by C. R. Daems
"Girl, we're Black Hand," the cocky one blurted reflexively, then blushed at the admission.
"Well if Osoriao was part of the Black Hand, that explains it. An organization of murderers and thieves with no honor, integrity, or skill. Osoriao must have been a perfect fit," I said while sending Shadi an image of Bulldog, thinking they had discussed their attack strategy before confronting me: Cocky to kill the cat while Bulldog kills me if he can't subdue me.
"Move your hand away from your Mfw and come peacefully and we won't have to kill you. If you cooperate we could be very helpful to your business," Bulldog said.
I gave a short laugh. "If you two and Osoriao are representative of the talent in the Black Hand, it's a wonder you aren't homeless and having to beg for handouts," I said and shouted for Shadi to attack as the Cocky one's hand grabbed for his Mfw. It was over in a few seconds and almost comical.
Cocky went for his Mfw, either because my remarks enraged him in his excited state or because he thought Bulldog had distracted me. I aimed for his neck as I rotated my Bahr up, thinking he would be looking down, anticipating shooting the cat as it ran toward him. Of course Shadi had crossed over to attack Bulldog. Cocky froze as he realized the cat wasn't attacking him and my Mfw was rising toward him. My shot tore away part of his neck and lower jaw, throwing him backward. The impact caused his hand to squeeze the trigger and several pellets blasted a trench in the ground where Shadi would have been if she had been attacking him.
Bulldog's carotid artery spurted blood as Shadi's claw ripped across his throat before his Mfw had cleared his holster.
When I looked around people were running, lying on the ground, or peeking out from behind trees and other objects.
"Show’s over. The good guy won," I quipped, hoping I looked calm. Inside, my heart was pounding like a drummer on crack cocaine and my accelerated adrenaline had every nerve suspended between flight and fight. I scanned the area, taking deep breaths, and dug my hand into Shadi's fur while fighting to anchor myself. The Black Hand killed my father…was using me like a willing addict…monitoring my movements…and interacting with me in unpredictable ways. I felt like the particle that created the universe a nanosecond before the Big Bang.
Slowly the world returned to normal as people got up from the ground, out from behind objects they thought safe, and continued on their way while giving me and the area plenty of space. I started a slow walk to the taxi when three men who resembled the two I had just killed appeared about ten paces from of me. I stopped feeling drained.
"Are you three also here to avenge Osoriao?" I asked, surveying them. They were much like clones: around one hundred eighty-seven centimeters tall, long dark hair just over the ears, angular faces that had seen plenty of action, penetrating eyes, athletic builds, and good quality Mfws with well-worn holsters.
"Actually, we were looking for Mick and Fred but you found them first," the man in the middle of three said. He was clean-shaven. The other two hadn't shaved in a couple of weeks.
"And now you have three to avenge?" I asked, still trying to decide whom Shadi should attack.
"No, from what we heard Osoriao was stupid enough to pick a fight with a carrier and dumber yet to pick a fight with a leopard. Probably thought the cat would just sit there while he shot it. And those two," he jerked his head in the direction of the two dead men, "weren't smart enough to learn from the incident with Osoriao. So you were right. They were an embarrassment."
I stood there in shock. My mind was numb and spinning in confusion while trying to stay focused, since I didn't know their intention or trust them.
"You can certainly handle yourself and you're smart, judging by the way you handled Osoriao and those two. We could use someone like you—" He held up his hand. "We know what you do for a living. With us you could triple your profits…and have an organization to call on for protection," the man said. He looked relaxed but I'd wager he was as ready as I. "You've been lucky so far. From what I’ve heard, most of the encounters have been inexperienced amateurs and over-confident thugs.”
“You could avoid cage fights with people like Uzomo," one of the other men chimed in. The bastards obviously knew everywhere I went and everything I did. I felt naked and shivered.
"Think about it," the senior man said, smiling. "You can reach us through Club Royal. We make better friends than enemies." With that he and the other two turned and walked away. With my oscillating emotions of fear and rage running through me, I don't remember how I got back to the Tykhe.
