by Jay Posey
“Can I help you, miss?”
Cass suddenly wished she’d asked jCharles for a little more info. Every chem scene had its own nuances, its own etiquette. Common greetings, sometimes elaborate introductions, even unspoken rules about distances to be maintained at all times. Play it wrong, and the other guys would know right off the bat you were an out-of-towner. That might just cost you an extra thirty or fifty percent. Worst case would cost you a whole lot more. On a whim, Cass reached up and nonchalantly unfastened her shirt a little lower.
“You boys keep it hot in here, don’t you?”
“Are you looking for someone in particular?”
Dangerous question. In some circles, if you didn’t have the right name, the deal would be off. In other circles, mentioning names was a quick way to get dusted off. She played cool.
“My boy from uptown sent me out for business, said he’d sent word.”
“Why didn’t ‘your boy’ come himself?”
“On account of his unexpected delay with the Bonefolder.”
The mood suddenly shifted.
“Oh, you’re McGann’s little sister? Why didn’t you say that, come on over here!”
Cass just smiled and walked to the group. As she approached, the light shifted enough that she could see the man who’d been talking to her. He was sporting the uniform of a Greenman, but it was ill-fitting. She saw him checking it out, and chuckled.
“Helps with the walk in,” he said with a shrug.
“Long as you don’t meet any greenmen, I guess.”
He nodded, and led her to the others, who largely stood gawking. There was a small collapsible table set up in the middle of the lights. A case sat on the table. Behind it stood two young men she recognized from jCharles’ pictures. Quick scan of the three other guards. One in red, one in black, one wearing a white coat with a backpack.
“This here’s Tyke,” said the guard, pointing to a tall and thin youth with long hair and a hawk-beak of a nose. “And that’s his buddy Jantz.” Jantz was shorter, but just as rail thin, with a shock of orange hair highlighted silver. Neither made eye contact. Both were staring at her chest.
“Boys!” the guard snapped, drawing Tyke’s attention. He glanced up, wild-eyed, looking back and forth between the guard and Cass several times. Jantz lingered.
“Hi, yeah, sorry, sorry, little jumpy out here with all this material out here, you know, out here. We’re big fans of your brother, Mr McGann I mean, big fans, I read all his stuff. Me and Jantz both do, all his stuff. Maybe, you know, maybe if we’re all happy with this arrangement, you know, after we, you know, handle what we have to handle here, maybe sometime down the road we could actually meet him. If you’re cool with that, I mean.”
“I’m sure that’d be great, Tyke,” she cooed, putting on the womanly charm. A little bit of skin seemed to have them all distracted. The sultry voice would probably have them completely mesmerized. Completely off guard. “He had nice things to say about you already.”
Tyke let out something halfway between a giggle and a snort. A thin thread of phlegm flipped itself over his bottom lip and dangled there a moment before he wiped it away. Jantz lowered his head and stared at the table. Then slowly slid his eyes back up to Cass’s cleavage.
“My understanding is that you’ve received the half up front?”
“That’s right, and you can check the case if you want,” he said, as he swiped a fingertip across a chrome strip. A mechanism hissed and the case unsealed itself. “It’s all there, forty-five hundred, cut in stacks. We went ahead and cut ’em in stacks for you so, you know, so when you, you know, when you sell ’em off or whatever, they’re easier for you to move, for when you sell ’em. That’s a little extra service we wanted to provide to you on account of Mr McGann. For when you sell ’em.”
“Well, I appreciate that Tyke. I’m sure Mr McGann will too.”
“And you’ve got the money, right? In Hard?”
“Of course.” She slung the pack onto the table. “Case is mine to take?”
“Sure, that’s fine. Sorry to make you lug it all the way down here, that much Hard. But you know, this was kind of a hurry up kind of thing, and we don’t usually work in this kind of, you know, arrangement, and so we’re sorry, we would’ve rather done it some other way that was better for your brother, you know and you, but this was all we could work out to handle, you know, on such short notice, with that much, you know, that much q.”
