“Something like that. Time’s wasting. I really don’t want to hurt you—professional courtesy and all that—but I will if I have to.” Makeda pulled her baton from her boot and snapped it open for emphasis. “One last time. Where is Tojo?”
Beauty shifted as far away from Makeda as she could. “He’s fine. I swear. I just dosed him with a special concoction one of my buddies made. A little bliss. A little zen. Some stuff I don’t know. I tried to leave him in his suite, but he wanted to go meet up with you. He insisted on leaving to go to a bar. I let him. He’s drunk, a little high, flying. He won’t remember anything. He’s fine, I promise. I’ve been on it, and it’s a good trip.” She shrugged. “It’s not like he could go very far. We’re on a train, after all.”
Makeda groaned silently. Now the target was high and wandering. The question she couldn’t ask was: Would it make him talk? “Which bar?” She thought she already knew the answer but asked anyway.
“I don’t know. One of them. Probably the first one with an open seat. I’ll bet he’s still there, petting the carpet or something.” Beauty shifted from scared to sexy in the blink of an eye. She relaxed her muscles and cocked her hip. That sly smile returned. “You know, I really did want to stay with you two. It would’ve been good. But we all have our jobs to do.”
Makeda couldn’t help but return the smile. “Yeah. It would’ve. Maybe in another life.” She closed the baton and slid it back into her boot. She looked around the suite. “So, this isn’t Tojo’s room?”
“No, it’s one of the assignation rooms.” Beauty smiled a little wider and licked her lips. “Still can be. It’s not like I’m going anywhere…”
Makeda crouched down next to her, keeping half an eye on the woman’s feet, looking for another attack. Even though Makeda had proven herself faster, a runner never gives up. She stroked Beauty’s cheek. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Maybe in another life.” With her other hand, Makeda pressed the sleep patch to the blonde’s neck. “Would’ve been spectacular, but I’m on the clock.”
Beauty’s eyes went wide, then closed as her body went limp.
Makeda took the time to cut the woman free and laid her out on the couch. She wanted it to seem as normal as possible. Then she gathered all of the spilled stuff from the bag and stuffed it back in—with the exception of the credsticks and her bracelet. The credsticks got stuffed into Makeda’s pants pockets before she put her bracelet back on. Time is money, and Beauty had wasted a lot of Makeda’s already. The broken glass got kicked under the couch, and she straightened everything as best she could in quick order.
Makeda checked the time. It was ticking down too fast for her liking. She turned off her ring and subvocalized, “I’m fine. Questioned Beauty. Looking for Tojo now. Report?”
“All is quiet. Get anything good?”
She opened the door and peeked out. No one was in the hallway. “She was a runner, but more of a lover than a fighter. She left Tojo drugged. He’s probably in a bar now. She didn’t know which one, and if he’s drugged, no reason for him to stay put.”
“What’d he sell her?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t ask. It’s not like it was on her. Gonna ask Tojo when I find him.” She crossed into the next sleeper car to find a couple of people deeply involved with each other. As long as it wasn’t the Saeder-Krupp guards, Makeda didn’t care. She squeezed by them muttering, “Open washroom at the end there.”
“What’s the fun in that?” the girl asked.
Makeda shook her head. To each their own. She opened the door between the train cars and ran smack into Imre.
“Makeda!” The pleasure was plain on his face. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Oh, he looked good. His mint color hair was tousled and there were sweat trails down the sides of his face, but that eyeliner was still perfect. He had changed clothes. Now he wore a pair of black pants, a white flowing shirt, and a sleeveless red duster with padded shoulders. She wondered where he’d got it. He was handsome, like a comic-book pirate come to life. Also, he still smelled divine—the clove, amber, and lavender mixed with his own personal scent. At any other time, she’d yank him back to the dance floor. Or into a private room. But now was not that time. Pity.
“Imre. Hi. Having a good time?” They swayed together in the airlock between sleeper cars. It was quiet and very private. Except for the obvious cameras above the doors.
