With one hand on the wheel, he undid a latch on his driver-side door and opened a small embrasure through which he aimed the double-barreled weapon.
Jayne wasn’t scared, but she was confused. She turned to the man next to her, who casually reached into his pack and pulled out a club. She tapped him on the shoulder. “What is going on?”
He said one word. “Bandits.”
Jayne nodded. “Yeah, but why?”
The man pointed disdainfully toward a cluster of middle-aged gamblers in the back. “Gamblers. Lots of cash.” He glanced out the window and saw how close the bikers had gotten. “Here.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a knife. He handed it to Jayne.
“How’d you get this through security?”
The man grinned, which accentuated a face full of scars. He was missing his two front teeth. “This is my job.”
The sand-track lurched violently and spun left, then right, as two grappling hooks locked around the luggage rack on the roof. Jayne could see the two grappling-hook-equipped bikers position themselves behind the sand-track. They pulled on their brakes, doing their best to slow them down.
The grizzled man by Jayne climbed on top of his seat and opened a latch in the ceiling.
No one else in the sand-track’s hold seemed to be doing anything. The gaggle of gamblers were not only calm, but one of them was napping. Jayne shouted at them. “What is your problem? Why don’t you do something?”
The oldest of the group, a shriveled man in a linen shirt and a straw hat took his cigar out of his mouth to answer her. “Don’t worry! We have travelers insurance!” His friends chuckled.
Another biker pulled up alongside the sand-track, a thermal-detonator in their hand. The driver angled his pulse-gun out the door and fired. A sickening, radiating blast knocked the biker off the magne-cycle, which toppled forward. The treads of the sand-track ground it into scrap metal.
So much for a vacation. Jayne held the knife in her mouth. She stood up on her seat and climbed out of the porthole onto the roof of the sand-track.
Her grizzled friend shook his head at her. “Get back in there!”
Jayne took the knife out of her mouth, spun it around between her fingers. “Don’t worry, I got this.”
Mr. Grizzled roared with laughter. “The more the merrier!”
He crawled to the back of the sand-track. He wedged his club beneath one of the grappling hooks and pried it loose. The attached biker shot backward off the bike and crashed, rolling into a ditch.
Jayne turned to the passenger side of the sand-track. She determined it had the least defense, and she was right. A magne-cycle with a side-car caught up to them. The bandit in the sidecar stood up. The driver rammed the sidecar against the side of the sand-track. The second bandit leapt upward and grabbed hold of the luggage rack.
The luggage, Jayne realized, was getting in the way. She reached down with her knife and cut the straps free. A leather suitcase toppled off the side, knocking the bandit off, crashing into the ground.
Three down. Three to go.
Jayne felt each individual eyelet of a boot fly against her neck. She crashed down on her side but was careful to hold firmly onto the knife. She swung outward, but the bandit lurched back, barely dodging the blade.
The grizzled man, Jayne’s only ally, apparently, came rushing to Jayne’s rescue, trying to stay upright on the roof of the speeding sand-track. He held his club up high, but before he could bring it down the bandit caught sight of a shadow. A kick right into the stomach knocked the grizzled man off the roof.
Jayne took advantage of the moment. She rolled over, grabbed the bandit by both ankles and yanked them down.
But it was too late.
The fifth bandit caught up to the passenger side of the sand-track. They armed a thermal-detonator and stuck it on the vehicle’s hull, just above the treads.
The explosion rocked the sand-track upward, nearly knocking it on its side. Instead, it crashed back down onto treadless gears. The sand-track spun in circles. Jayne and the bandit she had intertwined herself with rolled off the roof of the sand-track, along with the remaining luggage.
Jayne hit the dirt, and everything went black.
+++
Jayne woke up with her back resting against the out-of-commission vehicle. A rag had been stuffed into her mouth.
She was in a group with the gamblers, who, despite being bound and gagged as well, looked as if they merely felt inconvenienced.
The laborers were rounded together in their own separate group, along with the driver.
