Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill)

by Wellhauser, David S.

  “You would dare...”

  “More as well, you and your men have been feeding off the women in Ms. Budiman’s group, perhaps some of the prettier young men as well. That is going to stop if you hope to get another stone from us, another shipment of food, anything more from the fish markets. The country is not taking very good care of you—that’s plain enough to see. If you want to continue in your present, admittedly reduced circumstances, you will begin to behave properly.”

  “You,” voice low and hard, “are not the only ones with which we deal.”

  “This would be a reference to the Cartel and the gangs. It cannot be the Governor because he deals with the national government. Two things there: One, your arrangement with the black economy in the city could be exposed to the Governor, and if not them, then to the national government, or to the blockade in the harbor. That, I believe, would go badly for you. Two, the Beluga have already taken a sizable bite out of the black economy, and we’re taking more every day. We now have considerable influence in the southern fish markets and the farmer’s markets in the West and we have some sway in the East—the last has grown considerably. The Cartel is becoming quite upset with us, but we are in the process of beginning to push them out—it will take time of course.”

  Titus had only managed to finish before one of the guards was bumbling up from his chair. Before he could get halfway out of his chair, Pym had drawn his automatic. Leaning forward, he pressed it to the Captain’s forehead. “Sit down.” The guard looked to his officer, who nodded. Though his breathing had increased, there appeared no other indication of fear in the man’s face.

  “Now, I’m going to let you return to your commanding officer and put my offer to him. We will entertain any offer involving food and precious stones—within reason—but there will be no more abuse of Ms. Budiman or her group. Am I clear?”

  The man nodded.

  “I need an answer.”

  “Yes,” his voice unable to disguise the fear and growing anger.

  “Now, step back into your truck and go back through the gate. Think about coming after me and it will go badly for you. We clear?”

  “Yes.”

  Stepping back, Titus motioned the men up. Doing so, he stepped back again, taking Glenna by the arm to keep her behind him.

  “If you are considering something else when you return to your truck, I should tell you I have left information with my lieutenants about what is going on here. I know it’s a cliché, but if they do not see me at the arranged time, information will be released to the Governor and the blockade command at the same time as to what you are getting up to on the Wall. Can’t see that going well for you.” For a moment, Pym waited to see if the officer believed him. Apparently he did. Testing the hypothesis, Titus holstered the weapon. The three men backed from the shop and ran across the road. Glenna burst out laughing.

  “I never thought it would be that easy.”

  “They’re gofers—dealing with whomever is behind them will not be so easy. However, this will keep you off your knees for the time being.”

  The woman didn’t appear to care for the image, but said nothing. Pym, however, sat back down.

  “Shouldn’t we be running?”

  “If we run, they’ll know I was lying; and the next time we meet, they’d kill me. Might not even wait for the next time.” Not appearing certain, Glenna sat back down and took a sip from her coffee.

  “You’ve done this sort of thing before.”

  “No, but I’ve handled negotiations with mid-level management before. This isn’t all that different.”

  “What did you do before you ended up here?”

  “Nothing that would interest you.”

  Budiman put a hand on his wrist and smiled.

  “Nothing I’m prepared to share with you.”

  Though she removed the hand, she did not drop the smile. Titus, nonetheless, was certain she’d be trying to find out all she could about him.

  “I need a ride home.”

  “Yes, I didn’t see a car—how’d you get up here?”

  “My brother dropped me off—it was too dangerous to come alone.”

  “But you stayed alone.”

  “Nothing happens up by the Wall the guards don’t control. As long as they weren’t pissed with me, I was safe. That may no longer be the case—so we need to get going when you have finished your coffee.”

  “Before we go, I need to understand a few things I’ve not been able to learn from the Fay.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s the condition of the government here?”

  “The Governor you mean?”

  He nodded.

  “Their grip on the city is failing. The Cartel and gangs are eroding his power, and the Wall guards have been getting increasingly greedy.”

  “The Governor I understand, but the Wall is military. Why isn’t the government taking care of them?”

  “I can only guess. What I’ve heard from my father is that the blockade has undermined the economy to such an extent that essentials are now in short supply—even food. That is why we’ve been supplying it for the last quarter.”

  “I was only half joking about the food—it’s really that serious?”

  Budiman nodded. “Probably worse than that from what I’ve been hearing—the country is now in the grip of a famine. We may be dying in here, but we’ve been mostly able to feed ourselves with fishing and the crops we’ve been able to grow. Outside the wall there are too many people, but they’ve got one thing we don’t in here.”

  “No Sweats?”

  She nodded, and took a sip from her mug. “If,” wiping her lip, “we stay, then we will eventually die.”

  “But the epidemic has to burn itself out some time.”

  “It’s been here for a year. And though it has its lulls, it has not shown any intention of giving up.”

