by C. G. Hatton
He climbed along to the loading area, easily breaking through security barriers, and settled in above the Duck’s main cargo bay doors.
He reached out tentatively to Elliott, not sure what he was looking for or even whether he’d be able to get through, but Elliott replied immediately on a clear link.
“I’ve got you,” the tech guy sent back. “You were right to be cautious. There are people asking about you all along the docks.”
“Asking about me?”
“Not you exactly, but the description fits. You need to be careful.”
“Where’s Sean?”
“She went to her ship. How did it go?”
LC watched a cargo handler manoeuvre a loader stacked with boxes. She stopped by the Duck, ditched the load and drove it back across the dockside. “Gallagher has the marker back and enough money to pay for repairs. Are we taking on cargo?”
“Supplies. I thought you’d probably need a way back in.”
LC watched the woman trundle her vehicle back with another load. “Where’s DiMarco?”
“In a bar dockside so watch yourself.”
He stood up and edged along to a ladder. Before Poule he would have clambered down the piping conduits in the shadows. Now he didn’t trust that his leg would hold and he still felt drained so it was the ladder and the risk that someone might see.
He slid down two levels, waited until the woman was across at the ship then dropped down to the deck, slipping through an open door into a back area of grimy offices and locker rooms. He walked like he belonged there and pushed through into a changing room where two guys were arguing about someone being late.
LC palmed a security badge from a jacket and walked back out onto the dockside, snagging a data board as he went.
He made a show of flicking through screens and headed for the Duck, looking bored and walking slowly, trying not to limp. The woman pulled up as she drove back.
“I need to check the inventory,” he said, casually flashing her the badge and waving the board.
She shrugged, didn’t care and didn’t seem in the slightest bit concerned that she’d never seen him before. “Go knock yourself out.”
The cargo bay doors started to rise as he approached and by the time he reached it, there was enough of a gap that he could duck under and through into the ship.
Elliott was waiting in the mess. LC threw the badge and the data board in the trash and reached into the fridge for a beer. He slouched down on the sofa, put his feet up and closed his eyes.
“Gallagher and Thom are on their way in,” Elliott said softly just as he was settled. “You should get back to the medical bay. Don’t want to give the game away, do we?”
LC bit back the comment that leapt to mind and got to his feet grudgingly.
Elliott stepped aside and frowned. “Are you okay? Your biometrics don’t look good,” he said and let LC lead the way into the corridor.
“I’m tired,” he said, not stopping and not even tempted to be curious as to how Elliott knew what his freaking biometrics were doing. “They were using Banitol. Gallagher and Thom are going to be goosed.”
He drank half the beer on the way to his quarters and the rest in the shower, standing in a torrent of cool water and letting his temperature drop until Elliott called him to hurry up. Then he perched on the edge of the bunk in the medical bay while the tech who wasn’t a medic readied an IV.
“Is that necessary?”
“Probably not,” Elliott said and LC watched as the needle pierced his arm, “but as far as everyone else is concerned, you just almost died and you shouldn’t even be up. You need Ms O’Brien to think you’re too sick to move.”
“Fair point.” LC lay back on the bunk. He felt worn out and his leg was aching. No shakes which was a development, but sore and tired. It wasn’t going to be hard to act the part.
Elliott hooked up a pouch. “Get some sleep. The ship’s secure. No one can reach you here.”
He woke to the sounds of bumps, deep reverberations rumbling through the ship so they were either loading or starting repairs, which either way was a good sign they’d be leaving again soon. LC lay quietly with his eyes closed, gradually aware of a presence in the room, quiet breathing and the gentle aura of a mind that was meditating.
She was thinking about cool waves breaking on a beach of white sand, warmth and safety. As soon as he opened his eyes, she sat up and leaned forward.
It was dark and the door was closed.
“I know who you are, LC,” she said quietly from the shadows.
“You don’t know anything, Sean.”
She stood and walked to the bunk cautiously as if she was afraid he’d leap up and bolt out of there if she moved too fast.
“I’m working for NG,” she said and LC’s stomach clenched in a cold knot. To hear her even say NG’s name sent a chill through him.
He sat up slowly and untangled his arm from the sheet where the IV line had got caught up as he was sleeping. He reached his left hand under the pillow to rest against the cold metal of the gun there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“LC, you have to trust me. I’ve been sent to bring you in. The guild wants you back and the Alsatia is the only safe place for you right now.”
“I’m not the guy you’re after, Sean.” He closed his fingers around the pistol grip. Knowing the guild had sent her was worse than knowing she was a bounty hunter. Pen had been very specific in his warning, passing on the message from Hil. Trust no one, especially that goddamned guild of yours, Pen had said and, as much as LC knew how much Pen hated the guild, the big man had always respected their allegiance. If Hil thought they had a reason to distrust NG and the guild in all this, then something had happened to make him think it.
“I’ve got too much proof, LC. I know it’s you. And I’m going to be the only way you can get back safely from this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said again.
She held her hand out to him and he could see that she was offering him his knife back, hilt first.
