Kate snorted. There was nothing normal about Tigris. Arriving at a border world was always like stepping back in time, but Tigris evoked it stronger than others she had visited. Admittedly, she never had time for tours when on a job, so her experience was limited to those areas surrounding her target, but rioting? That would never have happened in the core.
She turned her attention back to the pulser and listened only absently to the announcer’s voice.
“…hospitalised during the outbreak of violence were reported to be off the critical list mere hours after the confrontation took place. Our earlier announcement of deaths among the rioters has now been confirmed, but the report stating figures reaching into the thousands has been proven erroneous. Med Admin stated an increase in admission figures on the order of a few hundred, with deaths confined to a few dozen only…”
Kate frowned; the city could be under martial law for weeks. She couldn’t afford to have her movements curtailed. She relaxed slightly when she heard that most of the restrictions were being rescinded now that the actual fighting had ceased. President Sanderson had apparently retired to his mountain retreat where he was recovering from the stress of ordering the army to open fire on their own people.
“Stress… rigggght,” Kate drawled. She listened to the rest of the news broadcast, but there was nothing further about Sanderson. She finished assembling her new toy and reloaded it.
Why wasn’t Tigris a member of the Alliance? All Human worlds had an open invitation to join, but as far as she knew, Tigris had never petitioned for entry. It might be a piss-pot world compared with some, but it had the potential to be much more. Already its produce was sought after, evidenced by the huge export industry it had. Was Sanderson holding the planet back for fear of its over exploitation, as some border worlds insisted would happen, or was it something more personal? A fear of competition perhaps, or worry over a light being shone into his term of office. Whatever the reason was, the people of Tigris had no one to speak for them on the Council. Whatever Sanderson wanted done was done. His word was law.
“How long has he been in office?” she mused, and frowned when she realised that for all she knew, Sanderson could have a life presidency.
The Alliance presidency used a term of five years. On every Alliance planet, a councillor was either elected or appointed by his world’s government to serve on the Council for three years. One councillor per world meant two hundred and thirty-four councillors—though Kate had heard Thurston had applied to join only recently. So then, two hundred and thirty-five men and women led the Alliance, with President Dyachenko at its head, but here in the Border Zone a single man ruled it all.
Kate yawned and stretched. It was definitely time to try out her bed. She turned off the holo and climbed under cool sheets. Her silencer-equipped pistol came with her under the covers, and her new pulser went under the pillow. Why change what works? She frowned uneasily into the darkness. It hadn’t worked for Millard. She snorted at her sudden apprehension—she wasn’t that superstitious.
Kate pushed her hand under the pillow and fell asleep with the pulser in her fist.
* * *
Chapter 6
Planet Tigris, Border Zone
Kate stared at herself in the mirror.
“My God, this is starting to look natural,” she muttered and applied a last dab of colour to her left eyelid.
She dropped Millard’s pulser into a pocket and checked her reflection one last time to make sure it didn’t show—it wouldn’t do to have someone pointing at her. Before leaving her room, she stabbed the button next to the door to illuminate the do not disturb sign, in case a cleanbot came by while she was out. It would be best if the HTR remained undiscovered under the bed.
Down in the lobby, she chose the doors that were so popular the night before, and walked straight into chaos. As expected it was a club, and also as expected there were plenty of people for her to choose from. Men and women were dancing in an arm waving frenzy to the heavy whomp-whomp beat of the music. Lasers strobed through the darkness, and holo screens flashed images of worlds and patterns that made no sense, but seemed to vaguely match the music.
She made her way around the outskirts of the revellers refusing to be dragged in amongst them. Twice she had to become physical, as men on a high of testosterone and designer drugs, grabbed her and wouldn’t take no for an answer. No one heard the screams, or if they did, they didn’t care. Both men would recover—sprained thumbs were nothing. She doubted the chemical cocktail running through their veins would let them feel pain for longer than a second or two.
She made her way toward the crowded bar.
Kate had to use her elbows, and many apologetic smiles to burrow between people, but finally she succeeded. Joining those propping up the bar, she ordered a drink from one of a half dozen harried looking barkeeps.
“A what?” the barkeep yelled over the noise in surprise.
“A glass of ice water,” she yelled back.
“That’s what I thought you said.” The woman had a puzzled look on her face as she went to fetch it.
Kate wasn’t thirsty, but it was always good to have something in your hands in these situations. A pulser would draw too much attention; a glass of something non-alcoholic would have to do. She stood propped against the bar on one elbow trying to look as if she belonged, and defended her territory from predatory drinkers. Her eyes tracked targets as they approached and receded from her, but none of them appealed. She was hoping for a merc. Everyone was dressed like civs, but she should be able to pick one out fairly easily. Soldiers had a certain presence that she would recognise. They walked different—more confidently, and they seemed to own a room without trying or even noticing the effect they had on others not like themselves. She tried not to show her distaste for the revelry going on around her. Men and women were entwined together at tables and booths around the room. Some were shouting to be heard, some were laughing, but the greater percentage by far were kissing and fondling each other.
In public!
