I said, “Maybe the Erkennens sold Blalock a bill of goods. Maybe they promised to set him up on Titan for life. Who the hell knows? Point is, they’re behind the whole thing.”
“You’re lying. Why would they do that?”
“Leverage! Against the Taulkes. To strengthen their own position, take over the Company. Hell, even I don’t understand it all. One thing I do understand—your little crusade for justice doesn’t mean shit to anyone but you.”
She took it in. I could practically see the wheels turning inside her head. Her ideals as a marshal—extoled by the five-pointed star on her chest pledged to protect and enforce—battled a lifetime of living in a system ruled by the bottom line.
“Why do you think Ra’uf Erkennen sent these killers after you?” I pressed. “You need my gun if you want a chance in hell of setting things right for Mustafar.”
The radio inside the booth crackled, demanding someone answer. More marshals were definitely inbound, probably to arrest Darrow. Once they had her, they were just as likely to kill her as incarcerate her—outside the public spotlight of The Real Story, of course.
She pulled away, and this time I didn’t fight her. Darrow headed for the booth. She was going to tend to Mustafar, I figured. Maybe put something over his face or conduct some lawman’s ritual; do one of those things we humans feel compelled to do when death takes someone we care about. As if the ritual is about their dignity and not our own need to cover up the fact that death’s coming for us, too.
But Darrow surprised me and stepped right over him. I heard her opening cabinets in the booth. She came out with extra chargers for her stunner and a flash grenade, which she hung on a back belt-loop.
“Come on,” she said. “Blalock’s not that far.”
The Job
The heads of the turtle-rats pulled back in their holes only to edge out again after we’d passed. They pointed their feeders for The Real Story at our backs. Their pale skin, damned near translucent in the dim light, was the brightest thing about them. Shaggy haired and clothed in rags, they kept to the darkness. They reminded me of the Morlocks from that old H.G. Wells novel, or maybe vampires with bad skin. Leaving them behind us made me edgy.
“These people trouble?”
Darrow gave a muffled laugh. “The Moonies? They’re harmless. The last thing they want is trouble.”
“Moonies?” I chuckled. “That’s what they call themselves?”
“It’s what they’re called. Does it matter?”
“Guess not.”
One of the palefaces got daring and tried to get a close-up. I stopped, turned on my heel and snatched the feeder from his hand. Without so much as a “Hey, that’s mine!” he scurried back into his hole. I dropped it in my pocket. That should keep the rest of them from being so friendly.
“That’s the most expensive thing that man owns,” Darrow said.
“Not anymore.”
She slowed her pace as we neared the end of the Sewer’s main street.
“Which way?” I asked.
“Blalock is left,” Darrow whispered. I started to move, but she reached a hand out. Big grip for such a little marshal. “We go right.” She nodded back behind us. I turned my face in profile, just enough so my peripheral saw another Moonie pointing a feeder our way—but definitely from a distance.
“Scenic route?”
Darrow nodded and headed right. The narrow hallway immediately curved, and I could see her strategy. If the Erkennens or marshals were monitoring our progress via The Real Story, they’d think we were headed in the wrong direction. At least for a little while.
Without warning, Darrow darted left up a half-flight of muddy stairs. They led to a mid-level floor between Lower London and Darkside proper. The stairs dumped us into a cramped, deserted hallway of corrugated metal that felt more like a military ship than a livable community.
“You really know your way around here.”
“Unfortunately.” She angled her head up the hallway. “He isn’t far.”
We stepped off, quiet as mice. Thumbing slugs into my .38 I asked, “How’d you find him?”
“He’s a science genius, right? Those types don’t have jobs, they have obsessions. I scanned for nodes in Darkside placing excessive demands on the local ’net. Only the brothels in the up-top pull that kind of bandwidth. Until now.”
I thought of the porn closets in Minnie’s place and nodded. Their floors are sticky, but the booths are private. And cheap, considering the quality of the 3D video feed. Or so I’ve been told.
“Smart. But how do you know it’s him?”
