Makeda Red

by Jennifer Brozek

  Makeda smiled wide and got to her feet. She gave Galen a hug. “How’d you get here? I thought you were…” she glanced at Imre, “…at home.”

  “Not when you needed rescuing.”

  “My hero.” She sobered. “Seriously though, how are we going to get out of here? Switzerland isn’t the best at letting people in and out.”

  TechnoGalen shook his head. “Took care of it. At least in the short term. Got all the proper everything. Plus, we aren’t in the chopper for long.” He looked around the vehicle through his cybereyes. “But I’m gonna miss her.”

  “I don’t want to know what all this cost, do I?”

  “No. But you will. You’ve got to chip in.”

  Makeda had a sudden realization and looked around. “Where’s Tojo?”

  “You mean my sleeping co-pilot?” Galen pointed at the other chair.

  Makeda craned her head to see. Tojo was curled up in the chair, hugging his shoulder bag. He wore headphones and a white patch on his neck. “What happened?”

  Saladin gestured for Imre to move to one of the side seats and came forward. “I grabbed him as soon as he came in. Put him in my seat. He was freaking out. Didn’t need him doing that. Besides, I’m sure he needed the sleep.”

  “And the headset?”

  “I’ve got those turned off. It’s mostly to muffle the sound. He’ll sleep until we switch to a plane.” Galen shrugged. “Did what we needed to.”

  Makeda nodded and looked back at the covered body. “How much time do we have?” This time, her grief would not be denied. She turned her head, blinking away the tears that sprang forth, unwanted but there nonetheless.

  “Enough for you to send word and stuff.” Galen patted her hand and turned back to the cockpit.

  Saladin and HiddenPlath sat together. He checked on her wound and grimaced. She grimaced, too. The two of them put their heads together, speaking over a private comm.

  Makeda knelt next to Obscura’s body with her back to the rest. She let the tears come, silent messages of a painful good-bye. Then she smiled, helpless to do anything else as she thought of the dirty jokes Obscura would whisper to her from time to time. The woman was—had been—sharp. A good member of the team. She’d also wanted out of the shadows. That’s partly what this run was for her—her last.

  “In more ways than one,” Makeda whispered. She pulled back the tarp and gazed at the small Japanese mage. A single shot to the head. It was the golden rule of a fight in the shadows: Geek the mage first. Makeda removed all jewelry, fetishes, and identification from Obscura’s body. When there was nothing left but her clothing, Makeda covered Obscura up again and tied the tarp around her like a shroud.

  “Galen, we got a plan for bodies?” Makeda didn’t have one. She kept the question to a private channel. When you ran the shadows, you assumed you’d be victorious. To do otherwise was a fast death. You needed to believe you were immortal. The run may suck, but you would survive.

  “I can ask when we get to where we’re going. I also have instructions for what to do with her things.”

  “Thanks.”

  Makeda patted the tarp-wrapped body once and wiped her face.

  Then she returned to her seat next to Imre and sighed.

  “How long did you run with her?” He kept his voice low and respectful.

  “Long enough. She was a good one.” Makeda leaned against the hard metal of the chopper wall. “She was my queen of No. No, you can’t see us. No, you can’t hear us. No, you can’t shoot us. I’m going to miss her. She was a trustworthy team member, but…” Makeda sighed, “we weren’t really close.”

  It was a lie, of course. The lie about her personal life was an automatic thing. Obscura had been a friend. They had gone shopping together and drinking together, and they had bled together. They hadn’t been lovers, but they had been friends. That was something Makeda could admit to herself, even if she refused to admit it to Imre. Part of her wished Obscura had been a lover. Lovers were easier to leave behind than friends. Lovers always left. Real friends didn’t. At least, not in her heart.

  “Close in the shadows is dangerous.” Imre leaned forward on his elbows and gazed at his hands. They were silent for a few long moments. Then he straightened up. “We have a transaction to finish, you and I. I got you to your ride.”