“It’s really not a problem, Tyke. I know it’s a lot of pressure on you guys.”
A momentary cube of light flashed at the eastern entrance of hangar, someone entering quickly. Once the door clanged shut again, it was impossible to see who it was approaching, with the light from the tubelighting in her face.
“Don’t worry that’s just our moneyman. Like an accountant, you know, just to make sure we’re all on the square and everything. He’s with us, don’t worry, he’s one of ours. He’s our moneyman.”
A prickle of electricity raced along Cass’s spine. That made seven. No matter how well things were going, seven to one was bad odds.
“I’m not sure what kind of trouble I could’ve caused you, ma’am,” Three answered. “Just rolled into town yesterday, and haven’t done anything untoward to anyone since I got here.”
The Bonefolder sipped her beverage again, a dainty procedure borne of long years of practice and some kind of homage to traditions long dead. She replaced her cup on the table, adjusted it slightly so the handle was pointing exactly ninety-degrees to her right.
“This may be true. But we fear the offense came before you ‘rolled into town’, as you so eloquently put it.”
Three could feel the tension pouring off jCharles. Without a doubt, he was already running through the scenarios of who to drop first when it all went down.
“Ma’am, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’ve had a long few weeks. If I’ve done you some wrong, you’re gonna have to come right out and tell me.”
She looked at him with disappointment, clearly affronted by his crass disregard for her preferred manner of speech. The Bonefolder took another sip of her beverage. Three already recognized the routine. Same quantity in every sip. Raise the cup. Sip. Pause. A long blink. Lower the cup. Adjust. Handle ninety-degrees to the right.
“A few days ago, Mr Walker, several of our business associates went looking to procure certain commodities that are at times in demand here within Greenstone. Four associates departed. Only one of those associates returned, Mr Walker, and he was notably less well than he had been when he first departed. His ankle snapped cleanly in two. Jaw dislocated. Only partial memories of the events which led to the unfortunate state in which we found him.”
The image flashed through Three’s mind immediately. The slavers. He’d told Cass he might not have killed all of them. Apparently he was right. Small comfort.
“It seems he spent the night in a culvert, wedged inside a drain pipe, Mr Walker, after having crawled there on his elbows, he says. Apparently, he had the less than desirable experience of observing the Weir as they savaged the corpses of his companions and then dragged them away. We fear he has been somewhat changed.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry for your loss, but I gave those men the only thing I had to offer ’em. I didn’t know they were yours.”
“Would it have mattered if you had, Mr Walker?”
“No ma’am, I reckon not.”
“As we suspected,” she replied. She pressed her lips together so that they disappeared into a perfectly flat, horizontal line. Cup up. Sip. Pause. Blink. Cup down. Adjust. “Under normal circumstances, we fear we would have no choice but to make an example of you. Greenstone is a challenging place for a woman of any standing, let alone for one of our particular age, you see.”
Close to go time. Three casually surveyed the bartender. He was cleaning a glass, but watching intently. The Big One stood statue-still behind Bonefolder, hands behind his back. The rest arrayed in a half-circle that nearl
y enclosed Three and jCharles. Four to one. And the Bonefolder. Three didn’t know how she’d earned that name, and he didn’t want to find out.
“So what’s the procedure here? I assume you want some kind of restitution, else I’d be swinging from a post already.”
“Oh, isn’t it a sharp one?” she said. “We understand you desire use of our train that you may travel to Morningside. Is this accurate?”
“It is.”
“It is to your great fortune, then, that we have need of a courier for just that very destination. A messenger.”
“So I hop on your train, deliver your message, and we’re square?”
“We require a message be delivered to the governor of that province. A man by name of Underdown.”
Under the table, jCharles spread his fingers wide, stretching them, then relaxed them into his lap. He bowed his head slightly, let his eyelids droop. Ready. On Three’s move, Twitch would unleash.
