Under the Skyway (Skyway Series Book 1)

by James K. Douglas

  I sighed, my shoulders sagging. “Sorry, Dana. I promise, she’s trustworthy. I can vouch for it.”

  “I know she’s trustworthy, Jackson. I’m a great judge of character.” She turned her focus toward Jennifer. “You performed. You entertained my audience. If you’re here for something, you’ve earned the right to ask for it, though actually getting it may cost you something more.”

  Jennifer stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I need some information, about a theft.”

  “Oh, Jack,” Dana said, pulling away from me. “Did you bring in another poor girl looking for some jerk that ran off with her savings?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” I answered.

  Jennifer clarified. “What was stolen was something very specific, very expensive, and one of a kind. I’m willing to pay for any information you might have.”

  Dana’s broad smile returned. “I have heard a few stirrings, lately. I’ll happily share with you everything I know, but around here information can be very expensive.” She clasped my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. “And it can only be bought with trade.” Ms. Marrow turned to lock eyes with me, emphasizing her next words with the gentle ripples of her lips. “I need you to perform for me, Jackson.”

  Chapter 8

  The crowd chanted, eager to see the Junk-Man’s performance. Assistants set up the stage as I removed my jacket and vest, passing them to Jennifer. I took a deep breath, held it only a second, and climbed the stairs.

  Most people haven’t given enough thought to the nature of arm wrestling to really understand it. The hands connect, keeping a firm grip, while the forearm acts like a lever, braced upon the fulcrum of the elbow. Most people think the power comes from the bicep, forearm, and shoulder, but that’s not the full truth. A significant portion of the power comes from the chest muscles, the tricep, and even the muscles of the lower back.

  For bionic arm wrestlers, things get more complicated. With a forearm, bicep, tricep, and shoulder roughly fifty times stronger than average, the chest and back muscles no longer add to the power, but rather become liabilities. A pulled pec or torn back muscle can end a match pretty quickly.

  The table was designed with all of this in mind. Hand grips toward the edges of the circular table gave a place to grip the left hand, improving balance and helping to resist your competitor simply throwing you off the table. Toward the middle were two padded ridges screwed into the table, backed by heavy iron brackets. The idea was to brace bionic elbows on these ridges so that the intense forces were channeled into the table, rather than into the competitors non-bionic muscles. Often the matches were called when one brace or the other simply ripped from the table, but the proper end came when the back of a hand tapped one of the small pressure pads outside of the elbow braces, activating the flashing LEDs inside.

  Competitive arm wrestling had long ago added the electronic pressure pads to make judging matches easier, but once the elbow braces had been added to the tables in the Battlegrounds, it became clear that they prevented arms from being slammed flat on the table. Hence, columns were added under the pads, raising them to an appropriate height, but leaving the whole contraption looking like a bizarre bumper pool table. Mostly, it all worked like it was supposed to.

  I took a tour around the stage, throwing a fist in the air and shaking bionic hands with members of the audience. I circled behind the table and leaned my fists on its surface, making way for Dana’s grand entrance. Tall heels climbed wooden stairs as her voice echoed through the courtyard.

  “We are the bloody,” she began, “the beaten and the bruised! We are the freaks, forgotten and abused!” The crowd roared. “Tonight, we have the return our reigning champion. Twenty-three matches have yet to dethrone him. He is the amazing, the infamous, the charming…” She raised a hand in my direction, nails flashing red and white. “Junk-Man Jack!” The crowd cheered me as I flexed plastic muscles, playing my part. “Does anyone have the audacity to attempt to take him on, tonight?”

  The crowd calmed and silence began to spread. Eyes looked left and right, searching for the one who might be up for the challenge. An empty spot in the crowd shifted, moving forward toward the front. Bodies moved out of the way.

  As the front row split, a squat man emerged. His head was the same height as most people’s chests, and shaved clean, a contrast to his bushy black beard. As broad as two large men, every inch of him was covered in thick, heavy muscle. His left arm was thicker than my thigh, and his right arm, the artificial one, was sized to match. My smile faltered as I swallowed.

