by Declan Finn
“Does anyone here speak English?” Mandy called out. “I’d really rather not mangle my French any more than I have to.”
Mandy heard a noise to her left. She swung her gun arm up at a door. It creaked open, and a bald man wandered out, looking down at his fly. The ear buds he wore blared so loud, Mandy could hear it from where she stood, twenty feet away from him. When he finally got it zipped, he looked up, and down the barrel of her gun.
Mandy smiled, and tapped her ear. He got the hint, and slowly took out his ear buds.
“Parlez vous forty-five caliber?” she asked.
***
Back in San Francisco, Kevin Anderson hung up Major Rohaz’s phone. “She sounds okay.”
“Of course she does,” Rohaz told him. “She’s my daughter. When she was younger, she told me on the phone that she was perfectly fine after a little scuffle on the schoolyard. She had lost two teeth and her arm had a compound fracture.” He grinned like a proud papa. “She took out three college rugby players that day.”
Kevin winced. “Ouch. And she was a teenager?”
Rohaz shook his head. “Junior High.”
Kevin blinked. “Cute trick. She’s not exactly tall now, I can’t imagine how big she was then.”
Rohaz shrugged. “It’s not that interesting a trick, Lieutenant, when you consider that she lost two of those teeth in her attackers.” He took a drag on the cigar, and added, “You don’t want to know where the teeth were recovered from.”
“I think I can guess.”
The Major grinned. “I’m sure you can.” He clamped his cigar between his teeth and said, “She’s been keeping herself as busy as she could, you know. She knows where you are, and she knows how to find you, but she also doesn’t want to get in your way.”
“I thought I had conveyed that I would be perfectly fine,” Kevin said. “But I’m not sure what else I can do. Especially from here.”
“You already did quite enough. You left your mark on her. She’s now breaking up an entire white slavery ring in Paris. I hear that it’s of great value to one of the IRF ruling council. She actually took the case pro bono. Trust me, she’s never done pro bono work before.”
Kevin smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be able to make something on the transaction. Those markets tend to be heavy in cash businesses.”
Rohaz nodded. “True.” His eyes narrowed at Kevin. “Should I be asking your intentions towards my daughter, Lieutenant?”
Kevin stared at him for a long moment. Try not to laugh, try not to laugh. “Maybe you should ask her what her intentions are towards me.”
The Major’s face didn’t change. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Are you married, Major?”
Rohaz nodded. “Why?”
“If she died, would you get over it in just a year?”
Rohaz blinked, nodded, and leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag on his cigar, thinking of a good reply. “Probably not. But, not to belittle your tragedy, I’ve been married to Mrs. Rohaz for longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve had stretches of time where I never had to draw my gun that lasted longer than your entire relationship with your late wife. And better men than you would have little compunction about using that loss to justify a quick fling with a woman who is obviously attracted to him.”
Kevin blinked. Oh. You don’t know what we have or haven’t done already. That explains it. I’m not sure if I should be insulted, or Mandy should. “Mandy is my friend, and my partner in the battlefield. Nothing more, as far as I know, unless something very interesting happened in my sleep.” Well, something did, but I’m not going to tell you that. “I know she wants something more, but I’m not going to be giving it to her anytime soon. For the simple reason that I can’t … and not just because I’ve been sent to Siberia, though that’s a factor.”
“Indeed.” Rohaz dragged on the cigar a little more. “You do realize that I had advised her to stay away from you during your settling-in period.”
Kevin shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter who made the call, it was still a good call. The last thing she needed was to upset her life for me, and the last thing I needed was a complication. No offense to Mandy, but I was screwed up in the head, and I’m not sure if she wanted to see me like that, or if her presence would have helped or hindered.”
“Understood.” The Major stood. “Now, if there’s anything else, lieutenant, I’m sure we both have busy days. Say hello to Nevaeh for me, and give her my regards.”
Kevin nodded. “I shall, Major. Make sure Mandy doesn’t work herself too hard.”
“If I could do that, I wouldn’t have even let you talk to her.”
Chapter 4: Reflections of the Way life Used to Be
The San Francisco of the 2090s was not a place to know weakness, or fear, or even emotion. Any of them could be turned into a way to kill you… Everyone needed a shell for protection, armor to keep out the world. Those people without a shell were like bugs without an exoskeleton—mush that would dissolve in the rain. If you showed your real face, it could be beaten in. If you hid it behind a firm mask, those trying to pound your face would only break their hand on it.
~Kyle Elsen, date unknkown
Kevin looked at the store called The Art of Kraft, apparently a magic store, just off the Embarcadero. It had a plain white storefront with a pane of glass for the front window, and the sign was written in what he could only guess was Tolkien font.
The inside of the store was quite nice. It had an oak wood finish, with a counter in the back of the store, but with a clear path between it and the door. To the left of the counter was the rest of the store, filled with several aisles of material, from books to chemicals and props.
