by RJ Johnson
“Laszlo ain’t gonna like me snooping around...” Meade said hesitantly. It was his way of saying he’d help her out and she knew it.
Sarah squealed in delight and threw her arms around Meade excited. She caught herself suddenly and straightened her back, her cheeks a brilliant red, “Oh, umm… Good.”
“I’ll uhh…” Meade tried to catch his breath, the memory of Sarah’s tight body rubbing against his still fresh in his mind. “I’ll head over to Laszlo’s tonight, pay him off and download his ArmBar. You sure it’s him?”
“Sure enough to give you fifty grand and trust you’ll get what I need done, done.” Sarah said, hoping the seriousness of what she needed Meade to do would cover her embarrassing outburst of emotion. She was a Coalition officer after all and decorum needed to be maintained. “You don’t even have to do anything. As soon as you’re within range of Laszlo’s ArmBar, run the app and it’ll take care of everything for you. The program will download everything I need and format his ArmBar as a nice little piece of fuck you added on. Whatever he’s up to, I don’t want him to have anything he might need to finish whatever plan he’s set into motion.”
“And you’re sure this virus of yours will destroy everything? Even the stuff he’s got on the cloud?” Meade asked, opening the program on his ArmBar.
“The virus is programmed to delete everything that’s been tagged by his ArmBar ID, on his ArmBar, on any entanglement drives connected to it. After it determines all of his relevant data has been deleted on his local drive, it’ll transfer itself to the cloud and seek out all the rest. He’ll have nothing by the time the program is finished running.”
Sarah put her hand on his chest, “Jim, the second it finishes, you’ll need to get out of there. It won’t take Laszlo long to figure out what happened.”
Meade nodded, “Last thing I wanna do is end up as a stain on the bottom of the canyon floor Sarah.”
Meade stood and put his hat and duster on, the long dark leather stained by years of use and the dark red Martian soil fluttered behind him. “I’ll get that infodump and bring it back to you by later tonight.”
“And if I don’t hear from you by tonight?” Sarah asked hesitantly.
A slight smile touched Meade’s lips and he turned, grabbing the tumbler Emeline had placed in front of him, “Then in all likelihood, I’m dead and you spent fifty grand for nothing.”
He saluted Sarah and drank the whiskey down in one gulp.
Chapter Three
The Lady Luck Casino was one of the biggest and best places to get a drink, woman or gambling game in New Plymouth. The casino floor hummed with activity and the loud music helped drown out anything that might distract the miners and citizens of New Plymouth from losing their credits to the house. Alcohol flowed freely here in the Lady Luck and Meade didn’t let two minutes go by before he grabbed a glass of something off a passing waitresses’ tray. He opened his ArmBar and highlighted a credit token on his screen, tossing it towards her. The 3D projection flew from Meade’s ArmBar and settled onto the beautiful purple haired waitress. She turned, smiled, and gave Meade a better look under her skimpy outfit.
“I really ought to start playing over here more often,” Meade muttered, watching the beautiful woman’s hips sway back and forth as she served drinks to the thirsty crowd. He shook himself back to reality. There would be plenty of time to hit on women later; right now he had a mission to accomplish.
He stepped back towards the cashier cage and rang the bell.
A man wearing a translucent green hat stepped forward. His weak chin, closely cropped salt and pepper beard, and watery blue eyes gave him the look of a beaten man. He cleared his throat and spoke in a soft voice to Meade.
“Cashing in, or buying chips?” the man’s low voice warbled.
“I’m looking for Laszlo,” Meade said. Direct and to the point. That was the only way warlords respected you. The warlords might be ruthless, but they were businessmen, and more than anything, businessmen hated people who wasted their time.
“Do you have an appointment?” the man asked.
“Don’t need one. The money ought to prove I’m serious enough,” Meade opened his ArmBar display and showed the fat man opposite him the balance.
The cashier’s eyes widened and he muttered something that Meade didn’t quite catch.
“Missed that,” Meade said gently.
