Maelstrom of Treason

by Michael Anderle

  “It might be.” Erik nodded to Lanara and Cutter. “Once we get off, seal the ship. We’re going to go have a chat with our friends.” He checked his pistol. “Which might involve shooting them in the face.”

  “You do you, Blackwell.” Cutter hurried out of the cargo bay and headed toward the cockpit.

  Erik went down the ramp with Jia. It lifted as they stepped into the main hangar, the rumble almost drowning out another series of loud knocks on the door.

  “Open the door, Emma,” Erik ordered. “Maybe they just want to sell us Martian condos.”

  The back door slid open, and six men filed in, all in expensive brightly colored suits. Erik quirked a brow in surprise. Emma’s mild description hadn’t prepared him. Yellow, bright red, white, and lavender didn’t strike him as anything a Talos operative might wear.

  A man in a magenta suit led the pack from the door across the hangar toward Erik and Jia. He offered Erik a polite nod. “Are you the owners of this ship?”

  “We’re employees of the owners,” Erik explained. “Why do you care, Mister… You know what? I’ll just call you Mr. Magenta.”

  The new arrival sneered. “Yeah. Whatever. You’re a funny guy.”

  “My girlfriend agrees, at least when she’s not punching me.”

  “Fortunately for you, I like funny guys, but still, we have to get down to business.” Mr. Magenta sucked a breath through clenched teeth. “You see, so, this is kind of embarrassing. I can tell you haven’t been to Mars lately. I’m not going to hold that against you, but that’s probably why you don’t understand the score.”

  “It’s been a few years.” Erik shrugged. “That a problem?”

  “No, no, no.” Mr. Magenta scratched his eyelid. “You see, my boss has a friend in Port Control. That friend sends us information about ships coming in and out of this port who might be of interest. We greet these ships of interest.”

  “And you think we’re of interest?” Erik asked.

  “You work for a security company. And in our experience, security companies know that sometimes a little money goes a long way.” Mr. Magenta eyed the ship. “It’s not much to look at. Is this one of those times where the CEO is cutting corners where they can?”

  “Something like that. Who the hell are you?”

  “We represent, let’s say, local interests who don’t feel the impact of you non-Reds is accounted for in the fees you pay, especially since a lot of that money doesn’t make it to the locals.” He pulled back his coat to reveal a pistol. “And as locals, we feel it’s important to collect reasonable donations to make up for that.”

  Jia’s brow lifted, and her mouth curled into a smile. “You’re serious? Aren’t you worried about the local police coming after you for such blatant shakedowns?”

  “I think you’ll find you don’t want to make too much noise, especially when you’re not Red.” Mr. Magenta licked his lips. “A lot of questionable people come to Mars.” He gestured around the hangar. “Especially to private hangars and ports. They get up to all sorts of shenanigans, and some corps think they can just bring in people to cause trouble. Loyal Reds like me and my boys, we keep our watch.” He showed some teeth. “We’re the local militia, you might say.”

  “A very colorful one,” Jia offered, visibly straining not to laugh.

  The situation was beginning to look a lot less like conspiracy assassins and far more like petty thugs running a protection racket. That worked for Erik. If they had to get rough, they might be able to avoid killing someone and getting involved with the local authorities. If the gangsters were this brazen, the local police would be closer to the old Shadow Zone cops, and he and Jia didn’t have time to clean up the city.

  Erik’s and Jia’s light jackets concealed their holsters. He saw no reason to make their move yet. Alina hadn’t mentioned any specific syndicates targeting the spaceport, but complaining about syndicates on Mars was like complaining about fish in the ocean.

  Mars was close enough to Earth for a full and easy economic exchange, but far enough away that the CID could never establish the tight control they maintained on the homeworld. The older a colony, the more criminals could grow and flourish, and Mars was the second-oldest colony after the moon.

  “Start hacking his PNIU, Emma,” Erik whispered.

  “What was that?” Mr. Magenta narrowed his eyes. “You say something about me? You got some shit you want to get off your chest, big guy? I’m trying to be pleasant here.”

