More than that, you beautiful man. She didn’t say what she thought. Best to leave that inside for now. “When you get an answer from your team, let me know. My thought is once the plane is down, we part ways. If I need to get you out of the Aeropuerto de Málaga, tell me.”
“You won’t. It’s a smaller airport. Just tell your pilot to taxi to the southwest end. There are vehicle pull-ins near there.”
“You tell him not to teach his grandmother to suck eggs.”
Makeda hid her smile at Galen’s annoyance by rubbing her mouth and subvocalized, “I’m fine with the southwest end if MissTree is.”
“Already planned. Stupid meat body trying to tell the rigger what to do. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”
“He’s helping.” Makeda couldn’t stop her smile. She turned her head to hide it and watched the front of the plane.
“Tell him knock it off. This isn’t his team.”
He had a point. Makeda glanced at Imre over her shoulder. “Galen has things in hand.”
Imre nodded, a half-smile struggled to the surface. “I’m sure he does. No disrespect.”
“I’m sure there’s none taken.”
“Says you.” Despite his words, Galen sounded mollified.
“Hush.” Makeda leaned back and closed her eyes.
Landing was smooth and on target. Makeda stretched and yawned, feeling rested and ready for what was next. She reached over and shook Tojo’s knee to wake him, then ignored his momentary panic. “What? What? We’re here?”
“We’re in Spain. Wake up. We’ve got to move.”
HiddenPlath and Saladin exited the plane first and then gave the all clear. Makeda gestured for Imre to disembark.
He paused at the stairs. “There’s a limo coming. Please don’t attack it.” Turning, he took Makeda’s hand in his. “I do owe you one. You may not think so, but I do. If you need anything, you contact me. You’ve got the details.”
She squeezed his hand before letting go, her face guarded. “Maybe dinner or a run in the future. But not until after this one’s done and a distant memory.”
“Agreed. I’ll see you sometime.”
They stopped and watched the limo pull up next to MissTree’s SUV. Saladin nodded to Fatima as she got out of the luxury vehicle. She waved Imre down. Makeda watched Imre disappear into the limo and leave before she beckoned Tojo to come forth.
“Your kind of guy?” Tojo tilted his head. He seemed curious and interested.
Makeda shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“He seemed like a nice enough guy when he wasn’t taking my money from me.”
She shook her head. There was no way to respond to that without insulting the drek out of her client. “C’mon. Galen needs to get this plane home.”
“Every minute you two chat is another nuyen into the radio tower’s pocket.”
Makeda didn’t need to be told twice. She led Tojo down the stairs and over to her waiting team. Plath gestured to the small dark-haired woman in the driver’s seat. “MissTree, this is Makeda.”
The woman wore a sharp, red suit jacket, a white blouse, and a pair of jeans. She screamed corporate casual chic in smart glasses. She also had a couple of blue, swirled tattoos peeking out from her collar and her cuffs. “A pleasure. We should go before someone gets irritated.” She spoke with a pleasant French accent.
Makeda nodded at the woman’s words “Of course. Business later.”
Everyone piled into the SUV. Makeda kept an eye on the roads and tensed at the chaotic driving. Tojo winced and closed his eyes. Makeda wondered if she should slap patch him again. After one near miss, she wanted to slap patch herself.
“You can relax. I can sense danger to the car. I’m following the normal pattern of local driving. No hidden enemies. If someone targets the car, I will know immediately.” MissTree’s voice was cheerful as she wove in and out of the heavy traffic.
Makeda knew he was making fun of her. She made brief eye contact with MissTree in the rearview mirror. “Thank you.” She hoped things worked out with the mage. They were invaluable team members, but sometimes hard to work with. “I need a safe place to call Herr Schmidt.”
HiddenPlath looked over her shoulder. “It’s already set up. We have a private hotel. I gave MissTree the details on what we needed.” “We will be there in twenty minutes. You may make any calls you need.”
“There’s a good chance we’ll have to immediately go out again.” Makeda watched Plath as she spoke to MissTree. From the way the ork gazed at the French woman and the smile on her lips, there was a much better than even chance that Plath and MissTree were already an item. It made Makeda hope all the more that MissTree worked out. Such joys were few in their line of work.
“Also expected.” MissTree glanced at HiddenPlath. “Though, I would ask that we fix all wounds before we meet with Herr Schmidt or whomever he sends. No good looking like you’ve already been run through the ringer.”
Plath turned around and gave Makeda a look. It wasn’t a threat. More protective and a warning. She wasn’t sure that Plath realized she was doing it. Makeda noted it for future teasing. “How much time do you need?”
A message popped up in a private chat from Saladin.
Saladin and Makeda exchanged grins. Sylvia, was it? “You’ll have it,” Makeda said, clutching the “Oh drek” bar. She refused to close her eyes. If she was going to die, she was going to do it knowing what was coming.
“Oh Plath…‘I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed / And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.’ Isn’t that how it goes?” Saladin grinned wide.
HiddenPlath threw a glare at his private teasing. “Shut up.”
