by RJ Johnson
Russo was so pale Meade began to worry he’d pass out before he could get anything useful out of the fat man. Suddenly Russo sighed and grumbled a curse.
“I didn’t catch that,” Meade said.
“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” Russo looked up with a dour expression, “I have a way to listen into the man’s office.”
“Did you use it?” Meade questioned leaning forward. They were finally getting somewhere.
Russo nodded.
“What’d you hear?”
“Nothing too specific,” Russo said wincing, “but that’s because one of the men Laszlo escorted into his office was using a buzzkill.”
“Buzzkill?” Meade asked. Sarah perked up looking interested.
“It’s a dampening field,” Sarah said, “Coalition folk use it to keep any conversations they want private. It’s a microwave transmitter that directs audio vocals into a…” she stopped when she saw Meade’s face go blank, “Forget it.”
Meade turned back to Russo, his face dark, “So you can’t help me.” He flicked the portaweld back on, Russo screamed out in protest.
“Before the audio cut out, I heard them say the Ambassador’s body man died and wouldn’t be able to be put in place.”
Meade shook his head, “You’re lying!”
“No I swear!” Russo begged, “You can see for yourself, I keep all recordings on my cloud account.” He jerked his neck and jutted his jaw towards his restrained forearm, on which his massive ArmBar was mounted. “Listen to it if you don’t believe me. It’s just a copy of the body man’s ArmBar, I swear!”
Meade stood, and picked Russo up off the ground, righting his chair for him.
Russo’s eyes widened, “I…”
“Save it, I’m way ahead of you.” He reached for Russo’s ArmBar and Russo winced.
Meade chuckled. “I guess bravery ain’t your thing.”
“Fuck off Meade,” Russo growled.
Meade ignored him and looked at the complicated and showy ArmBar model Russo used. It was bulky, studded with diamonds, gold and intricately carved silver impressions. Meade grunted when he pulled the glitzy ArmBar off Russo and examined it for a moment, grinning when he saw what he was looking for. He withdrew a shiny octagonal coder disc with a triangle in the middle from a slot deep inside and smiled. Russo’s eyes widened.
Meade stuck the DNA coder into his ArmBar. It flashed as it accepted the new DNA coding and passwords. As it began to decrypt Laszlo’s ArmBar info, reams of information began to run down Meade’s ArmBar display. He whistled in amazement.
“Laszlo’s making some pretty nice coin from his Casino operation.”
“Only because of my expert stewardship,” Russo grumbled.
“I don’t doubt that,” Meade said honestly. He examined the data that was decoding on his ArmBar. Sarah moved up behind him to peek over his shoulder at the data. She grunted as she looked at it.
“There’s a copy of another ArmBar on here, but I can’t read it. It’s DNA coded too, but it’s got a Coalition signature,” she stood, “We can decrypt this. Coalition ArmBars all have backdoor access hacks. We just need your friend’s server farm.”
Meade nodded, “What about the rest?”
“Nothing but data on Laszlo’s empire,” Sarah said, dejected, she scanned through the file and brightened, Meade noticed her face change.
“What is it?”
“The file that’s encrypted, it’s part of the second ArmBar image.”
“That’d be the Ambassador’s body man’s ArmBar data…”
“No, this is different. That encrypted file is hiding within the image file,” She nodded, impressed, “It’s a good thing you didn’t try to crack that file any longer than you did. The data is hidden within the main core. Had you kept trying to unlock it without Laszlo’s DNA coder, it would’ve degraded the whole thing.”
She closed her ArmBar and shook her head, “But, we’ll still need that server farm from your friend if we want to know what’s on it.”
“One thing at a time,” Meade said. He turned back to Russo, “What’s Laszlo up to?”
Russo’s heaving chest slowed and he began to catch his breath. As he did, his courage appeared to return, “I’ve told you all I know. Kill me if you want.”
Meade ignored that, “Where is he holding Emeline?”
