Shadowrun 45 - Aftershock

by Jean Rabe, John Helfers (v1. 0) (epub)

  “You understand I’m not in the mood for anything tonight, pet. I’m out of sorts over all of this.”

  “I understand.” He paused and ate still more of the caviar. “Is there anything I can do, Bel?”

  She stopped pacing. “Ah, pet, you’ve already done more than enough. If you don’t mind. I need ... to think. I need to be alone.”

  One final cracker dripping with caviar and he reluctantly got up from the couch and smoothed his shirt and pants. He reached for a long coat he’d draped over the arm and eased into it, drawing the hood over his head. “You’ll call me tomorrow?”

  “Of course. In the afternoon, probably late. And perhaps I will have learned something about those runners by then that will put me in a better mood. If so, I may have another task for you.”

  “And we’ll need to do something about those plants.” “I hope so, pet. I hope so.”

  He was slow to make his way to the door, keeping his eyes on her with each step. “And those runners . . . I’ll tie up those loose ends for you when you give the word. When you find out where they are, you let me know.”

  “You’re very good about my loose ends.” She kissed him on the cheek and let him out, locking the door afterward. Then she hurried to the window and looked down toward the storefront. A few minutes later the man crossed the street, his cloaked form softly lit by the olive security lights. He glanced up at her window, then headed down the block toward a parking garage. Belver never let him park close enough so the doorman would recognize his car, and he always wore a hood pulled up so no one would get a good look at his face.

  Not that it mattered, she knew. She was careful and wouldn’t be connected to him. All of her crimes were perfect and untraceable. The poison she’d laced into the caviar was virulent, but slow acting. He’d be halfway across town before he realized what she’d done. And he’d be too far gone at that point to do anything about it.

  “I hate loose ends, pet. And you were certainly a loose end.”

  She closed the drapes and retrieved the dish of caviar, washing it and the rest of the poison down the disposal.

  Then Belver took a long shower, hopeful the hot water would wash away some of the day’s disappointment and help relax her. She wrapped herself in a thick terry cloth robe, took down another glass and returned to the couch to finish the last of the acceptable Merlot. When she sensed her tongue starting to feel thick from the alcohol, she reached for her commlink. She needed to make the call now before the wine made her too numb.

  Frag, got his voice mail. Will have to be careful about this. “Jhones,” she began. “Things didn’t go at all well this afternoon.” Belver continued, concentrating to put an edge to her voice. “I need things to go much better from now on, understand? Get me some results before the sun comes up. Otherwise, you will go the unfortunate way of all the others who’ve displeased me. Get me what 1 want, or I’ll have your sorry hide.”

  30

  7:09:10 p.m.

  Come on, answer. These corp Johnsons are practically chained to their desks. Where the frag is he?”

  “Hey, calm down, you don’t want to reinjure yourself, do you?” For a moment, Sindje felt just a hair disconnected with reality. Since when have I ever been the voice of reason? She shrugged off the odd sensation and looked over the ork with a critical eye. “Look, I’m not really sure how well that spell is gonna hold you together, so you really shouldn’t be pushing yourself.”

  “Hey, I’ll relax when the buunda Johnson answers his cell, and we can get paid, and get the frag out of here— Hello?” Max tossed Hood’s earpiece to Sindje as she got an answer. The elf fumbled it up to her ear just in time to eavesdrop on the conversation. Max had modified her commlink to also accept the call.

  “Things have been a bit hectic around here, I’m afraid.” “Things been hectic around you? Man, you have no idea what the word even means!” The ork took a deep breath. “Look, the meet was blown six ways from Sunday, and the place it was supposed to happen in ain’t even standing anymore, you bearin’ me?”

  “Loud and clear. Did you happen to go inside?”

  Max looked at Sindje, who shook her head no.

  “Frag, no, chummer, the Plantech sec forces were on us like Bodyline silk on a executive’s hoop. We had to split while they put on their own little Ballard fireworks display.”

