The Miranda Contract

by Ben Langdon

  “Are you in or out?” asked one of the men in suits.

  “I think I’m in,” Dan said and stepped forward, raising his hand so the security band was visible. The man scanned it and nodded him through.

  There was no sign of Brody at the party, but everyone was talking about her. Some of the guests were wearing prosthetic freak chic. One woman stood with impressive iridescent wings spread out behind her, while two men played at being conjoined twins. Dan ignored them but wondered briefly how his grandfather would feel about regular people pretending to be ubers. Waiters moved in and around the crowds with thin glasses of champagne, and expensive food plated up on silver trays. The drinks seemed more decorated than the sparse black décor around them and the music system was state of the art. Dan recognized a handful of the guests from television but most were just regular people in party clothes.

  “Are you lost?” a girl asked him. “Or just wearing a puppy dog face?”

  She was skinny and had a pixie face with sparkling almond-shaped eyes and a turned up nose. Her hair was short and sculpted and her body was sheathed in a dark green dress. She carried a slender glass of champagne and studied him with a deliberate glint in her eye.

  “This is just my normal face, I’m afraid.”

  “Hardly normal.”

  Dan blushed and wondered how things had slipped from being an unobtrusive observer to being the one studied. The girl handed him the glass and he took it with a smile of thanks. She lifted her arm and without even looking at the waiter moving past her, managed to scoop another two glasses from the tray.

  “Drink up,” she said, taking a sip from her fresh glass.

  Dan finished her first one and then exchanged it for the next, the girl passing the empty glass to another waiter.

  “Smooth,” he said.

  “You’re the sparky aren’t you?” she asked. Her free hand fingered his jacket, bringing them closer together. He was taller than her, perhaps by half a head, but she managed to control his movement, guiding him along and into the party.

  “I’m Dan,” he said

  “Evie.”

  She finished her glass and then reached out to take Dan’s, draining it and freeing their hands as another waiter passed. She glanced towards the dance floor. Miranda’s music was still playing and professional dancers were appointed in strategic positions amongst the rest of the party-goers. One of the dancers whipped her prehensile hair in circles, the dreadlocked threads moving like spider legs in the air. Another dancer had pink skin tattooed with blue hieroglyphs. Dan felt himself drawn towards the dancers. He took a breath of Evie’s perfume, caught up in her like he hadn’t been for a long time, and then he let her pull him along. With each step he felt more distant from everything. The techno-treatment favored a strong beat and as he and Evie moved into the first wave of people, Dan began to lose himself in it. The lights pulsed – visually as well as electronically – and he felt the energy all around him.

  Miranda Brody arrived in between orchestrated song changes and the sudden focus away from the dance floor gave Dan a chance to retreat from the intensity of the room. His senses were heightened, his body overcharged and ready to explode. At other times when he felt like he’d absorbed too much power from the world around him, Dan had been anxious and tried to shut down his whole body, but the party had given him a different take on things. Everything was exploding around him – music, lights, party people, and Evie. Everything was let loose, free. He couldn’t remember a time recently when he’d felt so unencumbered by the crap that seemed to follow him through his life. It didn’t seem to matter that he had no friends, that he’d just been kicked out of his house.

  He accepted another drink from a waiter and as he closed his fingers around the slender glass he saw the blue flashes of electricity just under his skin. Dan smiled, biting his lip, feeling it coursing through his body, feeling it numbing his tongue.

  “A celebration beyond expectation,” a deep voice rumbled near Dan’s ear and as he turned around he saw the bearded head of Miranda Brody’s bodyguard: the strongest, most muscle-bound man Dan had ever seen in real life. Sully had his arms crossed and was wearing a turban matching his dark purple tie and an expensive looking black suit. Dan glanced down at his own t-shirt and jacket. He couldn’t help it.

  Sully took the glass out of Dan’s hand and passed it off to another one of Miranda’s people who was standing behind him. The man’s dark eyes pinned Dan in place and he felt a little withered, the energy dancing under his skin all across his body suddenly thinned.