“Emeline? She’s that cooz that runs the Last Ditch, right?” Russo asked, his courage returning, “That gash was due for someone to take her down a peg or two.” Russo grinned, “Glad to hear she’s finally getting her comeuppance.”
Meade didn’t even know he was capable of feeling this much anger. But suddenly, after everything that had been building over the last few days, something within him broke. Threatening violence clearly was not enough for the man.
He moved quickly to the workbench and dropped the portaweld. He examined the table and saw a large pair of sheering scissors they used to cut the fiber cable as well as the metal siding they used during construction. Meade picked up the scissors and brought them over to Russo.
Russo scoffed at him, “You wouldn’t dare…”
Meade said nothing while he grabbed Russo’s index finger. Sarah stepped forward and began to protest when Meade quickly snapped the scissors shut, severing Russo’s finger clean to the bone. Russo howled out in pain. Meade casually tossed the finger aside.
“Goddamn you Meade!” Russo howled, as tears fell from his eyes.
“Jim!” Sarah said horrified at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Finding Emeline,” Meade said, his eyes, boring a hole into Russo’s. “I’ll ask you again you miserable piece of shit. You got nine more chances to tell me the truth.”
“I’m telling you! I don’t know anything…!” Russo said, pleading with Meade. Meade shrugged and grabbed Russo’s middle finger and severed it.
“You’re down to eight Russo.” Meade said calmly. Rule number ten: Show no mercy to those who deserve none. “Actually, I take that back, you got a ninth chance, but I doubt you’ll want to use it.” Meade allowed his gaze to settle on Russo’s crotch.
Russo whimpered.
“Still don’t know where Emeline is?” Meade asked, “All right…” He moved to take another one of Russo’s fingers when Sarah stopped him and whispered in his ear.
“Don’t do it Meade, you’re better than this.”
“Not while Emeline’s in trouble I’m not,” Meade replied firmly and grabbed Russo’s right hand ring finger, the blood from Russo’s missing digits running down over his own.
“OK OK!” Russo screamed. “Laszlo has a warehouse he keeps off the books down in D-block. That’s where he does all his wetwork. I’ve never been, but I can show you on a map.”
“Show me,” Meade said, opening his ArmBar display to a map of New Plymouth. Russo leaned forward.
“Corner of Baker and Field Avenue, third warehouse on the right.”
The display on Meade’s ArmBar blinked and it zoomed in on a dilapidated looking warehouse that was set apart from much of the main thoroughfare. Meade glanced at the image on his screen and back at Russo.
“You wouldn’t be leading us into a trap would you Russo?” He didn’t remove the scissors from Russo’s ring finger.
“No! Gods no, I swear!” he begged. “I just want-”
Meade nodded, “All right Russo.”
“You believe me?”
“I’ll put it to you this way, if it turns out you’re lying, I won’t start with the fingers next time you and I see each other.” Meade said, lightly probing Russo’s crotch with the scissors.
“I just… I don’t…” Russo wheezed, and suddenly he passed out.
Meade stepped up to the slumped over Russo and grabbed his face, and drawing it up with his hand. The shock of losing two digits had apparently been too much for the man who had passed out.
“Great, let’s go check out the warehouse before he wakes up,” Sarah said quickly.
“No
need,” Meade said dropping Russo’s face. “I doubt a warehouse even exists.”
“But the map…” Sarah began.
“Sure ‘nuff there’s a warehouse, and I don’t doubt Laszlo might’ve used it once or twice to make people bleed. But there’s no way in hell he gave me the location of where Laszlo really is. He only told me whatever he thought it would take to get me to stop torturing him,” Meade said. “The best idea we got is to beat the dust off this place and then follow Russo wherever he goes. I guaran-damn-tee you he’ll head straight for Laszlo’s real location once we’re done here.”
Sarah’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “You’re a hard man to know Jim Meade.”
“Keeps me alive more often than not,” Meade replied. “Come on, we can’t be here when he wakes up. Loosen those bonds up a little so he can get out.”
Sarah complied and untied some the knots tying Russo to the chair as to make it easier for the man to slip away once he came to.
