He made an attempt at an apologetic expression. “Ah. Let me begin again. Hello, Frau Makeda. I trust you traveled well?”
Makeda nodded. “I’m in Málaga and ready to drop off your package. I need the address.”
Herr Schmidt leaned back. “There’s some talk on the news of the train wreck. You are missing. So is my package. There are search parties out looking for you both.”
“You didn’t happen to have anything to do with the train wreck, did you? I know you had a lot of work happening during the party.”
His eyes hardened. “We all have work to do. First, I need—as you say—proof of life. The Captain will be paying you upon delivery. I need to know my package is alive.”
“One moment.” Makeda turned from the screen and covered her mouth as she subvocalized. “Saladin, bring Tojo here. Tell him not to say anything and not to knock over the backdrop. He’s just to wave to Herr Schmidt.”
“Acknowledged.”
Makeda turned back to the laptop. “He’s coming.”
The two of them stared at each other through the screen. Someone off to the side spoke in German. Text appeared to the side of Herr Schmidt’s face. Makeda kept her surprise concealed.
< “The signal is obfuscated. I can’t tell if it’s coming from Spain or not.” >
* * *
Herr Schmidt nodded to his left, pursing his lips. “All is well?” Makeda leaned forward.
“Yes. Yes. A man’s work is never done.”
MissTree opened the door at the knock. Saladin and Tojo stood there. Tojo looked much more relaxed now that he was cleaned up and had rested. His hair was combed, and he wore a loose blue tunic and matching pants. Saladin gestured Tojo inside and remained in the doorway.
Tojo gave the backdrop curtain a look, then shrugged. He knelt next to the low table and leaned in so he could see Herr Schmidt and be seen.
The blond man nodded to Tojo. “Kon’nichiwa, Isoshi-san. Daijōbudesuka?”
Tojo nodded and bowed. “Hai, Schmidt-sama.” He glanced at Makeda. She nodded. “Ie ni suru junbi ga dekimashita.”
“Sugu ni.”
As they spoke, the English translation appeared on the screen: Hello Isoshi-san. Are you OK?
Yes, Schmidt-sama. Ready to be home.
Soon.
Tojo gave Makeda a questioning look. She returned it with a bland, pleasant smile. “That will be all, Tojo.” He bowed to her and backed up. Saladin was there to escort him back to the hotel room.
“Enough proof of life for you? Your package is safe, sound, and secure.”
“Yes. I’m sending you the time and place of the drop. Captain Harrak will pay you the remainder of your fee upon delivery. Do not be late.”
“We won’t be. Thank you.”
As soon as the file finished uploading, Herr Schmidt cut the connection without a good-bye.
Makeda leaned back as MissTree removed the backdrop. “I like your hacker. The translations helped.”
“I didn’t realize the conversation would be in multiple languages. As soon as you said you didn’t speak German, I had my friend translate everything that wasn’t English.” MissTree shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“Nope.” Makeda looked at the delivered file for the information on the drop. An hour from now. Not much time. “Málaga Marina. What do you know about this location?”
MissTree shook her head. “Not too much. It’s not far from here and in the better end of town. Rich tourists. I know a lot of discreet business happens there. I know there are some good vantage points where you can watch the piers if you have the right equipment. I’ve not done business there myself. I know some who have.” She smiled. “I’ve heard that no one ever sees anything that happens there.”
“An hour isn’t much time.” Makeda considered. “Right. You and HiddenPlath will provide cover for me and Tojo. Saladin will operate.” She tapped her lip. “I’ll talk to Saladin about the specifics. He’ll loop you into the internal comms.
MissTree nodded. “As you wish.”
The drop point was a pier on the far end of the Málaga Marina. While there was no gate guard, there were cameras everywhere. Not surprising, considering the number of sail boats and speedboats moored to the piers. Makeda and Tojo walked side by side down the boardwalk.
“Are you sure this is going to be all right?” Tojo craned his head around, looking at the parking lot, then the boats, then back again.