“Badger told me about the competition,” she said in almost a whisper. “I know this is yours and I know that Zach Hilyer has the other. He told me you couldn’t throw a knife if your life depended on it.”
The cold knot twisted and LC looked from the knife into her eyes. He could feel that she was willing him to believe her.
“I have a retina scan match,” she whispered. “I know that you’re LC Anderton. The Thieves’ Guild wants you back, LC. Safely. Please trust me.”
The way she said please almost made him fold.
“I know that Mendhel Halligan met you on Kheris when you were thirteen. Your first name really is Luka and Latia Cole was your great-grandmother.”
She pronounced it Keris. And hearing her say those names threatened to bring a lump to his throat.
LC swallowed and took a deep breath. “You’re mistaken, Sean. I’m not him.”
She rocked back a step as if she wasn’t sure what to do then sat on the edge of the bunk, still holding the knife. “Why deny it, LC? I’m here to help you. God, and I thought Hilyer was hard work.” She stared at him and he could hear her frantically trying to think up something that would prove her right. It was a lost cause. No one could know any of that unless they got it from NG. Fine, she didn’t have to prove to him that she was working for the guild. That he could trust her and trust NG was another matter.
“Hil took me to Badger to find you,” she said, leaning in and whispering hard. “We ate chilli together and I had to hit the damn shower unit with a wrench to keep the hot water running. You don’t think you can go back to the guild because there’s a price on your head courtesy of some unauthorised job that you and Hilyer ran that got your handler assassinated. What more do I have to say, LC?”
Chapter 18
“We train our people well,” the Man said.
NG placed his goblet on the desk. “There was nothing I could have given Sean
that would have made a difference,” he said grudgingly. “And as it turns out, LC was right not to trust us.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” the Man chided. “We are far reaching and have extensive resources, NG, but we are not omnipotent and we do not always have the whole picture. The decision to utilise the talents of Ms O’Brien was justified. She found him, did she not?”
“It didn’t occur to me that LC wouldn’t just hook up with her and come home.” NG shifted his weight uneasily, feeling the darkness of the chamber all around. He knew these field operatives better than anyone. He should have known. “I should have realised that in his state of mind and considering what we knew of the circumstances and the weight of the price on his head, he’d be wary.”
“To say the least.” The Man leaned forward and studied the board. “Nevertheless it was an accomplishment that she found him and managed to stay with him. Would he have survived without her?”
“Considering what happened, probably not.”
•
LC took the knife in a fast, fluid motion that didn’t give her a chance to deny him. He stared at her. There was no way that Hil would have taken her to Badger unless he was sure she was safe.
“Hil trusted me,” she said and sat back. She was thinking it had been a mistake to confront him and that it would have been easier to drug him and drag him onto her ship unconscious.
“I don’t know anyone called Hil.”
“LC…”
“I’m not him,” he said. “Why do you think I am?”
Sean turned her head slightly, smiled at him and stood up. “You know, usually when I take people in, they either fight me and end up on the floor in cuffs or they decide that maybe coming in with me is their best option after all. You need to trust me, LC, because there are people very close behind me who won’t stop to ask if you mind. Latest on the bounty is that it’s dead or alive. My arrangement with your guild stipulates alive. Help me keep you that way.”
She was too sure of herself. God knows how she’d got a retina scan. When he was unconscious?
“I’m not him and I’m not coming with you,” he said, tossing the knife to tumble up into the air and catching the blade in a perfect throwing grip. “So what do you do now?”
Sean ignored his continued denial and put her hands on her hips. “It’s too hot dockside to haul you off this ship now. And you’re in no state to run so I’m going to stay here with you, Luka. And when you come to your senses and decide to go home, I’ll be here to help you get there safely. Believe me, you won’t make it out of here alive by yourself.”
After she’d gone, LC lay back and tumbled the knife over his fingers wondering if it was too hot out there for him to slip through and catch a ride. He reckoned he could. He’d wait until they were about to leave then he’d split. Whether Sean was working for NG or not, he couldn’t go back until he’d talked to Hil and that meant trying to get back to Aston.
Decision made, he tucked the knife beneath the pillow and closed his eyes.
The next two days were interminable. Sean checked on him regularly and he had a feeling she’d made a deal with Elliott to make sure he didn’t leave the ship. He couldn’t exercise properly with the damned drip in his arm and every time he tried to get up, Elliott or Sean would appear and coax him back to bed. Elliott was enjoying it, that much was evident without having to read the guy’s mind. And when it was obvious they weren’t going to leave him alone, LC lay back and relaxed. He’d spent time in Medical before. Two months he was stuck in there on the Alsatia after one tab and he still hadn’t dropped off the top of the standings, so he could handle it for a couple of days.
Thom came to visit once the hangover had worn off and mumbled something about forgetting if he’d said anything, he couldn’t remember what exactly but whatever it was, it didn’t matter. LC had told him not to worry.
He was lying on the bunk trying to figure out if he could sense where people were on the ship, maybe get into their minds and influence them when DiMarco stuck his head around the door and waved a bottle of moonshine.
