Poison Agendas

by Stephen Kenson

  "Well, I'm making it my business, Midnight."

  "Lothan, Lothan." she purred, running her fingers along his arm. "You're not a fool. Don't act like one. Do you really want to cross me over this?"

  "I'm warning you, Midnight, stay away from Kellan."

  "Or what?" the elf asked. "You'll tell her the truth? I'm surprised you still know it when you see it. I've done my homework, Lothan. Kellan has been working with you too long to still consider you a paragon of virtue. Besides, what will you tell her? That I commissioned you to keep an eye out for a certain item, and when it came along, you 'forgot' to inform me? Maybe so you could keep the information—and the amulet—to yourself?"

  Midnight paused, and Lothan's face darkened. "Yes," she hissed, "that's what I thought. The only truth you'll end up revealing, my dear Lothan, is that you've lied to your young apprentice yet again. Then you can forget about what little trust she still has left in you. I, on the other hand, have nothing to fear from your story. After all, Kellan already knows I was interested in her amulet. I just told her so. I haven't mentioned your involvement in this, however, and I won't . . . unless you force my hand.

  "So the next move is really up to you, isn't it?" she asked sweetly.

  * * *

  "Okay." Kellan said, once Lothan and Midnight had moved away from the table.

  "So you're going to follow up on Squeak's data." Jackie stated, in a tone that made it clear she didn't approve. "It's a waste of time and money, Kellan. Like I told you, that data isn't worth the chip it's burned on."

  "Look, I trust your advice, Jackie—really, I do. But I've got a feeling about this that I can't ignore." Kellan said. "I don't think the data is worthless."

  "Look, Kellan, I'm sure your chummer Squeak thinks he's struck gold, but—"

  "Squeak's dead."

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

  "What?" Jackie said.

  "Squeak's dead." Kellan repeated.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Oh yeah, I'm sure. I found him earlier tonight, in his apartment, in the bathtub. I think he was poisoned. There wasn't a mark on him, and no signs of magic that I could assense."

  "And you think someone killed him because of this data?"

  "It would be a huge coincidence otherwise." Kellan said.

  "That makes going after it even more stupid, Kellan!" Jackie exclaimed. "If someone is willing to kill for this . .

  "Then it must be worth something." Kellan concluded. "It must be worth a lot."

  "You don't know that." the decker countered. "He might have been killed over something else entirely. Even if you're right—well, people getting killed means you're in over your head, Kellan. It's better to just let it go."

  "I can't. Not now. When I started this, it was just my shot at putting together a run of my own. Now, it's something I owe to Squeak. He believed in me."

  "And look where it got him." Jackie shot back, and Kellan winced. "I'm sorry, Kellan, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. But Squeak's dead. Going on this run isn't going to make any difference to him."

  "It'll make a difference to me." Kellan said, Then, "I assume I can rely on your professional discretion regarding this."

  "Of course. But you have to understand, I'm out—if you want to do this, you're on your own."

  "Understood." Kellan replied coolly. "You've done enough already."

  "Kellan, listen to me." Jackie's tone almost sounded pleading. "Let it go. This one is trouble. Trust me."

  "I'm going to see it through, Jackie. I'll let you know how it turns out." She hung up and slipped the phone back into her pocket, glancing over to where Lothan and Midnight were talking. Lothan caught her eye for a moment, like he wanted to come over and say something, then he turned and walked away, slipping through the crowd on the dance floor. Midnight came back to the table and sat back down opposite Kellan.

  "What was that all about?" Kellan asked.

  "Lothan had to go." Midnight said.

  "No, I mean what is it with you and Lothan?"

  "Lothan and I have . . . history." Midnight said lightly. "We don't always see eye to eye on things."

  Kellan snorted. "Tell me about it. Lothan seems to have that effect on people."

  "Ah, you've noticed." Midnight said with a smile.

  "Let's just say I've noticed Lothan is a great mage . .

  ". . . but not always the most diplomatic?" the elf concluded.

  "Exactly." Kellan said.