* * *
“Yes. It is. ‘I think I made you up inside my head.’” Saladin continued quoting “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath—HiddenPlath’s favorite poet.
Makeda smiled. It was good to be in a safe enough place to be able to joke about a teammate’s love life. This was what she’d been missing the entire time she’d been cut off from her team. Her smile faded. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t caught onto Imre until it was too late. She relied on her team to keep things light. She’d been too comfortable with him. This was a personal flaw she would have to examine later. As Imre said, close in the shadows was dangerous.
The hotel was a square two-story building with a protected inner courtyard. MissTree parked in the back and led them through hallways covered with tiled mosaics filled with vibrant colors. No one peeked out of doorways as they passed by in a parade of non-local clothing, armament, and dried blood.
Makeda wondered if the set up included a bath and a fresh change of clothes. The ones she wore were stiff with sweat and dirt. Even Tojo had quite the scent about him. They’d all showered, but their clothing had not.
“How long do we have this place?” Makeda sent the private comm to HiddenPlath.
“We have the top floor for the next two days. Then we need to move again.”
“All right. Tell MissTree she’s got the time she needs to heal everyone. I want a shower and clean clothes. Or at least a quick dash through some water.”
HiddenPlath dropped back to walk with her, leaving MissTree to lead the way. Saladin stuck next to Tojo. “It may not fit exactly, but there’s some clothes to wear and hot water. MissTree likes her comforts as much as you do.” Plath elbowed Makeda with a smile on her face. One tusk stuck out
at a rakish angle.
Makeda looked down at herself. Mud-spattered boots, torn and dirty pants, borrowed linen blouse. God knew what her hair looked like. Probably sticking out in every direction. It’s not like Vasti had hair gel for her to use. Fortunately for her, natural, kinky curls looked good in every direction. “She going to be able to deal with days in the field, with dirt and muck?”
Plath nodded, face going neutral. “Yes. Though, we don’t usually end up with one of us trekking through the Swiss Alps.”
“No kidding. Not something I want to do again.”
MissTree stopped at the end of the hallway. One side overlooked the inner courtyard with a small fountain, some growing green plants, metal benches, and a blue tiled floor. The other side of the hallway had four doors.
She pointed to the closer doors. “We have these four rooms. The other four rooms on the other side of the top floor are empty and are paid to stay that way. Communal baths and washrooms are at either end of the hallway. Women here. Men down there.”
She handed room keys to Makeda, Saladin, and HiddenPlath. “I had to guess at your sizes. Luckily, Sylvia gave me a good estimate. Here’s a room key and I’ll bring what I have for you.”
The others disappeared into their rooms as Makeda eyed the old-fashioned metal key. A tag hung from it emblazoned with “9” on one side. It was the first door. She couldn’t help but notice it was the same room number as the one she had on the train. She hoped like hell there wouldn’t be a similar end to her stay here.
Tojo shifted from foot to foot, watching with an anxious eye. Makeda suppressed a sigh. “C’mon.” She beckoned him over.
She unlocked the door and took a quick look inside before she let Tojo in. It was a single, simple room without even a closet. A bed with a wooden chair for a night stand were against the far wall. A dresser and a mirror stood against the wall opposite the door. A small couch and a low table sat opposite the bed. Small, functional, and absolutely no place to hide.
Tojo walked in and looked around before sitting on the bed. “Now what?”
Makeda sat on the couch. “You’re nervous. What’s up?”
He shrugged.
“You sure?” She shifted as if to get up and go.
“I…I don’t know. I just…” He gestured helplessly. “New people I don’t know.”
Ah. Imre’s fake friendship and betrayal. “I know them. These are my people. You can trust them to do right by you.” She wasn’t sure on MissTree, yet. He didn’t need to know that.
“You’re sure?”
Tojo’s eyes begged for something she would not give him—emotional comfort. This time, she stood and walked to the door. “I’m positive. Very positive. This is my team. You’re safe. I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” It was the best she would do.
Tojo nodded. “Okay.” He bobbed his head in a bow. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She opened the door and spoke to the group comm. “Saladin, you’re on client watch. I need a shower. Hell, he needs a shower. Babysit him in there.”
“You don’t want to?”
“No. I want some alone time. I need to prep myself for the conversation with Herr Schmidt.” That was an unspoken request to give her ten minutes alone.
All teasing left his voice. “On my way.”
She remained in the doorway. “Now, I’m going to get cleaned up, and Saladin is going to protect you.”
“Protect me? Aren’t we safe here?” He furrowed his brow.
Makeda knew Tojo didn’t want her to leave. She hoped he would get used to disappointment. “Think of Saladin as your escort. Or valet. You’re very important to us. He’ll get you set.” As soon as Saladin reappeared, Makeda turned on her heel and escaped to the baths.
The communal bathroom was broken out into three areas: a changing room, showers, and a tub and sitting area. It had two shower stalls and a large tub that would take forever to fill. Makeda opted for the shower and promised herself a soak after all this was done. For now, the alone time was enough. The ability to hand over a client to one of her team and trust he would be taken care of was a relief after days of depending on only herself.
Getting spoiled by the wireless world.
