonymous tip.”
Flagging his account had given the SOE team time to plan their next move while slowing down Kovalic. Slick, effective, and requiring very little effort on Mirza’s part. He expected no less from her.
Slowly, Kovalic peeled his sleeve off his forearm and held it loosely in one hand. “I’m certain this is all a misunderstanding, but I would like to retain shipboard counsel anyway.”
“I’m sure you would. I’ll be happy to direct you to them. After you hand over your sleeve.”
Kovalic turned the device over in his hand, making a great show of thinking about it, but all the while watching the holoscreen floating behind Cortez. Any moment now. He just had to ride this line between seeming like he was going to comply and not provoking Cortez into just stunning them both and taking what they wanted.
With a sigh of resignation, Kovalic slapped the sleeve into Cortez’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you for complying, Mr Godwin. Now, if you don’t mind–”
There were a series of clunks as the doors at the end of the hallway slid open. Kovalic watched Cortez’s gaze sharpen over his shoulder, his expression shifting into one of wariness as the crowd began to flood out of the theater.
In the second that Cortez was distracted, Kovalic brought his other arm up and grabbed the hand in which the security chief held his sleeve. He twisted it around as Cortez winced and tried to call to his officers.
But the flow of the crowd was too thick and the rest of the guards were pushed to the outer edges of the hallway; if they wanted to shoot Kovalic, they’d be firing into a group of passengers. None of them seemed about to make that decision without a direct order from their boss.
Kovalic wrenched Cortez’s arm further and heard a strangled cry as the limb went in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go. Reclaiming his sleeve, Kovalic neatly pinned the man’s arm behind his back. “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?” said Kovalic, deftly snaking his free hand down to pull the sidearm off Cortez’s belt.
Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he saw Nat, who had also used the sudden appearance of the crowd to her advantage, closing the distance with the pair of guards against the wall to their right. She’d disarmed both quickly and quietly, leaving them slumped on a bench against the wall.
The remaining pair were trying to wade through the crowd towards Cortez, but Kovalic let the crowd’s momentum sweep them back to the esplanade.
“Take a left,” he murmured to Cortez, following him around the corner and away from the main drag. Nobody seemed to be paying them any particular attention, instead chatting about the show or about which bar they’d be going to for drinks.
Just off the esplanade, Kovalic found a quiet little parklet under an arbor and shoved Cortez down on a bench, out of the way of prying eyes. Taking a seat across from the security chief, Kovalic leveled the weapon at him, relieved to see it too was a knockout gun. He wasn’t looking to rack up a body count.
“So,” said Kovalic pleasantly. “You were saying earlier. An anonymous tip?”
Cortez, for his part, had gone from steely to grim in the space of about fifty meters. Nobody liked having their own weapon pointed back at them, a feeling that Kovalic could sympathize with. But people reacted in different ways – some pled, some clammed up, some just passed straight out. The question was, which kind was Cortez?
“Two options,” said Kovalic. “One, you really don’t know who the tip was from. Two, you do and just don’t want to tell me. In the case of number two, I’d ask you to reconsider.” He held the gun steady, but it wasn’t really a threat – just insurance if Cortez decided to make a move. Frankly, the security chief was probably going to get stunned at the end of this no matter what.
“I’m not telling you anything,” Cortez bit off. “You’re a criminal.”
“Takes one to know one.”
The man drew himself up, as much as was possible while on a park bench at gunpoint. “I’m the chief security officer of this ship. I report directly to its owner. Before that, I spent thirty years in law enforcement.”
“Working for an arms dealer is an interesting career choice, then.”
Cortez’s eyelid twitched, but otherwise his expression was stony. Kovalic wondered just how much he knew about his boss’s affairs. Enough, he wagered, to feel at least a little bit uncomfortable.