  Erik scratched his eyelid in a conscious imitation of Mr. Magenta. “You see, here’s the problem. I can’t give you any money. If I do, I have to put it on an expense report, and it gets complicated, and people ask questions, and it ends up being too much trouble for everybody involved.”

  Mr. Magenta clucked his tongue and sighed. “You see, my problem is, if you don’t pay up, we’ve got to make an example of you.” He cracked his knuckles and smiled at Jia. “Why don’t you stand by, sweet thing? I’ll show you what a real man is like. Don’t worry, we’re not going to kill him. Corpses aren’t good income sources.”

  Jia widened her stance and lifted her arms. “Good. You’re not going to shoot him. I’m very happy to hear that.”

  Mr. Magenta laughed. “We’re not murderers, sweet thing. We’re just men trying to collect donations. Hey, can you talk some sense into him? We don’t want anyone to trip and fall and end up spending money at the hospital or on medpatches.”

  “If you go after him, you’re coming after me.” Jia glared at him. “And sometimes I don’t know when to hold back.”

  “Yeah, that’s true, but she’s a lot better than she used to be.” Erik shrugged. “What are you going to do?”

  “You two are funny.” Mr. Magenta shook a finger at them. “And I’d say I never hit a lady, but I work for one, and she could rip a man in half with a look. So, if I turn tail and run because some chick acted all tough, I wouldn’t be long for this world.” He took off his jacket and tossed into the ground, revealing his holster, but he didn’t go for the gun. “No reason to tear my nice coat, right?”

  Erik didn’t pull his jacket off. “What about your boys?”

  “They don’t need to get involved. I’m sure once I beat your ass, your sweet chick there is going to be asking to go home with me.”

  Jia pulled her fists down just an inch, but it was enough to provide a view of her honesty when she asked, “Are you high right now?”

  Mr. Magenta chuckled. “I like women with a spine. You remind me of the boss. She’s got a little more class than you, but you’re both hot.”

  “Your gangster boss has more class than me?” Incredulity covered Jia’s face.

  “Just saying.”

  “Thanks for making that clear.” Erik raised his fists. “My boss says I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile, and killing six guys my first day here would mess that up. I’m sure she wouldn’t have a problem if I beat you down.”

  “You saying you represent a special interest?” Mr. Magenta looked Erik up and down, curiosity in his eyes. “That might change things. We can work something out.”

  “I’m not a gangster if that’s what you’re asking,” Erik replied. “I’m just a man getting paid for a job. I thought maybe you guys might be involved in that job, but like my friend said, this is just a local shakedown.”

  “No, not a shakedown, a donation.” Mr. Magenta stepped toward Erik. “I like you. Something about your face. And I like that woman, but I’m not leaving without a donation. Make it easy on yourselves.”

  The gangsters spread out, all raising their fists. They chuckled, no hint of anger or worry that they couldn’t take Erik and Jia down with ease. They must have done this countless times.

  “This won’t end well for you.” Erik’s grin grew feral. “I’ve been cooped on a ship for three days. It’ll be nice to get some real exercise.”

  “Oh, stop showing off for your chick, asshole.” Mr. Magenta threw a punch. Erik didn’t bother to block it with hi
s cybernetic arm. He sidestepped it and slammed his forehead into Mr. Magenta’s nose. The gangster stumbled back, blood adding a new shade to his suit. Erik followed up with two quick jabs and an uppercut that sent the man to the deck, groaning.

  The other gangsters charged.

  Erik met the closest man’s face with his fist, and he hit the deck. Jia’s spinning kick connected with a loud crunch to a gangster’s chest. He fell to his knees, clutching it and groaning.

  She slammed her palm into another man’s face.

  Erik crushed his fist into a gangster’s solar plexus, leaving him wheezing on the deck, sucking in air.

  The last gangster screamed as Jia slammed her foot into his knee and then smashed her fist into the side of his face. All the men lay scattered on the deck, groaning, bleeding, and bruised.

  The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.

  Blood dripping from his nose, Mr. Magenta went for his gun, but Erik whipped his out quicker and pointed it at the man’s head.