Makeda adjusted the sunglasses she’d borrowed from MissTree. “Yes.” She couldn’t fault him for his nervousness. He didn’t have her team in his head with him. Saladin operated the group, keeping track of everyone and an eye on the law enforcement in the area. As they walked, HiddenPlath and MissTree kept watch from different parts of the marina. Both were armed with scoped rifles.
Tojo hung back. “Why aren’t you going with me?”
“I’ve already explained this.” Makeda linked her arm within his. “Because I’m not going to be your live-in bodyguard at your cushy new job. You won’t need me.” She pulled him when he resisted. “Look, I understand you’re nervous. Fear keeps you alive. If you’re afraid, you’re still living. Now, c’mon. The ship is waiting for you.”
Tojo relented and walked alongside her again, clutching her arm in a sweaty hand.
Ahead, at the end of the boardwalk, a gruff man in all-weather gear and a cap waited next to the small gate onto one of the floating piers. On the other side of the gate, a younger dusky-skinned man in an identical sailor’s unofficial uniform waited. They talked and smoked, watching the pair of them approach.
The older man stubbed his cigarette out and walked toward them. He met them a few meters from the gate. “Why would a man like to starve better?” he asked without preamble.
Makeda didn’t hesitate with her answer even though the strength of the cigarette smell made her want to cough or gag…or both. “Better to enjoy his feast in heaven.” She didn’t understand the call and refrain. The phrases made no sense to her. It was probably a local saying that didn’t translate well into English.
He nodded to her then turned a gruff gaze on Tojo. “I’m Captain Harrak. This is my passenger?”
To his credit, Tojo stood his ground. He gave the Captain a haughty look.
Makeda nodded. “Yes. This is Tojo Isoshi. He is your passenger once I have full payment.” She ignored the slumping of Tojo’s shoulders and the almost wounded look he gave her as he realized that he really was just part of a transaction to her. Nothing more.
Harrak patted his various pockets until he found the one he wanted. He pointed to Tojo and made a “stop” motion with his hand before he beckoned Makeda to come with him toward the gate. She extricated her arm from Tojo’s hand and followed, also gesturing for Tojo to stay put.
Once they were out of earshot, Harrak showed Makeda the certified credstick. 110,000 nuyen glowed at her. She tilted her head. It was 10,000 nuyen too much. The Captain grinned, one gold canine gleaming. “Herr Schmidt is happy with your speed.”
Makeda accepted the credstick, making it disappear into her pocket. “Pass on my gratitude. He’s all yours.” She turned to walk away.
He grabbed her forearm, halting her. “You need to escort him to the boat personally. He is yours until he is on the boat. Then he is mine. These are Herr Schmidt’s orders.”
Makeda gave him a look at the unexpected command. All of her alarm bells sounded at once. “All right.” As she returned to Tojo, she subvocalized, “Heads up everyone. If something’s gonna happen, this is it.”
She squared her shoulders and pasted a lying smile to her face. “All is well. Time to go.” Linking arms with Tojo once more, she led him to Captain Harrak.
The gruff man eyed Tojo with suspicion. “Do you get seasick?”
Tojo shook his head.
Makeda thought he was going to get sick right then and there. She squeezed his arm. He gave her a wan smile.
“In case you do.” Harrak handed Tojo a small p
ackage of over-the-counter anti-nausea medicine. “Tastes like berries.”
“Thank you.” Tojo gave him a small bow. Then he shoved the package into his shoulder bag.
The trio of them walked to the small pier gate. It wasn’t more than a clear door with a punch code. You could get around it if you had a bit of agility and luck. Captain Harrak punched in the numbers 8-4- 8-6 and opened the door for them. He gestured to the younger man. “Follow Eduardo.”
The walk down the pier was one of the longest Makeda had ever taken. There was no cover that wasn’t in the water or breaking into someone else’s boat. The whole pier swayed with their collective stride. Only the large boat at the end of the pier and Captain Harrak’s clomping steps behind them kept her from spiraling into complete paranoia.