  “Come,” Sully commanded and led Dan by the arm to a booth along one of the walls. Dan looked around for Evie but she had melted into the crowds that were pushing to the center of the space, presumably towards Miranda.

  Dan slid into the booth and crossed his own arms, mimicking the large Middle Eastern man opposite. Sully didn’t seem to notice. Instead, the bodyguard placed a case onto the table. It looked like it was stainless steel. Dan saw the blurred reflection of the world around him in its shiny surface.

  “This is a briefcase,” Sully said slowly. Dan nodded, trying not to grin. It didn’t seem like the big man smiled much at all, and Dan didn’t want to be the one who looked like a fool. As Alsana was clear to point out, this was a professional job.

  “It sure looks like a briefcase.”

  “This is an important briefcase,” Sully continued. “It will become your responsibility for the next 48 hours.”

  “Is it full of cash?”

  “It is not full of cash.”

  “Drugs?”

  Sully’s eyes narrowed and Dan shrugged and looked down at the case.

  It was silver and sleek, and he noticed there was a computer code latch instead of a lock on the top. He could hear the soft hum of the circuitry as he ran his fingertips over the surface, his genetic code calling out to the electronic one. Even with his attention on Sully, Dan was absently working out the algorithms, reading them like a familiar tune.

  “Your assignment is to carry this case with you when you collect Miss Brody tomorrow morning from the airport. Do not attempt to lose it.”

  “The airport,” Dan said, nodding while still trying to unlock the case with his mind.

  “She will be arriving on an early flight from an undisclosed location,” Sully continued. “You will not be late. And you will bring this case with you.”

  “I thought she was here.”

  “She is here, presently,” Sully said.

  “But not all night?”

  “Miss Brody will be required elsewhere after this engagement. You, however, shall not.”

  “Be required?”

  “No, not until the morning. Do not lose it.”

  “So what’s in it, really?” Dan asked, although he was more interested in why Sully thought he might try to lose it rather than crack it open. He’d already established it wasn’t money.

  “Important documents,” Sully said finally.

  “Why don’t you carry them?”

  Sully was intimidating, Dan didn’t mind admitting that to himself, but there was also something noble about him. He looked at a person when he spoke to them and he thought before he responded.

  “Carry this at all times,” Sully said again. He turned the case towards Dan and then reached out, gripped Dan’s wrist and snapped the chain to his security bracelet. The clicking sound cut through the music somehow.

  “Isn’t that a bit over the top?” Dan asked, testing the length of the thin chain.

  “In this business it is not about realities but more about perceptions of realities.”

  “Are you sure you’re a bodyguard?”

  Sully raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Dan looked closer at the band and the chain. He gave it another tug. His vision blurred a little and he stretched his shoulders. The music crushed in on him, his hearing and sight numbed for a second.

  “You’re the boss, I guess,” Dan said. “So I keep this on, make it look important an
d pick up your girl tomorrow at the airport?”

  “You would think it was a simple task, wouldn’t you?” Sully asked, probably more to himself than to Dan. “There is no key-code.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You will be the only one who can open it,” Sully said. “With your gifts, you will be able to access the ever-changing sequence of numbers when we require it to become not locked.”

  Dan could feel the whir of the changing code. Even while speaking with Sully, his mind was tracking the changes, calibrating the sequence and then chasing it to the next series of numbers.

  “Couldn’t I get this tomorrow?”

  “It is better if you get it tonight, now. As I mentioned already, Miss Brody has another engagement later this evening and we will not be seeing you again until the airport.”

  Dan shrugged. There was something irritating about the band around his wrist. The metal wasn’t like the briefcase and it had tightened. Really tight. His skin itched already.

  A waiter arrived and offered them more drinks. Sully ignored the man entirely. Dan picked up a glass but then returned it quickly under Sully’s unrelenting stare. Dan figured the sooner he left the large man, the sooner he could sneak another drink and try to shake off what was probably the start of a headache.

