[Necromunda 10] - Lasgun Wedding

by Will McDermott - (ebook by Undead)

  “As the blackness began to envelop her brain from the poison invading her body, Yolanda could only say, What did I do to deserve this…?”

  “Well, I guess half of half-a-bounty is better than nothing,” said Scabbs. He dug into his breakfast with gusto. The soupy eggs were the only semi-solid food he’d had in a couple of days. And, as usual, just about anything served in the Sump Hole tasted better with enough wild-snake to wash it down.

  Kal frowned. “Fifty credits? Those grenades cost me more than that. Why are you and Yolanda going after such crappy bounties? Where’s your self respect?”

  Scabbs looked up at Kal. Egg whites dripped from his scabby chin back onto the plate.

  “Never mind,” said Kal, looking away in a hurry. He dug a coin out of his pocket and began flipping it back and forth across his knuckles.

  Scabbs wiped his face on his sleeve and then picked a few crumbs of bread off the dirty fabric and popped them in his mouth. “Well, you weren’t here and the only other option at the time was to go after Nemo and Feg.”

  “Nemo and Feg have teamed up?” asked Kal. “I thought Feg was dead.”

  “Yeah,” said Scabbs. “I mean, no. He’s alive and they’ve teamed up.” He picked up the plate and began licking it up and down, trying to get every slippery bit of the egg. In between licks, he kept talking. “At least we think so. Seems Feg got his hands on some tech from a downed transport. He was last seen using one of Nemo’s private tunnels.”

  “Feg took the…?”

  Scabbs peered at Kal over his plate. The coin had stopped between his third and fourth knuckle, and stood straight up in the air, quivering a little as Kal’s mouth hung open.

  “Yeah,” said Scabbs. “One of Nemo’s own tunnels. Right from the docks. You see, I fought Feg off in this warehouse…”

  Kal popped the coin into the air and held up his hand to stop Scabbs from speaking. The coin dropped right between his middle and ring fingers. “Start from the beginning,” he said. “I want to know about this transport.”

  Scabbs told Kal the whole story starting with Sonny, the ratskin thief and ending with he and Yolanda trudging around the ash wastes looking for a way back into the hive past the royal guards.

  When the story was done, Kal stared at him with such a serious look on his face that it scared Scabbs down to his dirty socks. “Listen very carefully,” said Kal. “When you saw Feg come out that hole in the warehouse, did he have a satchel, a bag of some sort?”

  Scabbs didn’t answer right away. He had to put himself back in that room, curled up in a ball and trying not to look at the man who wanted to kill him. He didn’t really want to go back there. The memory was mostly a blank.

  “I’m sorry, Kal,” he said finally. “It was dark and I was trying to hide. I just don’t remember.”

  Kal sighed and dropped the coin on the table along with his head and hands.

  “Is it important?”

  Kal nodded his head on his hands. After a while, he looked up. “If I don’t find that satchel in the next two days,” he said, “I have to get married.”

  Scabbs nodded out of habit. Then the message sank in, causing his eyebrows to furrow and his mouth to open and close a few times before he could speak. “Huh? What?” he said at last.

  Kal opened his mouth and then closed it and then opened it to try again. “I couldn’t explain it to you even if I could… um… explain it to you. Look, I need that satchel. My very freedom depends on it. You say Feg was on his way to see Nemo?”

  It took a moment for Scabbs to catch up to the end of the conversation. “Yeah,” he said. “At least we think so.”

  “Then that’s where we have to go,” said Kal. He stood and checked his weapons.

  “To Nemo’s?” asked Scabbs. He suddenly felt very sick to his stomach and he didn’t think it was the runny eggs coming back up on him, although they were. “Don’t we need, I don’t know, a plan, an army, some spyrer rigs?”

  “No,” said Kal. “What we need is information.” He pulled Scabbs out of his chair and shoved him towards the door. “And I think I know where to get it.”

  Before they got to the door, Kal turned back towards the table and scanned the floor. “By the way,” he said, “where’s Wotan?”

