Jayne tried lifting the window but it refused to budge. A quick glance confirmed that it was unlocked and wasn’t painted shut. She’d have to fix whatever held it closed. After all, a nice breeze would make all the difference, especially for the countless joints she could count on Merry smoking.
A knock at the front door distracted her from her inspection. Maybe the handsome god wanted to say hello? She straightened her new black blouse and adjusted her cleavage for maximum effect, then strode across the empty space to answer.
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, ISA Office, Level 45
Jayne opened the front door of her new office and stepped into the hallway before closing the door behind her. Allowing someone into an office with no furniture could only hurt her reputation.
They’d get plenty of furniture. Eventually.
Unfortunately the person she brushed up against wasn’t the MSO god. Instead, she was face to face with a tall, skinny woman with her hair in a bun. The visitor sputtered in surprise at Jayne’s sudden appearance. They were uncomfortably close and Jayne could smell the mint on the woman’s breath.
Rather than take the initiative, she simply arched an inquisitive eyebrow.
The woman took a hasty step back. “Hello. I sent a query about a…situation? I was told to come here.” Uncertainty rang through her voice. This would be one of the potential clients Merry had told her about. The company had literally just opened their doors and they already had people banging on them. A good sign for a business. Whatever marketing Merry had done for them was obviously working.
Jayne leaned back against her office door and crossed her arms. “You’ve come to the right place. We deal in fixing ‘situations’ of all kinds. What’s your name?”
“Cara Addison. I’m on the board for Wazerfetch Extracorporated. Are you…the assistant?”
Oh, this bitch.
Jayne plastered a saccharine smile onto her face. “Ma’am, I’m the lead agent for ISA. If you’re looking to talk about an important and sensitive issue, I’m your woman. Don’t let my age fool you.”
Cara blushed at her faux pas. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just…can we maybe have this meeting inside? I feel rather exposed out here in the hallway.”
Jayne pushed away from the door and stepped down the hallway. “Good idea. There’s a bar downstairs. You can tell me all the details over a drink.”
The woman rushed to keep up. “But it’s only ten in the morning,” she called out.
Jayne shrugged. “So get a beer.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Berty’s Beer Bar
There was a time when Albert’s Dance Hall was a popular place for a nice young fella to take a nice young lady. Couples would watch live music performed by some of the city’s best musicians, get drunk on champagne, make out in a booth, and shake a leg on the dance floor.
Back then, soft, cozy yellow lighting and tuxedoed servers filled the joint, which was dress-code enforced. Suits and dresses and no exceptions. It was swanky, and the bill matched.
Then, newer and hipper places opened. Over the years, fewer people went to Albert’s, it made less money, and they could no longer afford the best musicians. Eventually they dropped the dress code. What was left was a decent drinking hole for locals. Albert wasn’t thrilled with the decline of his once grand establishment, but he was practical and did what needed to be done. He put tables over what was once the dance floor and changed the name to Berty’s Beer Bar. Then he shot six people and fled the planet. But that’s another story, and those people had it coming, anyway.
Or at least that’s what all the patrons said in their police interviews.
These days, the bar was in pretty rough shape. The wooden tables were wobbly and defaced with carvings. Faded and poorly patched upholstery gave the booths along the walls a shabby look. Pink light and a variety of neon beer signs lit the entire service counter from overhead tracks. The bar itself was a long semi-circle that stretched the entirety of one wall. Despite the early hour, half a dozen people sat on stools, drinking and chatting to the bartender, a stocky middle-aged man with a long scar across one cheek. Money and a quick trip to the doctor could easily remove it, yet there it was. Maybe it was less about the look, and more about the message a scar gets across.
When Jayne and Cara stepped inside, a few heads turned to observe them. One of the patrons elbowed the guy sitting next to him with a leering grin and muttered to his fellow drunkard. The man barked out a harsh laugh but made no reply.
“This looks a little seedy.” Cara’s face scrunched up in a half frown, her upper teeth visible as she looked at the blacked windows.
“It’s fine,” Jayne assured her. “I come here all the time. It’s the perfect location to hold informal meetings without attracting too much attention. Come on. Let’s get a seat.”
Despite having lied about being there before, the place did seem like a good spot for a quiet chat. The bartender gave her a querying look, but she ignored him as she headed to the booths.
She could smell the liquor on the drunks. They didn’t look ragged, though. Their clothing was clean and they all seemed fairly recently groomed. Most likely they were graveyard shift workers unwinding after a long and boring night on the job.
As Jayne passed the one who’d leered at her earlier, a hand squeezed her ass, getting a good feel. Jayne rocketed her elbow up and back. It smashed into the lecher’s temple and he collapsed onto the counter with a loud thump. She kept moving. After all, she had a case to hear.
“Ah, what the hell, Clayton? You already out?” The gruff bartender nudged the pervert, who didn’t move. “All right. I expect the rest of you to drink extra today to make up for nap-time over here. My alimony won’t pay itself.” The drunks grumbled and kept drinking. None of them noticed or cared how Clayton had passed out.