  “Don’t,” Erik ordered. “Like I said, killing someone my first day here would make things difficult for me. And I’m trying to cut back on my killing.”

  Jia pulled out her stun pistol and covered the other men. None of them made any attempt to move, but she kept her attention focused, ready to stun them in an instant.

  Mr. Magenta wiped the blood off his face. “That is the problem with non-Reds. You don’t know who you’re screwing with.”

  “The Bright Color Gang?” Erik asked.

  Mr. Magenta slowly stood up, his hands above his head. “We’re with Prism Associates.”

  “I forgot how weird syndicates can be here,” Erik commented. “But at least you don’t have those stupid mustaches.”

  Mr. Magenta tried to sneer, but it turned into a wince. “You only have to blend in when you’re afraid. We choose to stand out because we’re not afraid.”

  “Sure, sure. You’re blinding me with your suits.” Erik motioned with his gun toward the door. “Now, take your men and get the hell out of here before someone gets seriously hurt.”

  “This isn’t over,” Mr. Magenta asserted. He nodded at the fallen gangsters. They stood, some unsteady on their feet, and headed toward the door. Mr. Magenta reached over and gingerly picked up his jacket, draping it over his arm. “You have no idea who you are screwing with.”

  “You just told us,” Jia offered cheerfully. “Prism Associates. You sound like some sort of interior decorating firm.”

  Mr. Magenta muttered something under his breath but didn’t turn back. The door slid closed behind them.

  “That was fun.” Erik put his weapon away and shook out his fist. “But now we can’t go after Sukorn right away. That wasn’t enough to scare them off, and we can’t have gangsters screwing with us while we’re looking for him.”

  Jia holstered her pistol. “For all we know, they’re the ones who have him. This might have nothing to do with Talos.”

  Emma appeared, this time in a hot pink suit jacket and a matching long skirt. “The whole incident was over so quickly that I wasn’t finished penetrating his PNIU.”

  “I’m not interested in hacking some Martian syndicate’s systems until we know if they’re involved with Sukorn,” Erik replied. “I thought they might be Talos. I’m betting they’ll head straight to their boss.”

  “My quick search of the local net indicates the boss of Prism Associates is one Radira Tellvane,” Emma explained.

  A hologram of a tall, beautiful, voluptuous olive-skinned woman in a slinky black dress appeared. Long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. Hints of lines around her eyes and cheeks suggested she was older than she appeared and likely hadn’t received de-aging yet.

  “If you know who she is, do you know where she lives?” Jia asked.

  “Indeed I do.”

  “Cutter, Lanara, we’re going to go pay her a visit,” Erik transmitted. “You going to be all right without us?”

  “We’ll stay in the ship,” Lanara suggested. “And if anyone suspicious shows up, I’ll throw a plasma grenade at them.”

  “Try to make sure they’re gangsters first.”

  “Oh,” Lanara replied a moment later. “Good point. I’ll do that.”

  Erik just shrugged.

  Jia smiled and mouthed, “I’ve got nothing.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The MX 60 set down in front of a sprawling walled complex connected by covered walkways. The tall, curved red-tiled roofs didn’t seem to be common in the neighborhood, nor the roaming armed guards they’d spotted when flying over.

  Erik had maintained a decent altitude to avoid taking fire, but Jia was surprised by the lack of armed guards near the front gate.

  From the speech Mr. Magenta had given about not being afraid, she’d half-expected King Sentries standing in front of the gate with bright holographic signs reading TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT.

  Jia tapped her foot on the passenger-side floor. “Should we be getting out the big guns?”

  Their luck had served up gangsters upon their arrival on Mars. It didn’t seem paranoid to prepare for a tougher fight than they’d had in the hangar. She didn’t want trouble, but she wasn’t going to run away from it if trouble kept flicking her nose.

  “We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?” Erik replied. “We’re here to find Sukorn, not destroy a syndicate.” He chuckled. “I remember when I was the one who needed to be kept in check.”