“I would advise you to return another day sir,” the cashier said. “Mr. Laszlo is in…” he hesitated, “he is indisposed at the moment.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Meade demanded. “I don’t give a good goddamn if he’s banging Ambassador Corcoran herself. Pass along the message that Jim Meade has his money and wants to tell him to go to hell.”
The cashier’s eyes widened, obviously shocked that someone would dare talk about his boss like that.
“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do sir,” the cashier said pushing himself back. The fat little man stood and waddled his way to the back of the cashier cage where he picked up a green telephone. He spoke into it quietly for a few moments and hung up. He returned to Meade.
“It will be a few minutes,” the cashier said. “I shall call you when his meeting is complete.”
“Good,” Meade replied, and he turned to look over the expansive casino floor.
There were table games everywhere and there wasn’t a spare piece of real estate to be found. Miners and folk from all walks of life in New Plymouth packed the Lady Luck, with some tables two or three deep with men and women waiting to take their turn at the wheel or get into a hot poker game.
“May I get you something while you’re waiting sir?” the voice inquired behind him. Meade waved him off.
“Not interested. What’s your name?”
“Russo sir,” The man’s chin wobbled as he turned back to his work. “I am Mr. Laszlo’s aide.”
“So you know where all the bodies are buried,” Meade said, hoping to throw the man off balance.
It worked. Russo coughed and his face became incredibly pale, “I am sure I have no idea what you’re referring to sir.”
“Sure you don’t,” Meade said, sarcasm dripping off his tone. “What sort of work do you do for him then?”
“Mostly administrative…” Russo’s eyes narrowed as he stared down Meade. “Who did you say you were again?”
“Jim Meade. You may have watched my humiliating defeat the other night in the ZFC fights,” Meade said wryly. “Just here to pay back a loan for a bet I made on myself.”
Russo grunted, “It’s not like Mr. Laszlo to make bad investments.”
“Hey, I’m here paying him back,” Meade protested. “Besides, Chau cheated me out of a rightful victory.”
“And I’m sure you’ll find yourself someone to believe that just as soon as I marry a supermodel.”
“Well aren’t you a slice of comedy genius?” Meade quipped sarcastically.
Russo sniffed haughtily and turned back to his work.
Meade rolled his eyes and looked around at the crowd of ORI miners who were invading the Lady Luck at the end of their shift. The casino floor was large with hundreds of blinking machines all singing a siren song promising big jackpot dreams for one lucky mole who might win their retirement with only a credit and a smile. All they had to do was play.
And play they did.
They came from all over. New Plymouth was the largest colony set up on Mars by the Coalition, but it was far from the only one. Many of the colonists who came to the Lady Luck were coming to New Plymouth from all over Mars. They were all hoping to strike it rich on the tables, but none of them did of course. They mostly just spent whatever money they were able to get for their efforts in the ORI mines. Once they were cleaned out, they went back to the mines to make some money so they could come back and try the game all over again.
“Looking for company tonight?” the female voice was dark, smoky and aimed at Meade. He turned, glancing at who was trying to catch his attention
. She was tall, her red hair splayed out all over her shoulders, covering her ample breasts. Meade ran his eyes up and down appreciatively over the woman who was addressing him. She was holding a tray with several empty beer bottles on it and had a grin that he assumed brought most men to their knees.
Russo perked up and eagerly moved back to the window, “He’s too broke for your services Roxanne.”
The waitress rolled her eyes at the chubby man behind the glass and Meade couldn’t help but chuckle at the way the man’s eyes were coveting the woman’s body. He had to admit, it wasn’t like she left a lot to the imagination with her clothing, but even so, Meade always attempted a bit of eye contact. Russo on the other hand, had to wipe his mouth clear of drool the second she came within range.
“What about it cowboy?” Roxanne asked, ignoring Russo.
“I’m afraid your friend over here is right, you look a tad more expensive than I can afford at the moment,” he said with a wry grin.