She couldn’t believe how far some people would go in a public place. Some of them were so close to performing the act itself that the difference was hard to determine. Bare flesh and stroking hands met her eyes as she watched for a target she could use. She didn’t avert her eyes from the goings on, even though she dearly wished to. Instead, she steeled herself to accept what she saw. She could handle it if she had to, and she did have to. She used her coldest mask to cover how uncomfortable she was, and continued surveying the room. A few men did begin to approach her, but they sheared off abruptly as she looked their way. They sensed perhaps that she was a predator and not their prey.
Nothing like this place would be tolerated on Bethany; the mere suggestion that it could be would have people staring at her in disgust. She was very aware that a good Bethanite, man or woman, would never have come in here in the first place. Had one come in by mistake, she would have gasped in shock and run for the spaceport. No proper Bethanite would do what she was doing. That of course was the point of her being here and not one of them. No proper Bethanite could do what she did every day. Her work had changed her far more than she would have thought possible. Watching the sex show going on around her proved it more than anything else she could think of.
“Jackson isn’t it?” a man said loudly from behind her.
Kate started and cursed under her breath for not paying better attention. The owner of the voice was familiar, and she cursed again. She wanted a merc, but not this one.
“That’s right. Do I know you?” she yelled, as she turned toward him. It was the merc from the checkpoint—the one Robert wanted to kick into next week. “Oh it’s you. Run out of travellers to hassle, Sergeant Checkpoint?”
He smiled his cold-eyed smile. “Funny. It’s Sheldrake… Captain Sheldrake to be precise. Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Robert? He was only good for one… ride,” she said with a wicked grin. “He was just my driver.”
> “I know,” Sheldrake said in amusement. “I checked.”
Kate’s thoughts raced. “Is that so?” She tilted her head coyly and ran her tongue over her lips. “Find me of interest do you—” Someone bumped into her spilling her drink on the bar. She glanced in annoyance at the heavily muscled boy, and he gave her a cheeky grin.
“Can I get you another?” he said, nodding at the spill and stepping between her and Sheldrake. “Why make do with an old man like him when you can have me?”
Kate looked him up and down dismissively. Nothing of substance there, she decided. “Flit, beefcake. It’s thrilling I want, not killing.”
He scowled and faded back into the crowd.
Sheldrake was smiling at something he found amusing. He nodded at the barkeep and pointed to his glass. “I asked around about you. It’s funny, but no one remembers you up at the station. You just appeared out of nowhere on the shuttle coming down here.” The barkeep filled his glass with an amber coloured liquid and moved on. “It’s part of my job you know, looking for suspicious persons.”
Her eyes narrowed. What was the bastard after? Kate casually eased her hand closer to her pocket. “Is that what you’re doing here, you’re job?”
Sheldrake saluted her with his glass and took a healthy swallow. “I’m off duty.”
Kate didn’t believe that for a second. If he really had checked up on her, then he probably knew that Cherry Jackson was an alias. Her false identicard was a good one, but nothing was foolproof. Cherry was booked as having arrived on a civilian liner—Rising Sun, but a more thorough investigation would reveal that no one had seen her on that ship. Bribes had been paid to ensure the ship’s passenger list contained her name for both her arrival at Tigris, and her departure from it, but a little digging would prove she had never seen the inside of that ship.
She leaned forward until her lips were within kissing distance of Sheldrake’s. He didn’t pull away. Her hand was firmly around the grip of her pulser. The safety was off and it was aimed at his crotch. If she fired, she would have maybe three or four seconds to lose herself in the panic her shot would cause. Not enough time, but there might not be another option.
“Who else knows of your interest in me?” she said purring the words seductively and letting Cherry have control. She traced a finger over the stubble of his jaw. “Hmmm?”
Sheldrake’s smile was forced and his eyes were wide. His pupil’s were dilated, but it wasn’t the darkened state of the club that caused it. Unlike most of the club, the bar was brightly lit. He had knocked back two large glasses of something alcoholic while with her. Who knew how much he had drunk before that? She was pleased. It made her job that much easier.
Sheldrake’s smile strengthened suddenly. With a sinking feeling, Kate turned to find a couple of Sheldrake’s friends moving toward her. Both were in uniform, and she doubted they were paying a social call. An ocean of open space suddenly appeared around her as the people propping up the bar hastily got out of ground zero. She released her pulser and reached for her glass. She used the movement to create a little more space between herself and Sheldrake. Not that it would do her any good now, but it made her feel a little more in control of the situation.
“Captain,” one merc said upon reaching them. He didn’t reach for the pulser on his hip, but it was obvious he wanted to. The other one kept to one side and watched her intently. “This the one?”
Sheldrake nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“This girl?” The merc looked at Kate in disbelief. He eyed Sheldrake’s empty glass on the bar. “You’re positive?”
“Affirmative, sir. She’s the one.” Sheldrake sounded annoyed at having his word questioned.
“Who the hell are you?” Kate said to the newcomer.
“Major Fairhead’s the name. I have some questions for you.”
She reluctantly lowered her empty glass to the bar just as one of the barkeeps came by.
“Another?”
Before Kate could answer, Fairhead did it for her. “She won’t be having another.”