  It had been partly what Pym expected, but their situation was brought home by how direct Budiman had been. If he’d any hopes of riding the Sweats out with the Fay, then this ended that idea. Sometimes he thought the warehouse wasn’t such a bad place and that whatever else he had here, he did have some small position and friends who would help him make it to the other side. Once there, he could build on what he had created here and carve out a good life for himself, something he needed badly in order to put what happened before he’d gotten on the boat behind him. This news of Glenna’s, however, made that nearly impossible to believe. He’d be starting all over again on the other side of the Wall. He would have to deal with the famine, but he would be alive and had a better chance of staying that way if he were there rather than here.

  As they pulled up to the north end of Makati, Glenna didn’t move to climb out. They were still a couple of streets above the gated district, in some ways a minor version of the Wall. After an uncomfortable moment, she turned to the man. “Titus?” Unfortunately she got no further and turned back to stare emptily out the window and about the shabby houses.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you want me?”

  “I’m not sure...”

  “I don’t mean sex. Do you want me?”

  “Glenna, I don’t trust what it is you want. Until...”

  “I want to be safe—let’s move in together, somewhere away from this place,” waving in the general direction of Makati.

  “We could do that, but you’ll have to start trusting me.” Smiling, the woman wrapped her arms about the man and kissed him. It didn’t make him feel any better.

  “Timog is still a nice place to live—no matter what they say in Makati.”

  The rains, yet again, had just passed and the humidity had fallen, but Pym did not think by much. Nor did Glenna—she was wearing a thong and nothing else. Lying on the bed, he looked at the toned back of the woman and the slope of her ass. She worked hard at both—watched what she ate; exercised; did yoga; ran; didn’t smoke; didn’t drink; didn’t club. There was a lot she did to take care she sta
yed looking the best she could. It was plain to Titus she was maintaining her most effective weapon. At the same moment, as she turned to smile and the smooth deep brown of her skin opened into a brilliant white, he understood how unfair that assessment was.

  “Why don’t they like it?”

  “Most have moved up from here. My own family, for instance. Being where they came from, they are frightened about backsliding.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “You didn’t invent social climbing.”

  “But it is more important here.”

  “No, it only looks more important. Still important where I come from—only thing is, people work harder at hiding their fear.”

  “How do you know?”

  Again with the questions about his family. They’d survived the rainy season together, but the woman had never let up on the questions about his past. He didn’t respond and she turned, hands on her hips.

  “You still don’t trust me? I’ve left my family to be with you!” Titus chuckled and rolled off the bed, grabbing a bottle of water.

  “We’re together a couple days a week—and you never spend the night. I wouldn’t call that leaving your family.”

  “Near enough.”

  “Not horseshoes.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why don’t you trust me?”

  “I do—more each day. I might ask the same. You’ve kept me at arm’s length from your group, and I cannot help wondering why?”

  “My brother, I told you, doesn’t like you. The others are a little afraid. They’ve heard some of the stories about the Fay. Are any of them true?”

  “Most are exaggerations. But why doesn’t your brother like me?”

  “ You’re foreign; no one knows your social status; you run a criminal organization.”

  “Hardly an organization—a few people trying to get enough to eat and stay safe.”

  “A few people? By your own reckoning, there have to be nearly a thousand of you. There’s more than food they’re after. You’re taking weapons from all the other gangs; you’ve hit the Wall guards; you’re still attacking the militia—that has to stop.”

  “We did not attack them. We’re supposed to be working together and they hit us.”

  “Father explained to me that was an accident.”

  “I don’t trust what people say—more interested in what they do. Your father isn’t the sort I’d spend much time and energy trusting.”

  “That go for me too?”

  “Less every day.” Taking her around the waist then lifting her in his arms, Glenna squealed but did not resist.

  There was, Titus was certain, a part of the woman that was utterly genuine, but there was at least one other part that was as bent as they came. How the two parts fit together was difficult to tell; she had to be, he was certain, experiencing the same with him. This was a dance that they continued to enjoy; one they were required to continue with; one they hadn’t quite figured out how to put aside. It was as well they only spent a couple of days a week at the apartment together. Also well, because though he had changed a lot since rowing ashore, he worried that Timog would figure out who he was—or hear the stories. Lots of reasons to be glad they’d not really moved in together, but Titus needed to put the constant bickering about trust behind them. How far behind the man managed to put these was an open question.

  “Well, you will need to trust me a little now.” She lay beneath him, skin both cool and warm to the touch.

  “Why is that?”

  “The Wall wants another meeting.”

  “They called you?”

  “We still have phones in Makati—some still have them here too.”

  “I know. What do they want?”

  “Diamonds.”

  “What for now?”

  “The national government requires more bribes.”

  “But we just gave them a pouch last week?”

  “What happens when it’s learned that a large group of children of government members in the city have walked out of the gate? People are risking a lot to help us.”

