Exposed (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 2)

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  The energy was high, but the room fell under the reign of an awkward pause.

  Fred stood up from the chair. “I feel like we should do a… one of those sports things…” He mimed placing his hand in, and then tossed it up in the air. “And then you say, ‘go team!’ or something.”

  Vlad cocked his head. “You mean a huddle?”

  Fred snapped his fingers again. “Yes! A huddle.”

  Merry stepped forward and put her hand out. “Sure.”

  Fred fist pumped and placed his hand on top of Merry’s. Vlad begrudgingly followed.

  For the first time since the night of the man in black, as they had begun referring to it as, Merry felt a unity with her team. “Okay. ‘Fuck Burrett’ on three?”

  Vlad and Fred laughed. They began rocking their hands up and down together. Merry lead the cheer. “One… two… three!”

  The crew threw their hands in the air with a resounding, “Fuuuuuck Burrett!”

  And in a moment they were all out of the office for good, knowing they couldn’t return until the job at hand was done.

  +++

  Merry huffed down the street, leaving her apartment behind. No office, no apartment. The streets were her home and workspace until further notice.

  Every decision would be a puzzle to solve, and every step might be her last.

  Merry’s mind wandered as she approached the public transit-well down into the lower levels. The worst part of all this, the thought flitted across her prefrontal cortex, is the uncertainty of Jayne’s role in all of this.

  The more she felt in danger, and the more she could see Fred and Vlad feel the threat of repercussions Jayne was stacking up, the harder it was to stay confident. And the harder Merry fought to defend Jayne, every time she pleaded with Vlad and Fred to continue working for Jayne, to continue sticking their necks out, the more she doubted her own commitment to Jayne.

  Merry hated nothing more than being played for a fool. And if Jayne was, in fact, making a fool out of Merry, then Jayne wouldn’t be the only one paying the consequences. The cost would no doubt hit Vlad and Fred even harder.

  Jayne was a good person, right? Merry couldn’t wash her mind clean of the doubt. After all, Jayne had made a lot of… risky decisions. As a team, Jayne had dragged them through plenty of grey areas. But always, always, for the greater good.

  Right?

  Merry yanked open the rusty door marked L40 and stepped into the ten-foot by ten-foot silo that ran through every level of Theron Techcropolis.

  The stairwell was filthy in both directions, up and down, reeking of piss and crawling with rats and roaches. Most people took the ele-grav these days, and why not? No one else was evading some vaguely despotic authority.

  The silo of the travel well was essentially a hotel for the homeless. It was a place for them to temporarily escape the fog, have sex in peace or, more often than not, lay down to die.

  Merry shut the door behind her, barely able to see down the next flight of stairs under the dim, flickering light.

  She slung the duffel from around her shoulder and unzipped it to pull out her brass knuckles. She zipped her duffel back up, slung it on her back.

  She took out a small piece of paper from her back pocket. She looked over it very carefully. It was the only secure link she had to Jayne. “On three,” she muttered to herself. “One… Two… Three… Fuck this.”

  She took her first step and descended.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Aleister Banister, Deep Wen, Headless Hope, Amaros

  Jayne dove to the side of the sloping alleyway as a rickshaw driver hollered, “WHEELS DOWN!” and flew past her, plunging deeper into the city.

  Apart from rickshaws and the muscular individuals who hauled them up and down the vertical city, there was no public transit in Deep Wen. This was by design. What little government there was in Deep Wen had barred public transits, ele-gravs, train systems, and cruisers from the city. The practical, publicized reason was the danger of exhaust in an underground metropolis.

  The real reason was, as it always is, money. No public transit meant cheaper infrastructure and fewer costs for law enforcement.

  It also meant the travelling gamblers were forced to walk by, or at least ride by, hundreds of different shops, restaurants, bars, casinos, strip clubs, and massage parlors.

  Jayne dusted herself off. She was the only one who had been fazed by the rocketing rickshaw. For everyone else, even the gamblers in their flowing, floral print shirts, it had left them unfazed.