  “Ah. Yes.” Makeda packaged up the elevator maintenance codes and encrypted them before she e-mailed the lot to his secured account, knowing Galen had their connection locked down tight. “You have mail. Passive acceptance only, please. Nothing out for the moment. Passphrase is AlphaGhoul. One word, capital A, capital G.”

  Imre gazed at his hands for a long time. “Got it. Thanks.”

  She deleted the copy of the codes she had in temporary storage, keeping the encrypted copy in her protected folder. “I’m keeping my copy. We’ll be using them. For now we don’t plan to sell them. Or, if we do, only one at a time.”

  “No use glutting the market.”

  “Or letting people know we have them.” Makeda shifted toward him, reached out a hand, and raised his chin so their eyes met. She turned the gesture into a caress. “I gotta ask, who hired you to get the codes? I need to know if it’s the same guy who hired me to do the extraction.”

  “Herr Schmidt. German. White male. Blond. Clean cut. Aryan wet dream, really.” His lip wrinkled into a sneer.

  “Sounds like him.” Makeda nodded. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t already known. This was just for confirmation. Do your due diligence.

  Imre glanced at Saladin and HiddenPlath with their heads together. “I wonder if he hired out a third job that ended up with the tracks blown.”

  “I don’t know, but something’s not right with this guy. You don’t do two runs on the same target in the same location without telling the other team unless…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Unless you want it to go wrong.”

  “I want to know why he didn’t just have you get the codes from Tojo. That would’ve been the smarter decision. Probably cheaper, too.” Imre let his gaze drop to the tarp-wrapped body for a second. “Why two teams?”

  “Don’t know. I do know that after I get Tojo to his drop point, I’m washing my hands of this particular Johnson.” Makeda looked out the front window of the helicopter as it started to dip. “Either way, you and I are even.”

  “I actually think I owe you one.” Imre gave her a soft smile. “Not officially. I’ve paid dearly for this ride. But, in general. I think you’ve earned that much. I mean, I wouldn’t have thought to stay in the helicopter. Doing so probably saved my team time. Maybe saved my life.”

  Makeda watched him out of the corner of her eye. “Thanks. Not sure I’m going to ever use it. I think I’ll go home, take a break, and figure out what’s next.”

  “Take a vacation? No such thing in the shadows.” He smiled then shrugged. “As you will. You know how to get in contact with me.”

  The two of them lapsed into silence. A few minutes later, the helicopter landed in a grassy field next to a private landing strip. It was a well-maintained, paved airstrip in the middle of the boonies. It was also used a lot by the locals if the large plane garages lined up on either side of the smooth tarmac was any indication. The fact that it was a paved strip instead of dirt said that this was a serious set of flyers with a decent amount of money to spend.

  Makeda suspected that this airstrip was used for a lot more than hobby flying. She transferred 10,000 nuyen to each of the surviving members of her team. She kept Obscura’s share to see who the woman left behind. Galen would give her the details when they had a chance to grieve in private and settle Obscura’s affairs properly.

  As TechnoGalen motored down the ramp and out of the helicopter to the waiting dwarf, Makeda peeled the sleep patch from Tojo’s neck and removed the headset. She tapped his face as she shoved the sleep patch into her pocket. “Wake up, nemu-sōna hito. We’re switching to a plane. Wake up.”

  Tojo blinked his eyes open. “What happened?�
��

  “You went to sleep. You got into the helicopter and checked out.”

  He sat up, looking around. His eyes hardened. “Did you drug me?”

  “Nope.” It was the truth. She hadn’t drugged him. “Sometimes, when things are stressful, clients just shut down.” Makeda shrugged, making it a casual gesture. She knew that trust was broken, and she wasn’t going to get it back in a day. Then again, she was all he had. “It happens. Don’t worry about it. You needed the sleep.” She helped him out of the helicopter.

  “You know, this has been different. And exciting. But, I kinda hate it. When will we get there?” Tojo’s brave façade crumbled into something tired and worn.

