Makeda Red

by Jennifer Brozek

  “You surprise me,” Imre said, “And I might be able to help you with fundraising in the future.”

  “Oh?”

  Imre didn’t get a chance to answer before a tall ork woman in a train station security uniform appeared at their side. “Excuse me, the train will be leaving soon. May I escort you to the ramp?” Everything in her tone was polite and diffident, but both of them heard the command within the request.

  Imre gestured to Makeda, allowing her to go first. He murmured, “I hope you keep surprising me…and I hope to surprise you.”

  Makeda glanced coyly over her shoulder at him then followed the security woman. Holding her head high and her shoulders relaxed, she waved her Party Train band at the sensor. This was the moment it would all come together or fall apart. Either her cover would hold…or it wouldn’t.

  Without waiting for the accepting beep, she was already turning to Imre, gesturing for him to join her on the ramp. If it went bad, she’d let the tears come and have him deal with it.

  The sensor turned green.

  Imre grabbed her hand and touched his band to the sensor with his other arm at the same time. Laughing as the sensor went green again and the train security personnel muttered welcomes, the two half ran up the ramp that led to the train.

  Just inside the tunnel, Imre pulled her close, hovering his lips to hers, asking without words if he could kiss her. Beneath the cologne the scent of his sweat—woody and clean—enticed her as much as his body language.

  She answered by kissing him, long and lingeringly, tasting his cologne and him as she did so.

  An alarm blared, and the lights in the hallway went red. The doors on either end of the ramp hallway slammed shut.

  “What?” Makeda looked around, not panicked, but curious. Like someone who didn’t have anything to hide. Inside, her heart hammered in her chest. Something had gone wrong. Already, she was working through the problem, coming up with solutions. Everything from collapsing in a fake faint to taking Imre hostage.

  Imre looked at the closed doors. He took both her hands in his. “I’ll take care of this. Don’t you worry.”

  She nodded, trying to keep her eyes wide and innocent. As soon as he moved to the train side of the hallway, she walked to the other door. “Galen, what’s wrong?”

  “Working on it. Someone’s SIN tripped the shutdown.”

  She knocked on the door. “Hello? Hello? We’re locked in here.” She knocked again. “Me?”

  Galen took too long to answer. “No. Not you. Not your arm candy either. Someone just behind you two.” He sent her the security image of an elf with his hands up.

  Makeda didn’t recognize him. The lights went from red to white and the door in front of her opened just as she was about to knock again. A very large troll in a Party Train security uniform stood before her. On his chest was the name Jarvis. She opened her eyes wide and let some of the fear of being caught leak through. “We were locked in here.”

  “I’m so very sorry, Miss Makeda.” The troll stepped forward and started herding her toward the other end of the tunnel, where Imre waited. “We take security very seriously. We thought it better to protect you and Mr. Dahl against the breach rather than subject you to possible injury.”

  Makeda nodded, then giggled. “Oh, I’ll have such a story to tell my friends.” She nodded to Imre. “When life does this, it’s like a plot twist. It gives you something to gossip about at home.”

  Imre slid his arm about her waist as Security Captain Jarvis opened the door between the tunnel and the train. Makeda watched the captain’s hand, and the code, with interest. She knew Galen would, too. It might come in handy in the future.

  Nodding at her and Imre, the troll said, “Please accept our sincerest apologies for this minor inconvenience. I’ve let the hosts know, and they will make sure that something special is delivered to your sleeper suites. Please, have an excellent time on the Brussels2Rome Party Train.”

  “Thank you,” Imre said. “We will.”

  Makeda gave Captain Jarvis a little wave as the two of them entered luxury incarnate.

  2

  The Brussels2Rome Party Train was a custom-built train designed to hold and entertain the world’s elite. Everything from the floor to the ceiling had a designer’s touch. From marble inlays to gilded tiles to polished wood, this first train car was as ornate as a five-star hotel lobby. Behind a small wood-and-marble podium stood a handsome Sikh man in a black dastaar and the Party Train uniform of black, white, and gold. Next to him was a map of the train.