“Yeah, but I was hoping to spend…holy crap, what happened to you?”
Ah, his eyes had reached her face and seen her bruised cheek. It was amazing how long it took most people to actually look another person in the face. Most of the time, they looked around the person, at their body, or at things in their hands. When you had visible bruises on your face, it brought this small fact of life to play in a big way.
Imre reached a hand toward her and then stopped as she pulled back. “You’re bleeding, and your cheek—did someone hit you? I swear, if they did…”
“No, no. The only thing that happened was me hurting myself. I fell in my suite and cracked myself a good one. I didn’t realize I was bleeding. It can’t be that much.” She turned to look at herself in the door’s glass. The reflection was faint, but the scratch along her neck was weeping. She touched it and hissed at the sting.
“We’ve got to get that looked at.” He moved up close behind her. “Seriously, what happened?”
She licked her finger and rubbed at the scrape, ignoring the pain. She did that until it had almost disappeared into her dark skin. “It’s fine. And like I said, I fell in my room. It was clumsy and dumb. It’s why I’m in my boots now.” She watched his face, looking for his belief or skepticism. Imre looked away for a moment. He appeared to make a decision. Makeda guessed he didn’t believe her, but chose to ignore that for now.
Imre shifted closer, not quite touching her with his body. “Well then, let’s go get a drink. We can have a good time. Make the ache go away.” He whispered this in her ear.
Makeda wanted to in the worst way. The scent of him was driving her mad. Pheromones. The man had to be using a pheromone cologne, and it was working. She had to get away. “You’re all charm.” She shook her head, her face neutral.
His smile faded. “But?”
“But, I kinda promised I’d look after this one guy…a favor to a friend.”
“The guy you were kissing in the dining car?” Makeda looked away. “You saw that?”
“I saw that.” He shrugged, disappointment written in the slump of his shoulders. “I had hoped to see you again.”
“What about after the Party Train? In Rome?” She wanted to kick herself at the hopeful look on his face. Breaking hearts everywhere I go.
He nodded. “Maybe. What happened to your…guy?”
She shook her head. “Part of the problem. We got separated. He isn’t good at following directions. You know how it is. It’s why I’ve got to find him.”
“Find him soon. Your time is ticking down. Bern in thirty-five. Ditch the pretty boy. On the clock.”
Makeda kept her face still at Galen’s interruption, but Imre saw something change in her eyes. “You really like him?”
“I really need to find him.” She shrugged. “We’ll have Rome. Or, if not Rome, I know where you work.” She leaned forward and gave him a brief kiss. “There are some duties I can’t shrug off, as much as I might want to.”
Before he could say anything, Makeda whirled away and exited into the next car. She needed to escape that confused, hopeful look on his face.
It didn’t take long for Makeda to find Tojo. He was in the same bar she found him in the first time, in almost the exact same place. Though a quick look around showed that his watchdogs were nowhere in sight. She wondered why, but that was a fortunate mystery for another time—like never. She slid in next to him at the bar.
Tojo, as before, was looking down at his drink. He drew patterns in the condensation on the glass, then the bar, and back again. He didn’t look sad. He looked dazed with a myria
d of expressions crossing his face. First a smile, then a frown, then confusion, then pleasure, then sleepy dazed again.
Makeda didn’t know what he was on and she wished she’d questioned Beauty more, but now she needed to get him to a safe place. “Tojo, it’s time to go.”
He blinked up at her and smiled, then the smile disappeared. “Are you mad at me? I didn’t know she’d do that. I didn’t know I’d see her again. We did the deal, then she was gone. I liked her. I thought she liked me. I thought that’s why she came back.”
“We can talk about that later.” Makeda slipped an arm around his slender waist. “C’mon.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. I thought we were going to have a good time.”
Makeda looked around. No one was watching them, yet. Of course, in a mostly drunk and high crowd of partiers, they could probably strip naked and barely get a glance. “We can still have a good time. Let’s go back to my place.”
Tojo hung back. “You forgive me? I really need money where I’m going. Say you forgive me.”
