Pray for Rain Part 2

by Dangerous Walker

  CHAPTER 39

  “You’re safe,” Tsyrker said.

  “I’m not so sure,” Koleermeer said looking around the hotel room.

  Tsyrker had managed to ring ahead and ask Cross and his team to be absent, but the room was still obviously what it was and Koleermeer was uneasy.

  Now that they were away from the danger he had composed himself and was once again thinking like the criminal mastermind he was. And the big question for any criminal mastermind is ‘how can I get out of this alive?’ followed by ‘and somehow profit?’.

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” Grant said. “We want Gothra and considering today, that could work to your favour.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “Really? And in your day to day criminal activities you work with trustworthy people, do you?” Tsyrker asked.

  She had a point there.

  “They’re my kind of untrustworthy. You two I’m not so sure about.”

  “Well boo-hoo,” she gave him a frowny face.

  “You’re in a difficult position here,” Grant said evenly. “You can’t trust us, but you walk out of that door and you’re a walking target.”

  “I’ve only got your word that she was trying to kill me,” he said.

  “That’s true,” Tsyrker agreed. “And if she isn’t she will be when she finds out you’ve talked to us. Or worse the InterG.”

  Koleermeer smiled at her. She was sharp this one. Cunning and beautiful. He liked her.

  “But where would that get you?” he smiled up at her from his chair.

  “No,” Grant shook his head. “You’ve missed it. Look around, it’s pretty impressive, all the computers and whatnot.”

  “It is,” Koleermeer agreed with a raised eyebrow.

  “And yet she mentioned handing you over to the ‘G.”

  He didn’t let it show on his face, but Koleermeer understood and understood he wasn’t in the position he thought he was. He had no idea who these people were, but they weren’t InterG.

  “Now nice, he understands,” Tsyrker smiled.

  Had he let it show on his face? Or was she that good?

  “You ever torture anyone in your line of work?” she asked him.

  “How’d you know she was gunning for me?” Koleermeer asked trying to avoid the implied threat.

  “We want Gothra, we were looking into it when your supposed defection came up. It didn’t take much more to find out she was using it as a chance to get rid of you,” Grant explained.

  “I struggle to believe it was that easy. Gothra plays everything close to her chest.”

  “It wasn’t easy.”

  Tsyrker had started to play with a knife and Koleermeer gave her a glance, but refused to be intimidated. Though he was a little and it had nothing to do with the knife.

  “And what about…” he feared even to say their name out loud.

  “The Desards?” Tsyrker asked and he nodded.

  “They’re not gunning for you,” Grant assured him. “Gothra added this in to the plan. She’s scared of you, Asward. As we said, it’s common in takeovers for them to get rid of the boss and promote the next-in-command.”

  “Better to have someone who is used to operating under someone else than someone who has had ultimate power,” Tsyrker agreed.

  “And you’re going to take her out?”

  “Not to help you out,” Tsyrker pointed out.

  “But yes. We need access to her HQ.”

  This could work for him, Koleermeer thought. He’d had no interest in climbing any higher than he was, but if the Desards were taking over then he was actually dropping a place in the hierarchy unless he moved up one. And, of course, Gothra wouldn’t let him live anyway. They were right about taking out the boss in takeovers. They weren’t common, at least at this level, but you certainly heard of it when smaller gangs got amalgamated. He spun through all the options and he realised that he couldn’t risk it. Helping these two was his best bet. He knew the tech around him, knew the set-up; this wasn’t criminal, this was legit.

  “Alright. I’ve got a few conditions, I need to be out of the picture for a while obviously, but alright. What do you need to know?”

  ***

  “Regrette,” Grant said with relief as he entered his room at the spa.

  “Where’ve you been? I’ve been bored,” Regrette said from a chair by the window.

  The curtains were closed and he had a glass of whisky in his hand. His clothes were stained red with blood.

  “You didn’t think of changing?”

  Regrette looked down at himself.

  “Mssh. Are we a go?”

  “We are.”

  “Ooh,” Regrette grinned and threw back the alcohol.

  “You’re OK?”

  “Nothing to it,” Regrette replied disinterestedly.

  “I’m assuming none of that it yours,” Grant nodded to the stains.

  “Not that I’m aware,” Regrette got up, but staggered sideways.

  Grant rushed to grab his friend and tried to sit him back down. Regrette pushed against him to stay standing.

  “How bad?” Grant asked.

  “Flesh wound. Hurts like a Firecroat bite on the soft and danglys though.”

  “Alright, we can’t stay here. Let me see it.”

  Regrette lifted his shirt and Grant could see two bullet wounds. One was still bleeding and looked more serious than the other. Grant ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, soaked it and brought it back to press against the wound.

  “Take off your shirt, I’ll get you a new one. Hold that there.”