* * *
Kraig found me in the galley when he arrived back around noon the next day. I must have looked like I had been parting all night and had a hangover. He had fetched two beers and listened quietly as I recounted the previous night's events, although I made the drug delivery sound like a visit to an old friend.
He laughed then sobered. "Sorry, Zen. But it's…amusing. The Black Hand doesn't know whether to kill you or marry you."
"What a horrible thought, Kraig!"
"They see you as a valuable asset and a potential threat—an asset if you are with them but a serious problem if you are against them. They know you're smart enough to eventually figure out they killed your father and what they have been doing with the Tykhe."
"The idea has always been to keep a very low profile so that I didn't attract notice—quiet transactions between my customers and me. High visibility means more risk. And easier to track down my father's killers and get retribution. And I had thought I was doing just that. Now I find out I've been working for the Black Hand for free, they been leading me by my nose, and I'm on everyone's radar, including the ACS." I downed half my bottle of beer. "No more nice girl. No more sit, stay, go, come nice little puppy." I rose and headed for the control room, with Kraig following.
"Where are we going?" he asked with a look of concern on his face.
"Tashir. I have a delivery there. On the way, we can figure how we can use that leash they have me on to hang them, preferably by their balls.
* * *
During the three-day trip, Kraig and I started by listing all the things we knew:
1. The Black Hand could enter and leave the Tykhe at will, and I couldn't stop them without alerting them that I knew their secret.
2. They shipped illegal drugs and weapons in two fake missiles.
3. They watched the Tykhe and knew its planned itinerary and used my contacts to send me where they wanted items shipped.
4. They followed me and Kraig and knew where we went.
Then we made a list of their potential weaknesses:
a. They were dysfunctional. They were susceptible to Greed, hate, pride, etc.
b. They didn't know I knew their secrets: The Tykhe and their connection to the Raiders.
c. They didn't know Kraig was ACS.
d. The Tykhe was loaded with countermeasures.
e. The Tykhe had ungraded missiles and jump capability.
f. Shadi's unique capabilities.
g. That the Easy Trader was an integral part of the Raiders organization.
h. They had a contact in the ACS identifying targets.
In the end we concluded it wasn't our mission to stop the Black Hand, although I still felt retribution was required for my father's murder, stealing Shadi's cubs which resulted in Celio's death, and for violating the Tykhe. Our mission was to find the Raiders, and the Easy Trader was a direct link.
"What do you think would happen if we destroyed the Easy Trader when it made its collection run to pick up the Raiders on vacation?" Kraig asked, causing me to go into lockdown—killing a ship and an unknown number of passengers. That wasn't like killing someone who meant to kill you. That was mass murder. ACS cruisers did destroy enemy ships and Raiders and the Raiders committed mass murder on their raids but could I, I wondered. Kraig didn't appear to have a problem with the idea.
"It might disrupt their operations but it would certainly cause them to see Red and want to find something to kill," I finally said, s
till unsure whether I could destroy a ship that was trying to destroy the Tykhe.
"If we got them chasing us…" Kraig said quietly almost to himself.
"We'd be dead!" I said, causing Kraig to jerk out of his musing.
"You're right on both accounts and besides, it would only be a short-term solution. Eventually, they would find or create a new merchant and might even identify the Tykhe as the culprit."
"The best solution would be to follow the Easy Trader as it returned from collecting the vacationing crew," I said, but not sure how we could follow the Easy Trader when they probably had an excellent electronic suite, which would mean if we could see them to follow they could see us following."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Star System: Tashir
"A little unusual," the older customs inspector said as he finished a very exhaustive inspection of the Tykhe, "A merchant with no cargo."
"And hard on the bank account. I hoped to get lucky on Tashir. I've done work for several customers here over the years," I said, trying to sound depressed, which wasn't hard after Dacca.
"Nothing in customs right now that doesn't have a merchant assigned. You could try the merchant's guild, seeing as you are free to go anywhere."
"I will. Thanks," I said as they departed.
