by M. D. Cooper
He searched her face, then nodded. “That’s how I had it figured, too, but I would have been remiss if I hadn’t mentioned it.”
“You would have,” she agreed, starting up the stairs.
“So I did.”
“Yes. I know. Good job.”
He climbed the stairs alongside her. “Is that a genuine ‘good job,’ or are you being condescending toward me?”
“Condescending. Actually, no. It’s both.”
“How can it be both?”
“It just is.”
Trey was silent for a couple of flights, then he said, “You’re a little too comfortable with ambiguity, I think.”
“Am I? What have absolutes ever done for me?” Reece checked the floor number. Two more to go. Good thing they were getting close, because she still didn’t feel entirely well yet.
“Probably about as much as they’ve done for me,” Trey replied as he pushed open the door on the fifth floor and she followed.
They arrived at the apartment and Reece wished they had a clever plan to get inside, but Trey simply pushed the doorbell. If Apolla didn’t let them in, they’d just break in. One way or the other, they’d get in there in the quickest way available to them.
“Yes?” A voice asked.
“This is Reece, from Rexcare. I was hoping you could help me with something.”
“Business or personal?”
Reece hesitated. Which one of those would be the right category? “Some of both,” she said.
A moment later the door opened, a young woman standing before them, looking guarded but curious. “Why didn’t you make an appointment?”
“I was afraid you’d say no,” Reece said.
Apolla smiled. She had dark eyes and dark skin and looked even younger when she smiled. Her records had indicated she was only twenty. Very young for someone to be as successful and well-known as she was.
“I like honesty. Come in.” She stepped back.
Reece hadn’t had to lie, cheat, or shoot her way in. She liked this refreshing change of pace. She noted details of the room as she entered. Unlike most apartments, this one opened into a small foyer that apparently doubled as a sitting room. At the back, a doorway on either side led to other rooms.
Apolla motioned to the uncomfortable-looking straight-backed chairs. “This is where I see people. Sorry the furniture isn’t fancier. My dumbass brother broke it, and all the good stuff needed a couple weeks for delivery.”
Reece was beginning to like Apolla. “How did he break it?”
Apolla sighed. “He’s seventeen. He watched a sim where a guy jumped off a balcony to chase down some thieves. My brother wanted to see what that would be like. And then I got to see what it was like to come home to a smashed table and two broken chairs. Like I said, he’s a dumbass.”
Trey grinned. “Sounds about right for that age.”
Apolla raised her eyebrows at him. “You sound like you speak from experience.”
“Oh, yeah. I did dumb crap too when I was younger. Don’t worry, he’ll grow out of it. Mostly. Eventually.” He looked regretful. “Actually, it could take a while.”
“Great.” Apolla sighed and sank to one of the chairs, then grimaced. “These chairs are like sitting on a metallic cactus.”
Trey had begun to sit, but he straightened. “Damn. I think I’ll stand.”
If one of them didn’t sit, it would be awkward, so it was up to Reece. But how bad could it be? Surely Apolla was exaggerating. The seat looked flat and rigid, but not at all pointy.
She sat. “Oh. Oh you’re right. This really sucks.”
Apolla laughed. “Yep. Anyway, what did you two need? The sooner we discuss it, the sooner you can stop sitting there.”
Trey, leaning against a wall, said, “We were supposed to meet someone, but he didn’t show. And he hasn’t shown up anywhere, since, so far as we can tell. We’d like to check security footage and see if we can figure out where he’s gone.”
Apolla’s expression became guarded. “This sounds like a civil issue. I don’t do that. You end up making enemies that way.”
Reece shook her head. “He’s a colleague. “
“So this is official Rexcare business? You said it was both business and personal.”
“Rexcare won’t look into it. Or at least if they do, they won’t tell me what they found. And I need to know, which is what makes it personal.”
Apolla fixed Reece with a long, steady look. “If they’re not looking into it, there’s a reason. Is he expendable to them?”
“I’m not sure,” Reece admitted. “He does important work, but how much the company values that, I don’t know.”
Apolla sighed. “You’re a fixer. Why would you come to me for help?”
“To fix it. I work with a lot of people in the private sector, both officially and unofficially. Whatever it takes to get the job done. That’s what being a fixer is.”
Apolla stared at her. “Let me ask this: If I agreed to help you, who would my employer be? You, or Rexcare?”
Ah, this one was smart. That was both good and bad. Good because she’d have valuable skills and brainpower, and bad because she’d be a lot harder to mislead.
“Us, technically. But that’s normal for something that someone wants to keep quiet. I’m sure you’ve heard that.”
The general public was far from unaware of how wide-ranging a fixer’s job duties could be.
Apolla shook her head slowly. “I have to admit, I can’t tell if you’re being genuine, or selling a cartload a crap. What I’m sure of is that there’s someone you want to find, and you don’t want to leave a trail in doing finding him. But I’m not in the people-finding business. I do surveillance work. That’s it.”
“So you won’t help us?” Trey asked.