“We don’t want any trouble here. Take it outside,” the barkeep said.
Fairhead glared and the barkeep backed a step. “Mind your business. I suggest you flit before I take an official interest in you.”
The barkeep didn’t need telling twice. She flit.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Kate said taking a step away from the bar.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Fairhead nodded to his silent companion. “Cover her.”
The merc pulled his pistol and aimed it at Kate’s chest. The space around them suddenly doubled in size, as her fellow drinkers scattered out of the way. The rest of the club didn’t notice. The music pounded, the dancers gyrated, and the lovers still fondled each other to their own internal rhythms unaware that a life was in the balance. She doubted they would have cared if they had known.
Kate didn’t quite raise her hands, but she held them away from her sides to prove them empty. “What’s going on?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Fairhead said. “Are you carrying?”
“Carrying?”
“I won’t ask you again.”
Kate saw the decision forming in his eyes. She glanced down to her left and turned that hip toward him. “Left pocket,” she said finally dropping Cherry from her voice. “Safety is off.”
The warning made him hesitate for a fraction of a second before his hand went into her pants. When he felt the weapon, he pause to look into her eyes. She smiled sweetly at him when he withdrew the pulser and held it up.
“A toy for a child. It doesn’t surprise me in the least.”
Fool. Kate felt the sneer forming on her lips, but managed to compose herself before Fairhead noticed. Millard’s pulser was a fine weapon. Easily good enough to kill these idiots, and it was easy to conceal. The huge pistols the mercs carried might look impressive and have a longer range, but she believed in using the right tool for the right job. If she wanted longer range, she would use a rifle not a pistol.
“Follow me,” Fairhead said and turned to leave.
Did she have a choice? One look at the merc gesturing at her with his pistol made it plain she didn’t.
Fairhead led Kate out of the club, but instead of escorting her outside and into a vehicle as she had assumed he would, he turned deeper into the hotel. Their destination was the manager’s office. Kate entered first, closely followed by Fairhead. Sheldrake and the pistol wielding merc remained outside. The office was empty but for one man sitting behind a desk. He had thinning hair and a skeletally thin face. Kate guessed his age to be in excess of a century. His fever-bright eyes studied her intensely as she walked, making her very uncomfortable. Those eyes burned with something she was tempted to call madness, but he did nothing else to lend credence to her judgment. He didn’t speak, and after a moment he returned his attention to the inhaler he was loading. Kate stood before the desk quietly watching as he dosed himself. The fancy gold inhaler he used proclaimed him as a wealthy man, but to her he was still just another doper.
The doper looked up and smiled. “Please take a seat, Miss Richmond.”
“Who?” Kate said with a suddenly dry mouth. “My name is Cherry Jackson. I’ve never heard of—”
“Please credit me with some intelligence. You are Katherine Richmond, late of Bethany’s World—a spy and an assassin for hire. I had the Major bring you to me so that I might ask you some questions. My name is Maximilian Skinner… have you heard of me?”
Kate shook her head.
“A pity.”
“Why?”
Skinner shrugged. “If you had known of me, you wouldn’t have tried lying. My time here is limited. Please do me the courtesy of answering my questions truthfully.”
Kate glanced at Fairhead. He was standing to one side covering her with her own pulser. “What do you want to know?”
Skinner nodded in satisfaction. “You were hired to do a job. Is it complete?”
&
nbsp; Hired to do a job? No one hired her, she wasn’t for rent. “What do you know of why I’m here?” she said trying to hedge until she had more information.
Skinner sighed. “I thought we had an understanding you and I. It seems I was mistaken.”
“I understood you well enough, but my… clients demand absolute secrecy.”
“I am your client,” Skinner roared completely out of the blue. “I represent President Sanderson you fool. I would have thought that was obvious by now.” He gestured at the Major’s presence as proof.
Whatever Skinner had doped himself with, it had obviously made him unpredictable. Kate was betting on some kind of mood enhancer, which was bad. The drug would amplify whatever emotions he was feeling, and he was obviously feeling annoyed with her evasions. How much had he taken? She had only see him trigger the inhaler once, so maybe he wouldn’t get completely out of control. She could hope.
Kate figuratively crossed her fingers. “But I can’t know that for sure. You are not my contact… I don’t know you.”
Skinner brightened. The change had taken something like a microsecond and Kate shivered at this fresh evidence of his mental state.
“That’s very true. I commend you on your discretion, but I must insist you tell me what I want to know.”
“Perhaps…” she licked her lips. “Perhaps if you named the target and my contact?”
“Oh very well,” Skinner said testily. “If that will get this over with the quicker. Your contact’s name is Gerald Whitby, and the target is a man styling himself as General Millard. Satisfied?”
Kate nodded. Gerald Whitby, the head of Whitby Corp, and current holder of the Whitby seat on Bethany’s ruling council. She was more than satisfied; she was elated. Her handler would be much more amenable when she told him she knew who was paying him. Maybe she could even get him to give her a discount on the data she needed.
“Very satisfied. Millard is dead, Mister Skinner. I executed him late last night while he slept. Do you want the details?”
Merkiaari Wars: 02 - What Price Honour Page 9