LC almost laughed, sure it hadn’t been the power of his thoughts but appreciative of the coincidence of the pilot’s timing nonetheless. He sat up and pulled on a shirt, leaning his back into the corner and pulling up his left leg beneath the blanket to sit forward.
DiMarco pulled up a chair and held out two shot glasses. “It’s good to see you’re still breathing, Luka buddy,” he said with a grin, no remorse at how close he’d come to leaving him for dead back on Poule.
LC took the tumblers and balanced them on his knee while DiMarco filled them with the green liquor.
They took one each.
“Gan bei,” the pilot said, nudging his glass and knocking it back in one.
LC followed suit and held out his glass for a refill. The alcohol hit his bloodstream with a satisfying warmth.
“Gallagher asked me to tell you we’ll be leaving in a few hours,” DiMarco said, sipping at his second glass. “The repairs are all done. Get this, he got caught up in a card game and won enough to pay for the shields and the main engine to get fixed. Can you believe he can’t remember it but he’s sure it was one helluva night. We have cargo loading, courtesy of my good self. And Thom’s got the engine room covered so you can sit on your ass a while longer. We’re all good to go.”
It wasn’t that simple and LC could feel a tension in the guy that he was covering with the flippancy.
DiMarco tossed a pack of cards onto the bunk. “I thought you might like some company. What’s your game, Luka buddy?”
He was fishing.
LC took the pack and slipped out the cards, throwing them into a simple shuffle, nothing flash.
“What’s the stakes?” he said amiably.
“You tell me.”
“Five card mean queen,” LC said, dealing out five cards each and placing the deck between them. “Aces high. Loser buys the next bottle.”
DiMarco laughed. “Mean queen, Jesus. I haven’t played that in years.” He tapped the bottle of moonshine. “And this stuff isn’t for sale, buddy. You lose, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“I’m not going to lose,” LC said softly with a smile, checking his hand and reading the pilot’s hand as clear as if the cards were marked.
DiMarco threw three cards into the discard pile and took three off the deck. “How about loser pays ten thou?” He rearranged the cards in his hand and raised his eyes.
LC caught the look and threw in two. The two he got back fitted nicely into his hand. “That’s pretty high stakes, DiMarco.”
“It’s how much I turned down last night not to give you up, Luka.” He threw down one card and took one from the deck, making eye contact only when he was done. “I reckon you owe me, bud.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” LC placed two queens on the pile. He picked up a two of diamonds and a four of hearts. Not bad.
“I also heard a rumour about a game of poker two nights ago.” DiMarco dropped three cards and looked up with a smile. “How much is it worth to keep my mouth shut on that one? I’m guessing you don’t want Gallagher and Seanie to know.”
LC took the opening to ditch his last queen. “I’ve been stuck in here since we docked, DiMarco. Check with Elliott.”
The pilot laughed with disdain. “That guy. I don’t trust him as far as I could spit. Look, I’m not going to make trouble for you. If I wanted to do that, I’d have ten thousand in my pocket and you wouldn’t be sitting there so cosy, buddy. Someone is asking about you. I swear, I even saw a picture and it’s you – hair’s different and the colour was off but it is you. And they’re offering ten thou a pop for information. Why are you worth so much, Luka? I knew you were hiding something. Care to share?”
LC put his cards face down on the bunk and looked at the pilot. The guy was an ass who was enjoying baiting him. It was a dangerous game.
He said softly, “Are you going to tell Gallagher w
hy he was arrested on Poule?”
DiMarco narrowed his eyes and tossed back a shot of the moonshine. “Whatever you think you know, Luka buddy, I’m telling you, don’t go there.”
“Everyone has something to hide, right DiMarco, but piracy? They would’ve thrown away the key on all of us.”
“Gallagher doesn’t need to know. It was a long time ago. It was nothing. Fucked up places like Poule, they use any excuse to commandeer a ship and take its crew. Look at me, I’m a drunk. You on the other hand...” DiMarco was still holding up the glass. He pointed at LC with one finger. “You’re something else. What is it, Luka buddy, that makes you such hot property, huh?”
LC was resisting the urge to go for the knife or the gun. The pilot had him trapped. He sat perfectly still, unblinking, weighing up how fast he could take the guy down.
DiMarco laughed again, genuinely that time. “I’m ribbing you, Luka. Jesus, don’t panic.” He topped up the tumblers. “You’re all hooked up there and weak as a kitten, right? How could you have been gallivanting around the station, huh? And what the hell is it to me if someone’s trying to find you? Lighten up, buddy. I didn’t give you away. Are we playing cards or what?”
LC picked up his hand, trying to read what the hell DiMarco was intending. There was nothing clear. If anything, there was an appreciation there that they hadn’t left him to rot on Poule but it was hidden deep and the guy was well on his way to getting drunk. Whatever, it was getting too close for comfort here on board the Duck. If they were leaving in a couple of hours, it was time to go.
He stayed quiet while they finished the game, matching the pilot shot for shot of the liquor, and playing aggressively to win fast.
When LC threw down his last card and sat back, DiMarco chuckled and stood up, taking the bottle of moonshine and walking out with a wave.
