Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill)

by Wellhauser, David S.

  Still standing beside the car, with the door open, Titus stopped.

  “That’s an interesting question.”

  “There is a rumor.” The woman stopped, having opened the passenger’s door but not getting in. After a moment, Glenna looked back at the rise then to Pym. “We have to get out as soon as possible.”

  “I agree, but why do you say so?”

  “You’re losing the Fay, and the government and Cartel are offering a bounty on you.”

  Titus smiled and climbed into the car. Glenna followed him, but there was fear on her face.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “He’s almost certainly been in contact with both.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Coincidences rarely are that.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Watch my back for the time being; let Bannly and Synon know—if they don’t already; keep my distance from the patrols; and I won’t go chasing wild stories.”

  “What stories?”

  Pym thought a moment then decided a little truth wouldn’t go wrong about here. “There was a rumor that someone intended to kill me and Simon knew who they were—claimed to—I guess that was the Cartel attempting to claim the reward.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He wasn’t. Titus was almost certain this was something else that had followed him into the city. To say this, though, would leave him vulnerable to more questions he’d not answer. “Reasonably.”

  “What are we going to do?” Glenna stood before the window opening over the street in the Timog apartment.

  “About the bounty?” She’d been very quiet during the trip south. He supposed the woman had been attempting to figure out how to deal with the latest threat to her plan. He was certain that she cared about him; how deep and far that affection would take her—and protect him—Pym had no idea. “I’m going to have to find out who among the Fay are still loyal to me, avoid the patrols, and demonstrate to the Cartel how bad an idea it was to turn on me.”

  “That’s it?” There was panic behind the modulated tones of her voice.

  “First,” voice deep and calm, attempting to reach the woman before she slipped into hysteria, “I will shore up support with my core followers. The truth is, I’ve been spending too much time with you and yours for my own good.” Glenna’s face fell at this. “Don’t panic—I simply need to redistribute my energies for the time being. This doesn’t mean I won’t be working for you and negotiating with the Wall.” The woman’s face relaxed, but he could see it would not take much to restore the panic. “The Fay will require more attention.” Titus had several ideas about that. To begin with, he would turn the planning of their strategy over to Lander and his crew. That was a risk, but it was unlikely they’d come up with anything that would cause more problems than they solved.

  If he’d any intention of staying with the Fay, Pym would never have done this. There was, in his estimation, a very good chance Lander could take the Fay down with his choices. If he didn’t take them down, Lander would damage them. The more Titus considered Lander, the more it seemed he was getting help. Setting his coffee down on the end table, Pym joined Glenna at the window. “Do you have any contacts inside Salazar’s Cabinet?”

  “There are...why?” Turning she looked up at him, and Pym placed a hand on both the woman’s shoulders.

  “I’m not certain, but Lander is not particularly smart. Cunning, vicious, and lucky, but not smart—not in the smallest way. The only thing I can think is that he is getting help from somewhere.”

  “You think Salazar would help him?”

  “It is unlikely Salazar would be directly involved in this—though they would have to be aware of it. No, it is more likely, if Lander is getting any help, it would be from the Cabinet or Security Forces.”

  “Security, however, has a lot of Cabinet oversight. Therefore, if they are involved, the Cabinet is. There have been no rumors of this, however.”

  “Would be—wouldn’t there?”

  “My father’s in the Cabinet—my brother would know if this were happening.”

  “If your father were involved, you might know, but if this were occurring, they’d have to keep it dark—what would happen if the city learned of this? What would happen it Makati learned of this?”

  Not answering, Glenna leaned into his chest.

  “Doesn’t have to be the government, though.” She tilted her head up, raising her eyebrows. “Could be the Cartel. In some ways, it makes more sense if it were them.”

  “Why?”

  “The Fay has been eating into their resources and power base. We’ve been taking territory from the Cartel for a while now.”

  “But...” She never got to finish the thought.

  “We need to get going. I’ll take you back to Makati.”

  Without answering, Glenna turned to get her bag. Out front, Titus stopped to admire the neighborhood. He’d be returning to the squalor of the warehouse and the tension created by Lander and the Council. Perhaps that wasn’t fair. Hadn’t he allowed Lander to live; hadn’t he been blowing them all off in favor of Glenna and her exit strategy? As always, he tried not to think about this; tried instead to focus on the problems in front of him and hope the future would take care of itself. This would not work, and Pym knew it, but right now the lawns, the clean streets, the birds in the trees, and the lack of the occasional round popping off in the distance filled him with a nostalgia—but the heat ate at the memory.

  Trying not to think on what had been left behind, there was a chink of noise, as though something hard and sharp had hit the brickwork behind them. Titus turned at the noise and there was the pop and tinkle of glass as a small round hole, with a spider web of cracks radiating out appeared in the main door of the apartment building. He grabbed Glenna and spun around landing in the spiky bushes lining either side of the front walkway. Keeping hold of the woman, they rolled into the stone garden. “Stay.” Pym hissed pushing her into the bushes hoping there’d be enough cover. Bolting up, he ran for the relative protection of the car. Two rounds, no sound accompanying these, bit into the garden on either side of him. Making the car, he squatted down behind it as three more rounds took the car door. The shooter had to be just across the street.