  Bobo washed his hands again, nearly scrubbing his palms raw with his fingernails. He wasn’t being obsessive — well not overly obsessive. It was just that the Spire soap had no grit in it. He didn’t know how the nobles got clean when they couldn’t scrape off a layer of dirt with just a bar of soap and some spit. This soap was all suds and no substance.

  It was, in fact, a lot like this washroom. The faucets, knobs and even the free-standing basins all gleamed in brass and gold and silver with lots of little bits of filigree here and there that had absolutely no practical value. All he needed was a knob and a spigot, but what he had here looked like an extravagant shrine to some porcelain god.

  He looked at himself in the oval glass mirror hanging on silver chains over the overwrought basin and was amazed again at the horrible opulence of life in the Spire. Where a hunk of polished metal would serve just as well, some noble had instead purchased a dozen enormous mirrors set in engraved gold frames that depicted cherubs and angels cavorting amidst the clouds. Who really needed to look at that, especially in what was essentially a public toilet?

  Bobo sighed and splashed water on his face. The head had been delivered without a hitch and he’d washed and changed twice since returning to his apartment. He just couldn’t get the stench of that bloody head in a bag out of his nostrils, out of his head. He didn’t know how Kal and Yolanda did it without throwing up each and every time.

  He walked across the marble floor towards a brass and oak table that held an array of tonics, sprays and colognes. Looking at the various scents, Bobo thought that perhaps one might help cover the stench stuck in his nose. He opted instead for one of the heated towels held in a brass steamer next to the table. As he wrapped the towel around his head, Bobo decided that this was one luxury he could get used to. But not if it meant toting heads around ever again.

  “I’m just not cut out for this,” he said as he pulled the towel off his head.

  “I would say you’re doing quite well,” said Kauderer. He grabbed a bottle of green liquid and splashed it on his hands. “Were you followed?”

  Bobo wanted to ask Kauderer how he’d managed to slip in without making a sound, but he let it pass. He really should have known better than to let himself be so vulnerable with the towel over his head.

  “Let’s see,” he said. “I went from my apartment to the Kitty Club to the library, then up to the tourist area outside the Helmawr estate and down to the wall, where I circled the square several times before coming into the visitor’s bureau, which nobody ever uses, asked to use the washroom, was given the only key and came in. In all that time, I saw nobody twice except the poor guard with the large bandage around his neck at the wall.”

  Kauderer splashed the liquid on his face and rubbed it in. He then opened the brass steamer and pulled a large, embroidered towel from within. He patted his face ten times before turning to drying his hands. Bobo began counting and soon realized that the master spy wiped each and every finger exactly ten times before moving to the next. Bobo assumed the man did everything with the same meticulous, surgical care. “Were you followed?” he asked again.

  “No,” said Bobo. “I was not followed.” He tossed his own towel into the wrought-iron receptacle provided. It seemed that in the Spire, even used towels had a special place to call their own. He didn’t feel quite that special anymore up here.

  Kauderer finished patting his hands dry and tossed his towel to Bobo, who dropped it into the receptacle with barely a grumble. “You received your final payment?”

  It was more a statement than a question. Bobo was certain Kauderer rarely asked a question to which he didn’t already know the answer.

  “I did,” he said, handing over an envelope containing anot
her twenty-five hundred credits. “The prince seemed pleased with the job.” So pleased, in fact, he’d gotten a little bonus, which he’d stashed with his unreported five thousand. Bobo kept all of that information to himself. “It seems he’s already told his friends about my ‘prompt and professional’ services.”

  “Oh?” Kauderer picked up another bottle, making Bobo wonder how much cologne one man needed. This one he tipped over and poured into one of a myriad of silver cups lining the back of the table. He brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply.

  “In between my first and second showers, I received several gifts,” said Bobo. “Gifts?”

  Bobo nodded his head. “Yeah. At first I was alarmed, but then the house boy knocked and brought in yet another gift and said something about my secret admirers.”

  Kauderer smiled. “Ah, yes. Secret admirers of your work,” he said.