There was a woman sitting on the desk counter in the back of the store, and he could only assume that it was the proprietress of the establishment—Nevaeh Kraft. It helped that she wore a name tag that read simply: “Kraft.” She was speaking to another customer, a grandfather type who seemed a little at a loss for exactly what he wanted. ‘Magic’ items were a luxury in San Francisco, for only the exceptionally wealthy to spend money on entertainment for their kids. This of course assumed that they had any—most people in the upper echelons of San Francisco who were single before the Last Day tended to indulge their baser appetites either in their business life, or in their ability to pay for pleasurable, professional, companionship.
Then again, Kevin considered, those are the same yahoos who think that the only way to refer to a bioweap is to call it a “biological agent.” For God’s sake, people, grow up…wow, I have to get out more… my running commentary is starting to even annoy me. Back to Nevaeh…
The woman was 5’8” tall, and well put together. Despite the Germanic last name, her features were Eurasian, and she had flawless porcelain skin. Her eyes were midnight blue, and shaped like sideways teardrops. Her cheekbones gently sloped down like a dove’s wing, and her raven black hair fell past her shoulders.
She was dressed conservatively, and the business pantsuit she wore fit perfectly, just barely hinting there was something intriguing underneath. She rang up the important-looking customer. Her eyes followed his path out the door, and then landed on Kevin.
Her midnight blue eyes studied him a moment before she broke into a smile. “Can I help you, Mr. Anderson?”
Kevin shrugged as he continued towards the back. He found that the closer he got to her, the better she looked, which was the opposite of what usually happened in this town. But then again, this was the “safe” part of San Francisco, so the needle marks weren’t as prevalent…or at least better concealed. However, her eyes held no tint of WKD-60, and her eyes weren’t dilated from the effect of any older recreational drugs, so she was doing well thus far. “That depends… I hear some good things about you from Major Rohaz.”
She smiled slightly. “He’s a nice guy, but he has a tendency to exaggerate. There are some days that I think he sees me as one of his grandchildren.”
Kevin raised a brow, but didn’t comment on the fact that a man like Rohaz having children was like allowing Kyle to spawn—he liked Kyle, but the idea of more than one Elsen walking around San Francisco... gah…
“Well, if he has grandchildren, what is he still doing in San Francisco? He’s a CEO, so he should have enough cash to get out any time he wants.”
Nevaeh gave a light, enigmatic little laugh. “First of all, Mr. Anderson, he leaves every Friday to spend the weekend with his family, and back every Monday. He can easily spend time with a family he got out of town five years ago. Second, not only is he stationed here, he’s too afraid to leave the company behind—he doesn’t want to think about what some of his lesser colleagues would do if he disappeared from the equation.”
Kevin sighed. “This sounds so much like a hierarchy of the damned…but why am I surprised? This is San Francisco, we’re almost all damned.”
The woman pondered him a moment. “Normally, I’d take offense at that; I grew up here. But you’re from out of town, so I’ll ignore it.” She leaned back on the desk, her hands propping her up. She swung her legs like a child on a playground swing. “So why did the Major send you to me? In fact, a better question could be why did you go to see him?”
“Well, you see, I have this problem and it has something to do with one of—”
The front door slammed in. Nevaeh was on her feet within the blink of an eye, and Kevin pivoted around just as quickly. He saw three of them, and their scars gave them away, marking them for the pyromaniacs they were—Burners. One wore a pleather jacket, the second a sleeveless t-shirt, and the third wore no shirt at all, revealing a chest scarred horribly by fire.
“Hey, this place would look really good—set on fire!”
Kevin sighed. Not these idiots again. They sound like they’re out of a bad action movie… “Guys, it’s broad daylight,” Kevin almost groaned. “Can’t you come back later, after dark? I promise you that flames look a lot better at night.”
Pleather boy did not look impressed. “Wussy. We’ll show you—”
Somehow, Nevaeh Kraft appeared behind them. Kevin didn’t know if it was a trap door, a secret passage, or merely going out the back door while he hadn’t been looking, but she appeared nevertheless. She grabbed t-shirt boy’s head and twisted violently, breaking his neck with seemingly no effort. As she dropped him, the shirtless young man started to turn toward her, and chopped the side of her left hand to the nerve point between his neck and his shoulder. Less than a moment after that, a toe connected in the space behind Pleather’s knee, dropping him onto it.
Nevaeh grabbed his hair and pressed a sharp knife to his throat. “Do we still have a problem, young man?”
The tough façade he was trying to project evaporated rather quickly. “N-no ma’am,” he whimpered.
“Good little boy,” she purred. She whispered softly in his ear. “Now, take your friends, the both of them, living and dead, back to your pathetic little master, and explain the situation to him.” She slapped him twice, and then walked away, turning her back on him. Pleather looked up, looking at her back, and his face twisted into an aggressive snarl. He reached for the small of his back, for his gun, and stopped, suddenly noticing that his gun was gone, as were his matches and gasoline.
Kevin turned away, confident that Nevaeh had already taken the toys away from the three Burners. His reason for this was simple—the knife she held to Pleather’s throat was his, and he hadn’t even felt her lift it. The Burners departed slowly, but they finally left, dragging the body of their dead companion behind them.
Nevaeh walked around the desk and sat down, sliding his knife across the table to him. “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Anderson?”
He tucked the blade back into its sheath. “Can you teach me how to transport myself from here to there?”