  Pym was planning to circle around the opposite building and coming up behind when Glenna screamed. “Look out!” Turning, she was pointing across the street. A man was walking across firing from what looked like a military style assault rifle. The rounds were flying all over the place—some struck the ground, the sidewalk, the building, the car. As the man ejected the clip and pushed a new one in, Pym stood and pulled the trigger of the automatic once. The round took the man in his upper left thigh and he went down. The weapon skittered from his grip when he fell, and before he could retrieve it, Titus kicked it away then hoofed the man in the face. With a feminine screech, his hands went to this and the youngster hedgehogged. Surprised by how quickly the man folded, Pym called Glenna over.

  “Who are you?” he said as the woman approached. Nothing.

  “Who is he?” Pym asked.

  As Glenna looked closer, she gasped and a hand went to her mouth.

  “What?” Titus asked.

  “Solomon?” The ball tightened, supposing if it contracted tight enough it may vanish. Never underestimate the value and power of magical thinking.

  “Of course you know him.” Pym smiled knowingly at the pair. “He one of yours?”

  She shook her head, putting a finger to her lips in an attempt to silence Titus.

  “Doesn’t,” pulling a knife, “matter now.” Kneeling down, he smashed the haft into the young man’s exposed crown. Yelping, he attempted to ball into a tighter hedgehog, but Pym repeated the assault—harder.

  “You’re going to speak to us kid.” Standing up, Pym kicked him hard in the hands covering his face. Nothing, excepting another whelp of pain.

  Glenna waved Titus back and knelt down beside the young man. “We
’re not going to hurt you.” A hand stroking his back while another gently touched the hands covering his face. Solomon flinched away at first and then relaxed as no blows followed. Eventually he unwound a little, looking at Pym, who was standing with his back to him. On seeing this, Solomon turned to the woman.

  “Why did you try to kill us?” Glenna repeated.

  “Not both of you,” glancing toward Pym.

  Understanding Titus turned to the dyad. “Me?”

  The kid nodded, attempting to pull closer into the safety of Glenna’s arms.

  “But why?”

  Solomon didn’t answer, looking down at the tarmac.

  “Why?” Glenna attempted to coax the answer from him. It did not seem to be working, until he rolled toward her and half looked up. Pym smiled as the kid took on the look and behavior of a whipped cur.

  “I was told Governor Salazar wants him dead.”

  “Why does he want me dead?” The kid, back still to the man, shrugged.

  “But why would you do this?” Glenna again—voice noncommittal, but behind this Titus sensed anger. Solomon, not appearing to sense this, answered.

  “My family has been having trouble—since father died.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Glenna seemed to need to understand the particulars.

  “Money—we’re having trouble paying the Makati tax. But I was told the tax would be paid for the year if I did this.” There was real shame in the voice, but Titus was certain this had more to do with being caught than it was concerned with the morality. Ethics appeared to have long since lost its grip on most in the city.

  “But your family is very old—I’m sure your relatives...”

  “They’re all dead, and the Governor took their money and property.”

  “Did they do something?”

  “No, they died and the money and property were needed to help fight the epidemic—you know how it is now.”

  Seeming to, the woman stroked his head and nodded. “He had no choice.” Glenna said looking up at Pym. There seemed a real tenderness there for a moment, until he looked deeper and saw the anger behind the mask.

  “Stay there, kid.” Pym growled and walked back behind the car, motioning the woman to follow.

  “What?” folding her arms and staring at Solomon. There was, behind the benevolent glance, a deeper, brute purpose.

  “First, you need to find out why they want me dead. I’ve a pretty good idea, but we should know for certain.”

  Turning back to him, the woman nodded.

  “Also, we need to know how serious they are about this. Solomon doesn’t seem very serious—it was lucky he didn’t kill himself with that weapon.”

  “Someone gave him a little training; otherwise, he would not have been able to fire it—let alone swap out the clip.”

  Titus nodded and continued. “Lastly, we need to find out if they’ve put a hit out on me with the Cartel—or if they’ve broadened this to anyone with an interest in the bounty.”

  “Yes,” looking over to Solomon, “but you’ll need to find out what else you can about him,” jutting a chin in the direction of the young man. Solomon was little more than twenty. He appeared well fed but not fat—a bit chubby perhaps. With short black hair—cut in a fashionable style that would pass in what had been the clubs and in the office for the latest up-and-comer—and eyes that were set a little too close for their small size, Solomon probably did not know anything beyond what he was told. If anything, in Pym’s mind, he was a warning salvo. This in itself was almost comical because there was little by way of threat left in the military and their militia shock troops. Even the Cartel was no match for the Beluga anymore—otherwise, they’d have taken back the territories Pym, Bannly, Synon, and Lander had taken through their swelling ranks.

  Never took Pym’s thoughts long to return to the Beluga Fay. Now more than ever his life was reliant upon them, rather than Glenna, and if he lost control of the Fay, he’d have nothing to fall back on. Then even Salazar could take him out, but it would be unlikely that it would take that long for the job to get done. Even the Cartel would have to wait in line behind Lander and his crew.

