Makeda Red

by Jennifer Brozek

  “If that’s the case, then the rebuild fund is a loan. Forty percent of the profit.”

  “I’m doing you a favor. You have to leave. Who else can you sell it to? Who else can you trust to take care of it enough for you to profit from it when you’re gone? Ten percent.”

  “I’m giving you a new start. A new place to make your own. A location people already know. Thirty percent.”

  Makeda eyed him. From the look on his face, he’d already given up this building as a loss, and was just going through the motions of the bargaining. “Twenty percent of the profit for five years, plus repayment of the build loan…and you give me a list of contacts that you’ll vouch for and vouch me to. In the shadows and the light.”

  “Twenty-five percent.” Imre smiled at her and held out his hand.

  “Twenty percent. And I’ll give you a ride to the airport.” She grabbed his hand to shake.

  “With my car.” He laughed and shook with her. “Deal.” Imre made the changes in the ARO. “So eager to see me leave?”

  Makeda stopped smiling. “No. That’s the worst part of this.”

  “No, the worst part is that I let you bargain me down from ten years to five and I didn’t even notice.” He tilted his head. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been exiled before. It’s not like we’re saying good-bye forever.”

  He slid the new contract to her. “Besides, Kraken is coming with me. Same with Bobishere2. I’ll try to find out if Pongolyn and Ollietronic are dead or alive as well. See if they want to meet up again now that the heat is off.”

  “Not Fatima?”

  “No. She’s going to keep an eye on my interest in this place for me. Besides, I think she’s got something going with Saladin.”

  Makeda raised an eyebrow. “Really? That sneaky guy. Good for them. It’s about time he chose someone for himself.”

  “You treat her well. She’s loyal and good.”

  “I will. If she chooses to work with me. I’m not going to make that assumption. She could beat me up.”

  “You and me both.”

  Makeda doubted that. Then she read through the contract in silence. When she was satisfied everything was in order, she signed it, remembering to sign as Rune Red.

  Imre glanced over it, barely looking at her electronic signature. “I guess that’s it.”

  “Yes. Now what?”

  “Now, I leave you to your gilded prison, while I go into exile.”

  “You make it sound like so much fun.” Makeda threw off the morose mood that threatened and grinned wide. “It’s going to be. Here’s to new beginnings.” She got up and leaned over the desk to kiss him. He accepted the kiss, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek. Makeda gazed at him with a sly smile. “How much time do we have before you leave?”

  “Enough, if you wish.”

  “I wish.”

  Imre stood and opened his arms. “My command.”

  As she slid into his embrace, they both knew this would be their real good-bye, said more with their bodies than their words.

  Makeda got out of the car and walked around to the trunk as Imre pulled a small suitcase from it. The busy Rabat International Airport buzzed all around them. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

  He put the suitcase on the ground. “Thank you for not shooting me in the Swiss Alps.”

  “It was a close thing.”

  “I know.” Imre gave her a hug then searched her eyes. “Why Rune?”

  Makeda smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “We all come from somewhere.”

  “That’s not really an answer.”

  “I know. Now you’ll have something to ask me when you return.” She cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. “Someday.”

  “I will see you again.” Imre leaned in close. They kissed long and slow. “You taste like nostalgia,” he murmured to her lips.

  “So do you.”

  A smile lit up his handsome face. He picked up his bag and tilted an imaginary hat to her. Then he turned and walked into the airport. Makeda watched until he disappeared into the crowd. Dry-eyed, she got into the car and gestured for Saladin to drive.

  “Not going to wait?”

  “No. No need.” It was always easier to say good-bye to lovers than friends. This time was no exception.

  He pulled out into traffic. “Now what?”

  Makeda watched the Rabat traffic go by. “Now, it’s time for me to design Rune’s Avatar Café. If I’m going to be stuck in Morocco like Rick in Casablanca, I might as well make the most of it.”