Jayne didn’t see her scarred, toothless friend.
While one bandit stood watch over their prisoners, the other two rifled through the luggage, tossing all valuables and cash into leather satchels.
Jayne relaxed her hands and started twisting her wrists. She incrementally loosened the cord binding her arms behind her back.
The sunset looked like dying fire, embers buried in ash.
One of the bandits stuffed their last satchel. “That’s everything!” They tossed it over the back of the magne-cycle, hovering a foot off the ground.
The leader, who had said the least and stayed the most distant by leaning against their cycle and watching from afar whistled for everyone’s attention. She pointed to the third bandit. “You stay here. Make sure the next lot picks ‘em up. Shoot a flare off as one approaches, then get the hell out. No deviating from the procedure this time.”
A woman’s voice. Their loose clothing, dirty and formless thanks to the camouflaging tears of cloth hanging free from them, hid their bodies.
Ok, Jayne reasoned, we just confirmed these are members of The Bitch. Jayne considered she could call them bitches. Maybe that’s what they liked. And all this meant the man in black had been a woman in black. And a detail Jayne had been reticent to admit – the outfit had been more of a very dark blue.
Jayne rested her head against the sand-track. She kept every muscle in her back, in her body, as loose and relaxed as possible. She slowly twisted her wrists. She could feel the cord binding her hands together give. Even if they were sparing them – and why? – she couldn’t afford waiting around.
The leader and her second hopped on their magne-cycles and hummed off, blowing the tall grass out in waves as the magnetic pulses pushed outward.
The final Bitch looked over her captives from the safe distance of four or five meters. She pulled out her comm. “Looks like a new trip’ll be here at sunrise, gentlemen. Anyone need to pee?”
One of the gamblers mumbled through their gag.
The Bitch gave a mocking thumbs up. “Cool, sounds like everyone’s good.” She crouched down, put on 3D glasses over the eyeholes of her mask, and started playing games on her comm.
Jayne recollected the entire experience, her mind slowly relearning what it was like to be conscious. Okay, wheels turning in her mind. “They don’t want us dead – or at least as few of us as possible – because that will discourage travelers. And that’s where they get the money. And that’s why they’ll let the next one through. Leave their chances just good enough to keep the risk worth it.
If this is their game, why would someone, maybe Burrett, hire mere road bandits to instigate themselves in a major set-up?
And why would they agree to it?
Jayne’s determination to solve the entire perplexing situation drifted her thoughts so far away she didn’t notice her hands had freed themselves from the binding cord.
When that finally happened, nearly an hour had passed. It was deep night now. She could hear the howl of subterranean dirt wolves as they emerged from their labyrinthine dens in the distant hills.
Jayne glanced to the gamblers and the laborers. She could only assume this was a routine occurrence based on their reaction to everything, which was simply taking a nap.
The Bitch’s masked face glowed in the light of her comm device. With a light like that, Jayne knew, the darkness around her would be hard to see through.
/> And with that small detail on her side, Jayne stood up and noiselessly ran toward the Bitch bandit.
Jayne leapt, twisting to fly legs first and lock the bandit’s neck between her thighs. But the bandit was fast. She rolled onto her back and stuck her legs in the air, blocking Jayne’s attack.
The bandit brought Jayne down and used her as leverage to get the upper hand. With one knee and one hand holding Jayne down, the bandit drew a thermo-blade from her pocket and jabbed it toward Jayne’s neck. Jayne twisted her head left, then right, then left, deftly avoiding every stab.
Jayne could see frustration growing behind the bandit’s eyes peeking from behind her mask. It was the perfect time to strike with a good old fashioned headbutt. Jayne grabbed the bandit’s wrist and twisted until she dropped the thermo-blade. Jayne caught the blade by its handle.
Jayne popped up onto her feet and used her free hand to drag the bandit through the dirt, tossing her against her magne-cycle, causing the machine to bob up and down in the air.
Jayne knelt down and held the thermo-blade at the bandit’s throat.
