Under the Skyway (Skyway Series Book 1)

by James K. Douglas

  “There they are,” I said to Jennifer, turning my whole body to face her, “in the back corner. I’m going to get aggressive. That’s usually the best way to get them to respond.”

  “And if they get aggressive back?” she asked.

  “We walk away. I don’t want to get physical here. I hate doing that kind of work in the middle of a crowd, especially with people like this.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  With the client’s cue, I moved in. I crossed the room with firm, even strides, occasionally shouldering the bar’s patrons out of the way. I don’t like being rude in general, but it was important to make my presence known. By the time I stepped up to the corner booth, both brothers were watching me, Sergey making direct eye contact while Maksim tried to act cool. I spoke first.

  “Evening, gentlemen,” I said, not bothering with my practiced friendly smile.

  “It’s morning,” Sergey said.

  Maksim interjected, “The fuck do you want, shit bag?”

  “I need a meeting with your boss.”

  “We don’t have a boss,” Sergey responded, almost smiling. “You know that. We’re independent contractors.”

  “You’re contractors with only one client, and I need to speak with her, today.”

  “Fuck!” Maksim exclaimed, slamming his drink on the table. “No chance! That slant eyed bitch don’t see anybody on that short a notice.”

  Unlike his brother, Sergey kept his voice calm. “Our client has very specific security concerns that preclude short notice meetings. As my brother said, there’s no chance of this happening on such short notice.”

  I leaned artificial and biological knuckles on the table. “We both know you have a direct line to your boss. I suggest you use it before she decides to send the both of you to the scrap yard.”

  The narrowing of Sergey’s eyes was emphasized by the sound of Maksim’s glass beginning to crack. “This had better be very important business,” Sergey said.

  “Tell your boss I have a competing buyer for the prototype.”

  The look on his face was neither recognition nor surprise. The glare of his eyes softened as his brow briefly dipped and his mouth upturned a hair more. He was hiding confusion. I smirked at him to drive it home.

  “And this is your buyer?” Sergey asked, glancing at Jennifer.

  “She don’t look like she’s got money,” Maksim said, standing up from the booth.

  He reached a jagged hand out toward her cheek, and I reacted. Grabbing his forearm, I simultaneously pulled and twisted it, throwing his balance off as I shifted my own weight and shoved him back into the booth. He was too drunk to react quickly, nearly ending up in the floor before grabbing the table and dragging himself back up into the seat.

  Jennifer, to her credit, never flinched. Unfortunately, the bartender did. Over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of him already dialing his phone, trying to not make eye contact with any of us. Now short on time, I intended to get the conversation back on track.

  “She represents the buyer,” I said, “a smaller corporation with plenty of startup capital, looking to buy their way into the bionics field. So, do you want to be responsible for Amanda missing her payday, or do you want to get this meeting set up?”

  Maksim attempted to drink from his leaking glass as Sergey took a moment to mull the situation over. It would be a risk for him. Asking Amanda Tsai to risk her safety for only a possible payday was, to a certain degree, asking the brothers to risk their own necks. On the other hand, if she made a big sale like this at a lower price than what she could have gotten, that could hurt her reputation and potentially blow back on Sergey and Maksim once the facts came to light. Both possibilities seemed equally risky. He needed something to tip the balance my way.

  “Please,” I said, thumbing the scale, “take your time. I get paid by the hour.” I waited a beat for emphasis. “You two work on commission, though, don’t you?”

  The brothers exchanged a quick look, afterwhich Sergey cleared his throat and said, “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”

  Jennifer spoke up, adding her own weight to the scale. “The buyer has empowered me to offer an additional five percent bonus to you if you can get us first look at the item for sale.”

  “I’ll make the call now,” Sergey said to Jennifer. “It could still take a few hours to hear back. I’ll need your contact info.”

  I responded, not giving Ms. Nadee the chance. “You’ve already got my phone number, Sergey. It might be blocked, but I know you’ve got it.”

  “We’ll be expecting your call,” Jennifer said, solidifying my point.

  She turned to leave without another word, playing the quiet boss perfectly. I stood up straight, looking down on the brothers one final second, so they knew I was watching her back. Maksim was still sulking in his leaky beer, while Sergey was already pulling out his phone.

  I caught up with Jennifer at the door, offering to open it for her. With a hand on the knob, I twisted and pulled. Flashing blue light beamed in through the gap. The door swung open, and I raised my right arm to shield my eyes. I had left myself exposed, completely unprepared for the attack.

  Chapter 10

  I found myself staring at the pavement, gasping for breath. Dropping to my knees, I held my abdomen tightly, trying to comfort the crippling pain. I wondered if I had been shot. The vest was supposed to be bulletproof, but what did that really mean? Jennifer had told me I would bruise if I got shot, but this felt too wide for a bullet, closer to the width of a rifle butt.