  "Well, he doesn't seem to think you should be keeping company with the likes of me."

  "Lothan's not the boss of me." Kellan said stubbornly. "I just take magic lessons from him. I can 'keep company' with whomever I want."

  Midnight raised an eyebrow slightly. "You are Lothan's student, then." she said.

  Kellan dismissed it as nothing with a wave of her hand. "Yeah, he's teaching me magic."

  "Is that why you asked if your mother had the Talent?"

  Kellan blushed slightly. "I figured she might, since I do."

  "Well, there's always your father ..." Midnight offered, again echoing Kellan's own thoughts. "Do you know anything about him?"

  "Even less than I know about my mother." Kellan said with a sigh. "My aunt—my mom's older sister—raised me, and she said she never even met my father, and that my mom never talked about him. I was hoping you knew something."

  "Well, if I can help you find out anything more, I will." Midnight said, putting her hand on Kellan's arm.

  "Thanks." she said.

  "I owe Mustang a lot. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be where I am today."

  There was a pause. Kellan didn't know quite what to say. Midnight was the only connection she'd found to her mother in all her time in Seattle. The elf was also one of the only people in the shadows who'd offered to help, who obviously felt the same sense of duty Kellan felt to the people in her life.

  "So ..." Midnight broke the silence. "It sounds like you have some biz in the works. Unless that call means things didn't work out . . . ?"

  "No, that was something else." Kellan said. "I've got a run lined up—actually, it's more of an opportunity. ..."

  "I'd be interested in hearing about it, if you'd like to tell me. Maybe I can help."

  "Well, I don't kn—" Kellan began.

  "It's up to you," Midnight interrupted, "but I have experience and contacts, and I'd like to help out if I can. It would be like paying back your mother for the help she gave me."

  That was all it took. Kellan gave Midnight the cover story she'd developed about finding data that indicated the existence of an old United States weapons cache or military installation somewhere in Salish-Shidhe territory. She was professionally vague about the details, including Squeak's involvement.

  "The problem," Kellan concluded, "is that even if I find the location I need, there might be nothing there. If there is something there . . ."

  "Then you need a buyer." Midnight concluded. "Sounds to me like you could also use a patron who's willing to fund some of this expedition. In my experience, shadowrunners are more willing to deal with unknowns when there's money up front."

  Kellan shrugged. "But I don't know anyone like that."

  Midnight smiled conspiratorially. "Yes, you do. It's just a matter of asking in the right way."

  Kellan listened as the elf explained her plan, and a slow smile crept across her face.

  Chapter 9

  "Explain to me again why I agreed this was a good idea." Kellan commented as the two women waited in the dark for the arrival of their contact.

  "Because it is a good idea," Midnight countered, "if I do say so myself."

  "Do you really think he'll show?"

  "Oh, he'll be here." the elf said. "He's nothing if not punctual."

  "I hope so. Cuz this isn't a great place to wait around." Kellan replied.

  It was called Squatter's Mall, and it was the largest quasi-legal market in the Redmond Barrens. When the economy of the Red
mond area went south in the Crash, retailers pulled out of the depressed area in herds, leaving entire shopping centers and malls abandoned. That sent Redmond even deeper into its economic death spiral, and it never recovered. Now the district was full of empty malls, office parks and other real estate no one in their right mind would touch. Of course, most of the inhabitants of Redmond weren't exactly in their right minds.

  Squatters set up housekeeping in the abandoned shops, and many opened for business, selling their wares from blankets on the sidewalks or displaying them on the store shelves. The mall functioned as a sprawling flea market during the day. At night, most of the businesses shut down, and the squatters retreated behind crude barricades. The corridors of the mall were open territory for anyone to pass—at least in theory.

  "Why'd he suggest meeting here?" Kellan asked, glancing around as casually as she could for any sign of trouble. The few people in the mall at this late hour gave them no more than sidelong glances and kept moving. "Since we're both on the south side . . ."

  Midnight shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he likes the ambience. He obviously wanted to handle it outside the office, particularly since we don't exactly keep regular hours."