  “Or are appearing to risk a lot.”

  “You do not believe them?”

  “Glenna,” exasperation in the tone, “they’d turned you and your girlfriends into whores—of course I do not believe them.”

  “You’ve stopped that.”

  “For the moment, but all the Wall has to do is kill me and you and yours are back to where they were.” He didn’t beat the sentiment into the ground, but he wanted to be certain it was he, and he alone, which stood between herself and the guards.

  “What happens if we do not feed the beast?” Glenna seemed to have taken the nature of the Wall to heart.

  “That’s a good question. To be honest, and I hope we are both trying to be here, I’m not entirely sure.”

  “I’d take a guess.”

  “At first it would be difficult—blustering, some aggressive posturing, maybe minor acts of violence to help us see things their way. The last would be unpredictable.”

  “Then we’d better have a meeting about this.”

  “We can’t wait here forever.”

  “Chrislann, he’s not taking a tram from a few blocks away. Getting here he’ll have to dodge a number of patrols then dodge the Cartel.” Chrislann Budiman had never accepted Titus, even though they’d never met. Glenna’s assessment of why had been accurate—Chrislann hated all men that came near his sister, and she’d known this a long time. She was never clear on why, but suspected. Though he had always been nothing but proper with his sister, there were glances that left her occasionally uneasy. These had been a part of his relationship with her since the elder had entered puberty. Only five years apart, there seemed more than that between them. On occasion, the woman wondered if there was a deeper gulf dividing them.

  What caused her most distress was other women did not attract his attention in the same manner. If they had, she supposed, Chrislann’s abiding interest in her would have naturally shifted to others. Since he never focused on these others, she worried what he was thinking when he stared at her—but only when he did not believe she noticed. Her sense of his eyes on her never faded when they were together. Even when Chrislann was not looking at her, Glenna sensed he was thinking of her—aching for her. There was little reason to suppose the latter, but she could never escape the sense of his hunger.

  “You’ve,” Chrislann again attempting to avoid looking at her and examining a dusty, single flower vase, “used that excuse for just about everyone that has been late to, or skipped, a meeting.” Glenna turned and walked into the kitchen to put some distance between herself and the man she no longer felt safe with. Sitting in the chair, Glenna looked up to see him in the doorway staring down at her. He was handsome: tall, lithe, athletic, with the same eyes as his sister, both of which came from their mother, short black hair, their father’s floppy lobes, and hands that were a bit knobbly at the joints. The last were said to come from their maternal grandmother, but she’d died years before either had been born.

  Whether her death had come from suicide or murder was unclear. Their grandfather had been a passionate and domineering man—they saw a little of this in his last years—but he had also loved his wife. There had been abuse, but because of the family’s position in both government and industry, charges had never been brought. This also had occurred in a time when the laws were weighted against women. Glenna believed it was murder, but Chrislann asserted he was not certain. Secretly, Glenna believed he was just attempting to placate her. Either he believed it to be suicide or that their grandmother had been unfaithful—the rumor had been common enough in the circle of friends they still had. In many ways, Glenna was certain her brother was a throwback to another time. One more reason he hated Titus—and it was hate.

  Though feigning distrust for racial and national reasons, the truth was that it was sexual jealousy and pride. Chrislann was to take care of
her when their father was not around—but even when he was, the man was weak and sycophantic. Chrislann never tired of pointing this out to Glenna and their mother, when she was still alive. Much of the problem, Glenna again supposed, was just how close mother and son had been. She was not interested in supposing the closeness unnatural, but this never waned in later years when Chrislann should have been looking for a wife. Their mother always maintained that there was plenty of time for that and besides, she and Glenna needed him close so they would be safe.

  Safe from what was never made clear, but Glenna supposed it was the woman’s way of taking a dig at her husband. Henry, it was true, was a weak man—but he was also a womanizer, a poor father, and a non-existent role model. The consequence was that their mother, unable or unwilling to find a proper replacement, took her son for the role and never knew what she was doing to him or his sister. When she did die, her brother’s attention shifted dramatically from the absent mother to the surrogate sister. That both of them were busily working their way through a tedious cliché was not lost on her, but it did not make living with the man any easier—hence the number of lovers she’d gone through. There were even a couple of pregnancies Chrislann had had terminated, though these remained illegal even when other countries had been aggressively liberalizing their legal systems.

  Their father, through the heavy influence of Chrislann and his industrial lobbyists, had voted to keep the laws in place. Half the time Glenna was certain he was doing this simply to control her. When this failed, Chrislann always had a few good doctors and nurses on call to deal with the issue. It did not matter that the men had offered to marry Glenna—she was, after all, beautiful, educated, wealthy, and cultured. Chrislann had refused them, and through his rejection, their father was required, if he wished to keep his position with the government, to follow along with his son’s wishes.