by J. N. Chaney
I walked with the tailor to the counter. He accessed his pad and I gave him the name of my student account. He opened it and nodded with approval. “Very good, sir. I’m afraid it is best if the lady stays in the front area while we get your measurements.”
I looked at Maevik and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll be enjoying the view outside.” She left the shop and stood outside to the left of the door.
The tailor led me through the displays and into a backroom, which featured a raised platform surrounded by mirrors. “Please, sir, remove your shoes and stand comfortably with your arms out.”
I did as instructed and began listing my requests as he worked. “I’m looking for a classic look. Neutral to stark black, depending on your swatches. I want it to be to my ankle with a high collar that would go above my ear when raised. It needs to have four internal pockets, two at chest level and two below the hip.”
The tailor recorded his measurements. “That sounds . . . ill-fitting, sir.”
I had calculated the dimensions of the coat from observations of the man and applied them to how it would hang on me. “I am buying this coat for after graduation. Your materials and workmanship have lifelong guarantees. I figured it was fine to look a little dwarfed for a year or two rather than waste your time building a coat I will grow out of in only a few years.”
The tailor nodded in approval. “A proper lad. Never waste money now by thinking only short term. We will be happy to craft you a coat for a lifetime. I will draw up a design at once. Take a look at the swatches we have here, and I will be right back.”
He presented me with a pad embossed with the Silverton’s Regal logo then left the small measuring room and entered what was likely a studio. I quickly flipped through the swatches and located the one I recognized from the man with the headset’s coat. I then left the swatch menu and scrolled to customer histories, checking against orders that used the same color. From there, I was presented with a list of only three names, two of which had the proper dimensions of the length and collar. Neither had the pockets.
I scrolled back to the swatch screen as the tailor reentered. He took the pad from me and confirmed my choice. Then he hit a few more buttons and presented me with the finalized image. “Is this to your liking, sir?”
I considered the picture for a moment. It was nearly identical to the coat worn by the man. “I think no on the collar. Half that and make it double-breasted. You never know when you might want to dress to the other side.”
The tailor smiled this time. “Taste and a touch of wit. I do hope I will see you again, sir. I will have this ready in ten days. Would you prefer delivery, or will you pick it up?”
I spotted the test and waved away the offer. “I will come in again for last-minute alterations. Nobody should buy a custom garment and not have it adjusted at final purchase.”
I left the Silverton’s Regal shop and Maevik was already ahead of me by the second step.
She turned and walked backward, still expertly dodging through the crowd while questioning me. “Care to explain that decision?”
“Graduation present,” I told her. “Need something to look good for post-secondary admissions interviews.” It was a good reason and plausible. I didn’t feel like it was a lie, just maybe missing some more immediate pieces of relevant information. “Two more stores and then we can visit Klemtite Essentials.”
Maevik spun on one foot until she was facing forward. Even so, I noticed a bit of apprehension. She clearly had a connection to Klemtite somewhere in her past.
The next store was close by. Upscale shops tended to be near each other to share the overlap of rich impulse shoppers. We entered the Daft Haberdasher and I cringed at the reference. Refined taste didn’t necessarily mean good taste.
We were greeted on entry by a pair of women. One was older, with gray hair and that puffy and loose skin of the oldest workers. The other was about Maevik’s age and sporting brightly dyed, close-cropped hair.
“Welcome, seekers,” said the older one.
“What can we wrap around your head?” said the younger.
“I’m looking for a hat. Black in a bowler style but with a brim that turns down at the ears. Only a little. I want it to look almost flat but provide a bit of wind shielding.”
The two women looked at each other. “Rather specific, young man,” said the younger one.
“Seems like something you’ve seen before,” said the older.
“Yes. It was something I saw in the past. It was worn by a man of means and distinction. I thought it might be fitting.” Again, not technically a lie, just some careful wording that allowed wrong interpretations. Even so, I blushed a little as I said it.
Again, the women glanced at each other. “We do custom work here,” said the older one.
“But we do have images of things we’ve produced before,” said the younger.
They showed me a pad with a list of images, and I scrolled through until I spotted the hat the man was wearing. I needed more information than one image. “Cams, do you want a hat? On me.”
The two women looked to Maevik, who swatted them back abruptly. “No. It is inappropriate for me to take gifts and I’m not into . . . this.”
“Oh, c’mon. Let them get a measurement of your head, for future reference.” While she overreacted and drew attention, I accessed the purchasing files from the shop’s pad and found a list of names. Only one was familiar: Remington Kupfer.
I closed out the pad. “I’m sorry, ladies. I’ve thought about it and I’m not sure I want a hat at this time. I’m picking up a coat in a week. I’ll consider and stop back then.”
Maevik hastily retreated from the shop and I followed her out.
“That was too much, Alphonse. I’m not here to be bribed and used as a shield. I don’t know what you were doing in there, but I’m calling your day out over. Now let’s get back to the transport.”