  It was obvious from his tone of voice and smug smile that he was taking credit for that work, even though it was Bobo who’d had to break into the Greim estate with only four hours of prep work. He swallowed and sighed, shaking off the rising ire. This was for the good of the house, not for personal gain. Besides, he was already up five thousand credits, plus the bonus.

  “Exactly,” he said, with only a moment’s hesitation. “A box of chocolates — the real thing, not synth — from the duke of Ty, with an invitation to his table at the Grand Sky City Restaurant tonight. A set of silk pyjamas from Prince Gregor Ulanti with a note to join him at the Kitty Club. A gorgeous steel sword from someone in House Ran Lo with an attached note requesting me to appear before the Lord of the House. And a set of iron throwing stars from Princess Jillian of House Greim. I’m not sure if that one’s an invitation or a threat. But she does want to meet.”

  “You did make quite an impression,” said Kauderer. He smiled again, which was no more than a slight lip curl on one side of his thin lips. Perhaps the taut muscles of his gaunt face could do little more.

  “It was your idea to go through with the Ko’Iron job,” said Bobo. “Now I need to decide which invitation to accept.”

  “Why, all of them of course,” said Kauderer. “This is the perfect chance to find out who’s behind the assassination plot. That’s every house except Catallus, and they have no reason to kill Jerico as the wedding will only strengthen their position in the Spire.”

  “Kal’s marrying someone from House Catallus?” asked Bobo. “Don’t you think that’s reason enough to try to kill him?” It was meant as a joke and Bobo started to smile, but the look on Kauderer’s face stopped him.

  “Good point,” he said. “We shouldn’t discount them yet. But let’s rule out the others first. Make arrangements to meet them all tonight. We’ll meet in the library again at midnight.”

  With that, Kauderer turned and left, slipping through the door without making a single sound and leaving the used cup sitting on the table. Bobo assumed it was meant for him to clean and replace. He left it there and returned to the golden basin. Twisting the silver knobs, he let the hot water fill the basin and then plunged his entire head into the near boiling water. The searing heat finally eradicated the stench of blood from his nose, but did little for his overall feeling of being constantly dirty in the cleanest place in the world.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Scabbs. “We’re going to capture Seek and Destroy?”

  Kal nodded. He could see Madam Noritake’s up ahead. They were almost there. “I saw them snooping around the docks earlier when I was looking for you and Yolanda. Nemo must have sent them down here to look for the package.”

  “So you think Nemo doesn’t have it yet?”

  Kal nodded again.

  “So why don’t we just find it ourselves?”

  Kal stopped and ducked into an alley next to Noritake’s. “Look,” he said. “I see two possibilities. Either Nemo already has the package, in which case we need inside information to get it back.”

  “And the second?”

  “Nemo doesn’t have it, which means Feg hid it and Nemo’s trying to double-cross him by finding it before he pays for it.”

  “So, why don’t we look for it?” Scabbs scratched his chin, obviously perplexed. A large scab came off and landed on his shirt. He brushed it onto the ground.

  “Because if Feg hid it, nobody’s going to find it except Feg,” said Kal. “He may be a big bruiser, but he’s still smart enough to outwit Seek and Destroy.”

  Scabbs worked at the edges of the spot where the scab had fallen off. “What if Nemo already paid for it and sent the boys out to fetch it?”

  Kal was surprised by the question. He hadn’t considered that. As usual he had an answer, even if he had to make it up on the spot. “Then they won’t be at the docks and I’m scavved.”

  He pulled Scabbs out of the alley and crossed the street to the Hive City docks. “Show me this warehouse where you first saw Feg,” said Kal. “That seems like the best place to start.”

  Scabbs led the way down towards the far end of the docks. “It’s down this way,” said Scabbs as he reached the corner by the wall of the dome.

  Kal turned the corner and immediately grabbed Scabbs and pulled him back. “There they are,” he hissed. He glanced back around the corner to see if Seek and Destroy had spotted them. Luckily, it looked like they were too busy arguing to notice anything at the moment.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Scabbs.

  Kal looked at his little friend and smiled. “You create a diversion.” With that, Kal shoved Scabbs in the back with his boot, sending him sprawling into the middle of the street.

