by M. D. Cooper
She could see what he liked about Raya. The woman had a sleek professionalism that seemed genetic. Reece always imagined that Raya woke up perfectly coiffed, no hair out of place, and her golden-brown skin practically glowing.
While Reece had a vaguely sinister roughness, Raya looked like the posterchild of corporate life. She should have been a CEO, not a fixer.
But then, she liked stepping over the line and making her own rules as she went, just as Reece did. It was why they got along so well.
“Shall we go to a meeting room? There were a couple of them open when I came this way.”
She gestured, and Reece and Trey started off down an adjoining passage.
“So how long have you been on Akon?” Raya asked Trey.
Reece tuned out of their cheerful exchange as they got acquainted. She used the time to focus on her goal, the questions she needed to ask, and the way she’d need to ask them.
When they were all seated with the door closed behind them, she was ready. Her approach would involve the truth, selectively applied, just the right amount of speculation, and a light seasoning of paranoia.
“I’ll get straight to the point. I’m working a case for Rexcare. In the course of working that case, Trey and I were almost killed. Not by accident, and not by a targeted hit. Someone put a pulse bomb in his apartment.” She let that fact stretch out between them during a long silence.
Raya remained composed, though her eyes narrowed slightly. “A pulse bomb? That’s unusual. Not just anyone can get their hands on those. There are regulations, purchase permits, and price all in the way. Who do you think it was?”
“We haven’t been able to track it down,” Reece admitted. “We know it isn’t Rexcare. That was our first thought, but it’s not them. So now we’re looking at the other possibilities. Since Donnercorp owns the subsidiary that handles regulated incendiary imports, I wondered if you could take a look for me. See who has a stock of pulse bombs, so I can start looking through and seeing if I can match up the supplier with a suspect.”
Raya let out a slow breath. “That’s the long way around, isn’t it?”
Reece shrugged. “It’s what we have to work with. Unless you can find something we haven’t. I’d consider it a personal favor it you looked into it.”
Raya’s eyes gleamed. “Really. So the next time I called you for a little insider information, you’d be inclined to help me out?”
“So long as it’s not something that will impact Rexcare negatively in any significant way.”
Raya tilted her head to one side. “Well, that’s a little less appealing. But we have known one another a long time, and having you owe me a favor could be very advantageous in the future. And I do like to plan ahead.”
“I know you do.” Reece exchanged a long look with her.
“All right. I’ll look into it and get back to you tomorrow.” She glanced at her chronometer. “I really do need to go now, or I’ll miss my meeting. Let me know if you learn anything new, but otherwise I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Reece stood and shook her hand.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Raya said. “Whatever I find may not be at all helpful. But you’ll still owe me that favor.”
Reece smiled. “That’s true.”
Raya gestured to the door. “I’ll walk you out. My driver will be waiting.”
Trey and Raya picked their chatter right back up as they walked out. Reece didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to think about her next moves.
“It was so good to meet you. I hope I’ll see you again soon.” Raya went for a handshake with Trey, then followed up with a double hand clasp.
“I’ll make sure of it,” Trey promised.
Raya slid into her car and drove away, leaving Reece and Trey outside in the heat.
“I like her.” Trey announced.
“Yeah. I could tell. The feeling was astoundingly mutual.
“You think so?”
“Are you kidding? Being in a room with two of you felt like this, in a climate-controlled building.” She gestured up toward the suns, then at the concrete around them.
“Really? Wow, I guess I’ve still got it.” Trey wore a smug expression.
“Got what?”
“I don’t know. But it must be something good.” He started in the direction of the metro, but Reece stopped him.
“Not that way. We need to do something else first.”
“What?”
She didn’t want to say much out on the street, in case someone should overhear. “We need some supplies. I’ll tell you more in private.”
She was pretty sure he wouldn’t love her idea, but it was the only way she could think of to swing Raya over to their side instead of covering up whatever Donnercorp might be up to.
The situation was about to get explosive—literally.
COLLABORATION
DATE: 05.14.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Ohiyo, Akonwara
REGION: Machete System, PED 4B, Orion Freedom Alliance
Trey humored Reece on their supply run, but he became more and more serious as they collected the requisite items. When they got back to Smooth and could finally speak privately, he pulled her into a room. “I’m not an expert on the subject, but I’m pretty sure what we’ve purchased is the makings of a pulse bomb.”
“You’re exactly right,” she agreed. “With one notable exception. There’s no incendiary mechanism.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because we’re not terrorists. We don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want someone to think that someone wanted to hurt someone.”
Trey grimaced. “That was a mess of a sentence. Try again. But make sense this time.”
“Right. I said ‘someone’ too many times. What we’re going to do is to plant this at the apartment of a Pritney-Dax fixer.”
“Because Pritney-Dax is the only one of the big four not involved in all this in some way, and therefore no one will expect that,” he guessed.
“Right. If they’re uninvolved, the other players will have to wonder what the heck is going on. Plus, as a purely coincidental bonus, I happen to loathe the fixer in question.”