  Dana stepped to the front of the stage, gazing down upon him. “Have you come to compete?”

  The bearded man responded only with a sharp nod.

  Dana raised mechanical hands to the sky, calling out, “Place your bets, people. Place your bets. We have a competition, here.”

  As my challenger stomped his heavy boots up the stairs, Jennifer slipped behind the bar, next to the stage, and grabbed my attention by slapping me in the leg. “What is it?” I asked, squatting down to speak with her.

  “That’s an AlterBionics Heavy Loader 3,” she said. “It’s at least twenty percent stronger than your arm.”

  “What the hell?” I asked. “Why would anyone, even a bodybuilder, need an arm that strong? Why would a company even make one?”

  “Aesthetics,” she answered. “All of our pieces are designed to maintain symmetry. With big guys like this, that means we had to build them a little bigger.”

  “Well, that’s great to know. Do you happen to have a suggestion on how to beat it?”

  “I really don’t. Maybe Dana will be happy if you just put on a good show?”

  “Absolutely not,” came Dana’s voice from behind me. She was covering the mic as she spoke. “I’ve got money on you, champ. I expect you to win.”

  Without another word, Dana walked away. I exchanged a look and a sigh with Jennifer before standing to start my stretching routine. After a moment, I glanced over my shoulder to see the bearded man belly up to the table. He placed his elbow against the brace and opened his wide bionic hand, welcoming mine.

  I turned to face and assess him. Shorter than me, his reach wasn’t as long, but some good that did me outside of a boxing ring. Not only was his bionic stronger than mine, but also the bracing grip of his left hand and all the supporting muscles in between. I needed to find a way to beat him, but I wasn’t sure it was even possible.

  He bared crooked teeth in a broad grin. The crowd began their encouraging chant again, but when he joined in with them, it all took on a sinister tone.

  I stepped up to the table. “Fine,” I said, “we’ll do this, but I have to warn you…” I narrowed my eyes and leaned in close. “I’ve watched Over the Top more than twenty times.”

  I placed my elbow against the brace, clasping hands with him. My longer arm left inches between my body and the edge of the table. He closed his mouth and locked eyes with me, tensing his grip on my slimmer hand, twisting his wrist so our arms were better interlocked. I gripped the brace handle in my left hand, steadying myself.

  “You both know the rules,” Dana said, taking position behind the table. “Nobody moves until I say ‘go.’” She held a hand up high above her head, five fingers spread. “5!” she called out, the audience yelling with her. “4!” A bionic thumb closed onto her palm. “3!” The pinky dropped. “2!” The voices of the crowd began to overpower that of the amplifiers. “1!” The crowd silenced as she said, “GO!”

  With feet flat on the ground and a firm grip with my left hand, I forced my body forward. My lower ribs hit the edge of the table. My elbow scraped forward across the wood and padding. His forearm, shorter than mine by an inch, was lifted upward, separating his elbow from the table. For the briefest second, his eyes went wide with the realization.

  His arm held firm, yet his body did not. Across his chest, muscles tensed and stretched. His mouth opened with a roar of pain. A wide right hand slipped from the post i
t gripped. Against his every wish, his torso tilted to one side. Lights flashed under his bionic hand as his back side separated from the seat. At some point, he released his grip on my hand. The momentum carried him to the floor, bouncing him once before he settled on his back, laughing.

  The applause hit my right ear as Dana whispered into my left. “You could have at least acted like he had a chance.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s talk.”

  As we left the stage, the table and chairs were cleared away. Burlesque dancers took back the space, grabbing the audience’s attention. In the corners of the courtyard, other tables were brought out and minor bets were made. Between the apartments, the bar, and her cut of the gambling, Dana Marrow’s business was impressively profitable.

  We followed back into the lobby and around the corner from the entrance. Billy was instructed to allow no disturbances as we stepped into her office. Once the door was closed, Jennifer tried to start the conversation.