  “It’s a little tight,” Dan said.

  Sully looked over Dan’s shoulder at some change in the party.

  The crowd beyond the booth shifted suddenly, people moving backward as another group made its way across the room. Standing close to seven feet tall, Sully had no trouble seeing the group coming, but Dan had to settle for watching the shifting edges of the crowd.

  Three corporates emerged, flanked by more colorful young people, all impeccably groomed. One of them must have been Miranda Brody, Dan thought. Following just behind the young people came a slick documentary film crew with headsets, miniature cameras and attitude. And then he saw her. She wore a white t-shirt and a tartan skirt with her bare midriff showing. While everyone seemed enthralled by her, Miranda didn’t seem to notice. It was a totally different girl from the night before when she had been harried by her fans. This Miranda was in full control. The cameraman weaved ahead of her but she didn’t give the impression she cared.

  It was clear Sully didn’t like the crew though. He folded his arms across his impressive chest. Dan could read body language. He worked in retail, after all.

  “Is this the freak boy?” one of the men asked.

  “Yes, Mister Christie,” another said, nodding.

  Dan felt amused rather than insulted. It might have been the champagne from earlier. Mister Christie had a shiny face and thin, slicked back hair. Dan didn’t like him at all.

  “Is he all set for the assignment?” Christie asked.

  Sully nodded.

  “It’s alright, Mister Christie. Let’s enjoy the night,” Miranda said.

  While most of the posse glanced in his direction only Miranda looked directly at him. She kept her gaze on him as the other people began chatting around Sully who had left the booth and now stood silently in their midst. Dan stumbled to his feet, not wanting to be at any more of a disadvantage in this sea suddenly full of sharks.

  “So I guess you hate my music,” she said as he stood.

  Her lips moved deliberately, slowly. She knew he saw her watching him. She was used to being the focus of everyone’s attention.

  Her dark hair was styled in wavy ringlets that danced on her shoulders.

  “It hurts my ears,” Dan said, pointing at the side of his head.

  They looked at each other like cats while the people, ‘her people’, stood and waited for the conversation to unfold. Dan knew it wasn’t a real conversation and so did Miranda. It was choreographed posturing, but after a few days of mundane routine he felt like an excursion into the surreal world of celebrity. His only other alternative would be to crawl back to his apartment and watch television.

  Then he remembered he didn’t have an apartment anymore.

  He grinned at her, pushing away the thought and the growing headache. Perhaps the best outcome would be for him to be fired. He figured shooting off his mouth might be the best way forward, even if it meant Alsana’s wrath and a month of anger management classes.

  “You’re not going to last a day in my world, pizza boy,” she said, turning away slightly, but without completely withdrawing her impressive profile. Dan had to admit that she was beautiful. Blow your mind beautiful. Normally he wouldn’t have the chance to insult girls like her.

  “No kidding.”

  Miranda looked like she didn’t want to be there either, but with images of her all around and her music piping through the walls, she was a required presence. Her eyes were still shielded behind shades, but he thought she was sizing him up – the classic head to shoes assessment. It made him uncomfortable and reminded him that he wasn’t a part of this manufactured and polished world. Still, he wasn’t too ashamed of his look. After spending half an hour getting his hair just right and slipping the jacket Alsana bought for him over his Gyroscope t-shirt, he figured he looked pretty good. He told himself that the t-shirt was his attempt to juxtapose real music with whatever it was Miranda did.

  “Watch yourself,” she said softly. Dan read the lips more than he heard the words. No matter how he acted to her face, he couldn’t help but be impressed with her beauty, her curved mouth and glimpses of teeth, seemingly intent on cutting him down. He felt a little intimidated by it, kind of like facing a Venus Fly Trap. Part of him wanted to jump in and be devoured. Instead, he flipped his thumb behind him, gesturing to the cameraman who was hovering nearby.