  Jayne had left Gilded Gardens two hours ago and was only just now approaching the midway point of Deep Wen’s center, or its “post” as the locals and regulars called it. Once she reached the bottom, the city would level out to the region called “the landing,” where Pie in the Sky Casino rose from the cave floor like a stalagmite that’ll never make it to the top. At least, that’s what Artimus wanted to guarantee.

  Jayne saw another rickshaw, this time headed toward her. The tall driver, at least six feet and six inches tall had, based on his unhealthily pale skin, likely spent most of his life in Deep Wen. He huffed as he readjusted the grip of the rickshaw to better tow along two fat businessmen who lounged in the rickshaw’s cushioned seat. Jayne stepped to the side of the narrow, descending pathway to make room as the rickshaw driver shouted, “WHEELS UP!”

  But the fat businessman who wasn’t passed out drunk in the seat rang a bell and the rickshaw driver slowed down.

  Maybe it was the long walk, but Jayne couldn’t help but feel a little hot when she saw how the driver’s arms moved under his shirt.

  The driver came to a halt, lowered the rickshaw, and opened the small latched door for the two businessmen to get out. “That’ll be two-hundred and fifty credits.”

  The fat businessman who wasn’t passed out drunk reared back, as if the price offended him. “Excuse me?”

  The driver spread his stance. “Two-hundred and fifty credits. One hundred credits an hour.”

  Jayne’s knees got weak as she took the driver’s stamina into account.

  The businessman put his hands on his hips, doing his best to size-up. “The other ride was seventy credits an hour!”

  The driver stood still and stayed calm. “Down hill. Up hill is more. One hundred credits an hour.”

  The businessman was really losing his temper. His face turned a brighter shade of red than the parrots on his shirt. “It was a two hour ride, dumb ass!”

  The driver very coolly turned back toward the seat, grabbed the businessman’s boozed-out friend by the tie, and yanked him up, out, and onto the ground flat on his face.

  The rickshaw driver looked down at his customer. “I charge extra for deadweight. Now, if you have issue with the rate, we can always go and consult the union.”

  The businessman was pissed off at the driver, embarrassed because of his drunk friend, and, clearly to Jayne, terrified at the threat of the union. He took a money clip from his wallet, peeled out a handful of fifty credit bills, and stuffed them into the driver’s hand.

  The businessman slapped his Dionysian friend in the face, stirring him just enough to pull him up on his feet. “You owe me a hundred and twenty-five credits, you asshole.”

  But his fat friend just slurred before vomiting into the troughs running the length of Deep Wen’s winding roads.

  Jayne’s plan had been to walk through Deep Wen until she reached Pie in the Sky in the hopes that she’d run into or discover the necessary connection she could use to infiltrate the rival casino. It’d be preferable if she didn’t have to resort to making a drunken spectacle of herself again.

  Jayne remembered the advice Artimus had given her: improvise.

  The driver hoisted the rickshaw up by the traces, but Jayne held her hand out with a sharp whistle before he dug his heel in to kick himself off.

  Jayne ran up to him. His muscle-bound height was even more impressive standing only a few feet away from him. “Hi…”

  The drive
r pulled a handkerchief from his belt and wiped the sweat from his face. “Where to?”

  Jayne dropped to a hushed tone. “I’m actually hoping you could help me with that.”

  The driver sized her up, suspicious of her angle. “Yeah, that’s got its own rate.” He stepped around and opened the latched door.

  Jayne hopped in and sat on the cushioned seat. “I can afford it.” She decided to go for a proper introduction with a handshake. “Ayne Jaustin… I mean Jayne Austin.”

  The driver grasped her hand, firmly. “Van.”

  Jayne laughed. “Wow, that’s ironic because… I mean…”

  Van didn’t laugh. “Yeah. Never heard that one before. Where do you need to go?” He turned the rickshaw around and began the descent toward the landing where Pie in the Sky awaited their arrival.

  Jayne coughed and leaned forward toward Van’s ear. She didn’t want anyone to hear. “Where’s the best place to get drugs?”

  Van shrugged, craning his head back to address Jayne. “Depends. What are you looking for?”

