Makeda Red

by Jennifer Brozek

  Letting the kiss blossom into something slow and deep as their lips explored each other, Makeda couldn’t help but notice while Beauty’s left hand was fully on her back, only two fingers of Beauty’s right hand were touching her. It was a strangeness that made her pull back from the kiss and reach behind her for Beauty’s hand…just as Galen’s voice exploded in her ear.

  “Makeda, get out of there. Just got into Beauty’s file. She’s a brunette, not a blonde—”

  Frag, Makeda thought, her eyes widening as Galen’s voice continued its alarmed warning in her head.

  Beauty, her eyes shifting from soft seduction to something cold and calculating, pulled Makeda close—this time using all of both hands and pressing something to Makeda’s back. “Too bad. You could’ve been fun…”

  Even as Makeda tried to pull away again, she fell into darkness.

  Makeda hit her head as she ducked into the escape tunnel, following Zaria. The elf mage moved fast, crawling over the same dirt and rock that scraped skin from Makeda’s hands and knees. They were deep behind enemy lines, and corpsec was shelling the drek out of their hiding place.

  She paused, trying to remember where she was and why she was here. Zaria looked back. “Move it, woman. Unless you want to be dead.” Makeda moved. A deeper part of her knew this was a memory—one she didn’t want to remember—but was helpless to do anything but follow.

  Minutes later, they broke out into daylight as the escape tunnel collapsed behind them. “Why did we get involved with mercenaries again?” Zaria threw up a wall shield as another missile struck nearby. “It was your idea. It’s just a courier job, you said. It’ll be a cake walk, you said. It’s easy money, you said.”

  Makeda surged forward and grabbed Zaria by the waist. She propelled the smaller woman behind a large rock as automatic fire came from both sides of the line. Apparently, instead of waiting for intel and just providing cover fire, one of the mercs got caught or trigger happy or both. Now it was an all-out war—with them stuck in the middle.

  “Remind me never to do that again.” She looked around. There. The jeep. One man, keys in the ignition. “That’s our way out.”

  The jeep stood next to the house where they’d received the info they needed to get back to Mr. Johnson to get paid. A hundred meters away, the barn that had been their makeshift camp was tinder. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air as dust rained down. The man in the jeep was armed, but looking the other way.

  “Now!” Makeda and Zaria sprinted to the jeep. The merc in their way sensed something and turned at the last moment. Makeda’s enhanced reflexes kept her from getting shot as she threw herself at the man. With a quick disarm maneuver, she twisted the man’s hand and pulled the pistol from it then lost the weapon as he headbutted her. She punched him twice before stabbing him in the chest. He died trying to choke her.

  Zaria clambered into the passenger seat as Makeda shoved the dead man from the jeep. They both buckled in. “Keep your head down.” Makeda didn’t look at Zaria as she started the car and shoved it into gear. The blond elf didn’t say anything, and Makeda took this for agreement. She focused on getting the two of them out of there as quickly as possible.

  Weapons fire whizzed all around, and the jeep tanged and clanged with ricocheted bullets. But they escaped through the trees and onto the dirt road. It took many kilometers and minutes for them to leave the battle behind.

  “Are we safe?” Zaria’s voice was soft.

  Makeda pulled the jeep into a copse of trees. “As safe as we can be for the moment.”

  “Good. I have a problem.” Zaria, who had hunkered over as instructed, sat up just enough to reveal the bloody bullet wound in her side.

  Makeda was out of the jeep and on her side before she could finish saying, “Oh, fraggin’ hell, you should’ve told me.”

  The elf shook her head. “No. We needed to escape.” Unbuckling her, Makeda lifted Zaria from the jeep. “Spells?” “No more energy. I’d pass out if I tried.”

  “Right. There’s got to be something in the jeep that can help.” Makeda laid her on the ground and turned to the back of the jeep, digging through it, looking for a medkit or even a clean enough cloth.

  “Makeda!” Zaria’s scream was weak and filled with fear.

