by Rob Buckman
“Two beers, if you have them,” Penn ordered as they walked up to the bar, “if not we'll have whatever you are passing off as whisky around here nowadays.” The barkeep eyed Richard hard.
Richard didn't care. He was here to stir things up, and this was as good a place as any to start. From what he'd seen from orbit, and now down here, the human race was content to let their numbers dwindle. What did they have to live for? Or bring children into a shattered world. If Michael's numbers on births and deaths were correct, the human race was going down the drain fast. Apathy can be just as deadly as a bullet or bombs.
“We got beer, but it will cost you.” The barkeep growled, eye the two teenagers up and down. He pegged them for a couple of rich kids, maybe from California, wondering where they'd hid their ride.
“What's the going rate?”
“What you got? Imperial credits, gold, silver, drugs… or something else to trade?” His eyes slid to Ellis. She looked back at him with a perfectly arched eyebrow, but said nothing.
“How about this?” Penn placed a porta-comp on the bar and touched the 'on' switch. Penn noticed the look the bartender shot Ellis; silently hopping she wouldn't smack the crap out of the guy just yet. They needed information first.
The bar tender's eye flew open. Tech. No one ever had tech, especially working tech. The thought made the bartender's heart start to pound. From the look of it, this was really the top of the line. Anyone with tech could name his, or her, own price. Working tech even higher. The bartender's mind raced. Did this kid really know what he had? Did he have more? If so, how much?
“What else you got?” Trying to sound disinterested. Penn took a flat, round box out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. The barkeep reached out to open it.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Penn said, halting the reaching hand.
“How come?”
“Because, I don't want to chase this damn thing all over the room, that's why,” saying that, he pressed the button on top to activate the capture field and carefully unscrewed the lid. As he moved it away, a flat, silvery disk lifted out of the box a few inches. One look and the barkeep knew he was looking at high-grade Cg material. The look in the man's eye told Penn everything he needed to know.
“This all you got?” The barkeep tried to hide his excitement. It made sense to find out if the kid had a source before killing him.
“I might have more… if the price is right.”
If processed correctly, and added to the right metal, there was enough contra-gravity material to lift a spacecraft into orbit and beyond. So, why, the bartender wondered, was the kid so stupid to walk around with a King's ransom in his pocket?
“I need to ask around to see who can work a deal on something like this." The bartender's eyes darted back and forth between the porta-comp and the box.
That didn't surprise Penn. A small-time barkeep wouldn't have the recourses to handle something this big. He might have a contact who knew someone, who might have the contact to put him in touch with someone who did. “It might take me some time to find someone…”
“No problem, but you have until this evening before we go somewhere else. How about those beers? And do you have anything to eat?” Penn cut him off.
“Cold roast beef, and homemade bread, cheese, onions.” It wouldn't hurt to feed them and put them at ease.
“That will do for a start. What about later?”
“Might have some beef stew going by then, if the cook's sober.” Penn placed three Imperial gold credits on the counter top. The man jerked back slightly. Gold was also pretty rare these days.
“Make sure he is, and that it's real beef, not dumpster bunny.” Meaning rat.
“Also got me some hard-boiled eggs, but they cost…” Penn added another gold credit to the first three.
“And a room.”
The barkeep thought of dickering for more, until he looked into those yellow eyes again. He felt a shiver run up his back. A kid he might be, but he saw something those eyes, something hard, killing hard and thought better of it. This guy was no virgin no matter how young he looked. Penn careful retrieved the porta-comp and the box and slipped them back into his pocket before following Ellis to an empty table in the back corner.
As he sat, he swept the barroom again. The owner had knocked down the dividing walls between this building and the ones on either side, and added support pillars where the original walls stood to create this space. He'd also put any competitor within a twenty-mile radius out of business. Not exactly by the methods approved or recommended by the Tucson University School of Business, or the local Better Business Bureau, but more or less in line with local customs. Cornering the local market was a time honored American tradition, even if it did mean putting your competitors out of business, permanently. The barkeep arrived a few moments later with the beer and the makings for a sandwich.
“Nice place to bring your girlfriend on a date.” Ellis muttered as she made sandwiches for them.
Penn tipped his chair back against the wall, tapping it with his knuckles. Behind the planking was solid stone or brick, so there was little chance of someone shooting them through the wall. That removed one line of attack. The wall behind Ellis was windowless, and he suspected it was brick or concrete. That would make it the supporting wall for the next building. To be sure, he reached out and gently kicked the all-concealing decorative planking. A solid thump came back, eliminating a second line of attack. Sitting side-by-side, their field of vision covered the whole room, despite the intervening pillars. Penn felt confident they would slow an attacker down more than hinder him or Ellis.
“Richard? Where did you get that box?” Ellis asked softly, licking butter of her delicate fingers.