Over and over, she listened to Saladin, HiddenPlath, and MissTree clear the areas around the quartet. No one watching. No one aiming. No one loitering. Just the four of them on a late afternoon in the middle of the week. It was as expected. Except MissTree’s spirit friends had said different.
“Here we are. This is the Ciervo Saltando. The Leaping Buck.” Captain Harrak hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “She is mine.” His smile peeked out from his beard as he puffed his chest with pride. For a moment, the old captain gazed up on the boat in silence, giving a heaviness to the exchange.
“‘And know that it was meant to be sailed upon,’” Makeda quoted. Captain Harrak grinned at her. “Well, Captain, my ward is now yours.”
“Si.” He gestured to their fourth. “Eduardo.”
No other command was needed. The younger sailor took Tojo by the elbow and guided him to the boat, pointing at the ladder to reach out to and climb.
Tojo paused before he got on the boat. “Good-bye, Makeda.”
“Happy sailing.” Makeda did not wave good-bye to him. They were not friends. He was a job and nothing more. Fully paid and job done, she nodded to Harrak. “Captain.”
“Señora.” He turned to watch Eduardo and Tojo get on the boat. Makeda walked away. She did not look back or to the sides.
She kept her head high. The entire walk back up the pier, Makeda felt watched. Even the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. “Anything?” she murmured under her breath.
“Nothing here,” Saladin confirmed. “Still all clear.”
“MissTree? What about your little friends?” Makeda stopped at the clear door, grateful for its small amount of cover.
“Still antsy.”
That was not the answer Makeda wanted to hear.
“Stay sharp, Makeda. Walk back to the parking lot and to the car. Don’t deviate, no matter what.”
“Acknowledged.” Makeda breathed a calming breath as she pushed through the door, stepping from the pier back onto the boardwalk. It felt good to be on solid ground again. She counted her steps as she walked.
As runs went, she’d been on worse ones, but not by much. At least she hadn’t been shot or stabbed on this one. Even if she did have to hike through the Alps and be attacked by corpsec. They’d gotten out, and Tojo was on his way to his new home—wherever that was. She shook her head at the folly of not knowing who you’d be working for when you agreed to run away from the corp you were working with. Tojo had not asked the right questions.
Then again, wasn’t that what shadowrunners did when they worked with a Johnson? They often didn’t know who they actually worked for or the corporation the Johnson represented. The irony of the realization made her smile as it flitted through her head.
She continued to count.
Plath’s voice broke through as Makeda reached step eighty. “The Ciervo Saltando has pulled away from the pier.”
When MissTree’s little red Honda came into view, she relaxed. Perhaps everything was going to be fine after all and the mage’s spirits were wrong. Makeda could almost taste that celebratory drink…
At step ninety-two, HiddenPlath spoke again. “Uh, why are Harrak and the other sailor leaving the boat?”
20
Makeda stutter-stepped. Only Saladin’s sharp, “Makeda, keep going!” kept her from looking back. Flicking her eyes around, looking for enemies, Makeda saw nothing unusual. Still, her skin crawled with the paranoid, intuitive knowledge that she was in someone’s crosshairs. “Plath, status?” Saladin remained calm, continuing to operate.
“The Ciervo Saltando is still motoring out of the harbor and into Málaga Bay. The other two have been met by a small speedboat. No name or number.”
“Keep track of both.”
“Acknowledged.”
Makeda hit the parking lot, walking fast. She adjusted her sunglasses and flicked through the range of her cybereyes, looking for hidden people. Thermal was almost useless in the heat, but it still worked. No one around the small car she’d used to get here. No one at all in the parking lot. Part of her thought it was unusual. Part of her stated she wasn’t a sailor, didn’t know the area, and had no idea what kind of movement happened in the marina on a weekday, late afternoon.
“The Ciervo Saltando is in the bay now, moving south. I—frag!”
The explosion was loud despite the distance between them. Makeda flinched a little and looked toward the sound. She slowed her steps, confused. “What was that? Was that the Ciervo Saltando?”
“Yes. And sinking fast.”