She used her free hand to rip the mask off of her former captor, and realized she was holding down a fourteen-year old kid. She was tall for her age, and the premature aging of a rough life might have misled anyone else. But this close, Jayne could see a little innocence left in the glimmer of her eyes. It was just enough of a shock and upsetting truth to make Jayne take a little pressure off the young girl’s stomach.
Nonetheless, Jayne had a job to do. “You’re in The Bitch, right? The Bitch Gang?”
The girl laughed. “Ha! No.”
Jayne twisted her arm, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo. “I know the tattoo. I know you’re in The Bitch Gang. Now I know you’re a liar. Are you going to lie to me again?”
Jayne twisted the girl’s wrist further until she grimaced. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! No, no, I won’t lie. Please stop.”
Jayne held the wrist in place. “Then tell me a truth. What’s your name?”
“Brielle! My name is Brielle!”
Jayne released Brielle’s wrist. She pulled the particle pistol out of Brielle’s hip holster and tucked it into the waist band of her touristy cargo shorts. “Okay. Brielle, you have a beautiful name.”
Brielle quizzically turned her head. “Thank… you?”
Jayne nodded. “That’s me telling you a truth. You have a beautiful name. Do you trust me now?”
Brielle nodded. “No?”
Jayne moved the thermo-blade right up to the edge of Brielle’s throat. The heat was almost unbearable. “What if I hold this blade here all night without killing you? Would you trust me then?
Brielle instantly broke out into a sweat from the pulsating blade. “Yes! Yes, I trust you!”
Jayne released Brielle from her hold and shut off the thermo-blade. She sat down across from her. “Good. Now that we trust each other, I’m going to ask you some questions.”
Brielle tugged at her collar, trying to cool down her sweltering neck. “Yeah… Sure.”
Jayne sincerely felt bad about what she just put Brielle through. She was just a kid, but Jayne reminded herself that she was a kid who tried to kill her. “Do you know anything about anyone named, or goes by the name, Yorgos Costas?”
Brielle shook her head, no.
Jayne frowned. “Okay. I’m choosing to trust you on that. Next question: does your gang operate in Theron?”
Brielle emphatically shook her head once more. “No. We’ve sworn an oath not to return to a society that abandoned us.”
Jayne started to feel that feeling. The reminder that everyone is more similar than different. “Does your gang do… contract work?”
Brielle had relaxed now. She was starting to receive Jayne’s questions with less concern. “I’m sorry, I feel like we’re in a job interview.”
Jayne laughed. She had to admit that was funny. “I was framed by a member of your gang. I was hired to tail a man in black. I now realize it was actually a woman in black. Or actually a very, very dark blue, but that’s not important.”
Brielle shrugged. “Eh. Depends how formal the occasion is.”
Damn, Jayne thought. Brielle made her laugh again. “Ok, you’re funny. I’ll give you that. But let me finish. This woman in black had a lightning tattoo, just like yours, just like every member in your gang—”
Brielle interrupted. “We’re a sisterhood.”
Jayne lowered her gaze. “Sisterhood?”
“We’re not a gang. We’re a sisterhood.”
Jayne held her hands out in acceptance. “That’s dope. But the point is, a member of your sisterhood framed me for a very serious crime, while exposing some… decisions I made that fall into a more grey legal area. And, they murdered someone. In addition, they framed me for the murder of an innocent person.”
Brielle’s eyes lit up like a nuclear reactor in the middle of a meltdown. “Nova.”
Now it was Jayne’s turn to light up. “Holy shit, you know who I’m talking about?”
Brielle looked away. The sun was starting to come up. “The next sand-track will be here soon.”
Jayne didn’t want to lose this thread now. “Brielle, please.” She waited until Brielle turned back to her. “Who is Nova?”
Brielle turned gravely serious. “She’s not part of our sisterhood anymore.”
“You know what, that makes me respect The Bitch Sisterhood even more. Tell me, how can I find Nova?”
