by RJ Johnson
His photo appeared on the screen next to the reporter and Meade examined it closely. It was him, though he hardly recognized himself. The photo was manipulated in a way that made him appear much more terrifying than he actually was – well, maybe if he hadn’t shaved for a few days. The viewscreen snapped off and retreated back into the wall.
“I believe you get the point…” Palmetto said behind him. Meade turned and looked at the warlord of E-block.
“They’re offering a rather large reward for your capture,” Palmetto continued, “Large enough so that even a man with my considerable resources finds it attractive.”
“I never figured you for a rat Palmetto. A scumbag for sure, but you’re no rat.”
Palmetto shrugged, “Money is money after all Mr. Meade.”
Meade drew himself up and puffed out his chest, “Well, I guarantee that if’n you try, I won’t make it easy for ya.”
Palmetto chuckled loudly, shaking his head, “Mr. Meade, I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I don’t want to turn you in.”
Meade was confused, “No? Then what do you want?”
Palmetto sighed and rose from behind his desk, “I know what you think of me Mr. Meade and I have to admit for the most part you are correct. However, I believe you have been framed as part of something much larger going on in New Plymouth.”
“What do you mean?” Meade asked, suspicious.
“You are accused of being New Plymouth’s largest drug importer. Gap, Flash, heroin… all of it, they say you’re the one responsible for bringing it all in.”
“And you don’t think so?”
Palmetto snorted. “Please. You’re no more a drug kingpin than I could be the next Ambassador to the Coalition.”
“Then what?” Meade challenged.
“There’s something going on within the power structure of the city,” Palmetto began. “It isn’t just the Coalition I’m speaking of – but also of the other Warlords. Business is… off. Alliances unreliable. Shipments go missing. I would never admit so much to anyone else, but I do not know what is happening. And being unaware of the variables in life is bad for business.”
Palmetto paced the small room, stroking his beard while he spoke. Meade wasn’t sure if this was for his benefit, or his own.
“I do not understand why they have chosen someone as inconsequential as you for an enemy, but my guess is, if they want you bad enough to place a seven figure bounty on your head, then that must mean you’re into something deep.”
Meade groaned. It had to do with the ArmBar download, but if Palmetto had his ArmBar, then he wouldn’t be able to figure out what it was he had.
“I’m always pissing off people,” Meade said. “Today was no different.”
“This is more than that Mr. Meade,” Palmetto said, turning to face him. “This is a concerted effort to put you into a position where you will be quickly taken out of play once you reappear in public. If these other players do not want in the game they’re playing, then that’s exactly where I believe you belong.”
“What do you want Palmetto?” Direct and to the point.
“I want you to find out what the Coalition is hiding,” Palmetto said. “I want to know what is happening in my city and if there is anything I can do-“
“To profit off it?” Meade asked interrupting. Palmetto allowed a slight smile to cross his face.
“Among other things,” Palmetto continued, “But, most of all, I want to know why formerly rational actors in my world, have turned irrational.”
“Must be my charming personality,” Meade replied, the sarcasm dripping off his voice.
Palmetto fixed a stare on Meade and did not let go, his face deadly serious. “Mr. Meade, you should disabuse yourself of the notion that you have anyone else who is able, or rather, willing to help you.”
Meade hated to admit it, but Palmetto was right. He had never seen eye-to-eye with the warlord of his block, but Palmetto was offering an olive branch, what he didn’t know, was what the price would be for it.
“This comes with a catch, don’t it?” Meade asked.
“If you survive and are able to provide me with the information I require, I want you to come and work for me permanently,” Palmetto said.
Meade shook his head. “No dice. Nothing’s changed. I can’t… won’t trust you. Ever.”
Palmetto smiled, “I disagree. I could have very easily turned you in for the reward if I wanted, but I have not. I’d like to think that’s bought me a little goodwill. Of course, I could always summon the authorities if you do not believe our deal is a fair one…” his finger hovered over his ArmBar’s comm channel.