  Forty-five cars long, it showed everything from where all of the dance, bar, dinner, and lounge cars were—front of the train—as well as where the sleeper cars were—back of the train. Makeda noted that, while the graphic of the train appeared complete, there were at least five cars missing from it, including the engine, security, the kitchens, and the caboose. She also knew, from the team’s previous investigations, that the train would be preceded and followed by double-car security trains. With this many of the world’s VIPs looking to have a good time, security had to be tight.

  Another colorful graphic showed a simplified version of the train’s path through Europe. Most of these were not stops—just waypoints to be noted. The maglev track ran from Brussels to Köln to Greater Frankfurt to Stuttgart to Basel to Lucern (the location she was most interested in) to Zurich, then Innsbruck to Verona and from there to Rome. It was an ambitious train ride with almost too many dangers to count.

  Least political among them was the Alpine Interdiction Zone. It was a pristine wilderness guarded by the Swiss Gebirsjager—mountain infantry. The train wasn’t going through it, but it was traveling near enough that everyone was on guard. Lucern was the Party Train’s only scheduled stop before Rome. It was a refueling station only. No one on or off.

  Not too long ago, the Brussels2Rome Party Train would never have happened, no matter how much money had been thrown at it. Only the formation of the New European Economic Community, bringing in the fifteen biggest European corporations, allowed them to bypass almost all border controls. Only Switzerland still had some restrictions, and most of those revolved around metahumans. It was something Makeda didn’t have to worry about.

  “Where do you want to go first?” Imre gestured to the train map as he put his hand on the small of her back.

  “I think I want to go freshen up after all that dancing.” She moved away from him and paused at the sudden hurt look on his face. “Don’t worry. We have twenty-four hours to enjoy. The party will still be here when I’m ready.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Go on. Have a good time. I’ll find you.”

  As if by magic, a lovely brunette in the feminized version of the Party Train uniform appeared at the concierge’s side. The Sikh man gave Imre a respectful nod. “I took the liberty of summoning one of our entertainment hostesses, Mr. Dahl. Again, we are so sorry you were locked in the entrance tunnel.”

  Imre looked at the three of them and laughed. “A hostess just for me? I’m honored. It is a vacation, after all.” He glanced at Makeda. “I will see you soon, I hope?”

  Makeda leaned forward and brushed her lips against his ear. “Count on it.”

  His smile returned. He stepped to the hostess and offered his arm. “Lead me to paradise.”

  She dimpled at him. “As you wish.”

  Makeda hoped Imre would have a good time. Good enough to forget her while she did her job. As the brunette led Imre away, the Sikh man came out from behind his small podium. “If you will allow me to escort you to your sleeper car, Ms. Makeda? Your baggage has already been placed within your suite.” He offered her his arm.

  Looking as amused as Imre, Makeda took his arm and allowed him to lead the way. She didn’t say anything, testing to see if he was one of those who would chatter on about everything and nothing, or if he would remain as silent as those he escorted.

  It seemed to be the latter as they walked through three sleeper cars. Each one appeared identical to the pr
evious one, only reversed to keep the train’s weight evenly distributed. The airlock between cars was obvious by its door system, but easy to navigate. With the thick, malleable walls, there was no danger of falling off the train. Makeda took note of the keypad next to each one. The rooms could be locked down.

  The sleeper cars themselves were carpeted in deep burgundy that matched the curtains inside each of the sleeper car doors. Outer hall walls gave the impression of stone while the inner ones were a light rosewood with brass diamond inlays. Each door had a small window bracketed by interior curtains and a canted brass bar to help slide the door open. The doors’ sensors were a smooth, matte black.

  Glancing around, Makeda spotted areas where she would put cameras if she were designing security, but if cameras were there, they were well hidden. Luxury came with the illusion of privacy. Just as the train gave the illusion of old-world wealth while it floated on some of the best maglev technology money could buy. It was why there was almost no sense of movement.