  “I just wanted to say,” she began, “I really am sorry for…”

  Dana stopped her with an upheld hand, glowing nails creating a halo of red. “Please stop this corporate nicety bull crap,” she said, sitting atop her desk and crossing her long, artificial legs. “I’ve already said I trust you. Don’t ruin that by buttering me up too much.” She turned her eyes to me. “You won our little bet, and I promised you I’d tell you everything I knew about any recent high end thefts I’ve heard of.” She tilted her head slightly, returning her eyes to my client as she shrugged her shoulders. “Unfortunately, what I know isn’t much.” She switched the crossing of her legs.

  “As you’ve seen,” she continued, “people from all walks of life come here, big names, little names, kids on the run. Repo men aren’t welcome here, and neither are Uppers, though I do occasionally make exceptions. For a haven like this, an eclectic clientele is important. It gives me eyes all over the city. They come nightly and tell me what they see, but lately, what they’ve been seeing is very bad. Marshall Engineering has been mobilizing in force, black vans all over the city with teams of armed security soldiers that aren’t bothering to wear patches on their shoulders. So far, they haven’t been doing anything but waiting.” She leaned in toward us, bracing her hands on the table. “I can’t say that I know a lot about the inner working of high end corporations, but I do know theatre, and these guys are setting the stage for something big. They have men taking position all over the city, doing nothing but waiting for their cue.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That may not be a lead, but it’s good to know.”

  “You watch your back, Jack. Whatever this thing is, Marshall wants it, bad.” She stood and took a step closer to me. “I consider you a friend, which is why I’m going to be honest with you and tell you that what you’re looking for hasn’t come through here. No one I do business with is selling anything like that, but from what I can tell, I wouldn’t mind having it, either. I have a lot of people here that I need to keep safe, and this thing sounds like it could buy me some serious bargaining power with the Combine, the cops, maybe even the corporations. I’m going to have people looking for it, and you need to stay out of the way. You don’t want to get caught in the middle of this.”

  “I’m afraid we’re already in the middle of this,” I said, turning to leave.

  “One more thing,” Dana added. Walking to the far side of her desk and opening the top drawer, she retrieved a business card. “My guy’s number,” she said, handing it to Jennifer. “He wasn’t here tonight, but he’s always looking for new customers.”

  Jennifer thanked her, for the card and the information, and said goodbye.

  Chapter 9

  “I’m sorry if this one wasted your time,” I said, stopping Jennifer in the lobby.

  “We’re following every lead we have,” she said. “That’s not wasting time.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but a process of elimination is going to take more time than we have.”

  “Do you have another idea?”

  “We’re chasing a snake’s tail through the underbrush,” I said, beginning to pace. “Even if we catch it, it’s just going to turn and strike. We need a way to get ahead of it.”

  “That’s what Cassdan was supposed to be doing, but we haven’t heard back from him.”

  “True, but I’m thinking we need to lure this snake out.”

  “Got a tasty mouse up your sleeve?”

  “No, but you do.”

  Her brow rose with understanding. “You’re suggesting we just offer to buy it back, but how is that going to work when we haven’t pinned down the identity of the man who has it?”

  “We haven’t yet been able to confirm that Amanda Tsai is connected with the seller, but it’s very likely that she is. If we can get a meeting with her, we may have a way to catch this snake without getting bit.”

  “So, back to Rossi?”

  “No. By the time requests get passed through secretaries and intermediaries, it could be a couple of days before the meeting is set up. We’re going to need a more direct connection.”

  “And you know of one?”

  “I do, but you’re not going to like it.”

  She stepped close to me, stopping my pacing. “If it gets us closer to retrieving the prototype, I’ll learn to like it.”

  “Sergey and Maksim Volesky, a couple of brothers who work closely with the Combine as ‘retrieval agents’.”

  “Are these the repo men Ms. Marrow mentioned? The same ones you and Rossi talked about?”

  “Exactly, absolute scum of the Earth, the lowest of the low. Absolutely nothing about what they do is legal, or moral.”

  “Are we sure these brothers aren’t the bodyguards we’re looking for?”

  “Uh, no. Nothing about these two looks remotely cop-like. You’ll see for yourself when you meet them. The problem is going to be finding them. They stay mobile.”