Jayne took the booth in the back corner with the best view of the bar. Clara slipped in and sat across from her. “That was…quite something,” She leaned across the table and whispered to Jayne. “You did strike that man, didn’t you?”
Jayne smirked. “Yeah. I sure did.”
Cara’s eyes widened. “Why?”
Jayne shrugged. “He grabbed my ass, and my ass wasn’t in the mood. Sometimes it is in the mood, don’t get me wrong. He’s just not my type.”
The woman smiled and nodded in agreement.
Jayne pulled out a small chrome pack of Red Steel Cigarettes from her pocket. Underneath the logo of a glowing steel rod, the package read: All the pleasure of a natural cigarette with none of the health risks.
She opened the top and pulled one of the cigarettes a quarter of the way out until it snapped into place. Cara looked on as she set the open package on the middle of the table.
“What’s that?” Cara asked.
“Privacy.” Jayne opened her tablet and read the device’s report. There were three bugs in the room. One was the type used by the police thirty years ago, most likely left behind after a surveillance operation. Another was registered to the bar, probably for security and to ID trouble makers. The third device was mid-grade black-market and likely secretly installed by someone looking to overhear some juicy information. Jayne shut them all down with a tap of her finger.
“I know I shouldn’t say this from a negotiation standpoint, but I admit I’m impressed.”
A blonde cocktail waitress emerged from a back room to take their orders. She looked groggy and her voice was a little slurred.
“Hellooo, ladies… What can I get for you today?”
“Whiskey, on the rocks. Not rotgut, but you don’t have to reach for the heavens either.”
The waitress nodded. “Our finest whiskey for the lady.” She turned to Cara
“Uh, I have to get back to work after this. So…water?”
The waitress shrugged. “Water it is.” She shambled toward the bar.
Jayne leaned back against the upholstery, stretching he
r arms across the top in both directions. “All right. Let’s get to it. What’s the job?”
“Over the past eight months, we’ve seen several of our top-secret prototypes ripped off by various competitors before we’ve even announced them or released any information. Fortunately, none of the projects have taken off. But, if a bestseller product is stolen before we go to market, we could be out hundreds of millions of credits in potential profit.”
The pink neon haze from the Old Timer Beer sign reflected in Cara’s eyes as Jayne took a moment to gather her thoughts. “How do you know your competitors have ripped the prototypes off?”
The waitress interrupted, placing their drinks with a heavy thud and sloshing some of the contents. “Any food?”
“No thanks. Just the drinks,” Jayne answered. Cara shook her head. The server retreated to the back room and left the pair to talk. Cara took a swig of her water and looked intently at Jayne.
“This stays between us.”
Jayne nodded her understanding.
“To put it simply, we have spies in other companies. We’ve identified six leaked prototypes based on their reports. The problem is we don’t know who’s leaking them. We’re pretty sure we know how, though.”
Jayne sipped her whiskey and cringed, and she had to fight not to spit it out. “Rotgut She fucking gave me rotgut.”
“Do you want some of my water?”
She dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. “You have a mole or moles in your company. You need them found. I can find them.”
Cara sighed. “Good. My contact said you could get the job done, but I was a little unsure since you’re, uh, new. I can definitely say I’m sold on you now, though. You clearly know what you’re doing.”
“Your contact?” Jayne grimaced as she took another swig of her whiskey.
“He’s on the police force so I can’t give a name.” Cara leaned halfway across the table and lowered her voice to a hush. “He says you’re a Federal agent and this is a cover. You’ll still do the job though, right?”
A smile danced across Jayne’s lips as the other woman leaned back in her seat. People were putting together half-truths and forming their own lies. In other words, they were doing half the work for her. “I’ll get the job done. Don’t you worry about that.”
She used her tablet to send a quick message to Merry. Of course, her poker face remained firmly in place.
What’s a normal agency charge for exposing a mole?
Need to know how much to charge Miss Moneybucks.
Cara didn’t seem the least disturbed by Jayne’s action. “I know you might be a…you know, but I can only pay you as much as we do normal agencies. It’s all accounted for in the budget and there’s not really much I can do about that sort of price.”
Jayne chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty you can do about it, Miss Board Member. But don’t worry. I won’t gouge you.”
A small green light flashed on the tablet.
They’re a big-ass corporation.
Don’t settle for less than thirty-K credits.
“Thirty-five thousand credits. You and I both know that’s a fair deal for what you’re asking.”
Cara nodded. “I can do that.”
“Half up front,” Jayne added.
She nodded again. “Not a problem.”
“Plus daily expenses of…” Jayne paused for a brief moment, calculating how much it would cost for her and Merry to eat out at nice restaurants for five days. “One hundred credits a day. And if we get this done within a week, we get a ten percent bonus.”
Cara blinked in surprise. “A week? That fast? I figured it would take a month. But then, you are a…okay. Your expenses and the bonus are most certainly acceptable.”
The spy reached her hand across the table. “Great. Then we have a deal.”
They shook hands.
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Level 45, Malicarsh Building, ISA Offices
Jayne opened the front door of her company’s new offices to find Merry lying on her belly and staring at her tablet in the middle of the empty waiting room. From the tinny speakers on the front of the tablet, Jayne could hear the distinct sounds of sexual intercourse.