  “Hmm, that is unfortunate—“

  “Yeah, I can hear you crying in your ’45 Cabernet Sauvignon.” Max winked at Sindje, who rolled her eyes and motioned at the ork to get on with it. “However, because I know you’re gonna ask, your precious plants are still safe.” “Now that is very good news.”

  “Maybe for you, but I don’t know how much longer they’re gonna stay that way, you know what I’m saying? This deal has got to go down, and the sooner, the better.” “Believe me, there is nothing I want more. The only trouble is, you were not the only ones double-crossed at the meeting site earlier today. The Plantech security was tipped off that the meet was going down by someone—”

  “And the next words out of your mouth better not be that we did it. I took a bullet trying to get out of there, and I’m sure the newsvids are running full-holo of the chase out of Ballard—”

  “Calm yourself, runner. Why would you set up your own meet?’’

  “Hey, who knows how you Johnsons think?

  “I think very much like you—when I am crossed, I wonder why, and by whom. I have the answers to one of those questions, if you’re interested.”

  “I haven’t hung up yet.”

  “You run with two elven siblings, a matched pair of magic-users that go by the names Sindje and Khase, correct?”

  Max’s brow furrowed in a frown. “Maybe we did some scores in the past, so what?”

  “If by the past you mean this morning, and by scores you mean the Plantech building, then you’re right. The point is, the two elves owe people money. Serious people and serious money. Those people got tired of waiting, and decided to liquidate their assets, so to speak.”

  Sindje’s face had gone pale as she digested this news. Max reached out with a big hand and steadied the shaking elf, mouthing he’s talking out of his hoop. “Why would they do that? Then they’d never get the money back.”

  “Like you said, who knows how criminals think? Maybe they wanted to make a statement on the street to the rest of

  those who were reluctant to pay up. Nevertheless, it was these people who tracked you all down and sent Plantech after you. The elves are liabilities, but if we can complete our original deal, then the four of you can vanish into the city to your heart’s content.”

  “Nice try, Johnny-boy, but you’re still paying our increased fee, or we take those plants out to the forest and make our own nice little garden. Who knows, maybe next year you’ll see them in pots at the corner store.” Max let him stew on that for a moment. “Look, the point is, each of us has what the other wants. Now, since your great idea for a meeting site blew up in our faces—literally—I’m gonna choose the meeting place this time. Hold on a sec.” She did something to put him on hold and waved at Sindje. “Hey, I need you focused now.”

  The elven mage was mumbling to herself, “How did they find us ... we were clean through Detroit and Denver . . . who ratted us out?”

  “Sindje!” The ork snapped her thick fingers. “What’s the name of that place?”

  “The—Historic Everett Theatre.”

  “Thanks.” She took the Johnson off hold, ignoring the flashing red sign in the corner of her vision that warned her the power was almost drained. “Okay, thanks for holding, omae. We want to meet you, and only you, at the Historic Everett Theatre in a half hour. I’m gonna repeat it for the cheap seats; come alone, and bring the magic credstick. Oh yeah, and bring a truck, cause we’ll supply you with all the plants, pots, and soil you could ever want.” “Thirty minutes. I’ll see you there."

  Max didn’t bother to reply, but hung up. muttering, “Not if I see you first.” She activat
ed her commlink again, trying to contact the Historic Everett Theatre, but got a recorded message instead: “Thank you for calling the Historic Everett Theatre. Due to our desire to recreate the old time movie-watching experience, commlinks and other transmissions are not allowed in our theater. Please send a text message—”

  “Frag that!” Max disconnected in a huff. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted herself to her feet, clenching her teeth as a wave of agony crashed down on her. “Buunda, that hurts. Come on, keebler, the theatre is only ten blocks from here—we gotta get a move on. If the Johnson shows up before we do, Hood is liable to chew him up and spit him out, and then we’ll never get paid.” Although that would be fun to watch, she thought.

  Sindje came over to Max and inserted herself under the ork’s arm, supporting her as they moved to the basement stairs. The two women looked up at the flight stretching before them and both sighed together.