“I will help you,” Apolla said.
“Why?” Reece hadn’t figured this young woman out yet.
“Because I’m ambitious. Because I’m good at what I do. Because I think you really do want to find someone and not for a bad reason. And because I need to buy a new table and chairs.” Apolla stood up, rubbing her behind. “My ass hurts.”
Reece and Trey laughed.
“But,” Apolla said pointedly, holding up a finger for emphasis, “there are things I won’t do. So if I say no, that’s it. And if I get the feeling you’re doing something wrong or misleading me, I will do my best to make things go terribly wrong for you.”
“I like how you told us that up front,” Trey said. “It shows foresight.”
Apolla smirked at him. “Come on back to my office.”
Trey straightened and pulled away from the wall. “We’re going to look right now?”
“The way I understand missing people,” Apolla said, “the longer they’re gone, the less likely they are to turn up, right? The trail gets cold fast.”
Reece nodded.
“Plus,” Apolla went on, “my office chairs are much nicer.”
* * * * *
Reece and Trey spent ten minutes describing Erving, his position at Rexcare, and what time he failed to show up to meet them.
Apolla made notes, nodding and looking thoughtful. “You’ve got the time nailed down really well, and given the time of the meeting, there’s a defined radius for how far away he could have been during that time. I’ll plot that out, see how much of it lands in my zone and how much, if any, lands in someone else’s. Then I’ll look at the feeds that seem most likely to have something and go from there.”
“How long do you think it will take? Reece asked.
“Depends. I might find something right away, or I might have to get footage from someone else. That’s usually not a problem, since it’s something my colleagues and I do on a regular basis, but it takes time to get it and go through it. It could be anywhere from an hour to a day.”
A day at the longest was impressive. Reece only hoped Erving didn’t slip out of reach during that time. “You’ll contact me as soon as you have anything?”
Apolla nodded. “Of course. I find it interesting that you haven’t yet asked what this is going to cost.”
“I find it interesting that you haven’t yet told me what it’ll cost,” Reece countered.
Apolla smiled faintly. “Let’s say a hundred credits an hour base rate, with the option to adjust if something unexpected comes up.”
It was reasonable for the service, but Reece didn’t like the idea of an adjustment.
“Let’s say two hundred an hour, plus expenses incurred,” Reece said.
Apolla looked from Reece to Trey, remaining silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, “Agreed.”
Reece and Trey left so Apolla could get right to work. In the stairwell on the way back down, Trey asked, “Are you sure we shouldn’t have asked her to look for Schramm? In addition to, or instead of, Erving?”
“He’s too important. If I named him as missing, she’d know something big was up, and would either take information to someone who could pay more for it than I can, or leak the information to someone who could use it. Then Schramm would be compromised.”
They reached ground level and went outside into the heat. Was it Reece’s imagination or did it seem maybe a degree cooler today? Might they have finally gotten over the peak of the perihelion? She checked the date. Yeah. It seemed they had. Not that one degree was enough to get excited about. But knowing that the temperature would gradually go down over the next couple of months sounded grand to her.
“What now, then?” Trey asked.
She’d been wondering the same thing, herself. Should they go back to the safehouse, to stay out of view, or hang around in the vicinity, in case Apolla turned up something quickly?
Trey put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get some food. You’re still not back to normal.”
“We shouldn’t be out in public.”
“We’ll go someplace too crappy to have cameras,” he said. “And I’ll buy you a hat.”
“I don’t look good in hats.”
“That would only make it an even better disguise.”
“No one wears hats in this weather,” she pointed out. “I’d stand out because of the hat.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense. What about lightshade glasses?”
“Very common.”
“Then I’ll get you lightshade glasses.” He sounded pleased with himself. “And buy you a crappy lunch.”
“Sadly, that’s the best offer I’ve had for a while, so I guess I’ll have to take it.” She tried not to think about that too hard, because it might bum her out.
“That’s the spirit.” He patted her shoulder before letting his arm drop.
She looked right and left, deciding which way they could more easily duck cameras.
Trey nodded to the left. “Let’s go that way. There’s a crappy ramen place over there.”
True to his word, he bought her a pair of oversized lightshade glasses, along with a summer headscarf.
“Look what I found!” He seemed very happy when he came out. “I’ve seen women wearing these. You can pull your hair into a bun with it and hide your skin from the these burning orbs in your sky.”
“A bun? That’s not my style.” Reece frowned at the pale yellow fabric in her hand. It was so light it felt weightless.
“Exactly.” He put a pair of lightshade glasses on.
“If I wear this, then you have to wear one too,” Reece countered.
“I don’t have enough hair for a bun.”
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But men wear scarves too. The styling’s different, is all. Women tuck it around their faces and sometimes their hair, but men just drape it over their heads and let the ends hang down the front. One second, I’ll get you one.”
She went into the little bodega he’d visited. She had a moment of indecision on color, but she chose a style she thought would really suit him.
“Here.” She handed it to him as soon as she exited the bodega.