“Seriously, Merry? More porn?”
She looked up and grinned. “Not porn, my friend. It’s surveillance.”
Jayne made her way to the middle of the room and crouched down to see the action on the screen. “Who are we spying on and why?”
Merry zoomed in on the man’s face in the footage. He was middle-aged, tall with grey hair, and handsome. Merry watched Jayne expectantly.
She shrugged. “Who’s this supposed to be?”
Merry whispered, “It’s the mayor. And look. That’s coke on the table. And whoever he’s fucking sure isn’t his wife. I’m waiting to get a good look at her face. I bet it’s like a reporter or an assistant. Something like that.”
Whoever the girl was, she had an incredible body. “I bet she’s an escort,” Jayne added. “But that’s beside the point, Merry. We have work to do.”
She stood as the girl muted the video. “We got the job?” Merry asked.
“You knew we did before I even walked in the door.”
Merry’s brow furrowed. “No, I didn’t. I’m not, like, a fortune teller. Sure, I believe in your abilities and all that, but there’s no way to know for sure a client will—.”
“You’re a hacker with a supreme lack of boundaries. You’re telling me you haven’t hacked my bank account to actively monitor it?”
Blood rushed to Merry’s cheeks. “Well, you know. It’s protection. Someone else could hack your account, and without me monitoring it…” She couldn’t meet Jayne’s knowing gaze. “Okay, so I hacked it. But I was busy watching porn—I mean, doing surveillance—and I didn’t know we got the job. I figured we probably would when you texted asking for rates, though.”
Jayne rolled her eyes. “You watch too much porn, Merry. Anyway, we got the job and we need to get to work. The client suspects it’s an inside job, so we need a list of who can access their top-secret data and I need you to figure out how they’re doing it.”
Merry rolled onto her back and looked at her partner. “And what will you do while I do all the work?”
Jayne smiled. “Look at porn.”
+++
Wazerfetch Extracorporated Building, Theron Techcropolis, Armaros
The night sky provided no cover in a megacity brimming with bright lights. The octagon that housed Wazerfetch Extracorporated building blazed like a beacon of light with its mirrored windows and glowing outline. Not the kind of place someone could sneak into unseen.
With a little help from Merry, Jayne decided to try the front door.
A yellow Speed Courier air-truck docked in the port on the sixtieth floor. The driver wore the uniform-issue yellow short-sleeved collared shirt, matching shorts, and cap. In the passenger seat, Jayne wore the same outfit with a purple wig under the hat. The damned shorts gave her a camel-toe that no amount of adjusting seemed to rectify.
“Why are these shorts so damn clingy? It’s like they’re vacuum sealed on.” Brett, the delivery man they’d bribed earlier, didn’t know any of the details of the job and didn’t care to. The extra eighty credits for a few minutes’ work was sufficient to get him on board. “If these shorts bother me, I can’t imagine how they feel on you. Don’t you find them uncomfortable?”
He grunted and switched the vehicle into park mode. “I don’t mind so much. It’s kind of nice showing your… package.” He laughed at the horrible pun.
Almost involuntarily, Jayne glanced at Brett’s package which was thankfully hidden under his gut. She opened the door and stepped out.
“Wait ten minutes and then take off. Unless things go to shit, I won’t catch a ride back with you. Enjoy the eighty credits. We’ll hit you up if we need to use you again.”
She slammed the door and carried a medium-sized brown package to the security
gate where the night guard played a game on his tablet.
“Delivery for level seventy,” Jayne announced.
He startled and juggled the device in his hands. With his grip secured, he tapped the screen and paused the game.
“ID?” he asked, holding up a small black scanner.
Jayne pulled her lanyard with her Speed Courier ID badge from under her shirt. The man scanned it and his gizmo flashed green and beeped approval. She expected as much, but she hadn’t been one hundred percent certain that Merry’s homemade badge would work.
“Okay, step into the body scanner and when it’s done, walk into the middle of the lobby. Drop your package off at the front desk. Make sure they scan it in. Sometimes, they forget.”
It was dark inside the body scanner. The machine made a soothing whooshing sound as it spun around her, taking invasive video of her and the package.
As part of her training back at the academy, Jayne had visited one of the body scanner surveillance nodes. Hundreds of people in cubicles perused x-ray video of people in thousands of different locations. Footage of that person naked through various body scanners over the years was saved in individual folders. While it could, if stolen, be used for blackmail, the government used the info for security, tracking, and in the case of wanted criminals, finding identifying features. Such as a mole on a dick, she reminded herself.
As she stepped out of the body scanner and into the lobby, Jayne pressed a button on her tablet.
The power shut off, casting the lobby into darkness.
“What the fuck?” the front-desk receptionist complained.
Jayne wasted no time. She lowered her night-vision sunglasses from the brim of the Speed Courier hat and crept silently to the staircase. With the power out, the security locks on the staircase door were disengaged, a safety measure in case of an emergency. She opened the door, snuck inside, and closed it behind her.
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