“Well, that’s convenient.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Reece turned and started pacing the office as she talked. “So, we build a device that looks like a pulse bomb that blew its incendiary device and failed to detonate. Whew, lucky break for Shepherd—that’s the guy we’ll plant it with. Serious asshole. But we’ll come back to that. What’s important to know now is that we’re going to make this look like a concerted effort to eliminate fixers, and that’s going to make other fixers practically eager to work with us to figure out what’s going on.”
“So we’ll scare them into solving our problem for us.”
“Oh, I like how you summarized that.” She beamed at him. “That sounds bloody brilliant, put that way.”
“Except for the part that everyone might turn on us if they realize what we’ve done.”
“No risk, no reward. We’re not going to fix all this by sitting on our hands. This is why Rexcare pays us the big money.”
Trey froze. “Wait, you make big money? I only make medium money. I object to this entire scenario.”
“When we’re done, you’re guaranteed a raise. Me, too.”
He frowned, his forehead creased. “We just got one after the last job.”
Reece shrugged. “Can’t hurt to ask.”
Trey laughed, then shrugged, a disbelieving smile on his lips. “Okay, then. First, we do a faux attempted murder, then we lie, then we make the big money. I get it.”
“Well, we have to solve the problem of who’s doing what and make sure it stops, too, but you know.” She shrugged. “Details.”
“And you know how to build a phony pulse bomb.”
“Sure. It’s part of why I make more money than you.”
“I see. I guess I missed the ‘make fake bombs for fun and
profit class’.” He smirked.
She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the crash course.”
* * * * *
“Why does your outfit look less than new? Authenticity?” Trey asked. He wore his own disguise, a pair of sturdy gray pants, a matching short-sleeved shirt, and a cap that also matched the other bits. He looked entirely authentic as a maintenance technician from one of the leading companies.
“Well, no,” she admitted. “This just isn’t the first time I’ve pretended to be a maintenance specialist.”
She handed him a large tool kit to carry. For the sake of authenticity, if they got caught, it did have some real tools in it. It also had specific tools they’d need for the job.
“So, this kind of thing is a common occurrence? Schramm didn’t tell me that when he offered me the job.”
She smiled. Sometimes Trey was so naïve. “Of course not. You might not have accepted it if he had, and he really wanted you.”
He stared at her. “You live on a terrible, terrible world.”
“If it’s so terrible, why are you still here?”
He gave a tiny shrug, then slung the tool kit over his shoulder. “The other places I’ve been were worse—you’ve seen some of them.”
“Ahh, so Akon is the least horrible of a long list of horrible places. That’s not bad, if we’re speaking relatively.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put her cap on. “Are you ready?”
“To go plant a pretend bomb so we can lie to people to get what we want? Sure. Show me the ways of your people.”
“That’s the spirit.” She gave him a thumbs-up and lifted the bag with the faux bomb in it.
Unfortunately, they had to walk. Maintenance people didn’t take public transit while in uniform. Not even taxis. They would have their own vehicles to haul their equipment. That had left the pair with the option of either changing clothes somewhere, or simply walking to their destination. Since it would have been strange if a security camera recorded a person going into a restroom as a regular citizen, then coming out as a maintenance worker, they chose to walk.
It was hot as hell, though. Reece started sweating almost immediately even though the shirt and pants were relatively lightweight for durable fabrics.
“At least we don’t have far to go,” Trey said, swiping a hand over his brow.
“Yup. And we can cut through the Channa Art Museum. That will make the trip shorter and cool us off halfway along.”
“Sounds good.”
They walked the rest of the way to the museum in silence. It was too hot to talk and walk at the same time. When they finally got into the museum and took a welcome lungful of cool, dry air, Reece felt tremendous relief.
“Oh, that is so much better.” She paused, taking a moment to wipe off her face and the back of her neck.
“Yeah.” Trey’s eyes were roving over the art on display. “I didn’t realize there was an art museum here.”
“Well, there is,” she said.
“Obviously.” As he walked alongside her, he peered at the displays. “You know. I hate to say it, but if this is representative of Akon art, then Akon art is really bad.”
Reece gasped in indignation. “Are you an expert on art?”
“No. But I know what I like, and it isn’t this.”
“How rude! That’s tremendously insulting.” She stared at him.
“Uh…really? I mean, you like this stuff?” He gestured at a four-meter-high portrait of an apple, rendered entirely in what appeared to be ketchup.
“No. It’s ugly as hell.”
“Hah. I knew it.” He sounded pleased with himself that he hadn’t fallen for her mock outrage. “But why is it so bad?”
“This is Akon,” she explained. “We don’t have public museums paid for by the people. We have private ones. Rich people who believe themselves artistically gifted, pay to have this crap put on display.”
“It’s really wretched,” Trey said.
“It is. And they paid to put it here. But you know what? At least my armpits are drying out.”