  “Thank you, nurse,” Regrette grinned weakly at him.

  ***

  They managed to sneak out of the spa through a window and get to the Wraith without any issue though it was clear that people were looking for them in connection with the gunfight they’d had before leaving for MBK. Through windows they also saw TVs showing MBK with smoke coming out of it and police and fire engines swarming outside. There looked to be a large hole in the front façade.

  They got into Regrette’s ship and he insisted he was a big boy and could patch himself up with the medical supplies aboard if Grant could fly the ship. Grant had given him the ‘you’re so funny’ face and considered poking his wound, though of course he wouldn’t. They might be from completely different worlds and ways of thinking, but Regrette was his friend and he was deeply worried for him.

  He took the controls and as soon as he fired up the engines people came running to try and stop them. Grant recognised them as from a special InterG unit that policed the spas, but as very little really happened at the spas it was more of a comfort position than a real police job. They could have, Grant mused as he took off, walked right out (even with Regrette covered in blood) without the ‘G officers noticing.

  They were half way between the star gate and the Dead Planet when Regrette came into the cockpit and took a seat. He looked better already, but he was moving slowly and even in a dark top, Grant could see he was still bleeding.

  “We’ll get you to Hendricks,” he said.

  “I’m not that old,” Regrette protested.

  “He’s a doctor.”

  “Laikan doctor? Bet that went down well after the war.”

  “Like a Firecroat bite on the soft and danglys,” Grant twisted a smile. “Hence him being an Archaeologist now. You OK?”

  “Mssh. I’ve had worse.”

  “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I’m sorry.”

  “You gonna get teary on me? You know I don’t hug, right?”

  “It wasn’t a good plan,” Grant admitted.

  “And I still said yes to it. We got what we needed. We did get what we needed, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she torture him?”

  “No,” Grant exclaimed.

  “Bet she’s disappointed.”

  “That’s mean.”

  “She would have. If he wouldn’t give. You know tha
t, right?”

  “I don’t think on it.”

  “Bet you don’t,” Regrette laughed and then held his stomach and clenched his teeth. “Mssh.”

  “Nearly there.”

  They entered the atmosphere of the Dead Planet and Grant steered them in to land next to the Lark.

  ***

  “You look smug,” Grant said to Kaskey as they sat in a tent listening to Regrette swear and less-than-politely question Dr. Hendricks skills as a physician.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Gulch looked smug too.”

  “Hard to tell with Petruthsians though, isn’t it?”

  “Tell me,” Grant said.

  Kaskey shook his head as he twirled a finger. Grant got it. Not here.

  “I think he’ll live,” Hendricks said entering.

  “You think?” Kaskey ironicalised.

  “I’ll go see him,” Grant stood.

  “No,” Hendricks stopped him. “He’s having a drink or two of Carute Whiskey. I don’t think he’ll be awake for long.”

  “So where do we stand?” Kaskey asked.

  “We’ve got what we need, we’re just waiting on Tsyrker to arrive.”

  “And you know we’re in?” Hendricks asked.

  “No. No, I didn’t,” Grant said looking at Kaskey. He looked smug.

  “Rorckshift and I along with a few of our diggers. Change is as good as a rest and all that.”

  “Good,” Grant nodded to himself. “It’ll be dangerous though.”

  “That’s why they’re doing it, old boy. Why they’re doing it,” Hendricks grinned as he lit his pipe.

  “Alright, you’re OK, Doc. I guess,” Regrette called drunkenly from the tent next door.

  “What’ve we got?” Grant asked.

  “Rorckshift is in the city as we speak with some of our diggers,” Hendricks said.

  “Man knows what he’s doing, Grant,” Kaskey said.

  “You can’t make me go in there,” Regrette shouted. “I won’t, I won’t.”

  “And what is he doing?” Grant asked trying to ignore it.

  “Finding our best route to the Skyscraper. If we’re right about her having a private guard, you know they’ll be patrolling the streets,” Kaskey said.

  Grant thought he sounded a little excited. He didn’t know what had gone on here, but Kaskey was obviously somewhat impressed.

  “Good. We’re happy to let him lead, but he needs our information to form a plan. We need him back,” Grant said.

  “Schreinold’s Box? Again? Come on, man,” Regrette babbled. “Ooh, is that a Carutan Death Trap? Now we’re talking.”

  There was silence and then a sudden shriek followed by sobbing.

  “Should I?” Grant asked quietly.

  “No,” Hendricks replied without meeting his eyes.

  “Why? Why?” Regrette screamed.

  And then he began to laugh.

  “It’ll take more than that.”

  More sobbing.

  “Maybe we should go,” Kaskey suggested.

  “Yeah,” Grant agreed.

  “What’s that?” Regrette asked with fear. “Oh,” he then said calmly. “Well, bring it on.”