  Bonus Story

  RUNE’S AVATAR CAFÉ

  (FIVE YEARS LATER…)

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The short story, “Rune’s Avatar Café,” was written long before the novel Makeda Red. John Helfers asked me to write a Shadowrun story for the World of Shadows anthology (Catalyst Game Labs, 2015) and stipulated that it needed to be set in a currently unused area of the world. We wanted to broaden Shadowrun’s horizons in a visceral, fictional way. I agreed.

  Casablanca is a classic movie not easily forgotten. Morocco is a law unto itself, even in this day and age. I couldn’t see that changing in the 6th World. I decided I wanted to create a direct homage to the movie with this short story. As you will read (or reread) you will see that it is more of a love story to the movie and its concepts than an homage.

  Years later, I was still so enamored of the main character, Rune—my Rick equivalent—that I jumped at the chance to tell her back story. Thus, Makeda Red was born. This is where that story was conceived.

  Rune’s Avatar Café

  Rune remotely watched the beautiful blonde dwarf down shot after shot of her best sake. She shook her head, knowing Eva was just waiting for her.

  She threw a silent message over the Café’s internal comm channel to Saladin. He was the ‘Sasha’ on duty at the bar tonight. His AR form looked exactly like Sasha from the classic 2-D movie Casablanca. She didn’t want to ask, but she did anyway:

  Saladin glanced from Eva towards Rune’s back office.

  She didn’t respond to the implied leer. Rune sighed, then smoothed her white jacket and lifted her chin. “Better get this over with.” Strolling out of her office towards the far end of the bar, Rune knew she cut an impressive figure; spotless white linen against black skin, high cheekbones, and short, curly hair the color of fresh blood offset by tawny gold eyes. She came by her name—and her reputation—honestly.

  Halfway down, Rune stopped and picked up the stack of papers and envelopes—an affectation to go along with the Café’s theme. As she leafed through the various notes, invitations, and requests, she felt Eva glaring daggers into her back, then sensed the lovely dwarf abandon her drink to stalk toward her.

  Saladin followed at a discreet distance; far enough away to pretend privacy, but close enough to be on hand as needed.

  Eva stopped within touching distance behind her. “Where were you last night?”

  “That was so long ago, I don’t remember.” Rune paused at a note informing her that LongJack, one of the local mercs, would be in this evening to see her.

  “Will I see you tonight?”

  She ignored the note of desperation in Eva’s voice. “I never make plans that far ahead.”

  “Slot it, Rune. Why do I even bother?”

  “I don’t know.” Rune paused at a reservation for one Renart Sud and frowned. Suddenly, she didn’t have time to let her latest paramour down easy. “Sasha, call Eva a cab. It’s time for her to go home.”

  “But…no!” The dwarf’s startled denial was cut off by Saladin gripping her the arm.

  “You know I love you, Eva, but Miss Red pays me. Time to go.” Despite his slender frame, Saladin was far stronger than he looked, and Eva could do nothing but move along with the bartender.

  Rune stared at the reservation: Renart Sud and guest for the penthouse suite. No end date mentioned. She wondered why such an infamou
s trid personality would be in Rabat and wondered if he was the reason LongJack wanted a word with her. She grimaced. Sometimes, Rune’s Avatar Café was a little too much like its thematic twin. But what else could you expect in a country in the middle of a tug of war between the Federation of Islamic States and the Alliance For Allah?

  Shrugging, Rune returned to her office and made preparations for the evening that included a heightened awareness and the looming presence of security.

  The warm evening called for an elegant gown of antique white. Rune knew wearing the armored Amina was overkill. A lady can never be too careful, she thought as she selected a thin strand of pearls. Besides, I look divine in this dress. She took the time to make sure every part of her appearance was perfectly arranged. Between LongJack and Renart, it was going to be an interesting evening. Best to have all her weapons in place.