  When they stopped at sleeper car 9, her escort bowed his head and gestured to the door’s sensor. “Only your Party Train band will open it.”

  Makeda tapped the sensor. It lit up green, and the door slid open a small bit. Makeda’s escort slid the door the rest of the way open for her. Looking in, the sleeper suite itself was small but lovely. The size of a small office, three meters square, it currently looked like a living room with a small washroom. The scent of fresh citrus floated on the air. With a touch of a button, the whole room would transform into a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. It was the luxury version of an airport capsule hotel.

  “Thank you.” Makeda stepped into the room.

  “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. We are at your beck and call.” With that, the concierge left her to the room, closing the door after himself. The door locked into place.

  “Beck and call? That’s new.” Galen chuckled in her ear. “Why do you get all the face time and luxury while I’m stuck here in the Matrix?”

  Makeda went to her small suitcase on the counter and pulled out her makeup bag. As she opened the foundation compact hiding a small toolkit underneath, she keyed the hidden switch on the side and set it on the counter. “Clear?”

  “All clear. No bugs or cameras.”

  “I’m prettier than you. That’s why.” She said this aloud as she gazed in the mirror. She really did need to towel off and reset her makeup. “Besides, they’d have a fit over your wheelchair. You can’t get on an airplane without setting off alarms, much less a train like this with a bunch of high mucky-mucks. You’d upset their delicate sensibilities by reminding them that not everything is perfect in this world.”

  “I may resemble that remark in meat space, but in the Matrix, I’m a fraggin’ Adonis.”

  “I know. I’ve seen you.” She meant that in the literal sense. While her Matrix avatar was a cheetah, his was of the statue of Adonis— naked and all. Somehow, he made the classic statue lascivious. No matter what he did in the Matrix, it was tinged with a sexual magnetism.

  In meat space, TechnoGalen was a small Hawaiian man born without the bottom half of his legs. His parents, for whatever reason, had chosen to leave him without prosthetics, and he’d embraced this as his identity. Makeda suspected he also had spinal issues that precluded the use of prosthetics, but it wasn’t any of her business unless he chose to tell her.

  Galen was just as flirtatious in meat space as he was in the Matrix. Just as successful, too. When not on the job, he was a party animal. She rarely saw him without one of his three girlfriends—unless he was working. Like now.

  Makeda wasted no time stripping off the cocktail dress and ducking into the washroom. She gave herself a quick wipe down to get the sweat off, then changed into black, hip-hugging slacks and a silky red top cut down to there, showing off her gold jewelry.

  “Right, has HiddenPlath reported in?”

  “Yes. She says the target entered the lounge not long after you did.”

  Makeda added the latest fashion—knee-high suede boots. For once, fashion had merged with the practical, and low heels were in vogue. This would probably last for about three more months. In the meantime, she was going to enjoy being able to move without pain and run without having to ditch her shoes first.

  “Wearing what?”

  “Skinny black slacks and a white, open-collar shirt. Long sleeves.

  Sending you an image.”

  Makeda paused as she gazed at the image. Not a bad-looking guy. The wrinkles around his eyes clashed with his youthful clothing. She shrugged. At least he was trying. “Doesn’t look like much of a salaryman. Good. He’ll fit right in.”

  “Still going to bring him back to your car for the duration?”

  “That’s the plan. I just have to find him first. I’m going to wring his neck for not meeting me in the lounge like he was instructed.”

  “What about Imre?”

  She checked herself in the mirror one more time. Yep, still stunning. Everyone was going to be looking at her cleavage or gold eyes and likely wouldn’t notice much more than a beautiful black woman enjoying herself on the Brussels2Rome Party Train. “I’m sure he’s having a very good time wherever he is. I can hunt him down after the job is done. I know where he works.” Makeda squared her shoulders, then let them relax. “Right. I’m going to find the target now. Going silent. If you see him before I do, let me know.”

  “Roger that.”