“And the message?”
“The message is his death. After we receive confirmation, we will allow your woman and child to join you.”
An icy shock went through Three, and he saw jCharles’ eyelids flutter. How did she know about Cass and Wren?
Three forced himself still. Calm. Cool. Controlled.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid that doesn’t work.”
“Mr Walker, by now we have your woman and child in our custody. Your decisions are reduced only to this: deliver our message to Governor Underdown of Morningside, or die. We do not care, but recompense must be made. Your death plus the woman and the boy are calculated a fair exchange. The sum is equal to the cost of the zeroing of Underdown. This is business. What is your decision?”
The electric feeling didn’t subside as the man approached from the hazy darkness. There was a shift in the crowd, as well. Cass felt the ring tighten ever so subtly.
“Our moneyman,” Tyke continued. “Just taking care of the money, and we should all be on our way, just like that. I hope you’ll tell your brother what good business partners we are, how well we held up our deal, and how eager we are to serve. We’re fans of his, we read all his stuff, me and Jantz.”
The man finally reached the perimeter of the lights, and Cass recognized him instantly. The limping man from before. But more than that, she saw it now, all of it. The man she’d seen in the Samurai McGann. The one with the familiar eyes. She’d seen him even before that, out in the open. He’d been wearing a mask over his mouth then, when Three had broken his leg and knocked him to the ground like a dead man. Not dead after all.
Cass stepped back involuntarily, and felt the fake greenman close behind her. Seven to one. Very bad odds.
Tyke changed his tone immediately, apologetic now.
“We didn’t have nothing to do with it, I swear. You tell Mr McGann we didn’t have nothing to do with it, we wanted the deal just like we said, just like we said, and we didn’t want to have nothing to do with the Bonefolder!”
Hands gripped her upper arms tightly, surprising in their strength. The pressure applying so smoothly, so steadily. The uniform wasn’t the only thing fake about the greenman. Servorganical arms, at least. They gripped with steel certainty.
The Limper approached, got right in her face with a damaged smile, and without a word he slapped her, hard. When she looked back, he spit on her mouth.
“Easy”, the fake greenman said. “Bonefolder doesn’t want her damaged.”
“She said alive. Didn’t say nothin’ about damaged.”
The Limper grabbed her shirt at the top and ripped it wide open. Seven to one was bad odds.
“There is no decision,” Three said, quick to grab Twitch’s arm under the table. “The woman and boy are yours if you want ’em. But I’m not going to handle Underdown. Killing a governor’s not my idea of repayment. So look, you take the woman, you take the boy, what’s that leave between us? A few thousand?”
The Bonefolder hitched, the slightest hint that something had taken her by surprise.
“These terms are unacceptable.”
Three knew jCharles was straining with all he had not to open up on the crowd and see how far he could get before they cut him down. If they were going after Wren, that meant they were going after Mol. And the thought of that seared Three to the core. He could only imagine what Twitch was feeling.
“Then forget it. Keep the woman and the boy, and we don’t bother with the train. We’ll call it even.” Three stood just quickly enough to make everyone flinch. He snatched jCharles’ bittertonic and downed it.
Four to one, plus the Bonefolder. Ranges were all wrong. One shot for the bartender to open, and after that, it was all close work. Had to assume everyone was packing hate of one form or another. Even at his most desperate, Three had never tried something so obviously guaranteed to end with his death. Why had Twitch come? Even if they managed to clean house, there was no way they’d make it out of the building alive. And then what would happen to Mol? And to Wren? Where was Cass? What were they doing to her?
“Come on, Twitch, we’re done talkin’.”
jCharles stood, slowly, smoothly, all eyes on him. And then, Three did the most dangerous thing he could possibly think of.
He turned his back and walked out the front door.
