by Tara Omar
“What are you doing?” asked David, just as Petra pulled off her shirt. She unhooked her bra from her corset and dropped it to the floor.
“Ah, Mr Habib,” said Petra, stretching out her arms, “these symbols do not stray far from their meaning, no matter from which world you come.”
The heavy sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor.
“On your knees, now,” said Petra. “Press your mouth to the rim of the chair and do not move.”
“What?” asked David.
“Do it,” said Petra, “unless you want to die.”
C H A P T E R 3 4
Ibex guard Ralph Morgan trudged down the narrow staff hallway under the southeast wing of the Zodic, muttering to himself. It was precisely 2:08 pm; eight minutes of his second tea break had passed, and he was still on patrol by order of the Zodic’s head security office. Apparently some kid had had poor enough sense to get a tattoo and had disappeared inside the casino.
“Some ruddy attention seeker, no doubt, ruining my tea for no good reason,” mumbled Ralph as he jiggled the handle on the door to the fitting room. A light shone through the crack at the bottom of the door, and he thought he could hear someone groaning inside, probably a drunken staff member. Ralph inserted the key and leaned his ear to the door. He could hear a woman panting.
“Oh, there… there…”
“Whoa now,” said Ralph, pulling back. He turned the key and pushed open the door.
“Alright, alright, let’s break it—”
Ralph stopped mid-sentence. Petra Jakobson, one of the wealthiest, most influential women in Aeroth, was sitting half-naked in a chair with a man under her skirt.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Petra, folding her arms. Ralph fumbled with his keys.
“Oh, um, sorry Ms Jakobson—I thought—I didn’t know you were—I have instructions to search the place. It’s from the head office,” said Ralph, unsure where to look.
“You are interrupting a fitting,” said Petra.
Ralph glanced over at the man covered by Petra’s skirt, but was quickly distracted by Petra’s naked breasts, which were stacked seductively atop a black corset. Ralph shook his head.
“New staff member,” said Petra.
“Right,” said Ralph, squinting at his shoes. “I think I’ll just come back.”
He went to close the door but stopped, staring closely at the man hidden under her skirt.
“Well?” asked Petra.
“Just wondering, do you do all your—Are all fittings—”
Ralph glanced again at her corset and grunted. “Good day, Ms Jakobson,” said Ralph, tipping his hat. He closed the door and relocked it, shaking his head as he rounded the corner toward the staff bathroom.
Petra sighed. She swung her leg over David’s head and stood up, the tail of her dress still covering him as she grabbed her bra and shirt. David still knelt with his face and hands touching the rim of the chair.
“You can move now. He will not bother us again,” said Petra, buttoning the last button on her shirt. She opened a drawer near the mirror and pulled out a fuchsia jumpsuit.
“Put this on,” said Petra. “Ibex is looking for you, but they will not make a move until you leave the casino. Since you were photographed with Dominic they do not want to make a scene. The best way to get you out is through the Suez. Harpies is delivering a shipment in twenty minutes. You must be in the safe under the tables when it arrives.”
He reached for the compact inside his pants.
“Leave it. You will need it,” said Petra.
“And my bag? The boat ticket?” asked David.
“The boat it is no longer an option. Ride the Harpies to their factory and go up the nearest manhole. Jia Li lives a block away. You can find your way from there. I will make sure your bag meets you there. You will be safe with her.”
“Harpies factory, nearest manhole. Got it,” said David as he zipped up his suit. Petra adjusted his collar.
“It is very important that you leave no trace of having been here. Don’t set off any alarms, ruffle any guards—nothing out of the ordinary, or Ibex will be onto you. Once you’re on the Harpies boat you must not be seen. Do you understand me?” asked Petra, handing him a false name tag.
“Yes,” said David.
“Good,” said Petra. She swiped her card across a slit in the handle of a closet door. The door swung open, revealing a cabinet full of hanging pashminas.