  Makeda patted his shoulder, thankful it’d taken this long for him to get to the “are we there yet?” stage. This was why she liked to keep most extraction clients drugged to the gills until she handed them off to their new corporate masters. “Not long. A flight to Spain. A meeting with your final transport guy, and then you’ll be there.”

  She had no idea if she was lying or not. That was the scheduled plan. Get to Málaga, make contact, drop Tojo off, and get paid. She had told him the truth as she knew it. Then again, plans had an unfortunate habit of dropping by the wayside when the shadows and corps were involved. Not that he needed to know that. Ignorance was bliss.

  “Okay. That’s good. Really good.” Tojo looked up as Imre approached. “I’ll be home soon,” he told him. “I’ll have some stories to tell my new friends.”

  “Yeah? Nice to hear.” Imre turned to Makeda. “Can I comm out from here?”

  She shook her head. “Best not. Wait until we’re in Spain. I’d rather we be as far from here as we plan to get.”

  “All right. My message can wait.” Imre eyed the two rows of plane garages. “I just wanted to make sure everyone made it out.”

  “I don’t want to sound callous, but—” Makeda glanced down at her scuffed boots, “—that news can wait. If they didn’t, they won’t be looking for your call. If they did, happy news keeps.”

  Imre didn’t say anything for a long moment. He stared at the airplane garages. It looked like he was counting them. “Point conceded. I wonder what it costs to live up here…wherever this is.”

  Makeda scanned the garages. Thirty in all, by her quick count. “More than I have for the moment. Maybe someday, but not right now.”

  TechnoGalen left the dwarf’s side and beckoned Makeda over. She hunkered down to be on the same eye-level with him. “What’s up?”

  “My friend, ah, Herr Keller, said he’ll take care of the body. No charge. Though Plath bleeding all over the place is an extra cleaning charge.”

  Makeda sighed. “We’ve got the nuyen, and we’re still going to come out in the black. Especially with the bulk of the payment coming when we get to Spain.” She hoped she wasn’t fooling herself with her optimism.

  “He also asked me to take care of his jet. He pulled out the pilot seat to fit me and my chair. I think he’s trying to sell her to me, and considers this a test drive.” Galen dimpled at her, wrinkles creasing his tanned skin around his eyes. “I think he wants to buy something newer and shinier. Don’t blame him. There’s always something newer and shinier to buy.”

  “What you do with your nuyen is your own business. Mine is dealing with Herr Schmidt once we get to Spain.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t get the same welcome there that we got in Bern.” Galen spun his wheelchair around and rolled to “Herr Keller.”

  “From your lips…” Makeda glanced at Imre and Tojo. She would be glad to see the back of Tojo. She smiled to herself. She’d always be glad to see Imre’s backside—from an aesthetic point of view.

  Her smile disappeared. She hoped their arrival in Málaga was as boring as boring could be. Then again, the most dangerous part of a run was the final hand-off. It was the last chance for betrayal, and more than one corporate Johnson had tried to take advantage of it. Herr Schmidt seemed to be that type. Makeda narrowed her eyes. She’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen.

  18

  “When we get to Málaga, I’m just dropping you off.” Galen had a tired, boneless look to him as he leaned back in his wheelchair. He was jacked into the small jet, flying it without looking at the main instrument panel on a physical level. He focused on Makeda, intent on being heard. “I need to get home. Things have been weird on this run. Also, I know the new mage, MissTree, has a hacker lined up for you. That’s what Plath told me.”

  “They won’t be as good as you, but I understand. I don’t blame you.” Makeda stared out the cockpit window. “This one has backstab and double-cross written all over it.” She took a breath. “I’ll get paid— we’ll get paid—when I drop Tojo off. Should be within a day of us getting to Spain. I’ll wire you your share.”

  Galen didn’t say anything for a long time. Makeda thought he looked like he’d fallen asleep. She knew that wasn’t the case. Sometimes though, he moved inward and forgot there was a meat body conversation going on. If there was more to say, he’d comm it to her. She got up to return to the back of the plane when he grabbed her hand. “I got a bad feeling about this one. Maybe not drop him off?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And do what with him? He’s not cut out for the shadows.” Makeda shook her head. “I don’t want to babysit him for the rest of my life. He’s got a cushy corp job waiting for him. He can go back to being a happy, oblivious salaryman. He’s looking forward to it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me.” Makeda sighed. “He’s had enough adventure for one lifetime.”