  The Café was abuzz with activity as she entered the main room. Rune paused to survey her domain. In meat space, it was a pleasant, old-fashioned dinner club. She smiled at the almost full tables. Shifting her vision to AR showed the same room in black and white. Everyone who hadn’t been wearing era appropriate clothing in the real world now wore something that wouldn’t clash with the image she’d built her establishment on.

  A splash of color and light briefly appeared as guests entered the “Members Only” gambling section through heavy velvet curtains. Gambling needed the luxury of color. It wetted the appetite for all of the pleasures available to those who could afford it.

  Fatima’s sotto voice came over the comm link. “Miss Red? Captain Belali is here to see you.”

  Rune glanced at the main floor again. Fatima was on ‘Sam’ duty tonight, playing piano to the guests at their whim. There, next to her, was a short, balding, Arabic man with a round face and a benign smile. That smile told Rune all she needed to know. “Seat him at my table.”

  She watched Fatima escort Rabat’s Chief of Police to her table, but didn’t hurry over. Instead, she sauntered through the diners, stopping at each table for a quick pleasantry. Paying customers trumped whatever Belali wanted.

  The captain stood as she approached, and held out his hands to her. “Rune, you look splendid as always. Have a drink with me?”

  She took his hands briefly, then sat. “You know I don’t drink on the job. But, please, don’t let that stop you. My treat, of course.”

  “Taéngelé, then.” Belali sat back and continued to smile at her. Rune quirked a half-smile at him. “What do you want, Captain?”

  “Please, call me Hamza. I’ve told you a thousand times.” He tilted his head toward her. “We could have a much less formal arrangement, lovely lady.” Lifting up the glass of Taéngelé as it arrived, he toasted her. “Something far more…intimate.”

  “You know I like my women blonde and my men lanky. You, dear Hamza, are neither.” Her smile was gone. “And this is a conversation we have had before. It’s unlike you to revisit such.”

  Belali drank deep of the Tir Tairngire mead. “Well, speaking of lanky and blonde, I hear that you will have a special guest tonight and his lady friend. I believe that he is lanky and she is blonde…” He let the implications hang in the air between them.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Rune mentally swore in a silent burst of English, Arabic, and Sperethiel.

  “Oh, come now. You don’t think I know that Renart is here in Rabat, and has a reservation to stay in your lovely establishment? It is said that he is traveling with a lovely blonde elf. She’s been at his side from Nigeria to Turkey to France and, most recently, Spain.”

  Rune watched him watch her as he took another long gulp of his drink. She shrugged. “I’m aware that I have a VIP coming in who has rented the penthouse indefinitely. If it’s, as you say, Renart, then I will treat him like every single one of my VIP guests. This place is safe.” She paused before adding, “I am up-to-date on my payments.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course you are, and I’d expect nothing less for such a well-connected woman as yourself.” He tapped his fingers on the table in a light pattern that matched Fatima’s playing. “But you would, in deference to our longstanding relationship, let me know as soon as he leaves?”

  Forcing herself to relax into a less guarded position, Rune nodded and plastered a polite smile on her face. “Of course. If that is your wish.” She held up her finger. “But, remember, his reservation is ongoing.” She started to say more, but her comm link chimed that Renart had arrived. “And you must forgive me, but my VIP guests are here. I must greet them.” Rune stood. “Please, enjoy your time here. The Baccarat tables are open tonight.”

  She turned her back on him as he toasted her again. Rune glided through the now crowded room with the smooth ease of long practice. Pausing by a pillar, she took in Renart Sud and his lady friend. He was a tall, dusky-skinned elf, handsome in an arresting way.

  His mixed blood heritage gave him the complexion of his Arabic father with the light blue eyes of his French mother. Rune could see why he was the bad boy of the trid reporting world. Impeccably dressed, he spoke with a casual charm that caught everyone at the front desk. Lanky, indeed.