  He fell with just a soft thump and an oof. Not nearly enough noise to draw the boys down to the corner. But then, being Scabbs, he got up, dusted himself off, turned towards Kal and screamed, “What the scav was that for?”

  He immediately threw his hands over his mouth as he turned towards Seek and Destroy. Scabbs’ jaw dropped and Kal heard one of the boys say, “Hey, it’s that ratskin friend of Jerico’s. Get him.”

  Scabbs glanced at Kal, his eyebrows raised in a pleading look. Kal mouthed the words “fall down” and pointed at the ground.

  Scabbs shrugged, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth half open.

  Just then, two las blasts shot past Scabbs on either side of his head. He screamed and ran towards Kal.

  “Oh scav,” muttered Kal. He had no choice with what he did next. As Scabbs reached the corner, Kal stuck his foot out and tripped him. Scabbs went down hard. Kal heard something crack and was pretty sure it wasn’t the rockrete street. “Stay down,” hissed Kal. “Time for plan W.”

  He ran off down the docks, leaving Scabbs groaning on the ground.

  Bobo decided to meet with Princess Jillian first. He didn’t want to appear to be avoiding her because that would show weakness, which he could ill-afford when meeting with the woman whose bed he’d dumped a head in that morning. He also didn’t want to be in that house after dark.

  He was led through the Greim estate by a valet dressed in a suit and tie. Bobo marvelled that even the help in the Spire dressed better than the most prominent members of the Hive City houses.

  The Greim estate was lush, though nothing so nice as the Helmawr estate. For one thing, they had fewer exterior windows, being located in a mostly interior space of the Spire. Marble columns dotted the expansive foyer leading to a sweeping staircase with real wood banisters engraved with swirling designs along their length and topped by carved lion’s heads at the pedestals. Of course, he’d been up those stairs earlier, but it had been dark.

  “Ms. Jillian will meet you in the garden,” said the valet. “I’ll show you the way.”

  Bobo waved the valet on ahead. They passed through a corridor lined with portraits of the Greim ancestry. The gold and platinum frames gleamed, but the faces were all dour and stern. Glass double doors at the end of the hall led into the garden.

  Bobo stepped out and almost lost his breath. He was outside the Spire, standing on a wide balcony filled with
plants and exotic flowers whose multi-coloured blooms strained to get ever closer to the bright sun above. In the middle of the balcony sat Princess Jillian at an iron table eating fresh fruit and what looked like real eggs.

  Bobo decided to play this meeting bold and loose. “Little late in the day for breakfast, isn’t it?”

  Jillian looked up and waved off the valet. She smiled. “I didn’t sleep at all well this morning,” she said through the smile. “Must have been some problem with my bed.”

  Bobo, well-trained in the art of the straight face, simply nodded and sat across from Jillian. She had full, thick, black hair that was currently tied back into an elaborate bun, with what looked like teak wood sticks poking out at odd angles. She was a full figured girl wearing a long, pleated velvet dress and a tight-fitting, low-cut top that accentuated her considerable assets. Perhaps the most striking thing was the black eyeshadow and thick, dark-red blush she wore, which made it very tough to read her expressions.

  “A large lump in the mattress?” he asked with an innocent look on his face.

  Princess Jillian smiled again, which made Bobo worry that he’d gone too far with his brazen act. “Mr. Bristol,” she began.

  “Call me Jackal.”

  “Mr. Bristol,” she began again, and Bobo felt a chill run down his spine as the temperature out in the sun seemed to take a nose dive. “I received a message this morning from a rival of mine. I would like to send a reply.”

  “Surely your valet can deliver a message for you,” said Bobo.

  “Not this message,” said Jillian. “This will require your special expertise.” She pulled an envelope out from beneath her dish and passed it to Bobo. “Inside you will find pictures of Davol Orlock’s sister as well as five thousand credits. I think you know what to do with her head.”

  Bobo had a great deal of trouble controlling his face and breath as he accepted the envelope. What had he started here? These nobles were in a price war, but real people were getting hurt. He opened the envelope and took out the pictures. His gasp was quite audible.