  Jayne loved watching Van’s shoulders work under his sweaty shirt. Come on, Jayne cautioned herself. Stay on task. “Whichever kind of drugs come from Pie in the Sky.”

  Van immediately stopped and dropped the traces. He unlatched the door and opened it. “Get out.”

  Jayne saw this as a good sign. Van knew exactly what she wanted. “So, you can help me.”

  Van shook his head. “Actually, I can’t, because I know what’s good for me, and what’s best for you.”

  “You don’t know what’s best for me.”

  Van laughed. “Trust me, Cayetano isn’t good for anybody.”

  Jayne leaned back, settling comfortably into the seat in defiance of Van’s demands. “Oh, so… Cayetano. That’s Pie in the Sky’s man-in-charge?”

  Van bit his lower lip, threw his hands on his hips and kicked the side of the rickshaw. He gave Jayne an accusatory eye. “Who are you?”

  Jayne yawned. Were they flirting yet? “I’m the Federation’s Most Wanted Fugitive.” Truth was always the best policy, and for some reason she knew the worst Van would do was make her find another rickshaw. And that’s if he believed her at all. “I’m innocent, though.” She quickly added. “Like, I was framed innocent. I think I might even be a pawn. And I’m trying to get to the bottom of that.”

  Van didn’t seem to be concerned with the crowds walking by them on the street, the numerous other rickshaw drivers passing each way. No one else cared what they were talking about. Just them. “And you’re working for Artimus, I’m guessing?”

  Now it was Jayne’s turn to judge. “You know a little too much yourself… I’m not working for Artimus. I’m working for myself. Well, for the people of the Federation, if you want to make me sound like a hero. I admit I’ve had to deal with some… grey areas recently.”

  Van cut to the chase. “How much money do you have?”

  “Enough.” Jayne clipped back.

  “One thousand credits.”

  Jayne held out her hand. “Done.”

  Van grabbed her hand. “I can’t take you directly to Cayetano, but I can take you to an associate.” He picked up the traces and started down the street, picking up speed and expertly weaving through the hustling crowd of spend-happy drunks.

  Improvise, Jayne reminded herself.

  +++

  Green Moss Assisted Living, Precipice, Deep Wen, Headless Hope, Amaros

  After a two hour long nerve-wracking high octane rickshaw ride through the chaos of Deep Wen, Van led Jayne through the large double doors, into a pleasantly bright lobby with geometrically patterned pastel carpet, and plenty of potted plants.

  Jayne looked around for any signs or indicators. “What is this place?”

  Van was surprised Jayne didn’t know. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a retirement home.”

  Jayne stopped. That made sense based on the décor, but a retirement home? In Deep Wen? “Wait, really?”

  Van turned around, walking backwards through the lobby so he could face Jayne. “People do live here, you know? It’s not all rich tourists. People grow up in this city. And they die here, too.” He stopped walking, with another set of double doors just ahead of them. “One thousand credits.”

  Jayne scoffed in his face. “You haven’t done anything for me yet.”

  “I’ve taken you this far. If you want, I can let you figure out the rest of it on your own. Besides, I’ve already done more than I should have, anyway. Pay me now, or I leave. There’s plenty of money out in those streets. One thousand credits.”

  He held out his hand.

  Jayne’s faced glowed red with anger. She couldn’t believe she fell for him so completely when she first saw him. Okay, she had to admit he was still a total hunkasaurus rex, but he was also a pain in the ass.

  She pulled a roll of cash out of her bag and counted out ten one-hundred credit bills. “Don’t count it in front of me, I’ll be insulted.”

  Van took the money, neatly folded it, and packed it in a money pouch strapped across his chest under his shirt. “Okay, just play cool.”

  He pushed through the next set of double doors, opening into a busy hub of the living facility. Van walked up to the front desk, and strummed his fingers along the counter until he finally earned the attention from the attendant. Her name tag read ‘Helen.’ “Hey, I’m here to visit my Grandma. Grandma Josie Goodman.”

  The attendant turned to the built-in desk panel and began typing in information. “And you are?”

  Van leaned over the desk to emphasize his answer. “Her grandson, Billy.”