Darrow shrugged. “In the last two days, there’s been a terabyte of data exchanged with a server off-moon,” she said. “Either someone’s opened a new porn franchise down here for an under-class that can’t afford electricity on a regular basis, or it’s Blalock.”
“Good detecting, Detective, but that’s a pretty big footprint to leave behind. Awful easy to trace.”
“They think no one’s looking anymore, remember?” She put her ear to the door.
“Maybe. This the only way in?”
Instead of answering, Darrow placed her fingertips against the rusty latch and slowly pushed down.
“This can’t be that easy,” I said.
She drew her weapon as the door inched open.
“Hey, something’s wrong,” I warned. “This is too—”
The door creaked open on metal hinges. A lone, fritzing lightbulb hummed in the ceiling, casting shadows into the corners of the room. Darrow eased her way in. I followed despite my better instincts, drawing one of the Mark II’s I’d taken off the dead Ghost. Maybe the latest stunner model would work and maybe it wouldn’t. I had my .38 in my other hand, just in case.
The room was empty. It smelled like fish wrapped in a sweaty sock and left in the sun for a week. But for being only half a floor up from the Sewer, it wasn’t too bad. Bare walls, rusty like the door latch. A floor mosaicked with decades-old dark stains. The room might’ve once housed school children specializing in ground-level finger-painting. Or it could’ve been a room were murder was done on a regular basis. Hard to tell under that sputtering yellow light.
I gave Darrow an inquisitive look as we moved deeper in. She shone a light on the far wall. Another door. She put her ear to that one too and stepped back quickly.
“Bingo.”
My ear did its own recon. The rust flaked when I pressed against the metal. Low voices: bored and tired of smelling fishy socks.
“You’re sure this is him?”
In answer, Darrow pressed the door latch down. This one was unlocked too. Yeah, it was too easy. Way too easy. But here we were, and Tony expected results … and soon.
“All right, here’s how we’ll play it,” I said. “I’ll go up top through the vents and—”
Darrow pushed every pound of her slight weight against the heavy door. It swung open, the scarred metal screaming.
“Marshals Service! Everyone stay right where you are!”
Cursing, I brought up my own artillery to cover her as she moved in.
Six pairs of surprised eyes turned to look at us. Four more of the Ghosts with new shoes and newer weapons. One doughy, bespectacled type who looked like he really needed to take a dump. And one very well-dressed corporate elite type. He looked familiar, even in the half-light.
One of the fake Resistance types started to reach for her weapon.
“Uh-uh,” I said, motioning with my .38. “Slowly, butt first. I want them all lined up on the table over there. All of you.”
The elite type smiled wide. “Welcome, Mr. Fischer. We’ve been waiting for you.”
It’s when he spoke that I recognized him. The mid-European accent sold it.
“Ra’uf Erkennen.” Those puzzle pieces in the back of my head? They were gyrating like one of Minnie’s girls after ten minutes.
The head of the Erkennen Faction made a slight bow. “And you must be the maverick marshal,” he said to
Darrow. “My dear, you have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused me.”
“Not as much as you’re gonna get,” I said. “Now, you stooges, I told you already—put your stunners on the table.”
“Do nothing of the kind,” Erkennen said. Not that he’d needed to. They hadn’t moved. “Fischer, put down your weapons. You too, my dear.”
Darrow scoffed and tightened her grip on her stunner. Points for moxie.
“You have two choices,” Erkennen said. “Drop your weapons or drop with them.”
I’ve never been good at math, but I didn’t need to be. There were five stunners pointed at us, and I knew, with my luck, they’d work like a charm. Darrow had hers and I had my .38, but I had zero confidence in the stunner in my other hand, even if it was new tech. Especially because it was new tech. Even if it did work, that was five shots to three in the first round of fire. We might get a couple of them but we were definitely going down.
“Darrow, do it,” I said.
“Like hell!”
Erkennen exhaled boredom. “Shoot her.”
“Wait! Darrow…” I nodded at her and caught her attention. My eye darted to her beltline. “No sense dying sooner than we have to. Do it.”