“Get in,” said Petra, nodding toward it.
“In the closet?” asked David.
Petra swiped her card again. The pashminas turned and pressed against the closet walls, forming an elegant wallpaper pattern. The closet now looked like the inside of an elevator.
“It will take you to the floor with the safes,” said Petra, pressing the button for the lowest level. “You can leave your uniform at Jia Li’s. I shall pick it up from there.”
“Just out of curiosity, how certain are you that the Suez is a safe route?” asked David.
“I designed it,” said Petra.
“That works for me,” said David.
Petra smiled.
“You shall see me again, I think,” said Petra, kissing his cheek. “May Avinoam be with you.”
Petra watched as the last of his head disappeared into the floor, a cabinet full of hats now in the place where he had stood. Petra closed the closet doors and moved in front of the three-panelled mirror. She smoothed her hair and straightened her skirt. Then she collected her handbag and made her way to the midnight park past the main gambling hall. She stopped at a side office tucked behind a box hedge: the Zodic’s head security office. Mo sat at a desk covered with papers, scanning a map of the Zodic. Petra sat herself on top of the map he was reading. Mo glared at her.
“The stars are not in your favour today, are they, Morné? First all those losses at Dio Vino, and now you must work overtime,” said Petra, folding her arms.
“Not now, Petra,” said Mo as he scooted the map out from under her. “I think I may have some information for you. A uniform was stolen from my fitting room. I think it was the man you’re following,” said Petra.
Mo nodded.
“Okay, anything else?” asked Mo.
“What else do you want, Morné?” asked Petra, crossing her legs.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a lead as to where we can find him,” said Mo, looking at the wall.
“I can help you with that as well. I found a schedule of suppliers near the open closet. It looks like the arrest should be fairly easy for you.”
An Ibex guard smiled and nodded to Petra as he entered through the door. Petra adjusted her shirt and smiled back.
“And?” asked Mo.
“He’s heading for the Harpies delivery barge,” said Petra, running her finger along Mo’s map, “here, in the Suez.”
C H A P T E R 3 5
The Suez Underground was the most ambitious and sophisticated architectural project in the whole of Aeroth. Built twelve stories below ground, its extensive network of limestone tunnels spanned over 8 000 Aerothian kilometres like a massive spider’s web, connecting every major financial reserve in the land. On any given day, barges shaped like snails with square shells cruised through the canals’ milky, green waters, en route with gold, arms, or whatever else required extra security.
David poked his finger into the air hole of a crate marked for exotic birds, watching a scuffle just beyond the wrought-iron street lamps of the Zodic’s loading bay.
“What do you mean you refuse to offload?” asked a red-faced man known as Arnold Plum, the Zodic’s logistic manager. He held onto the outer spokes of a snail’s neck, which was parked at the dock.
“According to our records the state tax on the playing cards has not been paid, and the aces have already been stamped with state approval,” said a smug
-looking delivery boy.
“That’s impossible,” said Arnold.
“That’s what our records show, Mr Plum,” said the boy, shrugging. “I don’t deliver to delinquent customers.”
Arnold glared at his name tag.
“Just give us a moment, Dick,” said Arnold.
“My name is Derrick,” said the boy.
As Arnold turned to descend he noticed David in the corner behind the crate. Arnold growled.
“Hey you, get back to work,” called Arnold as he climbed down the barge. “Come with me. We need an extra man in the safe.”
Arnold led David to the metal doors of a walk-in safe where an Ibex guard stood at attention. He looked at David and frowned.
“Spread,” ordered Arnold.
“What?” asked David. Arnold held out his arms impatiently. David imitated him as the guard patted him down.
“Clear,” said guard, nodding.
The safe unbolted and a heavy door swung open, revealing an apartment-sized room completely covered with money. Two workers in fuchsia jumpsuits were sweeping the floor with long brooms and dodging spurts of bills that rained down from the ceiling in different places at random. A complicated-looking machine had been shoved to the corner, which two other workers sat against, packing the bills into empty metal cubes. Arnold grimaced.