  Jia snorted. “We haven’t killed anyone yet.” She opened the door and stepped out. “We might regret not grabbing a grenade or two if they open fire.” She leaned into the back, retrieved a couple of grenades from a hidden compartment, and tucked them into her pockets.

  There was nothing wrong with being prepared.

  After finishing her arming, Jia closed the door and eyed the tall black wall. The thick material could probably take a missile strike. An aerial assault would be advisable, but she suspected there were anti-aircraft batteries hidden among the spidery trees scattered about the estate.

  “Should we just try to do a local ping?” Jia looked around, but there was no obvious call button on the wall or near the gate.

  The gate rumbled open. Erik reached into his jacket and rested his hand on his pistol. Jia did the same.

  Mr. Magenta and two other men, both in lime green, stood in the middle of a marble path leading directly to the front door of the mansion. They were unarmed. There were hints of bruising on Mr. Magenta’s face, but most of it was already gone, courtesy of the medpatch over his nose. Jia didn’t feel any pity for the man.

  They’d tried to warn him.

  Mr. Magenta motioned inside. “This is convenient. Miss Tellvane wants to talk to you two.”

  “Good,” Erik replied. “We want to talk to her, but to make shit clear, there’s no way we’re walking in there unarmed.”

  “I don’t care. You’ll be dead before you draw if you try to kill her.” Mr. Magenta and the Lime Twins started up the path.

  Jia shrugged. “We did come to talk, but don’t blame me if we have to toss grenades later.”

  “A couple of hours ago,” Erik whispered, “you were complaining about false IDs, and now you’re ready to start a war with a syndicate we just met.” Erik chuckled.

  “That involved messing with the law. This involves gangsters who picked a fight.” Jia took a deep breath and headed toward the mansion. She didn’t want to become the Goddess of Death II, but she didn’t want to end up dead on her first assignment, either.

  They caught up with Mr. Magenta and the others, slowing their pace until they arrived at mammoth double entry doors large enough to accommodate the MX 60.

  The doors slid open to a foyer filled with physical paintings, mostly florals and landscape scenes. Dutch Masters from what Jia could tell, but her knowledge of art was embarrassingly limited.

  Mei had always been better at that sort of thing.

  The foyer gave way to a large, mostly empty living ro
om. More paintings and the occasional vase decorated the room, but the lack of furniture puzzled Jia. Mr. Magenta turned and headed toward a side hallway. They hadn’t seen another gangster since entering the mansion, but given the size and the connecting buildings, there could be dozens, if not hundreds of men in the space.

  Mr. Magenta stopped near a door at the end of the hall and nodded toward it. “She’s waiting for you.”

  Erik and Jia stopped in front of the door, exchanging glances while waiting for it to open. The door slid open to reveal wooden cabinets filled with bound physical books. A half-dozen cabinets lined the walls of the room. She had never seen so many books outside a museum before.

  If these weren’t reproductions, the value of the tomes in the room might dwarf the paintings they’d seen on the way in.

  Radira Tellvane sat in a soft-looking high-backed white chair in front of a curved table, her legs crossed, wearing a bright white off-the-shoulder evening gown. Jia wasn’t sure if she was the head of a syndicate or a socialite dressed for a party.

  A large pistol sat on the table, but Jia could draw before the woman could get to it. Radira had to know that Erik and Jia were armed. Was the gun an attempt at intimidation? A signal that she wasn’t just a pretty face?

  The dark-haired woman flicked her wrist at Mr. Magenta. “I’ll talk to them alone,” she declared, her voice low and sultry.

  “Miss Tellvane.” Mr. Magenta’s gaze dipped to the pistol on the table. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough for one day.” Venom infiltrated her tone.

  Mr. Magenta bowed his head and stepped to the side. Erik and Jia entered the room, and the door slid shut behind them.

  “Emma, you still there?” Jia whispered.

  There was no response. Radira took more precautions than her men. Jia would have to give her credit for jamming them. Even if she didn’t know about Emma, it would cut down on everything from reinforcements to tracking.

  Radira tilted her head. “What was that you said?”