She thought about it a moment longer, but she’d caught the hint I’d tossed her way. “Fine.” Squatting straight down, she placed her stunner on the ground.
Smart girl.
I did likewise.
“Very good.” Turning to the dumpy guy, Erkennen said, “How close are you to finishing the composition matrix?”
Dumpy guy shrugged, nervous. Had to be Blalock. Who else? “It’s almost finished. The algorithm subroutines are populating the pattern, and once they’re finished, the final formula—”
“I don’t need the geek details,” Erkennen groused. “Get it done.”
“What’s this all about?” I asked, playing dumb. I was good at that. I took a couple of steps forward, like from curiosity. “What’s this mega-extra smoky hemp for? You gonna get everyone in the solar system high so you can take over?”
Erkennen gave me the strangest look. “What?”
“It’s called Molecularly Enhanced Synthetic Hemp,” Professor Geek corrected.
I motioned to him. “Whatever—the new drug he’s making. How does it help you take over the Company?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Darrow getting fascinated. Here’s the bigger picture you were unaware of, Marshal.
“You think we’re making a drug here?” Erkennen laughed out loud. “Is that what Tony thinks? We’re gonna smoke him out, eh?” The guffaws from his men filled the room, trying to please the boss. Even Blalock snickered, the brainy little shit.
“Hemp isn’t typically a drug,” Darrow said. “Same plant as marijuana but different purpose. It’s typically used to make clothing.”
“Very good, my dear,” Erkennen said, pleased. “She’s smarter than you and Tony put together, Fischer.”
And that’s when those magnetic puzzle pieces snapped together with seamless edges. I knew I had to stop this conversation right now, at least for the moment.
I stared straight at the head of the Erkennen Faction and marched across the space separating us. His goons brought up their guns, but their boss waved them off. I think he wanted me in his face. And to be in mine. As far as he knew, I was unarmed.
“Whatever this new tech is, you’ve got zero chance going up against Tony Taulke,” I said. I was close enough to spit on Erkennen. I needed him angry. “Tony will grind you and your whole faction into the ground! That new wife of yours? Just wait till you’re spaced. A kind word from Tony and—”
Erkennen stepped back to get strength behind it and cracked me against the side of the head with the butt of his Mark II. I went down harder than I had to and stayed there, shaking my head to make it look good.
“Say something else about her, Fischer,” Erkennen growled. “I wanted to keep you alive long enough so you’d understand exactly what’s going to happen to Tony Taulke. But maybe I can forego that bit of personal satisfaction.”
I motioned with my hand like I’d had enough. Standing up slowly, rubbing my temple, I leaned against the wall and fake-breathed hard. “So, if it’s not a drug strain, what is it he’s making?” I asked again.
Erkennen jutted his head. “Tell him, Mason. He can take the secret with him into space.”
Professor Geek stood up. He was proud of his creation. He wanted to give it its due. “Molecularly Enhanced Synthetic Hemp—or MESH—is a new kind of scalable cloth capable of absorbing and dissipating any catalyst used to ignite and direct electromagnetic current.”
Blalock confirmed what I’d already guessed. Everything was crystal clear—what the tech actually was, why Erkennen had hidden it from the other factions, and how MESH, all by itself, could make Ra’uf Erkennen head of the entire Syndicate Corporation.
MESH wasn’t a drug.
MESH was a shield.
A molecular shield that could be woven right into a person’s clothing. A shield that protected against stunners and their ability to kill by capturing and amplifying a person’s EM field to shock them to death. Those that wore it were protected. Those that didn’t were just as vulnerable as ever.
“The faux-Ghosts in the corridor outside the marshal’s post,” I said, connecting the dots. “They were wearing a prototype? That’s why my stunner wouldn’t work on them.”
Erkennen smiled. “Oh, and about that. I have to compliment you and the marshal for the show you put on. I couldn’t have planned it better myself. The footage of Tony Taulke’s main man and a renegade marshal gunning down Ghosts? All the rage in the Basement. Perfect recruiting material for the Resistance. And while Tony’s stamping down that little grassfire, I’ll move on SynCorp HQ. By the time the Taulkes or any of the other factions can react, I’ll control the station.”