Meade growled. He didn’t have any other choice.
“Fine,” he said. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll survive all this though.”
Palmetto laughed and removed his finger from the comm, “You my dear Mr. Meade are like the cockroaches that survived the Last War, only far more resilient. I have every faith in you that you will find out what’s truly happening to my city.”
Meade grunted and extended his left arm, “I’ll need my ArmBar if’n I’m going to get anything done out there.”
Palmetto nodded and reached into the drawer of the desk beside him, tossing Meade’s ArmBar on the desk between them. Meade reached for it, but was stopped by Palmetto’s iron vise grip on his wrist.
“You have seventy two hours. If you do not have information I believe is worth my time, I will have you in chains and on the first transport to the Coalition’s Enzeli prison within minutes,” Palmetto stared Meade down, his eyes narrow. “Do not test me Mr. Meade.”
Meade yanked his arm away from the slimy billionaire and slid the ArmBar back on, the familiar weight reassuring. He turned without a word and moved towards the door.
“Do you hear me Mr. Meade? The second I believe you are about to betray me, I will have your head on a stick, seven figure reward notwithstanding.”
Meade walked out the door calling over his shoulder, “Better men than you have tried to kill me and failed Palmetto.”
Meade felt the weight of the world fall on his shoulders once he cleared the tiny office where Palmetto had stored him. He had seventy two hours to figure out what the hell was going on. If he was going to do that, he’d need allies and the best one he could think of was back at her bar pouring drinks.
He could think of no better place to start.
Chapter Seven
Moving through the crowds of New Plymouth without being recognized wasn’t easy, but growing up on Mars held certain advantages for Meade and an innate sense of direction through the winding streets and alleyways of New Plymouth was one of them. This made it a fairly simple proposition for him to slip through the Coalition checkpoints set up in response to his ‘terrifying rampage’ through the market.
He approached Emeline’s bar cautiously, if the Coalition was looking for him, they’d likely start with the Last Ditch. It was no secret that he hung out there on a nightly basis, so Meade knew he was likely taking a huge risk coming here. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much choice at the moment - he needed allies and Em was the best one he could think of.
The street leading to the Last Ditch was deserted. Meade watched the place for a few moments searching for the trap he was sure was about to be sprung on him.
Meade’s eyes crinkled, searching the street for any signs of Coalition MPs. He opened his ArmBar and scanned the general vicinity. Nothing pinged, which meant that no one was nearby. Strange, since there should at least be some customers in the bar.
He waited for a few more minutes watching the street for activity when a kid, no more than ten or eleven years old passed by him. He hissed at the street urchin trying to catch his attention.
“Kid! Hey kid!”
The child’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Meade hiding behind the barrels on the side of the street. He kept his distance and held up his left forearm supporting it with his right hand, struggling with the weight of his ArmBar that wa
s comically oversized on him.
“Stay back mister, I know how to use this.”
“I’m not looking to hurt you pal. I need your help.”
The kid snorted and struggled with his ArmBar to hold it up, and the attachment sparked menacingly, “I heard that one before.”
Smart kid, Meade thought. “I left my holoattachment in the bar across the street. I need someone to grab it for me.”
The kid cocked his head, but kept the ArmBar’s growler attachment aimed at him, “Go get it yourself.”
“I would, but the bartender in there right now ain’t exactly a fan of mine.” Meade didn’t feel too bad about lying to a ten year old. Still, it wasn’t exactly his best moment. “I need the attachment for a work I’m doing later tonight.” Meade opened up his ArmBar display and took out a virtual twenty credit coin. “It’s worth twenty creds to me if’n you can get it.”
The kid lowered his ArmBar and smiled slightly. “Fifty.”
Meade couldn’t help but chuckle. It’d be every credit he had left to his name, but if he got the all clear from the kid, then it’d be worth every penny – besides, Emeline could float him if he needed, that is, until he found Sarah and find out what the hell she had gotten him involved with.