  The attendant nodded. “We’ll send someone down to take you up to her room.”

  Almost immediately, a nurse in scrubs with frosted-tips in his hair and a pair of sunglasses resting backwards on his head, rounded the corner. His name tag read, “Chet.” “Here he is, my best friend Van! I mean… ah shit… Billy. You ready to see your grandma?”

  Van looked down, embarrassed. “Yeah.”

  “Right this way…” Chet bowed, briefly, as if welcoming Van and Jayne into a five star restaurant. Together, they left the reception area and hopped onto the building’s ele-grav.

  +++

  Five minutes later, Chet led Van and Jayne into the living facility’s in-house pharmacy and closed the door behind them. The room was narrowly packed with four rows of shelves, all packed to the max with almost every pharmaceutical concoction one could imagine. “Alright, boys and girls, welcome to the candy store. What does your sweet tooth want? Van, you looking for some more juice? Some stackers?”

  Jayne shot daggers at Van. Steroids? She couldn’t believe it.

  Chet opened up one of the many large pill bottles in the retirement home’s pharmacy. “I know I like to come back here for the free samples. This, of course, is not one of the drugs we administer to our beloved patients here at Green Moss.” He popped the safety-lid off and took out a capsule. He snapped it in half and snorted its contents with a phlegmy pull from his nostril. Jayne knew the dark red powder was frenaline, the synthetic version of the yorka Zodiac Zelda had been smoking, cut with whatever uppers could be at hand.

  He offered another one, but Van held out his hand to stop Chet before he got any further. “My friend here wants to meet with Cayetano.”

  Chet nervously picked away at his red nose. “What? Why would you want to do that?”

  Jayne leaned against one of the shelves. “I have business with him.”

  The frenaline latching onto the base of Chet’s basal ganglia started working its magic and kicked his intuition into high gear. “Hang on, hang on, I’m feeling.” His eyes twitched as he genuinely believed he could read Jayne’s mind. “You don’t give a shit about Cayetano, you’re working for someone, I know that much. Who?” He pointed at Van. “You, too?”

  Van pointed to Jayne. “Right now, I just work for her. That’s where my associations end.”

  Chet smacked his tongue around in his mouth, figh
ting the encroaching dryness. The frenaline would wear off in the next ten minutes. “Horace? You work for Horace Quill? No… Oh, shit. Wait…” Chet’s fingers flitted through the air as if writing out an invisible equation. “I’m just going through a list of Cayetano’s foul-weather friends, if you know what I mean.” He froze as the answer dawned on him. “Oh no… Billy-Jean Ryder. Fuck.”

  Jayne had no patience for fools, and she had even less patience for this Chet character. “Artimus, if you must know.”

  Chet snapped his fingers and smiled. “Artimus. That would have been my next guess.”

  Sure, judged Jayne.

  Van stepped in, eager to speed up the process himself. “Can you get her in?”

  Chet laughed, rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, man, I get her in, I can get her in. I don’t know who’s gonna be able to get her out.”

  Jayne righted herself from her slack posture and put her best foot forward. “I can get myself out.”

  Chet laughed, throwing his hands up in mock defense. “Whoa! Okay, sister. As long as you don’t hold me personally responsible for whatever happens. It’s going to cost you.”

  Jayne was still adjusting to how expensive the city of Deep Wen really was. “How much?”

  Chet stroked his thumb and forefinger together. “One thousand credits.”

  “Here.” Van shoved the one thousand credits from Jayne into Chet’s hands.”

  Chet pocketed the dough without reservation. “Works for me. I’ll tell Helen what we’re doing.”

  Jayne’s face contorted in surprise. “Wait, Helen’s in on this?”

  Chet opened the door and lead Jayne and Van out of the pharmaceutical wonderland. “What are you kidding? Everyone’s in on it. Even ninety-seven year-old Mrs. Whitney in advanced-care is in on this.”

  Jayne could feel her own conscience, her firm understanding between right and wrong, good and bad, dissolve further into a grey area of constant negotiation with her morality. The gnawing guilt was useless in this moment. What would be the point of showing all her Girl Scout merit badges if it would only get her killed?