  "I just wish he'd get here." Kellan muttered.

  "Then you've got your wish." Midnight said. "Over there."

  She followed Midnight's glance, and a moment later she spotted him. Her eyes didn't adjust to the gloom inside the old mall quite as well as an elf's, but now she could clearly make out the figure walking toward them.

  "Remember," Midnight said in a low voice, "odds are good he's not alone, even if you can't see anyone with him." Kellan nodded in acknowledgment of the warning.

  He was just as she recalled: medium height, well built, and dressed in a casual outfit that probably cost enough to feed half the squatters in the mall. He wore all black, from his button-down shirt and tailored slacks to his zipped-up synthleather coat and polished shoes. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and wraparound shades concealed his eyes. He wore wrist-length black leather gloves, but kept his hands clearly visible outside the pockets of his jacket as he approached them.

  "Midnight," he said with a curt nod toward the elf, "and Kellan Colt, about whom I have heard so much." His smile contained no warmth as he extended his hand. Kellan took it. His handshake was firm and solid.

  "Mr. Brickman." she replied.

  "Oh, so formal." he said. "You can call me Simon, if you like. I feel like we've gotten to know each other a little better after our first meeting."

  "You've gotten to know me better, you mean."

  Brickman smiled. "Well, I'm practically an open book."

  "The Art of War, if I remember correctly." Midnight interjected. "Or was it How to Climb the Corporate Ladder, Simon?"

  "Both favorites of mine." he replied mildly. "But I don't think you asked me here to start a book club."

  "No, we have business." Kellan said.

  "So Midnight said. Well, I'm here, and I'm quite interested in hearing your proposal. Don't worry." he said, gesturing with one gloved hand. "Our conversation will remain private. My people will see to that."

  Kellan noted the confirmation of Midnight's warning that Brickman wouldn't be alone. He was making it equally clear he had nothing to fear from them, if this meeting was some sort of trap. She glanced at Midnight, who nodded, indicating Kellan should proceed as they discussed on the way to the meeting.

  So Kellan outlined the deal for Brickman. She told him about the possible take, and what she thought was involved in getting it. She provided just enough detail to tantalize, without revealing the source of her information or the exact whereabouts of the target.

  "Interesting," Brickman said when she was finished, "but is it really worthwhile?"

  "You don't think so?" Kellan asked.

  The company man gave an expressive shrug. "We are talking about materiel that's years, decades, out of date," he said, "and it's not like Ares is lacking in that area."

  "But this materiel can't be traced back to you." Kellan replied. "These are goods nobody else knows about, and that won't require making resources from your own company disappear in order to use them."

  "That has caused a few complications." Brickman's voice suddenly held a touch of steel, and Kellan wondered if she'd pressed him too far. After all, she was the cause of those "complications." If Brickman was carrying a grudge . . .

  "Exclusive rights on whatever we find." Midnight offered.

  "If you find anything." Brickman countered.

  "We'll find something." Kellan said.

  Brickman looked at her, his expression unreadable. "All right." he said. "I'm always interested in trying out new talent, and Midnight vouches for you. I'll put up some cred toward expenses in exchange for the exclusive rights to whatever you find, with the terms of that sale to be negotiated once the merchandise is on the table. However"—he raised a finger—"there are a few conditions."

  "Name 'em." she said.

  "First, I want Midnight in on this run. To be blunt, I know Midnight and her reputation, and I'll be more confident if I know an experienced runner is involved."

  "No problem." Kellan said. "She's already in, if she wants to be."

  Brickman smiled. "Good. Second"—he held up two fingers—"I expect a return on this investment. I want to see measurable progress within a week. If you don't have anything by then, you can consider our deal off."

  Kellan nodded.

  "Third," Brickman continued, "if it turns out there isn't anything worth salvaging, then you're owed nothing further. I'll cover the initial expenses, but your arrangements with your team are your own business, as are any further expenses you may incur. I'm not funding an expedition."

  "Is that it?" Kellan asked. Brickman nodded.

