“Thanks.”
“That’ll be three silvers.”
Bit dug into her pockets and pulled out the bills. They weren’t silver in content or even color, but they were called silvers all the same. Smaller bills were coppers and larger bills were golds. Bit didn’t know when Earth had begun using such simplified currency. She had seen a few framed bills from the days of multiple governments. They were drastically larger than the little strips of fancy paper she handed over to the waitress, with intricate designs.
The waitress stared at the paper money—a seldom used commodity. Finally, she grunted at it and walked away, the baby on her chest beginning to mew after finishing its meal.
A few minutes later, she returned with a large cup filled with a brownish sludge. Bit tried to ignore the smell and gulped half of it in the first try. She finally gagged on a larger lump and had to stop chugging. Bit licked her lips and grimaced at the taste. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted, even while working for her cruelest master. She forced herself to drink the rest, even though the worst of her hunger was sated. After all, she had paid for it. Even if it tasted horrific, she wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
She finished the protein shake, wiped her mouth, and considered buying a treat to wash the taste out.
No, save your money, she told herself as she stood and left, waving at the woman behind the counter.
Bit limped out of the restaurant and joined the ever-present mob. Moving at the pace of everyone else, she made her way down into the next block and began to scan the building fronts. Just as she neared the next intersection, she spotted a faded sign proclaiming itself to be the best beauty shop in Dobsonville.
She limped in, slipping past a hulk of a man heading out of the shop. Bit noticed a small tattoo under the man’s eye and assumed he was a part of one of the gangs. The various barbers and stylists all turned to look at her. Bit grimaced, a stray hand gripping the few dreadlocks that lay over her shoulder. She wasn’t exactly the normal type of woman to enter a beauty shop.
“You need a cut, girl?” one man asked.
Bit could only imagine what they thought of her appearance. Initially, one of her eyes had been swollen shut from the punch the feisty patient had landed on her. Thankfully, after a night of sleep, she could open it half way. Her shiner, combined with her stained clothing and general scent, gave her the appearance of a waif.
“I’m looking for Roder.”
“That’s me,” said the same man.
“Do you know a Zandri Douglas? I was told you knew everyone who’s come in and out of Dobsonville.”
The man’s eyes narrowed before flicking toward the door. Bit wanted to look at the door too, but she doubted an attack was coming. Instead, she stared down the barber and his coworkers. Suddenly, the other cutters went back to their work—cutting hair, sweeping the floor, or wiping down a cracked leather seat.
The barber pursed his lips and sucked on his teeth for a moment. “Nope. Never heard of him.”
Bit felt her eyes narrow. She wasn’t as good as Randal in spotting a liar, but she had no doubts the barber was lying through his rotting teeth.
“Really. A man who owned an indentured servant. A girl. That can’t be too common around here.”
The man looked down at the floor and crossed his arms as though he was trying hard to think. “Nope. Never even seen an I.S. before.”
“Right. Well, thank you,” she replied, wanting the barber to think she had believed him.
She turned and did her best to walk out without a limp. It hurt like hell, but she made the five steps before giving into the need.
“Now what?” she asked herself, scanning the crowd.
Chapter Seven
“What do you mean you lost ‘em?” Rudy barked, ignoring the appearances of his men.
One gripped a broken arm, the other draped an arm over the first’s shoulder, trying his best not to put weight on his crooked leg. Both of their faces were covered in dark bruises and dried blood.
“She brought a fire escape down on us,” growled the man with the broken leg, moisture betraying his masculinity.
“So?”
“We both have broken limbs,” snapped the other man.
Rudy gnawed on his bottom lip. As much as he wanted to rule with an iron fist, he knew he was only as powerful as his army. Finally, he nodded.
“Get them help,” he said to the men standing around the perimeter of his office. “The rest of you, get out on the street and find that girl. I want her head on a spike by sun up.”
The men nodded, two going to help the invalids, the rest racing away. Rudy settled behind his little desk, disgusted by any girl who could beat up him and his second-in-command so easily. In his mind, women were only good for two things, and neither of them resulted in him having a broken nose.
Before Rudy could settle into his books, a clamor erupted outside his office. Rudy rose just as his door opened and a hulk of a man marched in, followed by the woman he kept as a sort of secretary.
“… I said you can’t… I’m sorry, sir, he just barged in.”
“It’s okay, Candy,” Rudy said to calm the painted woman. “Wic, what do I owe the horror?”
The young man standing before him, despite his unusually pale skin, could intimidate greater men than Rudy, but he had known Wic since he was a child. Wic’s shoulders spread like a bull’s, tapering down to the narrow hips all the women eyed. His brown hair was cropped short and a small tattoo under his eye emphasized his white skin.
Wic burst into laughter as he crossed his arms, emphasizing his biceps. “So it’s true! I thought it was a rumor.”
“What?” Rudy growled, annoyed with the man’s youthful exuberance.
“Your face.” Wic pointed at the face in question. “Was it really a girl?”
Rudy’s glare darkened until it hurt his raw bruises. “Aye. You see her, you bring her to me.”