“What now?” asked Arnold.
“The counter is jammed, Sir. We’ve had to collect and pack the bills by hand,” said a woman holding a broom.
“Biy’avi,” said Arnold, rubbing his eyebrows. “I need twenty cases of a hundred out by the dock, now. Start loading.”
“Yes, Sir,” said the woman.
David grabbed a metal cube and began stuffing bills into it like the others, while the woman pushed bills toward him with her broom.
“What is this place?” asked David, leaning toward her.
“It’s the safe under the tables in the main gambling hall,” said the woman without looking up. “Every time players buy chips the money gets pressed into slots on the tables. It falls through chutes that open into here.”
“The Zodic’s doing well, I see,” said David, dodging a burst of cash that dropped through the ceiling before closing his cube. The woman nodded as David hoisted the cube onto his back and joined the parade of workers heading toward the barge.
Meanwhile, Derrick stood in front of the open Harpies delivery barge, watching the workers in fuchsia jumpsuits exchanging cases of money for boxes of playing cards. A girl in a tailored suit and crocodile pumps clicked her way past the line of workers and smiled.
“Pardon me, Sir, would you mind taking a package for Ms Jakobson to the Mystic? She said she’ll make it worth your while,” said the girl.
“I don’t carry other deliveries,” said Derrick.
“Hmm, she also said to show you this,” said the girl. She handed Derrick a padded, leather folder with metal corners. Derrick’s eyes popped as he looked inside.
“Alright,” said Derrick, shifting uncomfortably, “but only this once and not a word to anyone.”
“Very good, Sir,” said the girl, glancing at David. She turned to a man behind her and nodded. “Load it in.” The man pushed the cardboard box inside the cargo bay and David slipped behind it, just as Derrick closed the hatch and locked the door in place. Derrick climbed up to the snail head and started the engines while David sat on the cold, metal floor in complete darkness, his knees pressed to his chest. He listened to the hum of the engines as the Harpies barge pushed through the water, the faint smell of ink and paper lingering from the recent cargo Then he heard another sound – a shuffling in the darkness, somewhere to his right. Nervous energy shot through his spine. He was not alone.
C H A P T E R 3 6
A striped boom lowered from the ceiling of the Suez Canal directly in front of the Harpies barge. Several Ibex guards stood on the limestone walkway bordering the canal; one of them was already climbing his way up to the snail head. Derrick sighed.
“Today is not my day,” said Derrick, cutting the engines. He could hear the gentle scratching of the guard’s blade against the barge as the guard climbed up the side. In less than a minute he was peering through the window.
“Ivan Evans, senior member of Ibex,” said the guard. “I’m afraid we have a warrant to search your cargo bay. We believe you may be carrying a renegade.”
Derrick grimaced.
“This is that woman Jakobson’s fault,” said Derrick, handing over a cylindrical key. “She asked me to carry a package. I’m innocent, I tell you, completely innocent.”
“I understand that, Sir. It’ll only take a moment. Please stay in your cabin,” said Ivan.
The guards formed a staggered semicircle around the cargo bay while Ivan unhooked the latches that locked the side canvas in place.
“Guards on the ready,” said Ivan. He pressed the key into the side of the barge and the canvas retracted. A man sat atop a log-sized bag behind Petra’s package. His head whipped around with surprise and his face was blank, like a deer caught in the headlights. Ivan smiled.
“David Michelson, we have a warrant for your arrest,” said Ivan. “Put your hands up where we can see them.”
David raised his arms as Ivan carefully stepped into the cargo bay.