"Ruins one's day when you know the merchant is smuggling something and you can't find it." Kraig gave a snort. "Well, I'm off to see if I can get information on where the Easy Trader is planning to go and maybe a way of tracking it as it returns to Dacca or Tyrus."
"I'll be at the Kit Kat Klub, looking for business," I said, and managed to suppress a smile. Kraig smirked before waving goodbye. I left an hour later.
"How much to the Kit Kat Klub?" I asked the lone taxi sitting outside the customs parking facility. The driver was a shriveled old woman. She smiled when she looked at me and saw Shadi.
"That animal will cost double fare," a gravelly voice said.
"I asked how much, not how was your day," I said, enjoying the banter.
"It will be worse if I have to clean up after it," she shot back with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Two passengers and double fare if she leaves so much as a hair on the seat," I said.
"I don't think they are going to let that kit kat into the club," she said and gave me a crooked smile as she started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "Though she's prettier than some of the kit kats at the club." She cackled for several minutes as she weaved in and out of traffic.
The Kit Kat Klub had video clips of the latest performers on two rotating cylinders on either side of the double glass doors entrance. I paid the old lady ten credits, which included a five-credit tip. She looked like she needed it.
Inside the glass door two men were collecting the entrance fee. Both looked to enjoy knockdown brawls for recreation. I chose the one on the right, since he looked the most alert and might understand a simple sentence.
"One hundred credits entrance fee," he said with his hand out as his eyes took stock of me. He didn't seem impressed.
"I'm here to see Mr. Zotov," I said, hoping that wasn't too difficult. Apparently I was wrong.
"One hundred credits to get inside," he repeated.
"Please tell Mr. Zotov that Zenaida is here to see him. He'll pay the entrance fee for me," I said slowly and carefully. He laughed.
"Mr. Zotov not pay for anyone. You pay."
"Call Mr. Zotov. He is expecting me."
"Looking job? Not enough meat," he said looking me up and down.
"Call him and find out if he wants you knowing his business!" I said with as much authority as I could. Something in that sentence flipped on a switch, and he took out a hand-held device and talked quietly with it held to his lips. Then turned back to me. Mr. Zotov sick. Mr. Sokolov will take package." He smiled. I think I preferred the gorilla face look. It wasn't a welcoming smile, or a friendly smile, but rather an amused smile. One I didn't like. "Down the hallway—last door."
The first door on the right was a ladies’ restroom, judging by the sign which had the image of a female lion, while the door on the right had the image of a male lion with an impressive black mane. I pushed open the door. The room had two stalls and a row of sinks. Kneeling, I saw the stalls were empty, hurriedly removed my container, and stuffed it under the first sink behind the drain. Then I washed my hands and left the room. At the end of the hallway I knocked on the last door and waited.
"Come in, Zenaida," a young male-sounding voice said with a Russian accent. Inside, an athletic looking man with long dark brown hair sat behind a Russian Neoclassical desk. The entire room screamed Old Russia from the Caucasian rugs, silver icon of St. Nickolas, Samovar lamps, and other neoclassical tables, chairs, and knick knacks. However the man behind the desk looked out of place in the room, as did the two professional thugs on either side of the desk.
"I'm Nickolas Sokolov. Unfortunately Mr. Zotov met with an accident and isn't well. He asked me to collect the package," he said while extending his hand.
"There seems to be some confusion, Mr. Sokolov. Mrs. Wu had an accident and sent me to let her customers know there would be a delay of several months," I said thinking it would be funny except for the two thugs. Shadi, on guard, I sent via our link, with an image of the thug on my left, since I thought the thug on the right would be focused on Shadi.
Typical of youth, Sokolov had no patience and preferred force. "Boris, search her. Vald, kill her if she doesn't cooperate." Sokolov had the gall to smile.
I raised my arms to be searched while mentally holding Shadi in check. Boris was rough, took liberties, and was thorough.
"Mr. Zotov is going to be very unhappy when he learns he didn't get his drugs," Sokolov said, frowning in thought.