  Makeda looked back to see Zaria being pulled into the bushes. She dove for the elf, catching her feet. Zaria continued to struggle and cry out for help as something pulled her deeper in. Makeda couldn’t wrestle her away from the monster’s grip. Her face hit the dirt as Zaria was pulled into darkness, still screaming her name.

  “Makeda! Wake up. Dammit. Makeda!”

  Saladin shouted in her ear and the blare of her internal alarm greeted her as she clawed her way out of the drugged sleep and induced nightmare. Makeda shook her head. Zaria being hurt had happened, yes. But there’d never been a monster. There’d been a farm house and a kind person. When Zaria disappeared, it’d been from their hotel room in Mons, Belgium. Not in the middle of the woods. There’d been no monster and no explanation. Makeda hadn’t seen her go, and still didn’t know what had happened to her.

  “Makeda!”

  She forced herself to the here and now. “Fraggin’ son of a slitch… I’m awake.” She turned her alarm off and surged to her feet, grabbing for weapons she didn’t have. She took a step and fell face first onto the sleeper-suite bed. For once, a tiny room worked in her favor. Everything was numb—part drug-induced, part sleeping on the floor for hours.

  “Are you all right?”

  Turning over and sitting up, she did a quick assessment. Nothing broken. Nothing hurting. Her gold bracelet was missing, but her Party Train band was still there. “Fine. Bruised ego. Missing bracelet.” Her fingers searched for, found, and peeled off the tranq slap patch from her back. She looked at it: a generic patch with the sleep icon on it. She dropped it to the ground.

  “That’s going to work in our favor.”

  “I know. All of it is tagged.” Makeda took a breath, still trying to clear her mind and figure out what happened. “What time is it? Where are we? And where’s TechnoGalen?”

  “You were out for about six hours. You’ve just crossed the Swiss border. Galen’s napping. He figured you’d need him more when you were awake.

  Not much time. She needed to figure out a plan. Makeda nodded. “Smart. Is Beauty just a thief? Or something more?”

  “I think you’d better listen. They didn’t know we could hear through your comms.”

  “Play it.” Makeda closed her eyes to imagine the scene as it happened around her unconscious body.

  * * *

  “Makeda?” Tojo’s voice sounded far away. “Is she all right? What happened?”

  “You didn’t follow orders, that’s what happened.” Beauty sounded angry and cold.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I did what you asked. I put it in a safe place.” Tojo’s voice got louder as he came close.

  “Tu es completement débile!” Beauty took a breath. “You put it in the safe. You were supposed to put it in a place I didn’t need to break into. Especially not with your palm print. A place I could leave a credstick.”

  “The safe is the safest place in the sleeper suite.” Tojo sounded petulant and confused. “I did what you asked me to do.”

  “Tu es betes comme tes pieds.” Beauty’s voice faded as she moved away from Makeda. “C’mon. Get dressed. Let’s do this.”

  “What about her? We can’t just leave her like this.”

  “Who is she? Earlier, you said she promised you a date on the train. Is she more?”

  Tojo was quiet for a long moment. “Just a rich and beautiful woman who thought I might be fun to party with. We met buying Party Train tickets, waiting in chat. She’s the first person to actually meet me in the flesh after, ah, chatting with me. She’s even pretty in person.”

  “For Christ’s sake.” Beauty paused. Her voice got far away. “Give me her bracelet. We’ll just let her think we robbed her and that’s al
l this was. She’ll be too embarrassed to tell anyone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure as I can be. As rich as she is…? Would you want to report being robbed by someone you met from online for a date?”

  “I guess not.”

  * * *

  Saladin’s voice came back on. “That’s it. Not much, but telling.”

  Makeda’s blood ran cold. That had been very close. Too close. Where Tojo had gotten the wits to make up the story about getting a date from chat, she would never know, but it probably saved her life. Makeda shook her head. “Beauty, or whatever her name is, is a runner. What the hell is Tojo doing with another shadowrunner?”