  “Man, next time let’s hole up in a five-star hotel.” Sindje wrinkled her nose as she took one last look around their squalid surroundings.

  “I’m with you. I hate, hate, hate this kind of filth.” Max took a tentative step onto the stairs. “Let’s get our hoops out of here.” She paused and sniffed. “Keebler, what did you roll in?”

  31

  7:19:22 p.m.

  I do not fraggin’ believe this! We had them, we were right behind them, and this momzer troll pulls out a bow and shoots arrows at us! Arrows! And then they escape, poof, just like smoke they are—not a trace to be found. Oy vey, I cannot think of a worse thing that could have happened.”

  Simon looked over at Jhones, who was practically bouncing up and down in his seat with irritation. He had been so upset that when their replacement car, an LS modified Honda 3220 Turbo, had arrived, the dwarf had waved impatiently at Simon to drive. The IA officer had raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, just slid behind the wheel. He was glad he had. Compared to their Americar, which was a perfectly satisfactory vehicle, the Honda was a huge improvement. Quicker acceleration, a more powerful engine, and the sleek ride handled like it was on rails. Maybe if I get a bust out of this, I can upgrade my street vehicle to something like this.

  Unfortunately, it looked like that bust might just come at the expense of his partner. Jhones looked like he was coming unglued, his eyes wild and staring, the Mohawk that was his pride and joy was limp and bedraggled, hanging over his face every which way. His fingers twitched in his lap. He had been of little help during the past half hour, during which they had cordoned off the accident area, reported in, and requisitioned a new vehicle. Beat cops had arrived to take statements and police the area, and Simon and Jhones had hit the street to try to pick up their quarry again. But as Jhones kept muttering under his breath, the ganefs had simply up and vanished.

  Let’s see if we can get this back on a more productive course, Simon thought. “All right, let’s take it from the top. We know that a shadowrunning team that engineered the Plantech heist was meeting with someone—to sell back the plants? Maybe they were receiving a payoff for recovering them from the thieves—”

  “No!” The dwarfs cyberhand slammed down on the dashboard hard enough to dent it. “The runners were there to get their payoff from whoever hired them to steal those plants, I know it!”

  “Okay, okay, let’s work off that for a moment. Plantech security tracks them down and tries to neutralize the team and recover the plants. Now, Lone Star arrives on the scene and arrests three other men, local ‘talent’ who were at the house as well, all injured, one severely, and each one smoldering from the explosion. Their initial statements claim no involvement in the action that went down in Ballard, but the shell casings recovered at the scene are probably going to pop that alibi like a balloon.”

  Simon turned north again. “So, Plantech is there to recover the plants, but why are these other guys there? Spoilers for the original team? Are they supposed to hit the Plantech security after they have the plants. No, that’s drek, three against twenty? Highly illogical.”

  Jhones, his arms crossed, rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe they were sent to watch the drop go down. You know, provide backup?”

  “That’s a possibility. However, the drop goes to drek, and the scientist gets geeked. The three men engage the runners just as Plantech pulls up, and a three-way firefight ensues, with the team caught in the middle. They manage to get their hoops out of there—”

  “And onto the freeway, where we managed to catch up to them. But now, somehow, they managed to pffffttt”— the dwarf blew air through his teeth—“and they’re gone.” Simon’s commlink vibrated in his jaw. “Maybe not just yet. Patch through to vidscreen and play.”

  "File transmitted, Officer Chays,” the computer voice said in his head.

  “I tasked an LS computer to monitor the radio airwaves in downtown and look for the words ‘Bison,’ ‘plant’ or ‘Plantech’, and ‘Ballard’ within thirty words of each other in a single transmission. Looks like this is our best match. Play.”

  Static tilled the Honda’s interior. “ . . . Sir, we’ve located the Bison. Looks exactly like the one that was in Ballard earlier. Plate match and everything. No sign of cargo or of any thermal signatures inside. ” The disembodied voice gave an address.

  Jhones snorted. “That’s just what we need right now, involvement from the mafia.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions here; they may have just ditched the vehicle.” Simon held up his hand for silence as the conversation continued.