Kovalic leaned back and rested the gun in his lap, though he kept his hand on it. “Come on, Cortez. The White Star is a crime syndicate that spans half a dozen systems and runs weapons – and who knows what else – through the bottleneck. They sell to the Commonwealth. They sell to the Imperium. They sell to anybody who can pay. All this,” he said, waving a hand at the ship around them, “is nothing more than window dressing. Cover. A way to launder credits. That’s got to bug you a bit.”
Cortez crossed his arms over his chest, but he wouldn’t meet Kovalic’s gaze.
“Yeah,” said Kovalic. “I thought it might.”
His earbud crackled to life and Nat’s voice came through. “Ditched the rest of those guards. I’m assuming you’re good but probably best if we split up for a while. Rendezvous back at your dishwashing job in an hour.”
Kovalic gave his earbud a double tap of acknowledgment. Nat had the right of it; if security was looking specifically for him, she’d be better off on her own for the moment.
“Look,” said Kovalic. “Maybe you’re complicit in your boss’s crimes, or maybe you’re just a guy caught in a bad situation. Not my place to judge. But we might be able to help each other out.”
Cortez snorted. “I don’t need your help.”
“Sure, you say that now. But what about twenty-four hours from now, when the rest of your security team finds you hogtied in the middle of the esplanade in your underwear? I feel like that kind of thing makes it hard to maintain respect.”
The security chief couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to laugh or look genuinely worried, so he settled for a suspicious nervousness. “Who the hell are you?”
“Somebody who’s got a job to do, just like you.” Kovalic pretended to study his fingernails. “And maybe somebody who’d like to see your boss taken down a peg or two.” Now came the question of whether he’d read this guy right.
Cortez still had an air of suspicion about him, but Kovalic thought he caught a gleam in the man’s eye. Yeah, he’d read him right. He wasn’t sure how Xi had maneuvered Cortez into her service, but this guy wasn’t here because he was an immoral piece of shit – that wasn’t the kind of person you put in charge of your security, unless you wanted them to turn around and stab you in the back.
“It can’t find its way back to me. I may not love this job, but I need it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The security chief drummed fingers on his thigh, then seemed to come to a decision. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“I’m looking for someone aboard the Queen Amina, and who better than the ship’s security chief to tell me where I can find them?”
“What are you, some sort of private investigator?”
No better cover than the one that got handed to you. “Of sorts.”
“Ah. One of those independently wealthy detectives I’ve read so much about, then,” said Cortez dryly. “Well, before that red flag froze your funds, anyway.”
Kovalic gave a modest shrug. “It seems a rival of mine is working the same case, and she decided to make life difficult for me by cutting off my resources and sending you after me.”
A flicker of recognition shot through Cortez’s eyes. “A woman with dark hair? Not much of a sense of humor?”
“I see you’ve met.”
“Yes, I’ve had the… pleasure.”
“So you know what I’m up against here. She can be pretty ruthless.”
“I know the type. Who are you looking for?”
“A professor of archaeology. His name is Dr Seku al-Kitab.”
Cortez ha
dn’t entirely banished his suspicion. Once a cop, always a cop. “Why? What do you want him for?”
“It’s a… personal case. It seems he may not have paid his child support. Not glamorous work, but it does pay the bills.” An oldie, but a goodie.
Cortez nodded knowingly, though a bit of his old superiority had returned. Fine. Let him think he had an edge; that’d suit Kovalic’s purposes just fine. “I know this man. An oblivious academic, single-minded in his pursuits. It doesn’t surprise me that he might have neglected his family.”
“Perhaps you know where he spends his time? I’d love to get a chance to speak with him – before my ‘colleague’ does.”
Now that he had something to offer, Cortez had relaxed a bit into the bench. “This may be possible. And, in return, perhaps you will do me the service of returning my weapon? And, of course, not speaking of this again?”
“Naturally. I’d also appreciate it if you could purge our name from whatever wanted list got your attention in the first place. Oh, and unfreeze my room funds.”