Meade took a small dot off the side of his ArmBar and placed it carefully underneath Russo’s collar. The tracking device was tiny, but powerful. It used a direct microwave transmitter that sent out microbursts of its location to Meade’s ArmBar, and with that, they’d be able to track Russo wherever he went in New Plymouth.
Meade examined Russo and withdrew the DNA coder chip from his ArmBar and stuck it in his pocket. He turned to Sarah.
“Let’s go.”
They moved towards the door and Meade glanced back at their handiwork. Russo sat in the chair, slumped over as blood dripped from his right hand. He wasn’t proud of torturing Russo, but when a man was pushed, he did what was needed, and Emeline was more than a friend. She was family.
Laszlo and his people were going to regret screwing with his family.
Chapter Thirteen
Meade and Sarah retreated to a safe location where they watched Russo’s blinking icon showing them his current position. A good twenty minutes after they left him tied up in the warehouse, Russo emerged, looking pale and holding his right hand gingerly.
“There he is,” Meade said, pointing across the street.
Russo moved past a nearby vendor and grabbed a white cotton towel from the displayed wares. He wrapped his bleeding right hand and fended off the angry shopkeeper who was accusing him of stealing. Russo ended the argument with a quick toss of credits that scattered all over the city walk.
Russo waddled over to the edge of the Lady Luck and opened his ArmBar display summoning an Aerocycle. The bike melted out of seemingly solid rock face and obediently pulled up next to him. Russo sat down on the cycle, typed quickly on the display and then rocketed up and into the New Plymouth traffic.
“Let’s go,” Meade said in a low voice. He tapped the application on his ArmBar and summoned an Aerocycle large enough for both he and Sarah. They quickly got on as Meade hacked into the computer’s nerve center. Without a specific destination, the Aerocycle wouldn’t take off and without knowing precisely where Russo was going, it would be impossible for Meade to follow the casino manager. Fortunately, there were many black market programs available that allowed people like Meade to hack into the AI and control the Aerocycle manually.
This was what Meade was doing when the Aerocycle blinked on and off as the computer was now under Meade’s control. He quickly programmed the cycle’s computer to follow Russo’s bright red dot on his ArmBar display. They quickly strapped themselves in and they too rocketed up and into the late afternoon Martian sky.
Russo was moving quickly through the New Plymouth traffic and it was all they could do to keep up. Meade watched the bright red dot chase its way through the New Plymouth streets and canyons as they headed far away from civilization.
“The edge of the Lid’s only twenty klicks away,” Sarah said, looking at the map over Meade’s shoulder. “Looks like he really was lying about the warehouse in D-block. Feel free to say ‘I told you so.’”
“I’m not much of an ‘I told ya so’ sorta guy,” he said. “I’m just pleased we finally have a lead on Emeline’s location.”
They leaned into the wind as Russo’s Aerocycle picked up speed and moved towards the desolate western edge of New Plymouth. It was here that dozens of played out ORI mines were scattered across a hundred square mile area. During the first wave of colonization, thousands of men and women had mined the formerly rich fields of New Plymouth for ORI decades before the Lid had been completed. Now, the old mines were left mostly abandoned, the ORI strikes giving out with time, with only scattered Runabouts and others that existed on the fringe of society who choose to make a home there. It was a dangerous place, one that many avoided.
Russo’s Aerocycle slowed as he approached the massive entrance to an old and abandoned ORI mine. He flew into the mine’s gaping hold skimming past the skeletal remains of the abandoned mining equipment rusted and bleached from years of disuse.
“Ease back,” Sarah warned. Meade complied and slowed, following Russo from a distance.
Up ahead of them they watched Russo land and get off his Aerocycle, moving quickly towards the shadows towards the back of the mine.
“Over there,” Sarah pointed towards the side of where Russo parked his cycle. Meade pulled up next to it and turned off the engine once they landed safely. There were several other newer Aerocycle models parked nearby.
“Looks like a party,” Meade observed.