The image of Erkennen mooks dressed in MESH-laden uniforms gunning down Taulke operatives filled my head. They’d be invincible with the new tech. While the other factions would steal it soon enough and make their own shielded clothing, that wouldn’t happen in time to save Tony. Or keep Ra’uf Erkennen from taking over SynCorp.
“Humanity’s just getting back on its feet!” Darrow said. “We’re not even two generations out from damned-near extinction! And you’d risk turning all that inside-out for power?”
“Stick to your duties, my dear,” Erkennen said. “Let the big boys do the big thinking.”
“Yeah, Darrow,” I added. “He’s a smart guy. He’s thought of everything.”
Erkennen gave me a look. My words sounded right, but their smartassery was wanting. “And for all the dirty jobs you pulled for Tony?” He brought up his stunner. “On behalf of the other four factions, I’m about to pay you off.”
I stood my ground. “Before you do—one more question.”
“Make it quick.”
“Can the Mark IIs get past the MESH?”
“Of course,” Erkennen allowed. “But since we’re the only ones that have both, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” I said, nodding to the spot where I’d taken the dive earlier. “See that?”
Erkennen peered closely. When he saw the feeder where I’d put it on the floor, its red transmission light shining, his face went pale. His little scheme had just gone out live to anyone tuned in to The Real Story. As had the secret of the MESH and the new Mark II stunner. Every member of all Five Factions would now be seeking both techs in earnest.
I flashed him a toothy grin. “Now guess who’s got a fire to stamp out?”
“Why, you sonofa—”
“Darrow, now!”
I saw the blur of her body duck and roll as I launched myself backward. The mooks in blue were caught flatfooted. Erkennen’s shot hit the wall behind my empty air. Darrow lobbed the flash grenade from behind her back straight at Blalock.
I almost didn’t clamp my eyes shut in time. The air brightened like
a sunburst. Grunts and cursing followed. I grabbed up my Mark II from the floor and started firing.
Punk! Punk!
Two fake Ghosts became real ones.
Darrow angled at a third, still dazed by the grenade. With a lithe efficiency I took half a second to admire, she rolled to one of the newly minted corpses, snagged his stunner, and shot the third man dead.
Erkennen was no lightweight. Blinking furiously, he was back on his feet and sweeping his own stunner around the room, firing randomly. I ducked and scooped up the .38 and turned on him. Two shots later, he was short a kneecap and screaming on the ground.
I took a moment to enjoy his pain, and that was a rookie mistake. I felt the threat long before I saw it: the last of the hired help, his Mark II aimed point-blank at me, ready to give me the shock of my life. Slow motion took over, and I could feel the cold stroke of death’s fingers on the back of my neck.
Punk!
His body convulsed, his stunner shot went wide, and he fell lifeless to the floor with the others. I caught Darrow’s eye and nodded my thanks. First time I’ve ever had use for a badger.
That just left Blalock. The flash grenade had caught him full-on. He was just stirring, moaning.
“Watch him,” I said to Darrow, pointing at Ra’uf Erkennen. He was inventing all kinds of four-letter combinations with my name sprinkled on top. “Put a tourniquet above his knee, if you can find something to use. I don’t want him dying just yet.” And I wanted to keep her busy. I had business to attend to.
Walking over to the feeder, I crushed it under my boot. Its work was done. Erkennen’s plot to overthrow Tony had gone out live to anyone watching The Real Story, which had lived up to its name today, boy-o.
I turned to Blalock. “Is this everything?” I asked, pointing at his work station. “The formula, how to make it—all that?”
He was still blinking, still getting his bearings.
“Blalock!”
Startled, he tried to crawl through the wall. “Yes! Everything is there. The molecular formula, the thresholds for performance, the—”
He saw me pointing the Mark II at his head.
“Wait! You don’t need to kill me! I was only—”
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