“I found it in the Director's office.”
“And I thought you told me not to stop for souvenirs?”
“I don't remember you saying that,” Penn lied.
“Is that why we have two lovely pure silver tankards sitting on the shelf at home?”
“Yes and a lovely gold inlaid silver platter that I don't remember owning before.”
“I needed something for a center piece for Sunday dinner.”
“Oh I see. Just a little decorative touch to smarten up the table?”
“Right. That's it exactly.” She wrinkled her nose.
At this time of day, few patrons inhabited the place. The drunk still lay slumped over the table in a corner, and two coarsely dressed men played some sort of card game near the door ignored them. To Richard it felt like a setup, not that he cared. Thankfully, the beer was cold, and it was real. That was enough. Where the owner managed to come up with pre-war beer was anyone's guess.
Whatever communication system the barkeep used was very efficient, almost too efficient as within ten minutes the bat-wing doors opened and in walked a tall, fair-haired man dressed in rough, albeit clean, western gear. He wore a cowboy hat and sidearm, a nine-millimeter Browning automatic by the look of it. Three men followed behind, but none dressed as well as the first. Penn whispered something to Ellis, and she laughed playfully. Some signal passed between the barkeep and Moody, the fair-haired man, as he changed directions and walked over to their table. Penn and Ellis appeared lost in each other's eyes, but anyone who thought that was badly mistaken. Even before the man walked into the room they knew he was here to see them by the sound of his purposeful footsteps on the plank sidewalk. You don't walk like that in this heat unless you are going somewhere important, like a meeting, a date, or a fight. Penn and Ellis were primed for either, and didn't care which way the balled rolled.
Moody eyed at the two kids sitting at the table as he walked into the room, the shadow of his brim effectively hiding his scrutiny. He quickly evaluated their potential for profit down to the last cent. Both looked young, early twenties unless he missed his guess. They wouldn't have much experience with this sort of deal. His eyes shifted to the girl. She was definitely a looker, and with the right motivation might turn a
tidy profit as a whore, or slave her out to the Imperials. The clothes were worth a year's pay, and, if what the barkeep reported was true, he could retire on what they were carrying. How much could he keep for himself was the question? If the report was true, it would be interesting to find out where these kids got their hands on a Cg disk, and was there any more of it?
“I hear you have something for sale?” Moody said as he reached for a chair.
“I don't remember asking you to sit.” Richard voice cut through the hot air like a razor, stopped Moody's hand in mid motion.
“Not exactly the way to start a business negotiation, kid.”
“Who said we had anything to negotiate? Any talking we do, you can do it standing.” Moody looked from the kid to the girl, and he didn't like what he saw. They might look like kids, but these two were primed. It was the kids yellow eyes that caught his attention. He'd seen eyes like that before, on a bald eagle, but it made him feel like he was looking down twin laser barrels.
“So, what are you looking for then?” Moody shook off the feeling, but kept his hands in view by hooking them into his belt and close to his sidearm.
“I hate dealing with a middleman.” Richard leaned back slightly and turned to look at him again. ”I need to talk to your boss.” Moody forced himself to stand still as the kid looked at him with those eyes. He then remembered a story about a man with yellow eyes, and if a fraction of it were true, he was death incarnate.
“My boss?” Moody snorted, recovering quickly. ”I don't have a boss, I'm it!”
“Then go away, I don't deal with a low-life bottom feeder like you.” Richard saw Moody's hand twitch slightly. His fingers didn't exactly move toward the weapon on his hip, but Richard could feel the intent if he saw the slightest chance.
Penn wanted to get under Moody's skin. Getting insulted to his face was bad enough, by a mere kid was even worse. It was one of the few times Richard was thankful for what the scientists had done to make him look perpetually young. People completely underestimated his potential.
“You've got a big mouth for a kid who wants to make a deal.” Moody growled, his face feeling hot. Being called a low-life bottom feeder rankled, even if it was true.
“I’ll want to talk to someone higher up the food chain. Who's your boss?”
“I just got through telling you kid, there ain't no boss!” The kid just smiled and turned his attention back to the drowning pools of the girl's eyes.
“We'll just wait here until he arrives, or take our business down the road.” Penn commented off-handedly.
The man's eye narrowed, and he slowly reached up to scratch his unshaven chin. This wasn't going well. The kid was too sure of himself. He deliberately moved his left hand to see if the kid would react. He hadn't so much as twitched in the direction of a weapon, and neither had the girl, but they had to be ‘carrying’, not that there any open display of weapons. No one in their right mind came to this part of town without a weapon. Were they stupid enough to walk into a place like this without one, especially with what they were carrying. If he knew what else they might have, he'd kill him right now.