  “Seems our little salaryman isn’t as naïve as he’s been saying. He didn’t give you up. That speaks to his favor. Also, he lied convincingly to both you and the other runner. Though either he doesn’t speak French or he doesn’t mind being insulted. Repeatedly.”

  These were all things to think about. The one thing that would keep her from treating Tojo as an unwilling extraction from this point on was the fact that he didn’t reveal who she really was or what they were doing together. She still wanted to throttle him, though.

  Beauty, on the other hand, needed a sound thrashing…or an award for best actress. Makeda had to admit she’d been caught hook, line, and sinker by the runner. It wasn’t just that Beauty had addled her hormones, she’d done a fine job of convincing everyone that she was who she said she was. Even the other entertainment personnel were fooled. That took a bit of doing. It spoke of foresight and planning.

  She replayed the recording of the conversation between Tojo and Beauty. Whatever Beauty was, she wasn’t corpsec and she wasn’t interested in Tojo as a client or package or a wetwork target. She’d been interested in something he was supposed to sell her.

  “Makeda?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Fine. Like I said, bruised ego.” Standing, Makeda tested her balance. It was back. “How long until the Lucern stop?”

  “About two hours. Bern in about one. You want to get off the train between the two stations. The train won’t stop at Bern, but it will at Lucern. If you aren’t off by then, you’re going to have to take your chances during the refuel. You really don’t want to do that with corpsec tailing him.”

  An hour to find Beauty and have a word with her before finding Tojo and throwing him from the train. “Right. Wake Galen up. We might need a couple of EMP bursts soon. Have him and our drones on standby. Also, give me directions to where the bracelet is now.”

  “Drones are a no-go. All of the paparazzi drones have been shot out of the sky with no warning. The net is screaming bloody murder at the lost resources and lost opportunities. We can’t get a drone within two kilometers of the train without risking them. No EMP bursts for you.”

  “Drek and double drek. Do you have any good news?”

  “I can tell you where your bracelet is.

  “Right. Let’s do that first.”

  Following Saladin’s instructions, Makeda returned the way she’d come, through the various dance, bar, and dining cars, through the lobby car to the sleeper cars. Along the way, she kept an eye out for Tojo and his Saeder-Krupp watchdogs. She didn’t see either and neither did Galen, who had taken over as run operator once more. This worried her. She hoped to hell Tojo was in his own suite and not dead in a closet somewhere.

  Six hours in and the party showed no signs of slowing down, though there were less people. Makeda assumed they’d retired to various sleeper suites for more intimate parties like the one she’d been offered. People still danced, drank, and ate. More sat and cuddled. A couple reached out to Makeda as she passed by. She gave them a smile, a shake of the head, and kept going.

  Stopping in at her suite, Makeda checked her makeup and hair. She still looked good, if a bit tired. That was to be expected on a twenty-four-hour Party Train. Makeda slipped a collapsible baton into one boot, the compact tool kit into the other, and checked that everything else was in place. She planned to come back to this room, but she was willing to leave everything else behind if necessary.

  “The bracelet is two cars down and hasn’t moved in four hours. My bet is that she’s laying low.”

  “Or she ditched it. Sleeper car?”

  “Probably. Yes. At least, the map from the lobby says so. Though we already know it lies. I think I’ve managed to upgrade your band. It should see you as both ‘Ms. Makeda’ and one of the entertainment hostesses.”

  “Good to know. Let’s go have a conversation with Beauty Morel…and maybe Tojo as well.” Makeda checked her pants pockets for the slap patches she had hidden there: two sleep and three stim. She made sure one of the sleep patches was on top before she gave the room a final look and walked out the door.

  No one passed her as she moved through the next sleeper car. There were more doors in these. Instead of two suites, there were four. Makeda suspected that they were as good quality as the previous suites but not as large. More space, more money.

  Makeda just about jumped out of her skin when the last door before the opposite exit burst open and two laughing men—one human, one elf, both handsome, black, and chic—came tumbling out. She smiled at them as they gave her a guilty look.

  “Sorry…was occupied,” the human started.