  “Got a phone number?”

  “I do, but they don’t answer my calls, or calls from unknown numbers.”

  I did, however, know of a few bars where the Volesky boys were known to frequent. Billy’s security was on a break, so I had a seat on the now vacant couch while I placed a few calls to some trusted bartenders and wait staff. Half an hour had passed by the time I finally got a hit. Apparently, they had spent the night bar hopping over in the more touristy section of the entertainment district.

  “Looks like the brothers are in the area, for now,” I said, hanging up my phone. “It’s directly east of here, about six blocks. We can catch them there if we hurry.”

  We exited the front door and turned toward the east. Jennifer broke into a sprint, and I did my best to keep up. I knew for a fact that she could run a lot faster than this, and that she was only moving slower so as not to lose me. I only hoped my slow human legs wouldn’t cost us a possible lead.

  Rainbow lights passed on the left and right as bars, restaurants, and motels vied for attention. Jennifer deftly dodged between scantily clad revelers as she moved forward. I soon grew tired of the effort and stepped out into the street, finding space between the sidewalk and curbside parked cars. Twice, I nearly knocked someone over while they were trying to get into their car.

  Roughly six blocks later we were able to see our destination. Jennifer slowed to a walking pace, allowing me to finally able to catch my breath. It took me a moment to realize, but Jennifer’s breathing had grown rapid as well, though she wasn’t holding her side and praying for death while promising to buy a treadmill with her next paycheck.

  Our walk came to a stop in front of Moon’s Shine, a redneck hippie bar specializing in a variety of flavored homebrews, each one fermented and distilled on the premises. The exterior was nothing much to look at, solid brick walls and a wooden front door. Above the door, the name was scrawled in orange and white letters. Ultraviolet floodlights shone on the letters, making them glow as brightly as any sign on the street, their unique coloring setting this place apart from the other taprooms, taverns
, and trendy cocktail lounges.

  “You’ll take the lead on this one?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yeah,” I responded, between breaths. “These bastards aren’t the types to take women seriously.”

  “Don’t they basically work for Amanda Tsai?”

  “Since when is misogyny logical?”

  “Fair enough. I’ll play the silent investor. You be the bodyguard liaison.”

  “We’ll keep the conversation short,” I said, moving toward the door. “These two are quick to anger and always eager for a fight. They’ve both got bionics and they think that makes them better than everyone else, even other people with bionics.”

  Inside, colored lights glinted off of copper stills and mixed with the tie-dyed walls. The resulting display could make a person feel drunk long before having their first sip of Cherry Pie Contact High or Sticky Icky Orange Micky. Rumor had it that the owner, Jaemericus Moon, also owned a marijuana bar that catered exclusively to Uppers.

  Behind the bar, a young man poured drinks, flicking blonde hair out of his eyes as he attempted to flirt with middle aged women. On his forearm, a red and cyan colored anaglyph tattoo of a triangle-framed eye surrounded by rays of light glowed from the black lights lining the ceiling above. His fake smile faltered as he saw us enter the front door. As I watched him for a moment, a nervous twitch of his eyes told me where I might find the only other bionic people in the bar.

  In a back corner, lounging in a circular booth sat Sergey Volesky, scratching his stubbled cheek with stainless steel spiked knuckles. His only bionics were his arms, but they looked like they had been upgraded with additional plating since the last time I had seen him. If the man wanted more defence, he should consider buying a helmet. Maybe then he wouldn’t have so many work related scars on his bald head.

  Returning from the restroom, Maksim rejoined his big brother. With steel and rubber hands, he tied back blonde dreadlocks as he took his seat. Maksim had long ago replaced everything that he could get replaced, including arms, shoulders, and legs. His lower jaw had been replaced as well, though you could hardly tell with his own skin covering it. His teeth were mostly all implants, too, but the ceramic coatings did a fine job of making them look naturally perfect. He apparently had not replaced his eyes, as they still looked organic. That was technology the Chinese hadn’t been able to copy, yet.