  I lifted my head and tried to get my vision clear, to focus on the the world around me. Flashing blue lights made starburst flairs in my eyes, interrupted by twelve shadows encircling me. From what I could see, each of them wore a black uniform and standard body armor, the word “POLICE” written in reflective white letters across the chest, amplified by the ultraviolet flood lights. Overhead a police drone buzzed, scanning pedestrians as they turned to hurry about their business. The closest figure to me drew back his rifle for another swing. This time, he aimed the butt of the gun at my head.

  One freebie was all I was going to give him. With my right hand, I caught the weapon inches from my skull. I was calculating my next move when I noticed a glare. The barrel of a firearm was aimed at my head. Three more were being drawn.

  “Hands up!” one of them yelled, pointing his weapon over my head.

  Jennifer was behind me, still. I heard her voice through the fog of pain and anger. She was trying to identify herself, probably reaching for her I.D. like a good citizen. The officer aiming for her looked nervous, his finger too close to the trigger.

  At her height, a bullet going over my head stood about a fifty percent chance of hitting her in the chest, and a fifty percent chance of hitting her head. With the scarf and jacket, a body shot might at worst crack her collar bone. Her head was not nearly as well protected.

  And then there was the panic trigger to consider. Cops are just people, but they’re people with the legal right to kill, and training that teaches them to fire when fired upon. When a cop hears a weapon discharge, it starts a chain reaction, and soon everyone is firing. According to my math, twelve officers firing in our direction reduced her chances of survival to near zero. Mine, too.

  I put a foot flat on the sidewalk and released the stock of the rifle. I stood as quickly as I could, raising my left hand, palm open, and guarding my face with my right forearm. Every muscle in my face tensed, preparing for the hits, hoping nothing got around what little protection I had.

  “Corporate Investigation,” Jennifer called out, holding her identification to my right side.

  The officers didn’t fire. The drone hovered low, scanning her badge. It flashed a quick green light when it was done, but the guns did not lower.

  “I’m here on an official investigation,” she continued. “This man is my bodyguard. Lower your weapons.” Barrels tilted downward but didn’t quite lower, so she continued to drive her point home. “Durin
g official investigations, my powers supercede yours, officers. Lower your weapons now or you will all be unemployed by morning.”

  That got their attention. Pistols were holstered and the rifleman pointed his barrel toward the ground. I lowered my hands as one of them stepped forward.

  “We received orders to handle a violent individual at this location,” he spoke to Jennifer as she stepped out from behind me. “The description matched your bodyguard.”

  Her eyes narrowed, her voice taking on a growl when she spoke. “Obviously, someone is trying to interfere with my investigation. I recommend you backtrack the call and arrest them for making a false statement.”

  When the officer took another step forward, I noticed that his hand had never left his weapon. “When we get a call about some crazed bionic trashing a private business, we respond.”

  Ms. Nadee stepped up to him, inside the circle of protection every cop is trained to keep people out of. “Commander McKay,” she said, glancing at his name tag, “earlier today I was having a conversation with my good friend Investigator Samuel Roberson.” His eyes darted away and back. “When I’m done with this investigation, I’m going to give him a call. That gives you a couple of days to get your excuse together.”

  His brow wrinkled, eyes narrowing. “I don’t need an excuse for doing my job.”

  “Threatening the life of a corporate investigator, failure to follow the order to lower your weapon, failure to identify yourselves as police officers before assaulting my bodyguard. I think there’s going to be plenty of questions to be answered.”

  He didn’t bother arguing any further. Taking one step back, he turned and raised one hand in the air, two fingers raised and held together. He made a small circle in the air with the raised digits and everyone moved toward their vehicles.

  The drone ceased its patrol and landed on the trunk of one of the cars, perching on a slot at the edge. Folding its wings up, the machine slid down into the two inch wide slot and locked into place. I was able to breathe a little easier once the police cruisers were all pulling away.

  “That was impressive,” I said.

  “Thanks,” Jennifer responded.

  “Oh, yeah, that too, but I was talking about their response time. That bartender couldn’t have called them more than five minutes before they arrived.”

  “Maybe they were already in the area.”

  “Maybe, but doing what?”

  I stepped back inside the bar, checking the table where I had left the Volesky brothers. They were nowhere to be seen, likely having bolted out the back door as soon as they saw the blue lights. I hoped they hadn’t hung around long enough to overhear Jennifer identifying herself. That could throw a wrench in the works.

  Noticing the bartender noticing me, I locked eyes with him and narrowed mine. I pointed one single threatening bionic finger at him and snarled up my mouth. I had no intention of doing him any actual harm, but it occured to me that this might be a teachable moment for the young man.

  “You did well back there,” I said, “with the Volesky brothers.”

  We were walking back the way we had come, putting some distance between us and our own last known whereabouts. I didn’t like how quickly those cops had responded. It left me feeling like we were being watched.

  “So did you,” she returned.

  “I think we really lit a fire under them.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t burn us.”

  “Hope?” I asked. “You struck me more as the type that prefers to rely on plans and backup plans.”

  “Ideally, I prefer to have backup plans for my backup plans, but this is far from an ideal situation. We again seem to be stuck sitting on our hands. Is there another move we can make while waiting on our phone calls?”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I need to get home. The sun is going to be up in a few hours. My cat will need fed, and I could use a nap and a shower.”