I watched her sink into herself as we walked back. Several times, she made her nervous twitches with her shoes, and she also rubbed her arm a few times, the one she used to give her awkward wave/salute.
I didn’t know what had happened to her, but it clearly involved Klemtite Essentials and the imperfect replacement of several of her extremities.
10
I waited until the next rest day to pursue the next part of my plan. After Maevik’s retreat, I was unable to study the logistics at Klemtite Essentials and how their security windows could be subverted. Searching through the network only produced their boilerplate on how the windows worked. I could make some guesses as to how they could be defeated, but they would be poor at best. Their policy for repairs and replacement listed “prompt,” which again gave no specific timeframe.
I did have a name and a location, so I got up early and left campus through the hole Vance had shown me before.
Invisible bows proved an upsetting challenge to untie and tie again.
It was a quiet morning. I saw only a few service people and exercisers out on my walk back to the building I had seen the man enter in Cascade Gardens. Cascade Gardens was a middle-class residential park. It was meant to house graduates and young couples starting out in life and working toward moving into larger homes or off-world careers.
Such a place would have frequent moves in and out and make a good place for shady people to operate. Their comings and goings would not be watched like a tight-knit community or overbearing monitored neighborhood. It also offered a host of amenities meant to socialize the residents and make up for the lack of privacy and overpriced rent.
I took a seat at a table in the common area. There were a few trees, and the grass was in good enough condition. I laid out a drink and a small breakfast I’d picked up on the way, then I pulled out my pad and proceeded to feign working on a paper while I waited. The long dawn had some advantages for a person like me. I was more easily tired and confused from the shift, but I could rise quickly in a world where people were used to a slower and more thorough pace.
At times I was tempted to pay attention to the pad, to ease the tedium of waiting by doing something to pass the time. This risked missing crucial information, so I took to creating a pattern of gestures that could be seen from the outside as natural. I feigned typing for a minute, moving each finger in rhythm to beat out an incomplete sentence. Then I scrolled up and down a non-existent page. Finally, I put the pad down and took a sip or a bite of food.
Each pass through the pattern, I changed the order and doubled up on some. Once the food and drink were exhausted, I took to acting like I was playing a game for a few minutes between other steps. Acting like I was playing started to take more concentration than it was worth, so I pulled up a spatial puzzle and idly solved sections between.
Distracted was distracted, but bored was bored. Mental stimulation when watching carefully was important. If I found myself doing more of this in the future, I would load up music on my pad ahead of time. Something that could be engrossing or ignored at will without moving or adjusting.
Four hours passed with nobody leaving the building the man had entered. Some entrances and exits occurred in the three other buildings that lined the courtyard. There were no above-ground connections between the buildings, so I assumed these were not important.
The door to the building opened at four hours and twelve minutes. A little girl in a blue coat and black leggings came out. Her hair was a mousy brown and she wore a headband that matched her coat. Her parents came out close behind her. Father was a blonde man near thirty. He also wore a blue coat and casual clothing. Mother emerged with him in active wear and holding a bag. She was younger and had darker hair.
The little girl pointed toward me, and the mother waved in my direction. The man grabbed the girl’s hand and ferried her to the entrance of the parking garage. A minute passed and the door opened again. It was Remington Kupfer. He wore the same coat and hat but no headset. He stood at the edge of the stoop and looked out in my direction. I poked at my pad as if playing a game.
A woman exited next. She was striking in contrast to the nondescript Remington in his coat and hat. She had bright red hair—not so bright to be obviously unnatural but not so light as to be obviously natural either. She had on a long, thin white coat with thick black boots. Her eyes were a faint crystal blue, which merged with her sclera in such a way that it made her eyes appear huge at this distance. She appeared neat and refined, nothing out of place. Her nose was particularly small but strong. She wore a silver necklace with a small but noticeable diamond.
She walked to the bottom of the stoop and the man followed behind her. They headed across the courtyard and stopped behind me, then I heard a door open.
I gathered my now empty food and drink containers and tossed them in the trash, then sat at the table in the opposite direction. Moving my vantage point was risky but listening alone would limit my information gathering.
A second man had joined the pair. He was decidedly more heavy-set than Remington—both taller and more muscular. Despite his imposing physique, he had kind, almost sad eyes and was smiling broadly and easily. He gave no sense of awareness to his presence, broadly gesturing and standing at a slight tilt. He reminded me a bit of Vance in his command of lazy posture.
The three were conversing in low tones. I could make out just enough words to know what they were doing. The large man’s gestures were emphatic but non-specific. The woman was close and sparing with her gestures while standing with her back to me. Remington was the most alert to outside presences and made no gestures, his arms at his side. He followed the conversation with his eyes only, glancing slightly from one speaker to the next and only offering a few words in between.
“What am I doing next?” asked the large man.
“Remi has the package,” the woman replied. “So it is up to you to get it to the storage unit. The delays have been resolved. Everything from here on works like we planned.”
“I don’t like changes,” said the heavier man.
“It’s not a problem, Winston. Better to move things in stages. More time for other trails to cool.” She gestured to Remi. “Let’s get it done.”