Makeda acknowledged the thought. Why not? I’ve paid my dues. I’ve been an experienced runner for a while now.
Prime runners die in the shadows as easily as baby runners do. It just takes them longer.
She scowled and hated the ruthless survivor side of her. Her internal argument was headed off at the pass by the sound of the bath door opening. She turned the shower head toward the wall and grabbed the Colt from her pile of dirty clothes. Then she waited behind the shower curtain.
“Makeda?”
It was MissTree. Makeda didn’t lower her pistol. “Yes?”
“I have clothes for you. Where do you want me to put them?”
“In the dressing area is fine.” She tracked the other woman’s movement through the baths. A pause in the dressing area. A pause in the shower area.
“One other thing. When you are ready, we can have that call. I have a hacker standing by. Come to room twelve.”
“That’s good. Thank you. I’ll be there soon.” Makeda listened for movement. MissTree stayed where she was. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes.” MissTree hesitated. “How bad will this get?”
Makeda wanted to laugh. She didn’t. “It could be a cake run, or it could be a nightmare. I don’t see an in-between. Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“Yes, but I will wait until you are out of your shower.”
That was not what Makeda wanted to hear. When a mage said she had a reason for such a question, it probably wasn’t a good one. “All right. Give me ten minutes.”
Makeda listened to the mage leave. She sighed. So much for a relaxing shower.
19
Makeda let everyone know that she was going to call Herr Schmidt and they should be ready to move at a moment’s notice if it all went bad.
She tossed her dirty clothing into her room, then stopped. There was nothing of hers in the room except for her dirty clothes on the bed next to the backpack Vasti gave her. She opened the bag. Not much in it. An empty water bottle, a magazine for her Colt, an unopened MRE, and a half-empty package of Buzzbuzz caffeine chews. She had everything else important on her.
Taking a breath, she took stock and set herself: Tojo was still with Saladin and didn’t need anything. Plath was resting in her room after being healed. MissTree was waiting for her in room twelve. Galen was on his way home. Obscura…Obscura didn’t need anything anymore. Makeda looked at herself in the mirror as she refused to think more along that vein of thought.
It felt good to be in clean clothes, and MissTree did a decent job. Their outfits were almost identical, though the jacket was a burnt- orange color, not as corporate, and filled with pockets. Makeda made do with her boots. Dirty or not, they were still functional and fashionable enough to not stand out in the heat.
Makeda nodded to her reflection. She looked calm, cool, and collected. Perfect for a call with Herr Schmidt. It was time.
She knocked on room twelve. MissTree opened the door and let her in. The hotel room was exactly the same as the one Makeda had been assigned, though it had more hardware. An actual old-time computer, attached to some peripherals Makeda couldn’t identify, sat on the low table along with a headset and extra batteries.
“The public grid is nice, but not secure at all.” MissTree gestured for Makeda to sit on the floor. “So we use our own.” As soon as Makeda was comfortable, MissTree set up a curved rack behind her and hung a red brocade curtain. It made it look like Makeda was in a tent. “We also don’t want anyone to know where we are.”
Makeda nodded. “Smart.”
“Not my first run.” The mage half-smiled at her. “But we can talk about that later.”
Makeda kept her face neutral. Inside, she was pleased at the precautions and the way MissTree used
every interaction as an interview for joining the team. It made Makeda wonder what the mage was like when she was relaxed. That was a question for HiddenPlath. “Yes. But, before we do this call, there is something you want to tell me?”
MissTree slowed her movements. “I have…a couple of my spirit friends sense danger about all this. Forthcoming danger.”
“More than normal?”
“More than normal. They don’t usually natter at me. But something bad is going to happen, and soon. I think I should be there on the drop. Just in case.”
Makeda hmmed in a non-committal manner. “Let me think about it.” She watched the mage, gauging her reaction. But MissTree seemed calm; her message had been given. It was back to business.
“Everything is set up. I’ll ping my friend.”
“Your friend?”
MissTree gave her a polite smile. “My hacker friend. They wish to remain anonymous.”
Makeda narrowed her eyes. “Can they be discreet?”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
“Good. I guess you are coming to the drop.” Makeda understood MissTree’s hesitance to give her the hacker’s name. Trust was earned in the shadows, and you didn’t just give out a name without someone’s permission. Still, she didn’t like not knowing who was running the wires behind the scene.
The two women locked eyes for a long moment before MissTree nodded. “Ready to connect?”
Makeda nodded. She pulled up the comm program and pinged Herr Schmidt with: One fish, two fish. She watched the cursor blink, settling into a cool, professional mode. When then the response came back: I don’t like blue, Makeda accepted the incoming call.
Herr Schmidt appeared in all his blue-eyed, blond-haired glory. With his impeccable suit and cleft chin, Makeda thought Imre was right. The man really was the Aryan wet dream.
He smiled a killing smile. “Frau Makeda, Wie geht es Ihnen?”
“You know I don’t speak German, Herr Schmidt.” This was a lie. Makeda had taken the time to download a skillsoft package of Romance languages while she was in the shower. But it was better to be underestimated.
Makeda Red Page 17