It was obvious to Cass what was going down. The Bonefolder had arranged for them to be separated. For whatever reason, the Limper was here to handle Cass. She could only assume that meant Three and jCharles were in the heat. And the thought flashed: what if they’d sent someone for Wren? The fake greenman’s fingers were beginning to dig into her flesh. The Limper obviously had plans for her body. She made plans of her own.
“Wait, stop, listen,” she said, suddenly frightened, shrinking back into her captor. “Take the quint, take the money, I don’t care, take it all.”
“Too late for that, missy,” said the Limper. “Bonefolder says I gets to have you, so that makes you mine.”
“You can have me,” Cass answered. She pulled her shirt fully open, letting it fall down her shoulders, her thin compression top the last line of defense. “Take me, take me, just leave my son alone.”
She stepped toward the Limper, felt the greenman’s grip loosen as she went docile. Cass reached up and slid her garment down, baring her breasts.
“It’s OK, take me,” she whispered. The Limper stepped forward, mouth hanging open, hand raised.
She boosted.
They made it out of the building, and picked up the pace to cross the street, both walking as if slightly drunk, hoping any first shots would miss. Across the street, alley twist, another alley twist, and they broke into a full run.
“What was that?!” jCharles shouted.
“We gotta get back to Mol first! Back to Mol and take it from there!”
As they punished the pavement with heavy footfalls, fast as they could deliver them, they crashed through the increasing crowds, knocking people aside and to the ground. Three’s heart pounded with icy fire at the thought of Mol confronted by Bonefolder’s thugs. She would never back down to them. She would do anything to stop them from taking Wren, and that thought, that knowledge, terrified Three.
They’d get to Mol first, find Wren. They were priority. After that, they’d find Cass. If she was alive.
She waited in stillness, as his hand approached. Fingers flexed, shaking in anticipation. The final half-inch. So close she could feel the heat off his palm.
He never touched her.
Cass flashed with her palm, drove it upwards into the Limper’s nose, felt the bone shatter and the cartilage slide back and in. The Limper choked and burbled a blood-filled cry as he stumbled back, lost his footing, and went crashing into the table. She covered herself, and surveyed the scene. With the quint racing in her bloodstream, everything seemed to be taking twice as long to fall. Cass felt faster than ever. The Limper’s head was just above the table, his neck hard against its edge. Cass stomped forward, snapping his neck in an instant, and then reversed the kick and
folded the knee of the fake greenman behind her. She spun as he fell, saw his head at her waist level, and struck down on the side of his face with her open palm, ensuring his impact with the planet would finish the job.
As she pulled the jittergun from her coat, she saw with crystal clarity the guard in red drawing a black device from his belt. Two gleaming points shone from the tip, and she recognized it instantly as a stunner. She brought the jittergun to bear on the security man in black across the table. Just as the red guard fired, Cass squeezed the trigger on the jitter, felt it hum in her hand, saw the guard in black’s chest explode in red puffs from the impact of dozens of micro flechettes. In the same instant, she twisted, snatched the stunner’s dart-like probes between two fingers. Whipped them back at the red guard. Tips buried in his neck, the live current of his own weapon knocked him writhing to the floor.
Cass leapt to the table, and off again, plunging from eight feet in the air down onto the last guard, who seemed frozen in fear. Her impact dropped him to the concrete, crushing the air from his lungs and knocking him out cold. Without losing momentum, she rolled to her back and let loose with the jitter, shredding Jantz’s left calf. Before he’d finished collapsing, Cass was up and had Tyke’s head on the table, with the jittergun tight against his temple.
He was crying.
“Bonefolder! The Bonefolder, we didn’t want none of this, you take it you take it I’m sorry, we love your brother, man we love him!”
Jantz was screaming on the floor like a hysterical woman. Cass had to take a second, let the bloodlust lose its edge. She shouldn’t have done that to Jantz. It was payback for staring at her, she knew, and she knew it was wrong. Tyke was quivering under her grasp.