What was it about men and their insistence that if they thought, or knew, they’d done wrong, you had to forgive them, whether you actually forgave them or not? All she wanted to do right now was strangle him or hog-tie him. Makeda nodded and forced a smile to her lips. “I forgive you. You were being smart.”
She tightened her arm around his waist and pulled him from the bar stool.
“Really smart,” he agreed, going with her. “I modified the data chip to look like something else.”
“I’m sure you did. Very smart.” Makeda pulled him along back towards the sleeper cars. She didn’t listen as he continued mumbling about a data chip. She looked around for the Saeder-Krupp security guards. If she were them, she’d have her hacker looking through the security cameras for them. If that was allowed.
As she escorted Tojo through to the next car, she thought she saw the black uniform of security enter the car from the other side. Going back would be too obvious. They had to hide. Now.
“C’mon. We’ve got to hurry.”
Tojo raised his head as they pushed through the crowd. “Why?
What’s wrong?”
“Your guards are back.” Makeda saw the blocky, black-clad shapes pushing towards them. Makeda didn’t think they’d been spotted through the dancers, yet. She half-lifted Tojo over to one of the corners a trio of trolls had taken over. She pushed her way in between the large metahumans. Pulling Tojo with her behind the trolls, she put a finger to her lips with a shhhh that couldn’t be heard over the music. But the gesture was clear.
The three trolls turned to them, hiding them from the Saeder- Krupp corpsec as they moved through the car, looking at everyone.
“What’s going on?” the largest male asked. The female troll tilted her head and whispered something to the third troll at her side.
Makeda giggled and shrugged. “We’re hiding. It’s a game.” She more mouthed the words than said them.
“Who’s playing?”
“My guards,” Tojo answered, his drugged voice slurring. “They’re watchdogs. Don’t want me to have any fun.”
Again, Makeda wanted to smack him. All she could do was nod. “It’s true. Stick-in-the-mud family. Tell me when they’ve gone?” She winked and prayed the trolls would play along.
The trio of them laughed, closing ranks around them even more. “We like fun,” the huge troll said while the female troll gestured her hand in a downward motion.
Makeda didn’t hesitate. She dropped to the floor and pulled Tojo with her. He landed hard and burped. Then laughed at himself. That laughter turned into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she’d do that. I need the money. I’m sure it’s going to be fine, but I need it just to be sure. Life’s crazy. Crazy things happen.”
Of all the things she brought, something to make the target sober wasn’t one of them. Makeda wished she had. Not that she knew which of the drugs Tojo was on that caused these wild mood swings. “It’s okay. I’m fine. No blood, no foul. I just slept. You see I’m fine.” She muttered these things in his ear, hoping he heard over the music and talking.
“You’re not mad at me?” He wiped at his face.
“No. But we can talk about this more in my room. Everything’s going to be just fine.” She glanced up at the trolls. They were talking with each other, but keeping an eye on the Saeder-Krupp guards as they moved through the room.
“My room…I need to get my nuyen!” Tojo tried to stand up.
Makeda pulled him back to the floor. “Stay down. We’ll go there next.”
“Promise? I need it. I did all this to make sure I was safe. My future’s bright. Probably.”
She nodded. In truth, more money was always a good thing. In any other circumstance, there’d be a good chance Tojo would’ve been robbed of both his paydata and his payment, but Beauty, and whoever else she was working with, was stuck on the train. It was in everyone’s best interest that Tojo had gotten paid and not stiffed. If he’d raised an alarm, there’d be all kinds of trouble.
The huge troll bent down. “They’re gone. They went back the way they came. Toward the sleeper cars.” He offered Makeda a hand up. She accepted, then helped Tojo off the floor.
“Thank you. You were brilliant.” Makeda kept a tight hold on Tojo’s hand as he pulled her, intent on getting to his room and his money. She had to reign him in. It was a nice change of pace, instead of having to drag him around. However, the guards were where they wanted to go. She’d have to be careful.