Russo smiled, exposing a set of yellowed and rotting teeth, “You see Roxie? He’s not interested. My offer on the other hand, still stands.”
“Don’t you have work to do? I know Laszlo hates when the previous night’s count is not ready by the time he finishes out his poker game,” Roxanne said pleasantly. The subtext in her body language towards Russo however sent a much different message. Fuck off, I’m working.
Russo’s face fell and he moved back towards the rear of his room grumbling. Meade turned to Roxanne, “As annoying as he is, I’m afraid he’s right. Even if I had the credits, I’m not exactly someone who pays for it.”
“Paying for the company of a woman is hardly a sin,” she said.
“Well…” Meade drawled, “The way I figure it, you’re gonna be paying for it one way or another, I’m just not the type who wants a receipt when we’re done, if you catch my meaning. Though…” Meade looked over her body again, nodding appreciatively, “I bet it’s a life-changing experience with you.”
She smiled, setting down her drink tray and moved closer to him. “I do not do that sort of thing any longer,” her accent was thick – Ukrainian if Meade had to guess. “I scout eligible men for my friends who do need dates… and credits.”
“Looking for lonely looking fellows like myself to help your friends make a little money?” he shrugged, “Seems a hard life to choose, serving drinks and pimping your friends out.”
She laughed and it was musical.
“They don’t mind. They’d prefer I pick their johns rather than whatever random Mole that comes up to them with a fistful of credits and a head full of weird demands.” She dragged her finger down Meade’s duster and slapped it, red dust bursting off it. “I’ve got a good eye for gents who pay upfront and don’t want anything off the menu.”
“I got that kind of look huh?”
She examined him, removing her finger, “You look safer than most.”
He snorted, “Hard to believe ma’am, but some might call me a bit of an outlaw around these parts.”
She laughed again, this time a little harder. “What? Because you’re a Runabout?” she shook her head. “Mister, I know hard cases, and you ain’t one of ‘em. You’ve got a good heart.”
“And you base that on what exactly?” Meade wasn’t offended exactly, more amused than anything else, but there was something about this waitress that had his hackles up.
She shrugged and took off his hat, sweeping his black hair back from off his eyes. “You have kindness in your eyes.” Her eyes crinkled and for a moment looked sad, “But there is pain there as well. I do not think you really know the type of person you are yet.”
“Oh?” Meade was intrigued. “And just what type of person am I?”
She shrugged, replacing his hat on his head. “Good, bad, indifferent… to you, they’re all the same.”
“Could go either way huh?” his voice lowered, intoxicated as he was by her scent and proximity. He felt the sudden urge to grab this woman, kiss her deep and never let go. Though, that’s probably the response she aimed for when she spoke with guys like him.
She shook her head and a quiet smile spread across her face, “There is a strength within you. Strength I do not think you are even aware of. It’s the type of power that few men are capable of wielding properly. Good, bad, indifferent…” she cocked her head, examining Meade once again, “My guess is that you are too dumb to know what you are capable of.”
He chuckled, “Truer words never spoken.” He stuck his hand out, offering it to the waitress, “Jim Meade.”
She took his and held it for a moment. He was taken aback by the warmth and softness of her hand, “Roxanne. I am the bartender here at the Lady Luck.”
“You keep the boys in line eh?” he asked waving towards the gambling moles.
“Among others,” she said mysteriously.
“That count Laszlo and his crew?” Meade asked, sensing an opportunity to get some inside info on his mark.
Her face fell for a moment, and she regained her composure. “Laszlo cares nothing for what actually happens on the floor so long as he gets his percentage.”
“Not exactly a guy who’s into the day-to-day details huh?”
She frowned and picked up her tray, “I am not sure I should be speaking to you about this.”
He sighed and opened his ArmBar display – nothing got done in New Plymouth without a bribe. She waved him off.
“It’s not that I want payment,” she hesitated, “it’s… it’s just that you can never be sure who is listening.”