Cortez rubbed his chin. “Suppressing the flag on your profile is possible – all security matters onboard are subject to my discretion. But I’m afraid dealing with your financial problem is more challenging. If you can give me a day, I should be able to put through a request quietly. To do it quicker would mean overriding the purser, who also reports directly to the owner. And you must forgive me, but I don’t wish to answer questions from those quarters.”
The security chief had a point: keeping off of Xi’s radar was a high priority and a request to free up their funds after they had so recently been frozen would be sure to raise an eyebrow or two. But they didn’t have a day to wait – they’d have to make do with the meager funds they had on hand.
“Fair enough,” said Kovalic. He flipped the weapon over and handed it, butt first, to Cortez. The barrel pointed directly at Kovalic’s own mid-section; if Cortez wanted to renege and stun him where he sat, well, now would be the time.
As Cortez’s hand closed around the grip he hesitated, as if he himself were thinking the same thing. But after a second, the sidearm went back into the holster. “Should I ask about my officers?”
“Bruised egos mostly. I’d have them checked over, but my guess is they’ll be OK.”
“Perhaps it’s time I raised my hiring standards. I don’t suppose you’re available?”
Kovalic chuckled. “I try not to consider job offers while I’m working, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
Cortez slapped his thighs and rose to his feet. “A shame. I feel like perhaps I should enjoy working with you, Mr Godwin.”
Kovalic wasn’t sure the feeling was totally mutual, but he took the compliment where he could get it. “Thanks. Now: Dr al-Kitab?”
“Of course, of course. You’ll find him most evenings at a little coffeehouse down on sub-level three. Café Turek.”
“Appreciate it.”
Cortez turned to walk away then looked back over his shoulder. “A word of advice, Mr Godwin? The doctor is a personal acquaintance of the owner of the Queen Amina. Tread carefully.”
“I appreciate the warning, chief.” Getting to his feet, Kovalic tipped him an informal salute, and walked in the other direction.
They were going to get Ofeibia Xi’s attention sooner or later, of that much Kovalic was confident. And if it wasn’t from tracking down Dr al-Kitab then it would probably be when they stole the Aleph Tablet right out from under her nose.
CHAPTER 17
What does one wear to a dinner with a notorious gangster?
Addy’s current attire, though it would probably pass muster, had the distinct disadvantage of being the same thing she had worn in her encounter with Xi earlier in the day. It would probably be polite to at least give the appearance of having freshened up.
But their stateroom had been seized in the wake of their funds being frozen, so all the other clothes that Kovalic’s tailor had made for her were under lock and key in a room being watched by ship security. And the lack of funds meant that buying new clothes was out of the question.
Like you’ve never stolen clothes before. But this wasn’t like when she’d been a teenager, nicking a new top to impress her compatriots.
No, this required a decidedly more delicate touch.
The stores on the esplanade ran the gamut from casual apparel all the way up to the most formal of wears. Addy picked one of the higher-end ones – the kind of place that catered to a demanding clientele – and swept in with her best aura of entitlement. She idly perused the racks until a clerk with a sunny disposition appeared next to her.
“Good day, ma’am. Can I help you find anything?”
“Oh, yes!” Addy said, injecting a note of breathlessness. “I have this tremendously important dinner tonight and simply nothing to wear!” She fluttered a smile.
“No problem at all,” the clerk assured her. “I’m sure we can put together an outfit in no time. What kind of dinner is it? Business? Pleasure?”
“I guess you could say starting as one and, hopefully, ending up as the other, if you know what I’m saying?”
The clerk gave a knowing smile. “I think we can find something. Give me just a moment.”
Five minutes later, Addy was ensconced in the dressing room with an armload of clothes. As she tried on the third dress, a flattering white and black number, she had to admit that the associate – Tess, her name tag said – had a good eye. All of the outfits she’d picked out were cut to flatter Addy’s figure.
Damn, if I’d had any of these back when I was running short cons on the streets, I could have waltzed my way into the fanciest restaurants in Salaam.