“Look you snot nosed piece of shit. I just got through telling you there ain't no boss!” He snarled.
“Go tell him Richard Penn wants to see him.” Richard could feeling his temper stirring in the back of his mind, and clamped down on it. This wasn't the time, or the place to start a rumble. ”All you have to do is walk across the room, he's sitting right there.”
The man jerked his hand away from his face and down toward his weapon. Moody had always prided himself on being fast, very fast. It was one of the things that made him valuable, yet, before he'd got his hand halfway to the butt of his gun, the girl was pointing a lethal looking weapon at him. He hadn't even seen her move. It just seemed to appear in her hand, as if by magic. The kid shook his head, as if he'd seen that move a thousand times.
“Now, will you stop dancing around the flacking bush, and go tell your boss we want to talk to him?” Somehow, that was scarier than the gun pointing at him. How the hell could the kid know Brody was here? He tried to speak. ”Look, there's…”
“I'll take it from here Moody.” A deep baritone voice called from across the room. The drunk wasn't sprawled across the table anymore, but sitting back and watching the proceeding from the shadows.
“I can handle this kid and his bitch, Mr. Brody.”
“Who are you calling a bitch?” Ellis growled.
“Can you?” Brody asked. ”She seems to have got the drop on you.”
“Mr. Moody is it? I would strongly suggest that you apologize to this young lady. She really, really hates being called a bitch. Especially by low-life scum like you”
“You little punk…” Moody spat.
“Moody!” The drunk's voice whipped lashed across the room. ”That's enough.”
In one smooth movement the man, once sprawled helplessly across the table, was out of his chair and striding across the room. Brody moved between Moody and Ellis's weapon, hands up, palms out. Not that it fooled Penn or Ellis. People like Brody didn't need a weapon in their hands to be deadly.
“I could take him…”
“Moody, if you got up last Sunday and drew your weapon, either one of them could probably shoot everyone in this room before you'd got it half out.” He spoke slowly, his voice mellow and completely at ease.
Penn indicated the opposite chair with his eyes. Brody nodded and pulled it out and slid carefully into the seat. ”Go get a drink Moody, and take the others with you.”
“Yes, Mr. Brody.” Moody eyed Penn and Ellis angrily. He shifted backward, keeping his eyes on them until he reached the bar. At that point, Penn dismissed him from his conscious mind and concentrated on Brody.
“So, you have something to sell?” Brody asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I might, depending on the price.” Penn answered carefully.
“And what might that price be?”
“Before we talk business, I want to know who I'm talking too.” Brody nodded in agreement.
“I'm Max Brody, and I run this part of town. I use the word 'town' loosely, of course.”
“Of course.” Penn smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. ”My name is Penn, Richard Penn.” He let the statement stand without any additional information. Brody seemed to consider the name for a moment.
“Used to be a guy by that name running around down south aways that put a lot of hurt on the Imperials.”
“Used to?”
“Yeah, but I also heard he got whacked by IMPSEC about ten years back, so you can't be him. You his kid?” Penn shook his head. Suddenly Brody tightened up. ”Don't bullshit me kid… I know a line of it by the look and smell!”
“Guess you would, living in this shithole.” Ellis shot back.
“You've got a smart mouth as well b….” he hesitated, “…lady.”
“It comes from spending too much time hanging around with this guy.”
“I'm betting you're IMPSEC infiltrators, or spies.” Penn's smile grew.
“You wish you were that important to them.” Penn looked around the room for a moment, then out through the dirty windows in front. ”I doubt anything goes on here the spy sat miss. If there was something here that IMPSEC was even remotely interested in they'd turn this place into a parking lot.” Brody shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“You seem to know a hell of a lot about what IMPSEC would be interested in, and what they'd do if they were.” He was starting to feel like Moody, a little out of his depth.
Everything the kid was saying was true. The damn satellites saw everything, so killing them wouldn't do much good. If they were spies, the moment their life sign monitor went dead, IMPSEC would bomb this place flat.
“I guess they know you're here as well.”
“What unit were you with?” Ellis suddenly asked.
“What?” The question caught Brody and Richard by surprise.
Penn kept his face impassive,
but he could see by the narrowing of Body's eyes that set off his warning alarm. Brody sat back in his chair, not sure what to do. These two knew a damn sight more than they should.
“My unit?”
“You should remember to change your boots before you play the drunk.” Brody couldn't help himself. His eyes darted down. Damn! The girl was right. He was still wearing his jump boots, but why would she notice that?
“So that's how you pegged me.”
“That and the fact you don't smell like a drunk.” Body nodded. Those were things an ordinary man wouldn't notice.
“I was a Major in the 101 Airborne.” He said at last. ”Along with a few thousand other guys, so what?” Penn felt Ellis grip his thigh.