“Where’d he go?” Sarah asked.
He shrugged and moved to open up his ArmBar to scan the general vicinity. Below him, the floor began to fluoresce where Russo’s blood had hit the mine’s dusty floorboards. Meade began to follow it down the dark mine shaft.
“This way,” he said, pointing.
“Turns out you being a psychopath is good for the investigation,” Sarah commented as she followed Meade through the tunnel in the dark mine.
“Sociopath,” Meade corrected, moving towards the trail where Russo’s blood was leading them. “I’m a sociopath, there’s a difference.”
She glared and shushed him as they crept along the dark and dank hallway that shot off from the main cavern they landed in. Ahead, they could hear the sound of a man grunting, and the slap of gloves against canvas.
They both moved silently until they rounded a corner and were confronted by a series of bright klieg lights that were illuminating the large cavern ahead. Meade and Sarah crouched down and moved towards a large rock slope that tapered down into the cave. Meade peeked over the edge of the slope to see a small Zero-G training gym set up within the cavernous and abandoned mine.
Meade brought up the ArmBar display and aimed it so he could zoom in and get a better view of what was going on. There, he could see his former opponent Kevin Chau beating the body bag mercilessly. One of his training coaches struggled to hang onto the bag to keep it stable while Kevin assaulted it. Kevin’s thundering kicks beat the side of the bag quick and hard, until the canvas split open and red soil began to spill out of the top.
Kevin Chau stepped back, breathing heavily in the enhanced gravity as he watched his coach unhook the destroyed body bag.
In the auditorium, a slow clapping began to echo through the room. A click was heard and the enhanced Higgs field around Chau returned to Earth norm gravity. The fighter turned towards the source of the clapping.
“Absolutely wonderful Mr. Chau,” Laszlo’s smooth voice echoed through the mine. “I am so happy we were able to come to an agreement for my sponsorship of you. I knew you were the man who could bring the Lady Luck a championship belt for us to display.”
Chau’s training coach approached him from the side and offered him a water bottle. Chau slapped it aside.
“You fucking moron, wait until I take my goddamn gloves off,” Chau spat at his assistant. He tore at the tape on his glove and yanked his hand out of it.
“Gimme that,” Chau snatched the water bottle. Chau turned his attention back to Laszlo.
“I know what you did the other night Laszlo, and I don’t
appreciate being made to look like a bitch in front of everyone.”
Laszlo spread his arms, his palms outward attempting to look innocent. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“You know goddamn well what I’m referring to asshole. Meade won that fight and you flipped it,” Chau growled.
“I may have interceded when I saw our plans for your brother’s redemption were in danger.”
“I was supposed to get there on my own!” Chau said, looming over Laszlo. Laszlo wasn’t a short man by any means, but Chau was so gigantic that he towered over the warlord.
“I fail to see the difference,” Laszlo shrugged. “You are still facing Titus Greene for the Heavyweight championship as we planned. I was not about to allow a lucky shot by some Runabout end our carefully laid plans.”
“Your plans mean nothing to me Laszlo,” Chau spat at him. He turned and picked up a jump rope and began to skip and run in place. “You want a shiny bauble to impress the poor Redbacks who come into your casino to lose their stake. For me, this is about honor and restoring my family’s name. Greene killed my brother, but my revenge will only mean something if I get there on my own merits.”
“Your brother knew the risks of fighting in the zero-g leagues,” Laszlo said. “I was looking to alleviate those risks for you and guarantee your ascension to fighting Greene. You agreed with the body modifications and those were hardly honorable ways to fight your way up the ladder now were they?”
Meade could see a shadow flash across Chau’s face, and the man stopped skipping rope. Laszlo saw how he was conflicted and he pressed the advantage, moving closer, placing his arm around the man.
“You saw no dishonor in those before now,” Laszlo clasped his hand on the mountainous Chau’s back, “Growing a conscience can be so costly. I do hope you’re not coming down with such an affliction. Are you?” Laszlo let his last question hang in the air between them.