She gave him a small smile. “Magicians don’t reveal their secrets. I have several uncles and a grandfather who taught me that. Let’s just say I’m magic and leave it at that, shall we?”
I knew that the moment I saw you, Miss Kraft, but a different context than this one. “Understood…so, I hear that you run, what, a kind of network for the Inconvenient among us?”
“If you mean the Exiled, then yes, I do. Do you need to find a job?”
He smiled slightly. “No, I’m just busy enough with my hobbies.”
“And avoiding being eaten by the cannibals, right?”
He sighed. “How many people like my reports that much?”
“I can’t imagine anyone other than me, the Mercs, and Kaye Wellering, and that’s assuming Kaye finds you that important. You’re not Kyle Elsen, and everyone here pretty much saves their fear for him, the Children, and now the Burners. When you become that scary, believe me, we’ll let you know.”
Kevin smiled. “Thank you, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He found a bookcase to lean against, and he folded his arms. “So, what exactly do you do, then?”
Nevaeh leaned back and interlaced her fingers, placing them in her lap. “I make contact with any Exile as soon as I can, and I put them in a position where they can stay alive. Inconvenient political dissidents I put to work as PR reps, military personnel I send to the Mercs, no matter what military experience they have. The Mercs will take anyone with some kind of experience, which is part of their problem. I hadn’t considered placing anyone as a minor deity for the Children of Thanatos.”
“Well, I’m not. That’s more like Kyle. They’ll do what I say, to an extent that I can threaten and cajole them, but that’s true of my effect on most of the city. The difference is that I have leeway to threaten them, and most other people don’t.” He paused a moment. “So, how much continued contact do you have with these Exiles after you’ve placed them?”
She gave him a small amused smile. “That depends… would you like to come to the meetings?”
Kevin blinked. “Meetings?”
Nevaeh nodded. “There are plenty of people around here who actually want to remember home. There are far too many Exiles who wind up blowing their brains out shortly after they’ve arrived, and I like to think those meetings keep everyone sane.”
Kevin arched a brow. “And you do this all for charity? For the sake of the men and women who’ve been sentenced here?” Not a chance…
She laughed lightly. “Don’t be silly. No one can afford to be a philanthropist in this town anymore. If you’re seen as anything resembling a good person, that’s seen as weakness… you should know that by now. No, I get a good commission out of it, not to mention favors from people who are handy to have in my Rolodex.”
Kevin didn’t say anything for a moment, merely studied her. There was something he found refreshing about dealing with someone this blunt. As Kyle had once observed to him, everyone in this city wore a mask. Even Kevin wore one. This woman was, well… herself. But then, if she turned out to be a serial killer in her spare time, he wouldn’t be at all surprised. San Francisco had a way of pulling such tricks on him.
“Not to mention some really cool martial arts moves,” he added.
She arched a brow. “You mean what I did to those guys? Please, that was nothing. My great-grandfather ended as a Ninth Dan black belt.”
“Aren’t those rare?”
“According to my father, not quite as rare as one might think.” She paused for a moment. “Think of it this way, above Eighth Dan, there were only a dozen or so, officially, that he knew. Unofficially, double that. It’s not much of a difference, but we find that when working in the government, that sort of thing helps.” She shifted in her chair, crossing one leg over the other in a quite attractive fashion. “It’s helped my family for generations.”
Kevin made certain to keep his face and body language perfectly neutral. If what she said was true, than she could very well be the killer he was looking for. “Really? So you’re basically as well trained as, say, an Assassins’ Guild member?”
Her face fell a little at that. “You could s
ay that. My father was a government agent. My mother was an Assassin.”
Ouch. That had to hurt. “My condolences.”
Nevaeh cocked her head, eying him like a newly-discovered life form. “You mean that, don’t you?”
He blinked repeatedly. “Of course I do, what kind of heartless son of a…” He caught himself in mid-sentence. Oops. “…Oh, right, I’m in San Francisco… sorry. There are days where I think I’m still in civilization.”
Her smile lit up again. “Yes, that’s not a mistake most people make. Then again, it’s nice to see that someone remembers life the way it used to be.”
Kevin allowed himself a faint smile. “Ma’am, you’re talking to the only person in San Francisco who thinks it’s fashionable to be a gentleman, but still spends his weekends on rooftops with a sniper rifle.”
Her midnight blue eyes glittered. “Sounds like something to do when a person is bored. And you can call me Nevaeh.”
“‘Heaven’ spelled backwards, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Very good. Most people don’t get that.”
“Of course not. No one mentions the rope in the house of the hanged, and no one mentions the name of Heaven when in the bowels of Hell.”
“Did you just quote Man of La Mancha at me?”
“I find I have much in common with Don Quixote.”
She sighed playfully, as though he was an amusing child. “So, what are you here for, Kevin? You’re not coming to me just to find people from home, are you?”
Kevin shook his head. “I’m looking for someone capable of breaking apart a fully trained black belt, piece by piece, and who wants to take their time about it.”
Nevaeh steepled her fingers in front of her and pondered it for a moment. “You’re looking for a highly trained killer, like an Assassin, or one of the better trained Exiles. Should I start by giving you my alibi?”