“Here?” Remi asked. “Shouldn’t we—”
She cut him off. “We’re three neighbors chatting. Just hand him the box and stop making it awkward.”
Remi slid a hand into his coat and produced a box. It was easier to make out in the light of day but still impossible to determine what it was and its importance. I was sure it was the same object he had taken from the house behind the theater.
I stood up and walked toward them.
Winston took the box and slid it into his left pocket. “No more delays, then?”
The woman spread her hands wide. “No more problems. Everything works as before.”
Remi saw me approaching and turned slightly, his right hand sliding into an outside pocket. “E, there’s a kid needs to get by.”
The woman turned to spot me and took a step to clear a path. Winston also adjusted his position to give me passage into the building.
I stopped at the periphery. “Hello. I’ve been waiting for you. My name is Alphonse Malloy. I’m a student and I’m interested in what you’re doing.”
The woman raised a hand in warning at Remi. Winston stayed relaxed against the side of the door up on the stoop. “We’re having a conversation, Alphonse.”
I pointed at Remi. “That man, Remington Kupfer, took that box out of a residence behind the holo theater two days ago. He used some sophisticated tech and a prearranged gap in the security to do it. I followed him to this location. It took me a while to figure out his name and to confirm he rented here. I had to be sure this wasn’t the drop-off point.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, Remi, all that time and preparation, all the money sunk into accessing the house and leaving no trace and you let a child see you lift it? It would be funny if it happened to anyone, but knowing it happened to you is even better.”
Remi remained expressionless but adjusted his stance to more fully face me.
The woman focused her full attention on me as well. “What else did you find out about us, sweetie?”
I smiled. “Your operation isn’t about money. Or not just about money. There is a power leverage element. You also needed to arrange the repair of the Klemtite Essentials security system. I see that Winston has a jumpsuit on under his coat. He works for Klemtite, at least part time. You couldn’t have stolen the uniform. It fits him too well and is too faded. A new uniform would be crisp and a stolen one wouldn’t fit his large frame.”
The woman’s mouth slowly curved into a smile. “And Remi?”
“I noticed that his coat was well made and fit too well to be off-the-rack. I made some guesses based on the proximity of this building to the shopping center in downtown. I then tracked down people who purchased coats like his and cross-referenced it with people shopping at the nearby haberdasher.”
She put her hand to her mouth to contain her laughter. “So, what do you want, then?”
It came down to that question. Since I had started on this investigation, the excitement I had felt had been building, but I didn’t know why I was pursuing it, other than that it was fun. Was that all it was? Fun? No, there had to be more of a reason to it. I wasn’t so childish as to pursue such a dangerous course simply for the joy of it. “I want to do a job. I want to face challenges and overcome obstacles to complete a task,” I finally told her, and it was true, as much as any answer.
She could no longer contain her laughter and gave herself the satisfaction of a trill. “Why would I hire a school boy to do the work of a trained professional? Especially a child from a boarding school for feckless elites and upstart money hoarders?”
I felt my arm tense. How did she know what school I came from? I wore nothing of my uniform and had chosen my outfit to be one that would blend to this apartment’s residents. I needed to direct the conversation.
I spoke quickly, establishing everything I could as fast as possi
ble. “I’ve already found Remi’s full name. I also know for whom he works. You trust him, but he is only an employee. He’s holding a gun in his pocket. Small caliber with high-impact rounds. Polyfiber grip. It holds eight in the magazine and he has one chambered, because that’s the better option. Default safety removed, but he has trigger discipline. He’s ready to fire but knows it will draw attention, so it is a last resort.” I took a single breath. “Winston is your brother. You have a similarity in your eye and nose structures. There’s also something to the way he defers to you. You are the younger sister by at least two years. The hair color is natural but accented. The touch of rose in his eyebrows reveals the shared gene that overtook your hair.”
The woman stared at me for a moment. Winston laughed, but it was obvious he didn’t understand half of what I’d told them. For a moment, Remi cracked a brief smile but quickly regained his composure. I had impressed him, I knew, though it was clear to me now that I’d missed at least one detail on the gun.
“The delays in the process explain themselves,” I continued. “The delay to set up the untraceable theft caused a timeline shift. This would have spooked your buyer, who you are now in a rush to impress and get back to proper standing with. This job was important, I think, and so you’ve agreed to do another to make up for the delay. It’s small, but you need it done immediately to restore credibility. You feel short-handed to do it without undue risk.”
The woman dropped her hands and Remi pulled his back out of his pocket. She reached into her own pocket and produced a cigarette, holding it while she stared at me for a long moment. Finally, she lit it and took a long drag, then exhaled.
She repeated this two more times. The smoke was stale, as if she had not exhausted her supply in some time.
She stubbed out the butt and tossed it to Winston. The large man caught it and put it in a can next to the door. “Alright, Alphonse. I’ll take you up on the offer. One job. You work out and we’ll see. You betray us and . . .” She gestured to Winston.