“That’s right,” said Ivan. “Now—”
David bent forward and thrust his leg backward into the air, giving Ivan a solid kick in the face as he grabbed Ivan’s blade from his belt. David kicked the bag he had been sitting on backward. It tumbled through a slit in the canvas behind him, giving him more room to manoeuvre as the other guards unsheathed their blades. One of the guards slashed toward his shoulder and missed, cutting open Petra’s package. David frowned as the cardboard fell away, revealing a slender hookah pipe with four hoses. The momentary distraction cost him; as he looked to the pipe another guard unarmed him, his sword clattering to the ground. David scrambled for it, but Ivan got to it first.
“Stupid move,” said Ivan, rubbing his chin. “Very stupid move.”
David spun around and grabbed the hookah pipe, charging the other guards. He jumped to the pathway on the side of the canal; the hoses on the pipe whirled around like whips as he banged a guard’s head with the pipe. Ivan jumped to the path and hit the bottom of the hookah pipe with his blade, sending shards of glass flying as it cut through the glass bowl. A guard protected his face from the glass; David seized the opportunity to deliver a hard blow to his chest, knocking out the guard. Ivan and another guard lunged forward; David lost his footing and dropped the hookah. It clanged against the stone as David tumbled backward, into the saltwater canal.
C H A P T E R 3 7
David coughed and spluttered, gasping for air as his head surfaced. A guard grabbed his hand and pulled him to the side of the canal where Ivan was already waiting with handcuffs. He wiped his finger across David’s neck, picking up a smear of white ink.
“Not the smartest moves today,” said Ivan, looking at his finger. “First you get yourself arrested over a fake tattoo. Then you assault my officers. Not enough attention at home?”
David squinted at the ink on Ivan’s hand.
“However, of the two, the fake tattoo would have ended in a citation; assault will most likely end in jail time,” said Ivan, his face hard.
David nodded, looking to his shoes.
“I hope you—”
David twisted himself around in between the two guards that held him, knocking them together. As they fell to the ground, David swung his leg out and tripped Ivan; before any of them could react, David wrapped the hoses of the hookah pipe around each of their necks. The handcuffs made it difficult to manoeuvre; David pulled tight and waited. Within a minute all three of them fell to the ground, unconscious.
David sighed. He grabbed the key to the Harpies barge and tossed it toward Derrick. Then he
kicked the lever on the side of the canal, raising the boom. Derrick shrugged and started the engines, not bothering to look outside the snail head before steering the barge onward. David waited until the Harpies barge was out of sight, glancing in the other direction to make sure no other boats were coming his way. When the coast was clear, David grabbed the hair on the top of his head and pulled it forward. His skin began to pinch and wrinkle; David continued to pull until it fell completely off, revealing another person underneath. It was Lady Imaan.
Imaan dropped the mask of David’s head on the pathway and dived into the canal, kicking hard as she propelled herself toward the bottom. The water was dark and it was difficult to see; after some effort she located a log-shaped body bag in the sand at the bottom of the canal, the same bag she had kicked off the Harpies barge earlier. As she untied the end, the sides of the bag opened like a flower; inside lay David, or at least what resembled David. Slits had opened on the sides of his neck and his mark had expanded into an intricate design of swirls and symbols running from the neck down one of his arms and part of his side. It glowed through his shirt. As David turned, Imaan saw his grey eyes had darkened to a piercing, sapphire blue, the same colour as the tips of his hair and the two long fins that now resided where his feet and calves should be. He had all the marks of a mer.
Imaan grabbed his arm and kicked toward the surface, helping David to the ledge. As they pulled themselves from the water David’s fins retracted under his pants, leaving two bare feet. He sat on the side, squinting.
“Take off your glasses. You no longer need them,” said Imaan.
As he took off the spectacles, Imaan’s mask of his head came into focus; it was lying at his feet and looked like a creepy, decapitated head. David winced.
“Wow, that really is some disguise,” said David.
“I scanned you while you were sleeping in the pteroduck, for just such emergencies,” said Imaan, holding her handcuffed hands out toward him. As David rolled up her sleeves he saw arms identical to his own human arms.