  Galen tapped her wrist. “You be real careful with the drop off. I don’t trust this.”

  “Neither do I. But that’s life in the shadows.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m serious.”

  “I’ll be super careful. Promise.” She squeezed his small hand. “You fly home safe. Ping me when you touch down. Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Makeda stretched as much as she could in the small plane. Pausing in the doorway between the cockpit and the cabin, she gazed at her charges. Imre looked like he was asleep, but he had his eyes cracked just enough to give himself away. Tojo was asleep again. A real one this time. Saladin bent to check on HiddenPlath’s wound. She slapped his hand away from her leg without opening her eyes.

  “Status?” Saladin asked over the comms.

  HiddenPlath blinked a couple of times and turned her eyes to Makeda.

  “As planned, though TechnoGalen is going back to Belgium after dropping us off in Spain. We’ll have to find a different way home.” She paused before asking, “Anyone want to join him?”

  Saladin shook his head.

  “You need me. I’m not as bad off as this worrywart thinks I am.” HiddenPlath touched the wound in her thigh. “MissTree will heal me as soon as we get there.”

  Makeda glanced at Tojo. “Right. Then the plan sticks. We go to the haven MissTree set up, and I’ll contact Herr Schmidt to get a drop off point.”

  She hadn’t met the prospective new healer yet, but Makeda appreciated the language play in her name. She also appreciated the fact that HiddenPlath trusted the woman so much. Plath was shy around new people and gregarious with her team. You wouldn’t think an ork could be shy, but you would be wrong. They had their quirks just like everyone else. It was why she’d been quiet for most of the trip. Tojo was nothing more than a package and Imre, well, he could be many things. Part of the team wasn’t one of them.

  “You gonna interview MissTree for the next job?” This came over the general team comms.

  Plath really must like the healer. Makeda nodded. “Yes. No worries. As soon as Tojo is handed off, we can have dinner together.”

  “It’s been a while,” Saladin chimed in. “All work and no play.”

  “Awww. And I’m gonna miss it.” TechnoGalen bounced a frowny face through the general comm.

  “Nah.” Makeda erased the frowny face and replaced it with a smil
ing one. “Just ride with me. You can be my roll-buddy.”

  “Har-har.”

  Imre beckoned to Makeda.

  “Back on the clock.” The group sobered as she headed over to Imre and sat. “What’s up?”

  “Got an ETA on when we’ll land?” He didn’t look her in the face. Instead, he watched his hands.

  “Forty minutes. Five to taxi,” Galen supplied.

  “Forty-five, fifty minutes on the outside.” Makeda tilted her head, watching him. “Why?”

  Imre looked out the jet window. “I need to inform my team and get a status update. I still want to know if everyone made it.”

  Makeda had forgotten that Imre didn’t know who was alive, dead, captured, or free on his team. He’d been a lot more patient than she would’ve been. She would’ve been climbing the walls. Though, she did hold the cards here. It paid for him to be patient, even if he was at his patience’s end. “All right. Can you do an e-mail burst? Or do you need a sustained chat?”

  “E-mail is fine. Nothing’s come in, but I haven’t forced the sync.”

  “I’ve got everything obfuscated, routed, and bouncing.”

  “Galen’s got you covered. Just try to keep everything to a minimum. I think we’re fine, but with this run, better safe than sorry.”

  “You sound like me to my team.”

  The two of them exchanged a knowing smirk. “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. In this particular case, we both know they’re out to get me. Maybe you. I’m not sure.” She paused before she added, “I’d change my hair color if I were you. You stand out.”

  Imre flushed. “Top of the list. It worked great on the Party Train. Perfect camouflage. The only thing everyone’s going to remember is the mint color of my hair, and nothing else.”