CHAPTER 40
Jael flicks me a wry look. “You
were saying?”
I have no fight left
in me. No idea what I expect, but I’m braced for the worst when
three men come strolling down the ramp. Even though they don’t look
alike, the conformity of their garb gives the impression of a
resemblance. They’re tall and slim, well coiffed, and their suits
look like they cost a year’s pay.
Not government guys
then.
One of them strides
toward us, and the others fall in behind him. That makes him the
boss, I guess. On closer inspection, he’s older than his fellows,
but he’s had good antiaging treatments. I can see the years in his
eyes rather than around them. His gaze roves over me like a shark,
and I decide I don’t want to see his teeth. His men tuck their arms
behind their backs and wait, as if for orders.
“Our employer sent us
to collect you,” the leader says, as if this is a routine aircab
pickup. “He requires a face-to-face.”
I can’t think of
anything more eloquent than, “Huh?” so I go with it.
“What employer?” Jael
demands. “Do you realize you’re attempting to detain the ambassador
of New Terra?”
“Of course I do,”
Boss Man replies.
I glance down at
myself. Even my own mother wouldn’t recognize me, covered in
Thermud. “How?”
“What?” The leader
glances away from Jael to regard me with puzzlement.
“How do you know who I am?”
He ignores that for
the moment. “I believe you’ve already made Mr. Jewel’s
acquaintance, Ms. Jax.”
That doesn’t ring any
bells until I notice his intent look, a calm demeanor concealing
killer intent. They’re Syndicate, of
course. I remember the jeweled brooch my mother wore, what
seems like ages ago now.
Mr. Jewel. Very clever.
“What the hell have
you done to my mother?”
I should’ve wondered
about that long before now; I’m just not a dutiful daughter, I
guess. I take a deep breath, steadying myself as best I can, though
fatigue and hunger make it difficult to focus.
“That is, in fact,
why we were sent to this backwater burg.”
“You’ve been waiting
for me?”
That doesn’t track.
How could anyone know we’d turn up here? Hell, I didn’t even know if we’d make it out of those
tunnels intact.
The older one
inclines his head. “In a manner of speaking. We’ve been tracking
you since you surfaced.”
“Tracking?” I hate
parroting everything he says, as it makes me sound brain damaged.
Then again, it may be better if he underestimates me.
Behind us, Vel
continues his attempts to get into the terminal until one of the
goons steps up behind him and shakes his head. Vel sighs and puts
away his tools slowly, as if wanting them to see his hands at all
times. While they’re watching him, I slip 245 into my pack. It’s
just a hunch, but I don’t want them taking her away.
Given that we’ve
disarmed ourselves, there isn’t a lot we can do at the moment.
Droids will intervene at the first sign of trouble, but it might be
too late if these guys are good enough. And they have that air
about them.
“Your mother was kind
enough to slip an isotope into your drink at your last meeting,”
the thug explains with a smile. “Perfectly stable and harmless, but
it does permit us to monitor your movements.”
“Like Fugitive
scientists once used to track native populations?” I sputter in
pure outrage.
To these assholes,
I’m just a blip on a display panel somewhere. Oh, there’s Jax; let’s go scoop her up. If I had a
blade in my hand, I’d sink it in his eye right now and fuck the
consequences.
“It’s perfectly
harmless,” he repeats, like it’s a health risk I’m worried about. I
guess he’s never had his privacy stolen like this. “I suggest you
come aboard, so we can get under way at once. We will convey you
safely to your meeting.”
“You actually believe
I’m going with you? Are you out of your mind, or do you think I’m
out of mine?”
One of his thugs
takes a step forward as if he doesn’t like my tone, but Boss Man
waves him off. “No, I think you lack viable alternatives, Ms. Jax.
You don’t have a vessel. I do. And if you harbored any hope of
commandeering it, know this crucial fact. I alone possess the
ignition codes, and if they are not entered correctly within three
tries, the whole ship goes up.”
I glance at Jael and
Vel, who looks impassive. They offer no suggestions, though I can
feel the merc thrumming with tension at my side. He’d like nothing
more than to waste these fools, but that might strand us here
indefinitely. I suspect he’s no keener than I am to rely on Tarn
for our salvation.
But I’m not sure the
Syndicate constitutes a wise substitute.
Fuck it. When have I
ever been sensible? Even if the decision takes us to Mr. Jewel’s
private playground, at least we’re off Lachion, right?