“You drive a hard bargain kid,” Meade tossed the credits to his ArmBar and the kid caught it, depositing it into his account. “Just go into the bar and ask for Emeline. Tell her that her favorite customer left his holoemitter and needs it back.”
The kid examined his newfound wealth, momentarily forgetting Meade existed. He snapped his fingers to try and get the kid’s attention.
“We got a deal?”
The kid nodded and took off running for the front door of the Last Ditch. He entered it and the door swung shut behind him. Meade watched the entrance for a few minutes and then quickly ducked behind the boxes he was hiding behind when the kid was escorted out by the ear.
Meade silently swore to himself. The man kicking the kid out of Emeline’s bar was the gargantuan security guard who had been guarding Laszlo’s private game back at the Lucky Lady casino. He hadn’t counted on Laszlo coming for Emeline so quickly.
He waved over at the kid and he approached, rubbing his elbow where he had fallen hard on the ground where Lumpy (as Meade had nicknamed the security guard) had thrown him.
“Mister, I don’t know what your game is, but you owe me a lot more than just fifty credits.” The boy struggled to hold back tears as he held up his arm, showing the missing ArmBar. “There were a bunch of people in there and they just stole my ArmBar.”
Meade felt bad, but he didn’t have time for that, “Tell me what you saw and I’ll get that ArmBar of yours back, I guarantee it.”
The kid looked at him suspiciously, “I don’t know. There were four or five men in there all talking to that bartender.”
“She OK?” Meade asked quickly, the worry evident in his voice.
“So far,” the kid said. “But, they weren’t happy when I came in and interrupted ‘em.”
“What were they talking about?”
“I dunno,” the kid shrugged. “All they kept asking was; ‘Where’s the infodump? Where is it?’ that kind of stuff.”
Meade swore, and this time it wasn’t silent. He looked down at the kid in front of him and his face reddened, “Ignore that. Then what happened?”
“I interrupted ‘em and went to ask her about the holoemitter. That’s when the old guy with the white hair told his goon to throw me out.” The kid rubbed his shoulder and looked expectantly at him. “That’s when that asshole took my ArmBar and threw me out. He made fun of me for having it. He said I was too young.” The tears returned to the child’s eyes.
“Might be at that, but it ain’t for them to say,” Meade said. “Keep an eye out kid for the boys in blue will ya? There’s another fifty in it if’n you can warn me ‘case the Coalition beat the dust off this street.”
The kid shook his head, “Get my ArmBar back, kick that fat asshole’s ass and we’ll be square.”
“Fair ‘nuff,” Meade replied and put his hat on. He moved across the street and checked his pistol. He pulled the slide back and made sure he still had a full clip and a round in the chamber.
He eased his way up to the doorjamb and opened the door. He opened his ArmBar display and withdrew a small ear bud from the computer. Typing quickly, he aimed his ArmBar emitter towards the door’s slight opening and the conversation within became clear after Meade adjusted a few settings. Emeline’s voice trickled through his ear bud.
“…know where that bastard is? Like I told you, far as I’m concerned, the piece of shit can rot.”
Meade chuckled. Emeline was always saucy when she felt threatened.
He heard her continue talking over his earpiece, “…That dude owes me more money on his bar tab than the combined debt of every mole on Mars, so if you find him, send him my way. I got a few things to collect out of his hide myself.”
“Ahh,” Meade recognized Laszlo’s rumbling voice coming through the comm, “So, you aren’t a fan of Mr. Meade’s.”
“Me and just about any other mole you ask in New Plymouth,” Emeline’s voice dripped with contempt. He wondered how much of her animosity for him she was actually drawing upon. “He’s a scumbag, self-involved, narcissistic Redback who couldn’t care less where his next cred comes from.”
Ouch.
Laszlo chuckled, “I’m afraid my own impression of the man was not as colorful as your own.”
Emeline snorted, “Get to know him a little better.”