  An authoritative voice replied: “Do not engage. Wait for reinforcements. If they do move, stay on them at a safe distance. We’ll be there in six-point-four minutes.”

  “Time of intercept?” Simon queried even as he pushed the accelerator, the Honda’s powerplant ramping up with hardly any additional noise. Almost before he knew it, they were traveling 170 kilometers per hour, but the car handled like they were doing a sedate 90. Frag, I gotta get me one of these!

  “Time of communication intercept: 1919 hours,” the computer replied.

  “About five minutes ago.” Simon checked the distance to their target area against where they were. “Assuming traffic is on our side, we should be there in a bit under six minutes—just enough time to catch the sec team in the act of raiding a private vehicle. Then maybe we’ll finally get some answers if we haul the lot of them back to the precinct.”

  Simon looked over and got the satisfaction of seeing Jhones squirm in his seat. Anything you'd like to add, boy-chik? But the dwarf remained silent.

  Simon sideslipped across two lanes, the Honda ghosting through the area like a black mirage. A klick later, and they turned down the street where the Bison was. Simon looked over one last time, but Jhones stared straight ahead, his impassive features looking like they might have been carved from steel for all the emotion he showed.

  All right, looks like we do this the hard way. In the gathering dusk, Simon hit his cybereyes and saw two Typhoons clustered around a parked vehicle. He hit the red-and-blue strobes, then the halogen spotlight in the front of the car, lighting up the entire group of armor-clad, subgun toting guards around the RVs. Simon announced through the loudspeaker, “THIS IS LONE STAR! NOBODY MOVE! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

  Let’s see how your good buddy likes this, he thought as he got out of the car, his Ruger Thunderbolt held down at his side.

  “Oy, boychik, you certainly know how to get people’s attention.” Jhones shook his head as he got out of the car. “Perhaps I should do the talking.”

  “Sure, start reading them their rights. Operating out of their corp’s jurisdiction, endangering public safety, destruction of private property, obstruction of justice. Heck, let’s throw attempted murder in there. I’m sure we can put a case together—shall I go on?”

  “Just hang back a bit, will you?” The dwarf walked forward, his stocky body silhouetted in the halogen light.

  A helmeted man in a crisp black jumpsuit stalked forward, seemingly unaffected by th
e bright glare. “Jhones? Is that you?”

  “Hoi, Roland. Why don’t you and I take a little walk? Simon, make sure none of these ‘suspects’ tries to ‘resist arrest’?”

  Simon whirled on his superior, about to read him the riot act, but the words died when he saw the look of pain on the dwarf’s face. He clamped his mouth shut. “Okay, you get five minutes, that’s all.”

  Jhones nodded. “That’ll do. Then you and I will have a little talk ourselves.”

  Slottin’ right we will, Simon thought as he leaned against the Honda, heavy pistol still in hand, his cybereye recording the face of every sec guard there, particularly that of their leader, Roland Ators.

  Roland kept a wary eye on the human near the Lone Star car as he walked away with Jhones. “What’s up with your partner back there?”

  The dwarf rubbed his forehead. “Oy, rookie fever. The justice bug is chomping his nads, that’s all. Speaking of fever, chaver, why am I finding you out here, not even in Snohomish, busting a private citizen’s vehicle? On top of that, we’ve got about a dozen witnesses who cannot only place your teams at that house that went up in flames in Ballard, but also several cops that will swear they saw a couple of Typhoons that look remarkably like these ones chasing that Bison all around downtown. That’s breaking about a dozen laws just off the top of my head. If you have anything to say in your defense, now would be the time.” Frag, it’s a good thing he doesn’t know about the Alki apartment raid, or my hoop would be in the drek for sure. Taking off his helmet, Roland ran a hand through his crew cut and regarded his friend with a deep sigh. “All right, I was hoping we could have resolved this quietly, but these fraggin’ runners keep slipping through our fingers.” He went on to fill Jhones in on exactly how important the stolen plants were to his corp.