“Honestly, these are all marvelous,” said Addy, as she stepped into the hallway, her skirt swishing. “Thank you so much for your help.”
Tess looked her up and down thoughtfully. “We’ll take that one in a little bit at the waist, but it really shows off your arms, which you absolutely should.”
Addy flushed. All those push-ups in training counted for something, I guess.
“We can of course have these altered and delivered to your room,” said Tess. “I’ll just need your sleeve for payment.”
The moment of truth. “Of course!” said Addy. She started sifting through her bag. Letting a frown cross her face, her groping got more frantic, but she produced only a makeup compact, a hair tie, and a few sticks of chewing gum. “It’s not here,” she said, despondent.
“Oh dear. Perhaps you left it in your room?”
“Maybe? Or I lost it again, how clumsy of me.” In her experience people couldn’t resist a sob story. As a kid, turning on the waterworks in front of the cops had gotten her out of hot water more than once. Had never worked on Boyland, though; somehow he’d seen right through it.
“I could look up your room account,” said Tess helpfully. “Your biometrics should be on file.”
Which is going raise more flags than a gravball match.
“Oh, please, no,” said Addy, clasping her hands. “William – he can’t know about this. It’s… it’s not him I’m meeting, you see.”
Tess’s eyes widened slightly. “Ah.”
“He’s very sweet, but I was so young…” I don’t know where this is coming from, but keep it up, brain. “And then I met Helena…”
There was a softening in Tess’s expression and she patted Addy on the shoulder. “It’s fine. Look…” She glanced both ways, as if checking to see if anyone was watching. “Give me just a moment.”
Addy sat down on one of the armchairs in the dressing room area, resting her chin on her hand, and plucked at her skirt disconsolately. It was a nice dress; she wasn’t sure she’d ever owned anything quite this beautiful. Not to say that it was the kind of thing she’d want to wear everyday, but to have the option, well, that was something new.
Tess reappeared. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m putting this dress on hold for you. As long as you return it within twenty-four
hours, it’ll be fine.”
“No, no,” Addy protested. “I can’t let you do this.”
Tess took her firmly by her arm and walked her to the door. “I insist. You shouldn’t have anything less than what makes you feel like who you are. Just promise me you’ll come back for the rest of them – we work on commission around here.” She winked at Addy.
“Oh…oh, thank you,” said Addy, gathering up her things. “You’re too kind.” She felt a pang of regret; here Tess was, helping out a total stranger, with nothing to gain. And here Addy was taking advantage of the woman’s trusting nature. Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but this time it was eating at her.
Tess shooed her out of the store with a smile and no trace of remorse, and Addy found herself on the esplanade, clutching a bag containing the clothes she’d had on this morning, and wearing a dress that she hadn’t owned a mere ten minutes ago. This job is weird.
That lingering thought ringing in her head, she turned on her heel and made her way towards the casino, her stride growing more confident with each step. After all, she had a dinner to get to.
This time there was no impediment to Addy’s trip to the executive lounge. The guard at the lift swept the velvet rope aside for her.
She’d stowed the bag containing her old clothes in a storage locker right off the esplanade and reclaimed her “missing” sleeve. A nearby restroom offered an opportunity to apply a little judicious makeup and made herself look generally presentable, despite the lack of a shower in the last day or so.
A myriad of her reflections scattered every which way in the lift’s mirrored walls, and she gave her hair a last minute touch-up, but keeping it short had its advantages.
The executive lounge was much as she’d left it, though with different passengers playing the tables. She exchanged a smile with Nina the bartender, who was mixing a complicated orange drink with a perfectly formed sphere of blood red floating in the middle. Security personnel met her at the stairs, escorting her up and into Xi’s private quarters.
The lights in the gallery had been dimmed, though phosphorescent panels along the walls glowed a deep purple and individual cases were uplit in green or orange. Sparkling jewelry pieces and burnished brass sculptures gleamed in the light, taking Addy’s breath away anew.