“Stay and drink with us. We like fun!” The smaller troll grinned at her and laughed.
Makeda patted his arm. “Maybe in another life. For now…we’re
off.”
6
She slid her arm around Tojo’s waist again and let him pull her into the joint between train cars. There, she held him back. Tojo looked at her. “What? What’s wrong?”
Makeda pointed into the next car. Saeder-Krupp corpsec moved before them with slow deliberation, their heads on swivels, looking at everything around them, their faces flat and grim. “Your watchdogs. We’ve got to go slow now.”
Tojo stuck out his bottom lip like he was going to have a temper tantrum, then shook his head. He squeezed his eyes tight. “I think I’m drunk.”
“You were drugged. It’s okay.”
As more people entered and left, she watched the black-clad guards move through the car ahead of them, examining every face and every corner. When they left that car, Makeda led Tojo into it. She wondered again why the guards didn’t just patch into the train’s security system and look through the cameras for them. That’s what she’d have Galen do. The Party Train security must have that on lock down.
“Which sleeper car is yours?”
“Sixteen.”
A couple of cars past hers. That meant it was one of the smaller suites with the communal bathroom. Good to know. She pondered the idea of stopping at her suite before going to Tojo’s, then decided against it. He might throw a fit. She glanced at him. He had that dazed expression painted all over his face again. That was one hell of a concoction Beauty hit him with. Her annoyance and anger faded. Worry crept in. What would the comedown be like?
Once they got to the sleeper cars, Makeda watched the watchdogs knock on every door. When doors opened, they talked with the person and showed them something on a datapad. For the rest, they waited about thirty seconds, then moved on. After they left each sleeper car, she and Tojo would enter. It became the world’s slowest train chase, one Makeda was determined to lose.
She pulled Tojo into the last airlock before his suite and watched the guards do their thing.
He pulled out of her arm and hugged himself tight. “You’re mad at me.”
Makeda blinked at him. “What?” If this was a good trip, she didn’t want to know what Beauty thought was a bad trip. The sooner she got him behind closed doors, the better.
Tojo shivered, his chi
n quivering as he hugged himself tighter. He looked like he was trying to hold it together. It was already a lost battle. “You’re mad at me. I’m sorry. I thought everything was going to be okay. I mean, all shadowrunners are friends. I’ve seen it on the trids. And Herr Schmidt said it’d be fine. I mean, he set it all up, didn’t he?”
She froze. “Herr Schmidt?”
It was what they called Mr. Johnson in Germany. Her mind spun up, moving from the immediate danger to consider a much wider, overall danger. The Johnson she’d dealt with to get this run had also been Herr Schmidt. Too many questions popped to mind. The first of which was whether or not Tojo’s “Herr Schmidt” was the same one she worked with to get the run. He probably was. It was too much of a coincidence not to be.
Tojo nodded. “He’s the one that helped me find you. He also said that paydata would help me get settled in the new place.”
Same Johnson. What in the hell was a Johnson doing setting up two runs with the same salaryman on the same train? That was a recipe for disaster.
Mr. Johnson. Or Ms. Or Herr. Or Doktor. Or whatever title the Johnson chose. When corporations hired deniable assets for a job, they did it under the cover of a generic name. Johnson in North America. Tanaka in Japan. Wu in China. Schmidt in Germany. Jones in Britain, and so on. This left the shadowrunner in the dark as to whom she was working for—the person and company.
A fixer was the known go-between. They matched corps and runners to work together. Sometimes, the fixer was integral and part of every negotiation and meet. Sometimes, they did nothing but make introductions and leave each party to their fates. They always got paid. Makeda’s fixer had been the latter. It was supposed to be a cakewalk, after all.
A good Johnson was worth gold in both nuyen and consistent work. A bad one would get you killed. All Johnsons worked for themselves and their corporate masters. You worked with them knowing they cared nothing about you except the end results of the run. When it came down to it, all Johnsons were bastards. It seemed that Herr Schmidt was more of one than expected.
Makeda Red Page 5