  The woman traveling with him was covered from head to toe in an elaborately embroidered abaya and niqab of teal linen and gold thread. It covered every part of her except for her eyes. From this distance, all Rune could see was the heavy makeup that made the woman’s light-colored eyes pop. There was no way to tell if she was blonde, but if she was as attractive as the elf next to her, it was safer for her to travel covered. Morocco did a brisk business in the slave trade. An exotic blonde would garner far more attention than she wanted.

  Rune strode up to the front counter, breaking Walid out of his trance at whatever Renart had been saying. “Excuse me, Mr. Sud. May I introduce you to Miss Rune Red, the owner of Rune’s Avatar Café and so much more?”

  Renart turned his charm on her as he smiled, holding out a hand. “So pleased to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, Miss Red.”

  “All lies, I assure you,” she said with a laugh.

  He sobered. “I sincerely hope not.” Then the charm was back. He gestured to the veiled woman. “This is Elodie, my wife. We’ve had a very long trip.”

  Now that Rune could see her more clearly, she knew those eyes—knew them to the bottom of her soul. Shaken, Rune nodded with automatic politeness in the other woman’s direction. She turned her attention back to Renart. “Well, a long trip requires a comfortable room, and you’ve booked the penthouse. Let me see you there personally.” She nodded to the valet, already carrying two bags. “Shall I send for the rest of your things?”

  “We’re traveling light. That’s it.” Renart’s voice was sober again. “Ah. Then if you will follow me, please.” Rune led the way to the lift as she spoke. “Rune’s Avatar Café has all that you need. The penthouse is on the 6th floor. It has every amenity available. If there’s something you need that we don’t have, we will go get it for you. The main floor is a dinner club, with a gambling establishment in the back. The second floor has the spa. The basement floors are for those who are less enamored with the historical feel of the Café. Below us is Avatars, our underground dance club and bar. As a VIP guest, you have access to all parts of the Café, of course.”

  Rune knew she was rambling as they rode the elevator, specifically not looking at Renart’s wife. It was the only way to get her shocked nerves under control.

  As the elevator doors opened, she gestured to the double doors across the hallway. “Here we are. If you wish, I will show you how to set the security for the room so that only authorized people may enter.”

  The valet entered the suite’s parlor after Renart and his wife. The parlor was adorned in rich brocades and silks of red and yellow, and accented in a deep blue. Three leather chairs sat around a low table of real mahogany wood. A matching leather couch sat opposite them. The accompanying end tables were made of filigreed wood that depicted dancing women. Every vase and painting
was an antique. The far sitting room wall was a floor-to-ceiling window with a balcony overlooking Rabat. Even the Persian accent rugs that led down the small hallway were of the highest quality. Through the short hallway, open doors revealed the opulence of the other two rooms. One doorway opened to the washroom, gleaming with gold, green, and blue. The other doorway revealed the large bedroom in blue and gold with small red accents.

  Renart glanced down the small hallway and into the two open doors. He nodded to his wife before moving to look out the windows. Elodie disappeared into the washroom. Rune frowned as Renart’s posture took on the stiffness of an act. She smoothed her face over into a mask and tilted her head at the valet

  One look at Rune’s face, and the valet set the luggage down, then disappeared without waiting for his tip. Renart glanced at the security features around the suite and the security panel in the main sitting area before turning to Rune and giving her his full attention. “I’m familiar with this setup. I think I can manage.”

  Rune noticed his smiled seemed strained now that they were out of the public eye. “If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call.” She stepped back towards the exit, thinking Renart was more tired than he let on, while trying to convince herself that Elodie couldn’t be who she thought she was.

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes, well. Elodie told me much about you. Perhaps, the two of you could catch up with one another?”

  Rune frowned a nd cocked her head to one side, not understanding. Movement at the bathroom door caught her eye. There, standing with the light haloing her blonde hair, stood the most beautiful elven woman she’d ever seen—and a lost piece of Rune’s past.

  “Zaria,” Rune whispered in a prayer of hope and disbelief. “Hello, Makeda.”