  “Did you hear me?” Glenna interrupting the fugue.

  “Find out what he knows.”

  “Yes,” leaning in, “and then...”

  “He’s a threat?”

  “And a failure.”

  “How is that a problem?” genuine surprise in the voice, which the woman saw right away.

  “He’s seen us together—and this place.”

  “How do you think Solomon found the apartment?”

  “I don’t know—maybe he followed me here, or you?”

  “There would have been better places to get us than here. No, he would have known about this place.”

  “I’d have been arrested if they knew about the two of us.”

  “Yes, that part is interesting.” The woman’s self-possession was crumbling.

  “Are you sure they know?” panic brushing the edges of the rounded vowels.

  “Not certain of anything, but we will need to find out what they know back in Makati. I cannot, so you will have to.”

  “But if they know about us...”

  “Your crew?”

  She nodded. “Possible, but not certain. They may not even know about me. Solomon could have found us on his own.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Yes, it is not likely. Doesn’t change the fact that we need to know what the government knows—at least what the Intelligence department knows. If worse comes to worst, tell them you were trading with me. Hell, they might even believe you.” The last was offered with a chuckle which made the woman’s face fall.

  “That’s cold.” There was a pout in the voice. He did not respond to this, and Glenna quickly down shifted into self-preservation. Her rapidity of transformation and intensity was so fast and comprehensive he found it difficult to believe that anything he knew of the woman was genuine. “You had best hope they do believe me.”

  “Threat?”

  “No.” She drew the word out so long it seemed this was just what it had been or had almost been—the drawl made it difficult to determine. “However, they will interrogate me, and that will not take much effort. I’m not physically brave.”

  “I’ve seen no examples of bravery in any of your lot, but that isn’t the problem for me. For me the problem is how much I can trust any of you.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Fair? You just threatened me.”

  “It wasn’t a threat but a warning. We’re locked in this together—so if Solomon has not told them about us, then we are going to have to make certain he does not have the chance.” Eyebrows up, driving the point home.

  “Kill him?” Glenna’s face remained impassive.

  Pym was certain this came from years of practice of hiding intention so that later, when it all went sideways, she could say—with a degree of honesty—that she had recommended no course of action. That he had taken it would be all on him. Titus wanted to be angry but could not help but be impressed by the casual way she’d thrown the onus of what needed to be done back on him. This was the sum total of their relationship to date. No matter what happened next, he would have to be very careful.

  “But,” she continued, “make certain you have gotten whatever information he has not shared with us out of him.”

  “So, now it is torture?”

  “How you get the information is your concern, but you will want to be certain about what he tells you.”

  A smile broke on the man’s face at the smoothness of the reply. Pym would not be underestimating her in the future, even if he was learning to trust her a little more—so long as he did not get in the way of her plans. “Very well, but you better come by tomorrow with what you find out. If you do not show, I’ll know something is wrong—then you’re on your own.”

  She looked hurt but didn’t say anything. Turning, she walked over to her car, without speaki
ng to Solomon who lay moaning in a pool of his own blood, and drove off.

  Pym was in the small but functional kitchen waiting for the coffee machine to finish. The thing never made a decent cup, but given most had not had any for the past six months, he wasn’t particularly concerned. This was, however, just one more reason he needed out of town. Survival was the obvious reason, but there were the little things as well. The little things were what made life worth the effort—a cup of coffee, good bottle of wine, single malt, good restaurant, bathed and perfumed women...preferably in summer dresses, the game, museums, art galleries, hookers with health cards. Even if that were to come back; even if he could get off the islands—which now seemed the best idea in a contracting galaxy of choices—there was little chance of getting back to these in the northern hemisphere. He was in the South for a reason. There was, of course, the East—and that’s where he wanted to go—but there wasn’t much of what he wanted—needed—there—still, more than he’d ever get here.

  Pouring the coffee, Titus sat the cup on the counter and stared at the reflected light on the black surface as what looked like dust particles broke into hexagonal shapes. The machine needed cleaning. Dropping a half teaspoon of sugar into his cup, another commodity in short supply, he stirred it twice and took a sip. Not because the coffee was hot but because this would be his only cup for the day—maybe longer—and he needed to make it last. There was a mild bitter taste evened out by the cane sugar, and he smiled. If it had been early morning, it would have been the perfect way to begin the day, but it was close on lunch. Pym had waited this long to make any because he had wanted to share it with Glenna, but it seemed less and less likely that she was coming.

  Standing before the front window, he stared down at the quiet street and wondered when the militia would be showing up. He was armed and had an exit strategy, but he did not want to need these. Pym was still counting on the woman getting through the gate. There were other possibilities for getting out, but all of these were bloody and had, in his mind, little chance of success. On top of this, they would each require a large body of information to be distributed widely—which meant there was zero chance of controlling the flow of data. The result of this would be the government and the blockade would learn of their plans almost immediately. This would reduce their chance of success to about zero. Privately, Pym was thinking in negative numbers. So Glenna and her Cabal were his best, if not only, chance to get out in a reasonably bloodless manner.