  "That's all." he said. He withdrew a credstick from an inner pocket of his jacket. "This contains your initial expenses in certified credit. Spend it wisely, because I'm not handing over any more until I see some results."

  "Fine." she said, extending her hand. Brickman dropped the credstick into it.

  "Good hunting, then." he said. He turned, with a nod toward Midnight, and walked away, leaving the two shadowrunners to begin planning how to earn the money he'd just handed them.

  * * *

  It was into the early hours of a new day by the time Kellan and Midnight made plans to get together later and went their separate ways. Kellan headed back to her apartment, looking forward to a few hours of sleep before she started putting together the team for her run.

  Her run. It had a nice sound to it—one Kellan could get used to. She was feeling good about how she'd managed things so far. Though she didn't know for certain what Squeak's data would lead to, she was confident it was something important. Why else would someone have kacked Squeak, if not because of what he'd found out?

  Kellan was also feeling good about the prospect of working with Midnight. She'd only known the other shadowrunner for a few hours, and already felt closer to her than to Lothan, G-Dogg or the other runners she'd worked with in Seattle. Midnight treated Kellan like an equal, not like some kid learning the ropes. She advised, but she clearly accepted that this was Kellan's run, and that she was calling the shots.

  Plus there was the fact Midnight knew Kellan's mother, Mustang. Finally, Kellan had a lead! Though Midnight didn't know anything about her mother's current whereabouts, she was still a vital link to the past that she knew so little about. She felt sure that Midnight would have other clues that she could use to find her mother.

  On the way home, Kellan wondered how she'd ever be able to sleep. She was buzzing with anticipation, eager to get started. Still, by the time she climbed off her motorcycle and trudged up the stairs to her doss, she was feeling the strain of the day's events. With a few hours of sleep, she'd be ready to tackle the next step.

  She made sure the door was closed and locked before she dropped her bag and jacket on the floor next to it. She opened the fridge, grimacing at the brigh
tness of the light and the barrenness of its interior. She settled for grabbing a bottle of water and drinking a few swigs before capping it and putting it back on the nearly empty shelf next to some Thai leftovers that were probably developing a civilization of their own.

  "We really should talk about establishing some wards around this place." a voice said behind Kellan. She slammed the fridge door shut and spun around, drawing her Crusader from its shoulder holster in one smooth motion. The short barrel of the gun stuck right into the chest of the person behind her. Not really a person, but a ghostly image of one, through which Kellan's weapon passed harmlessly.

  Lothan the Wise stood—hovered, rather—in the middle of Kellan's tiny kitchen. The troll mage was wearing his familiar robes, the mystic runes along the edges glimmering like gold. In one hand he held his gnarled wooden staff, the crystal on top of it giving off a soft light.

  "Fraggit, Lothan!" Kellan said, lowering her gun. "Don't do that!"

  "My apologies." the mage replied with a shrug. "Knocking is somewhat problematic in this state of being."

  "How did you even know I was here?" Kellan asked, putting the Crusader back into its holster.

  "I left a watcher to await your return." he said. "It informed me you were back."

  "Now you're watching me behind my back?"

  "Hardly." Lothan replied dryly. "I simply didn't want to waste time waiting, but I did want to talk to you."

  There was a note in the old troll's voice that was unfamiliar to Kellan. Could it be that Lothan was actually worried about something?

  "Okay, you're here." she said briskly. "So talk."

  "Very well." Lothan said. He drew up his legs so he was sitting cross-legged, hovering about a half meter off the floor, his staff laid across his massive thighs. That put his horned head almost level with Kellan's face. Lothan closed his eyes for a moment, then looked directly at Kellan.

  "Please keep in mind that I considered very carefully before coming to you about this. It's not my wont to interfere in the affairs of others."

  Kellan snorted derisively, earning a glare from the old mage that silenced her. Lothan was only partially masking his aura; it flared with a tinge of anger, then faded back to the dull glow of concern. Kellan reminded herself that Lothan was an extremely powerful mage—something she would forget at her risk. She forced herself to speak politely.