  “With each other,” the elf continued. He waggled his eyebrows in a playful manner.

  “But there’s always room for one more,” the human finished. They had the kind of look that tabloids loved: gorgeous and just disheveled enough to say they’d been having a very good time. She vaguely recognized them—actors, perhaps—and wondered if Galen was getting pictures or video to sell to the celebrity sites. She needed to remind him to split the profits.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got another appointment to keep.”

  They pouted at her, then moved aside. “If you change your mind…come find us.”

  “I will. Promise.” She left them half in and half out of the communal restroom. That explained the number of doors. None of these sleeper suites had a private washroom.

  Makeda paused between sleeper cars. “Where in this car is the bracelet? Front, middle, or end?”

  “Close to the front where you are.”

  “I’m going in hot. I’ll use my ring. If the jammer sets off any alarms, use your best judgment on turning it off.”

  “Roger that.

  Makeda readied herself and moved into the sleeper car. The smaller sleeper rooms had no windows in their doors. That was both good and bad. Good because Beauty couldn’t see her coming. Bad because Makeda had no idea what waited for her within. If it all went pear-shaped, Makeda mapped out the straight path to her own room, then a secondary path to the first car past the lobby car.

  She waved her Party Train band at the door’s sensor. It blinked green and slid partially open. Makeda pulled it open just far enough to slip in and close it behind her.

  5

  Beauty, sitting alone on the couch, looked up then dove for her bag on the counter. Makeda triggered her ring then threw herself at the woman, knocking the bag and Beauty to the floor. The bag, filled with all sorts of interesting things—zip ties, a small knife, Makeda’s bracelet, a couple of credsticks (one silver, one gold)—scattered across the carpet.

  The two of them rolled over and over, wrestling for the upper hand until Beauty kneed Makeda in the stomach. She grunted and gasped for breath as the two of them scrambled back. Beauty popped to her feet and punched Makeda as she stood. Makeda returned the punch, knocking the blond back. Beauty staggered against the far counter.

  “We need to talk.” Makeda dodged the thrown glass. “Just talk.” Beauty grabbed everything she could and threw it at Makeda—knick-knacks, glasses, bottled water, and silverware. “Get out,” she shouted. “I don’t want you here!” She grabbed the silver tray that had held the glasses and water and wielded it like a shield.

  Makeda knew there was no reasoning w
ith her. If she wanted to know where Tojo was, she was going to have to force the issue. “I’ve had enough. We’re going to talk.” Her wired reflexes helped carry her across the room before Beauty knew what had happened. She punched the woman’s face twice, took the tray from her, and whacked her over the head with it.

  Beauty stumbled forward and fell to her knees. While she was dazed, Makeda grabbed two of the zip ties that had spilled from Beauty’s bag. She got one around both of Beauty’s wrists and finished binding her to the couch leg bolted to the floor. Then Makeda backed off, feeling every ache and pain as Beauty regained her senses and surged to her feet.

  Or tried to. The zip ties held. Beauty glared at her. Makeda glanced at the mirror, half-expecting another assailant. Her own battered face looked back. She had a cut on her neck, and her cheek was already swelling. In the reflection, she watched Beauty’s glare fade into something frightened, then morph into neutral determination.

  “Good. I see you can’t use your comms. I don’t know how long it’ll take your team to discover that you’re out of contact, but I figure I have long enough to get what I need.” Makeda turned to her. “Where is Tojo Isoshi?”

  Whatever Beauty thought was about to happen, that question wasn’t it. “Tojo?” She blinked a couple of times and shook her head.

  Makeda wasn’t sure if it was a denial or an attempt to clear her head. “Yeah. The third to our threesome?” When Beauty didn’t answer, Makeda gave an impatient huff. “Look, I know you needed his palm print. That’s the only way to open the safe in his sleeper suite. I couldn’t care any less about what you took from him or he sold to you or whatever. I want to know where he is.”

  “You’re his bodyguard?” Beauty eyed her with suspicion and speculation.