"I suspect he will be very unhappy when he finds Mrs. Wu won't be sending him any more drugs after the way you've treated me. She has more customers than supplies," I said, stalling for time to determine what was going on. Was Zotov really sick and Sokolov his agent or is Zotov dead and Sokolov taking over his business, in which case Wu would collect for the drugs, or was Sokolov attempting to steal the drugs? If either of the first two cases were true, then I should give him the drugs. If not I shouldn't, but how much risk should I take to protect Wu's profits? Damn, life could get complicated. Actually, life was a tangled mess that went way beyond complicated.
"I think she's lying, boss," Boris said while his penetrating dead eyes gave me shivers. "I could get the truth."
"Why didn't she bring them if she had them?" Sokolov asked, deep in thought by his look.
"One of Zotov's men contacted her," Vald said.
"Then why come at all?" Sokolov's frown deepened. "Boris, go get Zotov."
Shit, I shouted mentally. Now was the time to act, with only two in the room…but what if Sokolov was acting for Zotov and I killed him? Frozen with the dichotomy, I waited too long, and my indecision was resolved when the door opened and Boris entered with Zotov. He had his arms tied behind him and a rope dangled from around his neck, which I assume had been attached to his feet. He looked to have had a rough time, judging from the blood on his clothes and his battered face.
"Give them the drugs, Zen. I will pay Mrs. Wu what she is owed," Zotov said through bruised and swollen lips, sounding like a drunk. I thought his jaw may have been broken. His lips were swollen twice their normal size.
"I tried to tell these thugs that Mrs. Wu sent me to apologize for the delay. She had an accident," I said and shrugged. "She didn't say what. I was to find out everyone's needs for when she could begin production again," I said, wondering if I were an idiot since Zotov had accepted the delivery, even if under duress.
"I still think she's lying, boss," Boris said with a snarl.
"She would be an idiot now that Zotov has agreed to pay," Sokolov said. I nodded agreement several times. He stood leaning with both hands on the desk, staring at Shadi. "But we are in too deep," Sokolov continued. I knew deep in my bones what was coming. Injure Shad
i to see if I'd talk and, regardless, in the end he intended to kill Zotov, Shadi, and me.
Shadi, attack, I sent, along with an image of Boris, as I swiveled my Bahr to point at Vald and fired as it came level with his groin. He bent in pain while fumbling to draw his Mfw. The second shot hit him in the chest and head, slamming him backward into the wall. I turned in time to see Sokolov stumbling backward while reaching for his Mfw. He tripped, and landed in his chair. While he fumbled to draw the Mfw from the holster strapped to his thigh, I shot him twice in the chest. He sat slumped with his head hanging down.
Shadi sat next to Boris, looking relaxed. Boris looked dead—very dead—judging by the pool of blood around him. Zotov had backed against the wall, staring at Shadi, his face pale with fear.
"Relax, Mr. Zotov. Shadi won't hurt you without my permission. I gather Sokolov wanted something from you," I said while I checked each body to be sure they were dead, except for Boris. His wounds precluded him being alive—the open arteries had stopped pumping out blood.
"He worked for me and knew a shipment of Dream Drugs were on their way. Since I didn't know who would deliver the drugs or when, he's had me held hostage for the last week. Lucky Mrs. Wu had an accident, although I'm not sure what they would have done next. I think they had planned to steal the drugs, kill you and me, and leave the system. Without the drugs…" He shrugged.
"Take whatever they could carry and kill you and me," I said. "They had few options, with or without the drugs."
Zotov nodded as he staggered to his desk, pushed Sokolov out of the chair, and sat. Reaching into his desk he pulled out a bottle of Romanov labeled vodka, poured himself a glassful, and gulped half down. Then he picked up the phone. "Maxim, my office--and bring help." He hung up and sat staring at me while he refilled the glass and sat sipping it. "Sit, Zen—" he began just as the door burst open and five men came running in with guns drawn. "Relax, Max. Get this mess cleaned up and get Zenaida anything she wants while we wait."