“You didn’t get her yet? You’re getting sloppy in your old age.”
“I can still lay you over my knee, boy.”
Wic grinned. “You could try.”
“Is there some reason you braved my territory.”
“I had to see it for myself.”
“Well, now you’ve seen it. Get out.”
“What’s the girl look like? I’ll bring her to you.”
Rudy’s eyes narrowed, once again pulling on his swollen eye. “What’s in it for you?”
Wic wasn’t his man… not anymore. He had practically raised him, but then Wic’s head got too big and he annexed part of Rudy’s territory. It had been five years since and they had settled into a sort of resentful stalemate.
“Call it an act of faith… I wouldn’t mind you owing me a favor.”
“Fine,” growled Rudy. “But you bring her to me alive. The girl’s got very blonde hair ratted up into dreadlocks or something like them. A petite little thing.”
“Is that so?”
“Now get the hell out of my office.”
Wic gave him a sloppy salute before doing an about-face and marching out.
Wic stood at the edge of the crowd and watched the little blonde woman limp out of the small shop. He had spotted her in the barber shop before meeting with Rudy, but Rudy didn’t need to know that. Now, she was up in his neighborhood, out of Rudy’s so-called jurisdiction.
Though the girl was clearly injured, Wic could tell she knew how to carry herself. She had an assurance about herself that suggested she was either an idiot or capable of taking on the riffraff that filled the lower-income suburbs. Based on Rudy’s swollen eye, he suspected the later. Wic joined the flow of traffic, keeping his eyes on the white-blonde head weaving through the crowd.
To his surprise, she headed back toward the barber shop where he had seen her earlier in the day. She slipped into the alleyway dividing one building from another. Wic wanted to follow her but doubted he could stay incognito without the crowd. He stopped in front of the building supplies store at
the corner of the alley and watched her limp into the shadows.
Her blonde hair stood out in the darkness as she eyed the side of the barbershop, examining the various wires that ran up to the higher levels—most of which had been added after the government gave up keeping the city within building regulations. Wic began to wonder what the girl was up to, and what she had wanted with the cutters.
He had been in there to collect their funds—payment for his protection—but he knew Roder was known for being the biggest busy-body. Had she gone in for information? If so, what—or who—did she seek? More importantly, what was she up to now?
The questions filled Wic’s head as he watched her take hold of the side of the building and begin to climb the old bricks, her pack bumping into her back. Even in the shadows, he could see her grimace as she worked to climb the wall. It was easy to tell that she had at least one injury on her leg.
“What is she doing?” he whispered to himself.
She reached the top of the first floor and wedged her foot into the clip holding the wires in a bundle. The other foot she tucked into a hole. With one hand, she began to jimmy a vent open. After a few minutes and a few adjustments to her feet, she pried it open. The girl tried to climb in, but her pack caught on the opening and she was forced to stop and remove the pack. She gently set it inside the air duct and pushed it forward before trying again. Within seconds, she had disappeared from view.
Wic wanted to follow, but he knew better than to think he could ever fit into the tiny vent. He could wait her out and snatch her up when she emerged, but Wic’s curiosity had been peeked. He wanted to know what she was up to and why she had taken Rudy on.
She was a mystery, and Wic hated a mystery.
Bit fought against the vent cover. It took extra effort to pry it open and not fall from her perch eight feet over the bottom of the dusty alleyway. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the man who had been following her still hovering near the entrance of the alleyway. He was trying to blend in, but a man that big had no hope of melding with the crowd.
She ignored him and tried to crawl into the air vent. Her pack caught and she found herself stuck, unable to move forward and afraid to slide back out of the vent. After a few seconds of deliberation, she wiggled backward, bashing her knee on the brick wall. She bit her lip, trying not to curse into the echoey duct.
Bit’s feet found her previous footholds, and she jerked her pack off, sliding it into the duct before climbing in again. This wasn’t her first journey through ducting, but the last tunnel had been practically sterile compared to the antiquated metal she crawled over. Rust permeated the metal, making her wonder if she would fall through at any point, but the duct held and she shimmied forward. She caught herself on a few jagged pieces, a little worried she might pick up an infection, but she continued on until she found a vent pointing down into a room.
It was the beauty salon. She breathed in the fresh air entering through the vent as quietly as she could and lowered herself onto her stomach. Her knee screamed at her as she took her weight off of it. She ignored the pain and focused on the men below.
The men were catching up on some gossip about a man who had left his wife and seven children for a younger model. Bit allowed her mind to wander as she laid in the grime and waited. Their topics shifted to some man named Wic who took their money for his “protection.”
Bit perked up a little as one man said, “I have a mind to stand up to the boy.”
“Hush, Bernoff, you don't know what you’re talking about. He may look young, but he’s strong and has strong men working for him. You ain’t ever going to stand up to that man. Just drop it,” snapped Roder.
“Well, someone should. I’m tired of payin’ him my hard earned money.”
Bit wondered who Wic could be and how he had wrangled power from Rudy. She had thought Rudy was all powerful throughout Soweto, but clearly that wasn’t the case. A thought crossed her mind, but she quickly pushed it away. Despite her efforts, the thought returned.