“Drek—”
Saladin’s voice broke in and pushed her forward. “Keep going, Makeda. Get in the car and drive. Debrief later. Pick up MissTree as previously discussed.”
The operator was God during a run unless the runner had information the operator didn’t. Right now, Makeda had no information. She did as she was told. It was better than dealing with the train wreck of thoughts in her head. She’d done everything right. Yet, the Ciervo Saltando was sunk, and the package was dead.
“Makeda, acknowledge.”
She blinked. “Acknowledged. Picking up MissTree as planned.”
Already, she could hear the loud sirens of the local police in the distance, coming nearer. They would have her on camera, walking Tojo to the boat, and the boat exploding. They wouldn’t have Captain Harrak and Eduardo getting off the boat and speeding away. No cameras at sea. Not that she knew. There might be. That might save her.
Makeda looked into the car before she unlocked it and got in. It was an automatic action. With her hands on the steering wheel, she didn’t see anything in front of her for a moment. Flashes of the plan whipped through her brain as she tried to figure out where she went wrong. She shook her head. Later. She would figure it out later. Makeda started the car and drove it out of the marina. She refused to look at the cameras she passed as she went.
“Frag. The package is dead. Tojo…” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Saladin answered her in that calm, just-buying-groceries- totally-in-control voice.
“We will discuss that when we are all in a secure location. MissTree, status.”
“I will be at the drop off point in five.”
“Good. HiddenPlath?”
“Harrak and speedboat are headed southwest. Losing sight of them.”
“Right. Wrap it up. Everyone back to home base.”
Makeda stopped listening and focused on the road. Málaga’s traffic was chaotic at best and lethal at worst. Fast speeds and rotundas made for dangerous driving conditions. The only benefit to such traffic was the fact that no one could tell if you were trying to speed away from a crime or not. Everyone drove like they were.
She saw MissTree as she zipped out of a roundabout and down a side street. Makeda stopped the little Honda next to the mage and got out of the car. MissTree cocked her head to the side, then hurried around to the driver’s side while the cars behind them blared their horns before whipping past.
The two women rode in silence. MissTree drove as Makeda examined the new problem from all angles. She had done what Herr Schmidt wanted. She had delivered the package to the person and place of his choice. His man paid her and mentioned Herr Schmidt. In Spa
in, Mr. Johnson usually went by the surname Fernandez. Thus, it was the same Johnson. His man then left the boat, knowing it was doomed. Logic said this was all part of Herr Schmidt’s plan.
“Then why the proof of life?” It was a rhetorical question. Not one she expected an answer to.
MissTree answered it anyway. “To see if he had to destroy his boat or not.” A moment later, she added, “Resource management. Pah. Germans.” This last was a curse. “They need their asses kicked every hundred years, or they get uppity. They are overdue.”
Makeda studied MissTree’s profile. “I need to contact Herr Schmidt again.”
“It will be double with what just happened.”
“Can you negotiate it down?”
She shook her head. “No. Everyone’s going to be snooping comm traffic, looking for the cause of the explosion and the reason. Explosions, even ones that do no damage, are news. I’m not sure my friend will even accept the job.”
“All right. Pay it. I’ve got to talk to Schmidt. I need to know if he thinks I failed or what. But first, we need to stop at a store. I need to get a few things.”
MissTree did not ask questions. She nodded and whipped the car to the right, cutting off another car, earning its wrath with the blaring of its horn. “I know where to go.”
By the time the two women returned to the hotel, Saladin had it on lockdown. The front desk was closed for the day, and HiddenPlath stood sentry in the hallway with an Uzi III in one hand and a Colt M23 assault rifle hanging next to the other.
“Took you long enough.” Saladin was armed with Ares Predator pistols.
HiddenPlath and MissTree exchanged a long look that spoke volumes before the mage disappeared into her room to set up another call to Herr Schmidt.
Makeda watched this without comment, figuring the two women were talking on a private channel. “I know. Needed some things. What can you tell me?”
“Right now, the explosion is a huge mystery, and no one knows anything.” Saladin walked with her to her hotel room. “No police statement, yet.”
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