They must have a
jumper on board, which means I can rest. I’ll eat choclaste, shoot
myself full of the chemical cocktail that’s supposed to mend my
bones, and try to ignore the junkie in my head. That voice tells me
to jack into grimspace and frag the consequences. I have to ignore
junkie Jax if I want to live.
I’m not entirely sure
I do.
Before, I had March
to pull me out of such thinking. I could rely on his warmth, even
when I didn’t realize I was doing so. Now it’s just me, falling
into the darkness in my own head. That’s a scary place to
be.
This hard man wannabe
isn’t as good as he thinks he is. Neither are his boys. Because
while I’m thinking things over, Hit slips up behind the boss man
and sets a long, filed nail against his throat.
“Don’t move,” she
whispers against his ear, and her crooning tone raises goose bumps
on the back of my neck.
“Suraya,” Boss Man
says without shifting a millimeter. “The poison pilot. Still doing
Madame Kang’s dirty work?”
I feel like I should
know that name, but my mind’s too fuzzy. It slips away like a sleek
little fish, back into a jumbled mass of half-formed thoughts and
memories.
“Keller,” she
returns. “Still barking on behalf of bigger dogs?”
He can’t shrug, but
it’s implicit in his tone. “It’s a living. I’d say it’s good to see
you, but . . .” His enforcers make an abortive movement, as if to
end the impasse, and Keller apparently catches it in his peripheral
vision. “No,” he adds, as Hit strokes her nail down his neck.
“Don’t give her a reason.”
Call me thick, but I
don’t entirely understand why he’s so afraid. By the sweat
streaking down his now-pasty brow, Keller thinks Hit is the angel
of death, standing by his shoulder. Makes me wonder what we don’t
know about her.
“Hypo-implant,” Jael
whispers. He sounds admiring. “Black-market ware, costs mad loot.
Only the most dedicated killers go for them, ones who prefer quiet
jobs, no blood, no mess. The right toxin can even make it look
natural, assuming no postmortem lab work.”
Ah. No wonder
Keller’s pissing his pants. Maybe we all should be.
“What do you say?”
Hit asks me conversationally. “Should I end him?”
The goon’s eyes
flicker wildly. I can tell he wants to appeal to my better nature,
but at this point, I’m not sure I have one.
Not so smug now, are you, asshole?
“Probably not,” I
say, after a judicious pause. “He’s our ride off this rock. I
wouldn’t mind an apology, though. They’ve been tracking me like a
rogue wildebeest. I think that was pretty damn rude.”
Hit smiles, slow and
feral. “They never did. Why, I’d call that a violation of basic
human rights. How can they possibly make that up to you?”
Somehow I manage to
choke back hysterical laughter. Maybe we’ll regret this, but I’m
having too much fun to stop. “I’m open to suggestions.”
To my astonishment,
Vel joins the game in dry, scholarly tones. “If given full access
to their ship’s data, I could search for similar infractions and
recommend suitable recompense.”
“Fine,” Keller says.
“I’m sorry, all right? I had nothing to do with that. It was all
Jewel. If Suraya will just let me go, we can get under way, all
nice and peaceful, and then you can take it up with him in person.
That’s a rare honor, you know. He seldom participates in
face-to-face meets anymore.”
“Too many people
trying to kill him?” Hit asks, butter smooth. “Now, before I step
back,” she adds, “I’m going to need your word as a gentleman that
there will be no reprisals. I don’t want your boys coming in on me
while I sleep.”
“Yeah, I want a
guarantee of safe passage for me and my crew,” I add.
“Is your friend
sick?” the goon beside Vel asks.
I shake my head
quickly. “No. It’s just a skin condition.”
He really needs to molt.
“You have my word,”
Keller growls.
Personally I don’t
give two shits for his sworn vow, written in blood, but Hit seemed
to want to hear it. In a feline motion, she drops back a few
meters. Keller blots the sweat from his forehead with his
forearm.
One of the goons
says, “Can I—”
“No,” Keller snaps.
“We have a deal, and we need this truce to hold, unless you want to
die in your sleep.”
Damn, I’m glad Hit’s
on our side. If she is. As it stands, I
think we need to find out more about this Madame Kang.
Both his boys mutter,
“Yes, boss,” as they head back up the ramp.
“Everyone on board
before this Mary-sucking storm grounds us,” Keller adds.
Well, since he put it
that way, we collect Dina and follow as fast as we can.