  Makeda slipped out the sleeper suite door and wondered where the target was now that he’d missed their rendezvous. Most likely in one of the bars in the open. At least, she hoped. Until she found him, there was nothing more she could do but a car-to-car search.

  Crossing through the lobby car again, a new set of concierge personnel were on duty. They were attentive, but did not speak to her as she passed by. It was something of a relief. Having her face—along with Imre’s—blasted to all train personnel as someone to be extra attentive to could make life hard in the long run.

  Stepping from the lobby car into the first bar area was like stepping into another world. Gone was the old-world charm of wood and brass. In its place was a sleek, modern design of matte metal, clean lines, and muted pastel lights. The bar was to the right side, surrounded by people. The left had tables bolted to the floor but chairs that could be moved, and were. The music was soft rock, and the crowd had an older sense of age.

  She strode through, glancing about. No sign of Tojo Isoshi. Makeda kept walking, shaking her head at invitations in the form of raised glasses and stroking fingertips. The party had just gotten started. Those who’d come alone were looking for playmates.

  The next car was styled as a living room. It had a long table filled with finger foods and attendants ready to refill drinks. The music was low, but had a pulsing beat. Again, no Tojo, but Imre was here with several lovely young women. Makeda pretended not to see him. If he saw her, he decided to stick with his present company. She slipped out of that car as quickly as she could.

  The industrial music hit her like a sonic punch to the face as she opened the next car. The GlitterGuys were playing live, and the crowd was a mass of dancers, flailing about to “Blood & Nuyen,” another one of their hits. She scanned the room in a back-and-forth fashion, trusting that Galen would notice what she didn’t.

  While the target wasn’t in sight, there were a couple of corp- security personnel against the wall of the car. They scanned the room like she did. By the patch on their shoulders, they appeared to be from Saeder-Krupp. That was not good. Makeda turned away as one of them looked to her.

  “Is he here?”

  “No. But there is a Saeder-Krupp exec over by the stage. Small Japanese man in purple.”

  Glad that her hacker was on the same wavelength, Makeda looked and spotted the exec. She made the mental note to stay as far away from the man as she could when it was time to exit the train. With that in mind, she slipped through the crowd, bouncing to the beat of the song. If she w
ere on vacation, she’d just stay here. But duty before pleasure.

  The next car was another bar car, almost identical to the first one she walked through. At the bar, drinking by himself despite being surrounded by people, was her target. Tojo stared at his drink, looking at the bottom of the glass as if it somehow could convey something meaningful to him.

  He was a handsome man with a slight build and black hair. Now that she saw him in person, she could see he was older than she’d first assumed. Despite being designed for a younger crowd, his clothing suited him—even if it clashed with his current demeanor. She eyed him as if she were just a woman looking for something interesting.

  Tojo was shorter than her. Makeda could tell that much from where she stood.

  As she headed toward to the bar, she saw two more Saeder- Krupp security people standing in the corners; one near the bar, one near the opposite exit. The SK woman next to the bar straightened up as Makeda slid in next to Tojo. Not good. The target was under surveillance. Also, not good at subtlety.

  Makeda ordered a cider and then leaned to Tojo, “For a man on vacation, you look like you’ve lost your last friend.”

  Tojo shrugged a little, not looking up. “I was supposed to meet someone. I missed them, or they didn’t show.”

  “Life’s too short to waste it on people who don’t show up. Why don’t you hang out with me? I’m by myself.” She offered her hand. “I’m Makeda.”

  Tojo’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. He started to bow. She stopped him. “I’m American. We don’t bow. We shake hands.”

  “Makeda?” Tojo thrust his hand to her.

  As she took his hand in hers, she squeezed a little tighter than she needed to, leaned in, and whispered. “We’re being watched. So, now I’m whispering something naughty in your ear about dinner and then dessert and licking things off your body.”

  She pulled back, pleased to see Tojo blushing to the roots of his hair. It was exactly what she wanted to happen.

  “Heads up, Makeda. Someone’s flagged your SIN and is investigating.”