  “You don’t have an auto-feeder?”

  “Of course I do, but, well, it’s more like a morning ritual.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d rather stick with you. When the calls come in, it would be a waste of time for us to have to regroup before moving out again.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Day or night, the city never really slept, not down here. The Uppers had the privilege of reliable nine to five day jobs, but the Lowers mostly all worked twelve hour shifts in factories that never shut down. The vendors got to choose their own hours, but demand is demand. They all tried to be open during the rushes before and after factory shift changes, but twenty-four hours a day there was always somewhere nearby to get food, alcohol, drugs, or even laid, assuming you had money to spend.

  I hadn’t seen a real sunrise since I moved to the city, but the smell of the air and the tint of the neon told me the sun was still under the horizon when we arrived back at my building. The walk up twenty flights of stairs was enough to leave my knees shaky after a long night of traveling the city streets. Jennifer made no complaints about the climb, and didn’t seem impatient with my slowness. She didn’t even wrinkle her nose at the peeling walls, the garbage littered hallways of the building, or the grungy man sitting on a bar stool at the end of the hall, tightening the springs on his blocky, Chinese made leg.

  I unlocked apartment 2009 and stepped inside, turning on the lights as I did. A ginger head popped up from the couch. Green eyes narrowed and ears flattened as my company crossed the threshold.

  “Morning, sweetie. Sorry I’m so late getting home.”

  “Ree’ew?” she asked, only her eyes visible above the arm of the couch.

  “She’s safe. I promise.” I closed and locked the door behind us as I addressed Jennifer. “I’m going to shower and get a three hour nap. Feel free to get some shuteye on my couch or use the TV. I handed her the old brick phone Cassdan had given me. “Wake me early if he calls.”

  Nikie darted through the narrow bedroom door in front of me, jumping up on the bed as I closed the door behind us. She purred and kneaded the bed, watching me as I dropped my jacket and vest onto the bed and began to take off my boots. Periodically, she glanced back at the closed door, wary of our visitor.

  “Computer,” I said, sliding my watch into the same jacket pocket as my phone, “send another reminder to the building manager, asking him to get the elevator fixed.”

  I pulled off my pants. “Message sent,” the voice box replied.

  Once stripped down, I stepped through my small bathroom and into the narrow shower. Out of habit, I checked the waterproof casing on my arm’s battery. Despite all of the night’s activity, it was still well sealed and the battery was still half charged.

  I kept the shower short and climbed into bed as quickly as I could. There was really no way to know what the new day might bring, but at least sleep came quickly.

  Chapter 11

  I woke to the sound of a loud chirping from the next room. Nikie hopped out from her place under my arm and took up a defensive position at the foot of the bed, hunkered low with tail twitching. I had slept in pants and a T-shirt, so I only had to slip on my boots and give the laces a quick tie around the ankle before stepping into the living room.

  “He wants to talk to you,” Jennifer said, handing me the brick.

  Her hair was a bit dishevelled on the left side, which was likely related to the slight depression in the arm of the couch. Her jacket lay neatly folded on the other arm, but her scarf had been flung across the back cushions, perhaps from throwing the makeshift blanket off when the phone rang.

  I propped the old phone between my shoulder and ear as I stepped into the kitchen to start up the food printer. “What have you got for me?”

  “Quiet talk in dark places says there’s a big buyl coming up,” came Cassdan’s voice, overlaid with heavy static.

  “Auction or straight sale?”

  “Straight sale, one buyer. No names were used, so I don’t exactly know who.”

&nbs
p; “Is there any chance that’s us? We kinda made an offer through channels.”

  “No, this was a back and forth communication, a negotiation really. So, unless you’re running a bigger scam…”

  “Have you got a when and where?”

  “I do, but the loca-” I heard the sound of wood splintering, followed by what could have been firecrackers too close to the phone. “Eight three two, Meadow Road, four hours,” he spoke in a sharp whisper. Then the line went dead.

  A lump welled up in my throat. “Eight three two, Meadow Road, four hours,” I repeated for my own memory. I turned to inform Jennifer of the situation but found her distracted by something she saw on the street below, as she absently wrapped her scarf around her neck and shoulders.

  “Jackson, get your vest on,” she said. “I think we’re about to have company.”

  I heard heavy footsteps from the stairwell, maybe three floors down, too heavy and too early for the nuns. I charged to the bedroom, throwing on the vest and cinching the bottom as tight as I could without breaking the drawstring. Nikie huffed as I scooped her up and shoved her inside, zipping the vest all the way up to the neck. I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on as I stepped back out to the front room.

  I found Jennifer looking at the door monitor. Someone pounded on the door hard enough to rattle dishes in the cabinets. I stepped up behind her to see, but could only make out a black clad figure. He or she had their head down, the bill of their military style patrol cap covering their face. Jennifer grabbed my sleeve.

  In a barely audible whisper, she asked, “Can you break that window?”

  “Uh, yeah,” l responded, keeping my voice low.

  “Good, get on my back.” She turned her back to me and squated low.