Could this Wic guy help me find Douglas?
Chapter Eight
Blaine trudged behind the rest of his team. They had traveled out of the slums and into a middle-class neighborhood, the enormous buildings showing some signs of construction regulation. Unlike the slums, no one added to the skyscrapers without meeting code. The first—and sometimes second floors—were used for business, while the rest of the buildings were filled with apartments.
After a short search, they found Morgan Reactors in one of the few buildings filled with offices. They rode the elevator up to the sixth floor.
“You guys wait in the hall,” Blaine ordered.
They obeyed, but he sensed an undercurrent of annoyance. Blaine ignored it. Bit was his only focus. They would get over their annoyance eventually. And if they didn’t… Blaine gave himself a mental shake. It all didn’t matter. Only Bit mattered.
He walked into the office, certain the others would obey.
A pretty little woman with a short bob sat behind a desk, a red pen hovering over what appeared to be a letter. She looked up with a charming yet professional smile.
“How can I help you?” she asked, showing off her pearly whites.
Blaine forced a smile to his lips. “I need the contact information for an employee. A Douglas Zandri. I believe he worked here recently.”
The woman’s smile twitched as her brows pulled together into a frown. “I don’t recognize the name. We’ve never had a Douglas at this office.”
“Maybe he worked at a different office in town.”
“This is the only Morgan Reactors office in Johannesburg.”
“Well, could you look up his name and see if he’s worked in some other city?”
The woman let out a long-suffering sigh, though her smile stayed firmly in place. She turned to her computer and began punching at the screen with her manicured nails. After a few minutes, she turned back to him, her smile looking more genuine.
“I’m sorry, but Douglas Zandri has never worked for Morgan Reactors.”
Blaine could practically hear her I told you so. “Is there a supervisor I can talk to?”
Her smile faltered. “I am the only employee here at the moment. If you’d like to come back…”
Before the woman could say anything else, Blaine snapped a punch at her face across the small desk. The woman let out a muffled scream. Before the sound ended, Blaine was around the desk and covering her mouth as he dragged her out of the chair. He pulled his gun from its holster and pressed the muzzle under her jaw.
Tears streamed down her cinnamon cheeks and she quivered.
“You scream again, I shoot. You got it?”
She nodded against his hand. Before he could do anything else, the door burst open and his men poured into the little office.
“Dammit, Blaine, what are you doing?” Nathyn demanded.
“Lock the door,” he ordered.
Jeremiah didn’t hesitate, but turned, locked the door, and closed the blinds covering the glass doors.
“Get her up into the chair.”
“Blaine, stop. This isn’t what we do,” said Forrest in a voice meant to soothe.
Blaine rolled his eyes. “We do whatever we have to to find Bit.”
“She wouldn’t want this, and you know it,” argued Nathyn.
“I don’t care what she wants.”
Blaine knew he didn’t actually think that, but he wasn’t about to correct himself in front of the other men. He grabbed the woman by the arms and dragged her back into her seat. She continued to cry quietly, and he let her.
“Jer, find something to tie her up.”
“Don’t you dare. Blaine, let her go.”
“You,” Blaine snapped at the quivering woman. “Douglas Zandri. Where’s his office.”
“I’ve n-never heard of D-Douglas…”
“Don’t lie to me!”
She wailed softly, flinching away from his face. “He’s never worked here. I don�
��t know him.”
Blaine pressed his gun against her cheek. “What about now?”
“Stop this!” shouted Nathyn, loud enough to draw attention. “She doesn't know anything.”
Blaine knew someone from the other offices could come in search after Nathyn’s noise. Their time was limited now. He leaned down into her face, baring his teeth like an animal.
“All of you, get out. I’ll handle this.”
Jack turned the street, his hatred of the city growing with each step. His feet hurt, his back hurt, and a headache was forming behind his eyes as the sun continued to glare down at them. It seemed every street they turned onto was packed with people until it was almost impossible to traverse.
“Don’t they understand birth control on Earth?” Calen asked as he nudged past a woman stopped to barter with a kiosk that had been set up in the middle of the street.
Jack glanced back to make sure they hadn’t lost anyone. “I never thought I’d find myself agreeing with Mars’ two-child law.”
“But after seeing this…?”
“Exactly. This is awful. No wonder everyone is living in poverty here.”
They reached the next intersection after much pushing and shoving. Jack glanced to the left and stopped, shocked to find the next street comparatively empty. A few people scurried toward one end or the other and a few stood in the doorways of their shops, eyeing the crowds on the other streets.
Jack shrugged and turned onto the empty street, happy to have room to breathe.
“Captain,” Oden called from behind him. “What are you doing?”
“Taking the clear road. Maybe we can actually start making some progress.”
“If the locals aren’t taking this street, neither should we.”
Jack shrugged. “They probably just don’t need to head this way.”
“You really think all streets heading east are this empty?”
“Oh, c’mon, Oden, what could be the problem with a street? See there are some people on the street, and those men sitting on that bench. Let’s take the easy way.”
Mayhem and Mutiny Page 5