He looked down at the airy fabric she’d put in his hand. “It’s purple. And it has pineapples on it.”
She blinked innocently. “I thought you’d like the pineapple thing. And it’s not purple. It’s lavender.”
“Well, yeah. The pineapples are good. I just never saw myself as a lavender kind of guy.”
“Exactly,” she said, copying his tone of voice from when he’d said the word. “All the better for the disguise, right?”
“Well…I guess. And it does have pineapples.” He draped the fabric over his head, arranging the ends in front of his shoulders.
After they’d walked for a couple of minutes, Trey made a thoughtful sound. “Huh. I thought this thing would make my head hot, but it actually feels cooler.”
“It’s the fabric. Specially designed for UV protection and cooling. Emergency kits often have them to help cool people off.”
“How did I not know about this?” he asked in wonder. “I need, like, a hundred of these.”
She laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Wait.” He stopped to look at her full-face. “Do they make blankets out of this stuff?”
“Yeah, but they’re only used for medical care. Treating for heat stroke or fever or whatever.”
“I’m going to get one to sleep in! I’m always get hot and sweaty when I sleep, even in a cool room. This is going to be awesome!” He did a little hop, then started walking again.
He seemed so genuinely delighted that she laughed. He was like a little kid receiving solstice presents.
They turned down a side alley to avoid an intersection with cameras.
“Hey, here’s a question for you,” Trey began.
“Okay.”
“Can we talk about the fact that your weapons dealer is equipped with sedatives and paralytics?”
“Sure,” she agreed. “What about it.”
“Well, where I come from, anyone would find that a deeply disturbing turn of events. But you don’t?”
“Eh. Nah.”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding terribly curious.
“Simple. Because he’s on my side. I mean, if he weren’t, sure, that would be some screwed up stuff, but…” she shrugged.
“Huh. Well…okay, then. I guess.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but although he was adapting well to life on Akon, he still had things to learn about how its citizens approached life.
They returned to the main street and Trey paused, looking in each direction.
Reece tensed. “What’s wrong? Did you see something?”
“No. I just can’t remember if the place is one block down or one block up. I didn’t travel by alleyway last time I was here.”
“What’s the name? We can check the address on the Link.”
“I don’t think it had one.”
She squinted at him. “All restaurants have a name. It’s a business. It has to register as something.”
“Well, then I missed it.”
“Okay. Let’s walk back a block, then walk back up if we don’t see it. Or we could find something else. Or just go back to the safehouse. I’m feeling better, actually. I think all that stair climbing helped work out the stiffness.”
“It’s really good ramen. Let’s see if we can find it.” Barely ten steps later, he stopped. “That’s it! See? It doesn’t have a name.”
Reece laughed. She pointed at flowing script painted top to bottom on the front of the building. “It says ‘Marigold’ right here.”
“What, those squiggles? I thought that was a design.”
“Nah, it’s an old writing style no one uses, except for stylized things like this.”
“So why can you read it?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t be much of a fixer if I couldn’t read anything that might be written on Akon.” She blinked, realizing what she’d just said. “Uh, I didn’t mean…”
“Yeah. I know. I’ll just have to learn to read this script, that’s all.”
“I’ll teach you,” she offered as they
ducked under a low archway to the entrance of the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant.
Trey laughed. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t strike me as the kind and patient teacher type. I’ll do self-study via the Link or hire someone to teach me after we get all this stuff sorted.”
He made it sound like they just needed to do some minor yardwork, not do battle with one of the biggest corporations in the system.
“Well, I offered.” She tried not to be offended that he’d turn that offer down.
“Believe me,” he said, “I’m saving us both a lot of headache. And possibly our partnership as well.”
They sat at a table, facing each other, which gave her the perfect opportunity to gaze at him in exasperation. “I’m not that bad.”
“You are. You’re pushy, demanding, and kind of a jerk sometimes. But I’m good with that. I actually like those things about you. They just don’t make for a good teacher, just not for me. Okay?”
Put that way, it didn’t sound like so much fun to Reece. She shrugged.
Trey grinned at her. “Aww, did I hurt your feelings?”
She sighed. “No.”
“Yes, I did. I hurt your cute widdle feelings.”
“If you don’t promise never to do that baby talk thing that you just did, ever again, I’ll have to kill you in your sleep.” She glared at him.
“See? Told ya you were a jerk.”
The server arrived, saving Reece from having to come back with a really crushing response. Frankly, she didn’t have one, and it would have hurt her pride to admit it.
Yeah, Trey was right. She was kind of a jerk sometimes. But so was he.
“What’s popular?” Reece asked the server, an older woman with a pleasant smile.
“Everything. But our biggest sellers are the mushroom ramen and the Ruffino chili.”
“Mushroom sounds good. I’ll try that.” Reece took a deep breath, savoring the fantastic smell. If it was any indicator, the food would be as good as Trey said.
“I’ll take the chili one,” Trey decided.
“That one’s spicy,” the woman said.
“I like spicy,” he assured her.