“In fact,” Laszlo continued, ignoring the interruption, “he appeared to me to be a man who is quite resourceful and quick on his feet – especially from what I saw of his Zero-G fight the other night.”
“It was fun watching him get slapped silly by Chau,” Emeline admitted.
Meade had a feeling that was probably the most truthful thing she’d told Laszlo so far.
“I have to confess Ms. Hunan, you are not what I expected,” Laszlo said, drawing his words out. “The impression I had of your relationship with Mr. Meade was that you two were closer than you claim.”
A chill ran up Meade’s back as he listened for Emeline’s response. There was none. She was probably fixing him with one of her infamous death stares. Whenever Em brought that out, Meade knew he was in trouble.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you a different type of story,” Laszlo said.
“I got nothin’ but time,” Emeline snapped. “You chased off all the paying customers.”
“My associate who loaned you the money for Mr. Meade made it quite clear that you and he were close,” Laszlo said dangerously. “In fact, he tells me it was your vouch for Mr. Meade that allowed him to rationalize loaning so large a sum to the man.”
“So what?” Emeline challenged. “Meade guaranteed me that money would help pay off the rather sizable debt he owed me.”
“But, Meade had no credit to his name. That’s why my associate asked for the paper on your bar before he would front the money.”
Meade’s eyes widened. He had no idea that Emeline had done that for him. He had been guaranteed the money would be trading on his name and credit – not Em’s.
“Instead you used it to place a bet for him,” Laszlo continued. “I don’t believe that is the behavior of a good businesswoman. Loaned money? While already being in considerable debt to you? Seems to me you would no more risk your livelihood for the man as you would jump off Olympus Mons.”
“The man seemed confident enough in his payday,” Emeline said, but her voice wasn’t as strong as before. “I figured I’d either get paid, or have the satisfaction of watching him get beaten down like the deadweight he is. Either way, I’d get my money’s worth.”
Laszlo chuckled. Meade heard the sound of scraping tables and chairs and a yelp from Emeline. He stood to barge in when he heard another crash and the muffled sound of a grunt.
“Set your man on me again a
nd you’ll eat your next meal through a tube,” Emeline said, her voice shaking. “And whatever you think you’re about to do, I recommend you take another second to think it through.”
Meade understood. Because he had sent the kid in asking for the emitter, Emeline was smart enough to know Meade was outside listening in and this was her way of telling him to back off. Meade relaxed for a second. He knew Emeline could take care of herself just fine, so he’d let it play out a bit. If things got any worse, he’d be able to get inside in no time.
“Spicy,” Laszlo challenged. “And I do not doubt you are serious, but, I’m afraid that I cannot take any chances where you and Mr. Meade are concerned.”
“I told you…”
“And I told you Ms. Hunan,” Laszlo said, his voice firm. “Your association with Mr. Meade runs much deeper than you’d have me believe. In fact, I know your relationship with him better than you know yourself. I know you and he grew up together in the Deep on E-Block. I know you and he have basically been inseparable since you were both twenty-one years old. Do not underestimate me Ms. Hunan, those who do, find it to their peril.”
Laszlo turned to Lumpy, “Bring her. We shall lure Meade with the promise of returning her.”
“Stay back!” Emeline screamed.
Meade had heard enough. He stood and pushed the door of the Last Ditch open and walked in, his boots echoing through the room.
Inside Emeline’s bar, Meade saw that five men stood in a semi-circle around Emeline who they had pushed up against the redwood bar she was so proud of. Lumpy had his hands on her shotgun and was going for her throat.
“Enough!” Meade said, his voice booming through the room. “What do you want Laszlo?”
Laszlo turned slowly on his heel and a smile spread over his face, exposing a set of sharp teeth, “Mr. Meade. You’ve managed to make yourself quite the troublemaker around here.”
“You should see me on a bad day,” Meade said, his eyes narrow. He waved his pistol toward Lumpy, “You’d best put her down unless you want that third hole to breathe out of.”