Brielle didn’t hesitate to answer. Jayne didn’t know if she had officially won over her trust, or if Brielle was leaping at an opportunity to get revenge on a traitor. “I don’t know. Only Zelda knows.”
Everything was lining up for Jayne. “Zelda? Zodiac Zelda? How do I find her?”
“Headless Hope. Deep Wen. The Turin Sector, Ozym Alley.”
Jayne locked the location in her mind. “Okay, Brielle, now I have to ask you a huge favor.”
+++
Jayne felt so much better now that she was out of those tourist clothes. Brielle’s camouflaged jumpsuit was much more her style, and the particle pistol was a nice accessory. The magne-cycle wasn’t bad either.
As she zoomed toward Headless Hope, parting the waist-high grass covering the rolling hills, she thought back on what she had done.
She felt bad for tying up Brielle, but at least in tourist clothes she won’t get pegged for a gang member. Or, rather, the member of an outlaw sisterhood. Jayne had made it clear to the gamblers and the laborers not to rat out Brielle. That way, Brielle would avoid the juvenile prison complex of Theron Techcropolis and return to her sisterhood.
Jayne made sure to stay on watch until she saw the next sand-track on its way to Headless Hope. She fired off the flare, thanked and apologized to Brielle, and made her getaway on the magne-cycle.
Jayne reassured herself that she had made the best possible decisions considering the moment.
And Jayne made a promise to herself not to ever forget the scarred and toothless man who saved her ass.
Onward to Gilded Gardens Casino.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dean Geiger’s Office, Espionage Academy, Avalon Space Station
Dean Geiger’s Takora-3 vacation had been heavenly. He had gained a nice two-sun tan for the cameras he was about to be in front of. The excessive fine dining, however, didn’t do much for his physique. He checked the scale that morning after his morning shower to discover he gained 17 pounds in less than two weeks.
He demanded that Noora track down a wider podium for his speech that day. “But also,” he added before she could make it to the door, “make it a little shorter, too. Like this big.” He used his hands to depict rough dimensions. He made it explicitly clear that the podium should rise just above his ever-bulging gut, but no higher.
With the knowledge that he would have the perfect podium, Dean Geiger officially felt total confidence in his speech later that day.
Since returning from Takora-3 two days earlier, Dean
Geiger had been basking in the media’s overwhelming approval of his new security initiatives.
The Federation, the municipal government, and the public overwhelmingly felt safer thanks to the security measures.
Sure, pockets of protest and resistance were boiling up. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some careful leaking of certain information. If someone needed to be arrested, Dean Geiger could easily arrange that.
The positive response and overwhelming support for Geiger’s new initiatives had him walking on air, but the public’s new-found hatred for Jayne Austin had him over the moon – any of the nearby moons, take your pick.
There had been a few hiccups with the security measures. A couple data breaches, a hack here and there, some personal information got sold to some nefarious organizations, some weirdo hacked a travel kiosk at Whip End Shuttle Port. Dean Geiger simply had the record of these hiccups removed. They’d get around to fixing them, eventually.
But right now, he had more important things to do.
Now that Noora was gone, Dean Geiger swiped the panel in his desk to lock the door. He switched over to another application that turned on the exterior reflective coating on his windows.
No one could possibly walk in or accidentally look into Geiger’s office. He was alone and free of judgment.
He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the girdle.
Geiger ordered it under the name of the housekeeper at his Takora-3 beach house. He found her bank information through Rex. He realized he didn’t even pay her enough to order a girdle, so he adjusted the amount of credit in her account and placed the order.
Dean Geiger undid his pants and untucked his shirt, which he unbuttoned with ceremonial seriousness. With his open belly exposed, he wrapped the girdle around himself and tightened it at his back with the finely curled micro-fiber hooks.
If Noora couldn’t find a wider podium, at least he had this back up. He pulled the string running up the sides, tightening the girdle further and further. He refused to stop until it was as tight as he could bear.
Exposed (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 2) Page 12