  “Seriously,” he said. “And here I am without my very own film crew.”

  She frowned at him. He could see the disappointment there, something he’d become used to in his seventeen years of dealing with people. The cameraman whirred at Dan’s side, capturing Dan’s profile and Miranda’s full celebrity luminosity beyond.

  He felt trapped. The young people at the edges were smirking into their glasses, sharing words through cupped hands. Sully remained serious but he was out of reach. Dan slipped around the cameras and made his way towards the front door, dismissing himself from the strange girl. He’d done what Alsana wanted – he’d met with the client and received his specific instructions. He’d even let them chain him to a designer briefcase full of nothing. He didn’t want to spend any more time in the company of celebrities. Sure, he’d thought it would distract him from his boring, suddenly-homeless life, but they weren’t half as interesting as they pretended to be. Even the quiet, watchful, hateful Miranda Brody. The party was okay but he’d gone through the hoops, now it was his time.

  Behind him the crew filmed his retreat, while cutting back to Miranda’s classically unimpressed profile. Her people picked up their chatter, the waiters continued to navigate through with refreshments, and soon Dan Galkin was forgotten.

  He edged his way around the dance floor, the music calling him one way while the need to get out pulled him the other. His head hurt: the lightshow strobing to the beats, piercing; the edges of his vision blurred with pin pricks of light.

  Suddenly Evie, sparkling eyes of mischief, took his hand in the dark as one song morphed into the next. Dan felt the press of her fingers around his and took in a breath. She was unexpected, a surprise which sent his skin tingling. His head calmed as he focused on the hand. She moved herself around him, close, slipping between Dan and the door, one slender hand encircling his, while the other reached out and under his jacket.

  Their faces were close and he studied her more than before, the press of her body against his. Behind him the protective circle of Miranda Brody’s documentary crew had forgotten him, but their words and glances were still stinging even though he told himself he didn’t care what they thought.

  “Let’s get out of here, sparky.”

  Chapter 10

  The Mad Russian

  The time was close. He could sense it building ou
tside, the storms whipping up in the west, pushed towards them by pressure systems out in the southern oceans. The Russian drew together his most trusted associates, from across the globe and across time, it seemed. None of them were as strong or as young as they had been. Looking around the room, sealed beneath the trembling sounds of Chinatown in the center of Melbourne, the four of them had seen better days.

  Grandfather Time stood in a corner, as straight and tall as a grandfather clock, dressed in a tuxedo and top hat. Even though he remained mostly insulated from the physical ravages of time, the old man seemed less animated. Beside him, at one end of a divan, Grim cradled a glass of scotch. He was fat now, his scraggly beard a forest joining with the hair which burst from the neck of his open shirt. It was shot through with grey and white, like a winter coat. In contrast, Pearl retained her elegance, although she seemed to have shrunk further into herself over the years. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, her eyes little black beads in the creases of her face. Against the Russian’s wishes, Pearl had brought her nephew, and he stood loyally at the rear of her too-large chair. Luke Ma was barely twenty, a strong young man, with watchful eyes and a thin mouth. He knew the boy well enough and had almost brought him into the exclusive fold of the Small Gods. Instead he had settled on the boy’s cousin, Lily. Looking at him now, Galkin wondered whether he should have persisted with the boy. Behind those thin lips were multiple rows of jagged, deadly teeth. Pearl’s nephew was no ordinary chaperone.

  They had been waiting for twenty minutes. At first they were polite and enquired about each other’s family. Grim complained about his decaying lungs, his fitful sleeping and the terrible state of national politics. Pearl relayed news of her sister’s death and the birth of a new grandchild – neither one making much of an impact in her expression.

  The Russian lost interest. And so did the others. Their glances turned to the room itself, their eyes trailing across the impressive bookshelves and the dark but subtly lit room. It was only when the door opened and the last of their number arrived that the energy returned. The Russian felt his chest expand as he stood from his own chair and walked quickly across the room to meet his dear, old friend.