Meade glanced around and saw no one was nearby listening in. He shrugged at Roxanne, indicating that he thought they were safe enough.
She shook her head and pointed down to her ArmBar. On it, her SecureCard glowed green. The SecureCards were what every Coalition citizen needed in order to work in a legal Coalition union shop – which unless you started your own business or had a generous stake, every citizen needed to work.
Meade’s eyebrows furrowed not understanding. Roxanne’s eyes glanced around nervously and took a straw out of one of the nearly empty glasses on her tray. Using the leftover red cranberry juice inside the straw, Roxanne began sketching something quickly on the Lucite table next to them. Meade looked over her work reading the cryptic message she wrote on the table.
They listen.
She looked at Meade and pointed at the SecureCard once again. Meade looked up in surprise at Roxanne and she nodded wiping the message off the table. He was suddenly very glad that he never installed a SecureCard on his ArmBar. If they listened to everything anyone said at all times, that could get a body like his in a lot of trouble. Meade took the straw from Roxanne and dipped it into the juice writing a message of his own.
Laszlo?
She shook her head and pointed up.
Meade’s eyes widened. The Coalition listened?
“How do you know?” he asked.
She cocked her head and looked impatient with him. She thrust her hips, and then put her hands next to her cheeks miming sleep, making it easy for him to understand. Pillow talk. Whoever told her about the Coalition listening in on everyone had learned it from one of their johns. Coalition folk took their security situation seriously, but once a man’s zipper was unzipped, their mouths often followed.
“All right,” Meade thought to himself – what could he ask that wouldn’t be immediately suspect by her boss?
“Laszlo still runs the day-to-day stuff around here though right?”
She shrugged, “Used to be a lot more hands on if you catch my drift.”
She moved out of the way of two Moles who ‘accidentally’ let their hands catch her ass. She glared at them until they had moved onto a new game.
“He’s not around so much anymore?”
“He’s around,” Roxanne said. “But he leaves a lot of the business stuff to Russo and his goons.”
Russo hearing his name stiffened, but pretended to ignore her and concentrate on counting the stacks of money next
to him. Russo’s ArmBar rang and he turned, taking the call.
“Laszlo keeps you guys happy though?”
She nodded, “He’s better than working for the Little Green Men. I had a friend who ended up over on their block and she…” Roxanne sucked air through her teeth, “she didn’t make it.”
“My apologies…” Meade said, meaning it. It was a rough life for a lot of women on Mars. Some got through it better than others. “Got to make your nut somehow.”
“I do OK,” Roxanne admitted. “I find that my ability to assess when a guy needs company is worth a decent cut for my friends who do all the hard work.”
“Been there, done that sort of thing?” he asked.
“I made my living on my back once upon a time – quite a good one too,” Roxanne said with a grin. “I bought out my contract with the Consortium a few years ago and moved to Mars to try and make it here.”
“Laszlo took you in huh?”
“Laszlo saw an opportunity to make money,” Roxanne said diplomatically glancing down at her ArmBar’s SecureCard again. She was clearly worried that he was listening in on their conversation.
Meade felt bad about putting her in this position, he didn’t want to get her in any trouble, he just wanted information. Information that was apparently more dangerous than he thought. Whether Laszlo was listening in on them or not wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that Roxanne always had to worry that someone was listening which made her censor herself. Meade realized whether he intended to or not, asking the wrong questions about her boss could put this beautiful woman in a lot of danger, which he did not want to do.
“I don’t mean to put you in any jeopardy, ma’am.”
“Knock that ma’am stuff off,” Roxanne said irritated. “You and I both know you ain’t as polite as you pretend.”
“I find people like me better,” he said with a grin. “Plus, since you ain’t able to tell me much else without…” he motioned to her SecureCard, “the party line. I feel as if I should be nice to you.”
“Oh now, don’t take offense. It’s not like I don’t think you’re cute,” Roxanne said. “I just think you and I might have more fun doing...” she let the implication hang in the air, “things other than blathering at each other all night.”