They snickered, which earned them a dirty look from a woman standing in front of a sculpture of a big blob. Then the woman got a better look at Trey and she hurried away.
“You’re so classy,” Trey said, a teasing note in his voice.
“Whatever I am, it’s how I like it, so it’s good enough for me.”
“Now that Raya,” he continued. “She was super classy. All smooth and polished. I bet she never picks bar fights.”
“I never do either,” Reece argued. “Kippy does the fight picking. I just do the fighting part. But you know, he said something funny the other day. Something about us growing up and not doing that kind of thing anymore.”
“He’s probably on the right track. But are you ready to give up the life of knocking people’s teeth out and bashing them in the head with beer bottles?”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I mean, not today. But I guess I should think about it.”
“I was joking, but you answered me seriously. I guess that answers the question.”
They arrived at the door on the opposite side of the museum and stepped back out into the heat.
“Gah!” he shouted, causing a man nearby to flinch and scuttle away. “Did it get even hotter?”
“Feels like it,” Reece muttered. “At least we’ve almost made it to Shepherd’s place.”
“Why do you hate him so much? You never said.”
“He’s the kind who will mug someone who just got hit by a car. He’s just a bad person. That’s all there really is to it.” She shifted the bag on her shoulder.
“Did he do something to you personally?”
“Nothing unusual. Just the same crap he pulls on everyone. But this won’t harm him, or any of his stuff. Freaking him out is just a bonus on top of getting Raya’s help.”
“Right. So this is no big deal, really.”
She glanced at him. “Well, it’s kind of a big deal. But why act like it is? It’s just a thing we need to do. Real maintenance workers fix building stuff, and we take care of the things that are ours to handle.”
“I guess that describes everyone, in their own way.”
They fell silent until they reached the building.
“This is it, right?” Trey asked.
“Yep. Twenty-second floor. Here we go.”
“Wait,” he said suddenly when she reached for the door.
She stopped. “What?”
“I feel like we should have a battle cry. Like, ‘Into the brink’ or something.”
“No.”
“What? Why?” He sounded disappointed.
“Fine, I don’t care. Pick something.”
“Pineapple.” He nodded.
Now it was her turn to say, “What?”
“It’s a code word instead of a whole cry. It’s enigmatic. It’s different. I feel like it’s very ‘us.’”
“It’s stupid,” she said. “But fine. Let’s go.”
He put a hand on the door. “Pineapple.”
She sighed. “Pineapple.”
He opened the door.
As they waited for the elevator, they put on their very best maintenance specialist expressions, which Reece supposed probably wasn’t much different from her own natural expression. She had a job to get done, just like a real maintenance person would.
Work was work, after all. It just happened that her work was planting a fake bomb.
As they got off the elevator on the twenty-second floor, they nodded to a young couple waiting to board it before moving off to the left.
Reece held her breath, hoping one of them didn’t speak up to tell her about how their water reclamation unit kept making a banging sound when it started a cycle. Or that their cooling unit didn’t always automatically come on when the temperature rose.
She’d had some awkward run-ins when posing as a maintenance technician before. One time, she’d had to rummage in
the tool kit and pretend she knew something about elevator door mechanisms. That had gotten dicey because she didn’t know the first thing about elevator mechanics.
Fortunately, she got by this time without any mechanical complaints.
Then Reece and Trey had their own mechanical issues to work through. Shepherd’s apartment had a moderate-level security system installed. More than basic, but far less than what a business or a particularly paranoid person would have. Certainly less than what Reece’s house had.
Even so, it was a new system, and would require a few minutes of work to crack. Reece hoped their hovering outside the door wasn’t monitored in real time by a security camera—not that it was likely.
They had to work fast and pray for the best.
Trey opened the tool kit and fished out a set of implements that the average person couldn’t buy. Neither of them happened to be average, and they were employed by Rexcare as well, which gave them access to some unusual things.
Using a method similar to—but much simpler than—the one they’d used to bust open Sage’s office, they made short work of the security system. A dummy chip, a gentle heating of the mechanism, and pop. They were in.
“Ewwww. What’s the smell?” Trey grimaced
Reece immediately detected the aroma of rot. “It’s a bad pulper. He’s put something in there that shouldn’t go, most likely, and now his food waste isn’t disposing properly.” She laughed. “It’s funny. He really does need maintenance technicians. But we’re not here to fix his pulper. We’re here to pretend bomb him.”
“It is funny,” Trey said as they searched for a good place to plant the faux bomb. “Not ha-ha-funny but still amusing in an ironic way.”
“Ah. Here.” Reece pointed to a cabinet mounted at face height. “He seems to put all of his food here. He’ll be sure to discover it quickly.”
She opened the bag on her shoulder and removed the device. She set it in the cabinet, then activated it.
It made an aggressive fffffffft sound. The simple chemical process gave the device the look of something that had improperly defused.
“Our work’s done here.” She closed up the bag. “Let’s go.”
They closed the apartment door behind them, then had to fight the urge to walk away with un-professional urgency.