  They all got up.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Regrette said with menace and then screamed a scream that turned to maniacal laughter.

  As they left the tent he began singing Aycher’s Ode before there was a thump and they all stopped. They heard snoring.

  “I’ll get him to bed,” Grant said.

  “I’ll help,” Kaskey said.

  “No. See you in the morning.”

  “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to. Please don’t. Please don’t,” Regrette murmured.

  “Alright,” Kaskey said eventually.

  CHAPTER 40

  The next morning Kaskey got up to find Grant already up and talking to Tsyrker in the middle of the camp. The day was cold but bright and Kaskey knew it would quickly heat up. All around the camp people were getting out of tents and there were already people in the mess tent preparing breakfast.

  He took the chance to look back between the tents and across the grey plain to the distant hills. There were stories here; one big story of how the planet had ended up like this, but he couldn’t imagine them. The trained eyes of people like Rorckshift and Hendricks could see them, could imagine times long past, but he could not. What he could understand was that even in something seemingly dead there were stories buried under the surface. That whatever a place, or a person, was like now, there had been a process to get there. Stories.

  “Morning,” he turned to find Grant behind him. “Sleep well?”

  “’Sbeen a long time since I camped, but yeah. What’s happening?”

  “Breakfast then we’ll meet in Rorckshift’s tent.”

  “He’s back?”

  “Sometime in the night.”

  “And Regrette?” Kaskey asked and Grant looked over his shoulder at the hills.

  “He got up early and went for a walk. He’ll be back soon. I don’t need to tell you…”

  “Not to mention last night,” Kaskey finished.

  Grant smiled and took his shoulder.

  “Come on, let’s eat.”

  ***

  They all sat or stood around the table in Rorckshift’s tent. Both Gulch and Rainsford sat in front of portable computers as news rolled in from overnight.

  “Five bars were bombed, all belonging to Gothra,” Gulch reported.

  “Yes,” Tsyrker said. “Followed by two alleged Shen Mi bars and a warehouse. We have to assume that’s a Shen Mi front too.”

  “She has good information,” Rorckshift said.

  “Gothra or Rain?” Kaskey asked and Rorckshift thought about it.

  “Both.”

  “The Desards would know Shen Mi operations,” Grant said.

  “She’s showing that she won’t back down,” Regrette mused. “Gothra, not Rainsford.”

  “It seems mighty foolish,” Hendricks thought.

  “Jayfad Loxiir was then assassinated,” Gulch said.

  “Ran the Yxin City operation for Gothra,” Tsyrker said. “Who replied with five random shootings of Shen Mi out in public and, this is interesting, a missile attack on a building that turned out to be a Shen Mi stronghold in Ictopia.”

  “She has got good intel,” Grant agreed.

  “And it seems the Shen Mi were buying time to plant explosives in the Loggajello,” Gulch said. “Massive damage to it reported, and the surrounding roadways and buildings.”

  “Mssh, I lost a cufflink there,” Regrette commented.

  “Why haven’t they just attacked her HQ?” Kaskey asked.

  “They’ll be scoping it out first. Often it’s not worth it, too well protected; they’ll lose a lot of men trying to get in when they could just assassinate her in the future,” Tsyrker explained.

  “They’ll try if they think they can though,” Grant added.

  “It just seems somewhat unlikely,” Rorckshift said. “From what you’ve said, Gothra is a much smaller operation.”

  “Yeah,” Kaskey agreed. “And a hustler, not a ganger.”

  “That’s where the Desards come in,” Gulch said.

  “And where are they getting an army from? Most of the people who work for them don’t even know it,” Regrette asked, looking at Tsyrker.

  Tsyrker had been set a task by her boss. To find out any information or links between the Desards and the Shadow Archetype and Koey had also mentioned it. Even she didn’t know if it existed or not, Regrette certainly didn’t think so, and yet her boss seemed to. She wasn’t going to mention any of this to the others, but she thought that perhaps that was where the support was coming from. Koey had said as much. If that were true then either the Desards weren’t throwing Gothra to the wolves, or the Archetype were seeking out a less powerful criminal to raise up as their own.

  “I think the Desards made their move because they had outside help,”
she said.

  “Oh, yes?” Rorckshift asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Regrette laughed.

  “Forget it. She has sources she won’t even share with Grant.”

  “Gothra’s not stupid, she wouldn’t agree to this without the safety of knowing she and her operation can survive. She must have an army behind her.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Grant asked her.

  “It could be harder getting in than we thought,” Tsyrker replied.

  “Rorckshift?” Grant asked.

  “Security is tight, we saw the protection Kaskey described to us, but nothing heavier than that. If she’s got it she isn’t showing it. We got to the skyscraper without any trouble. Though, well, we’ve had some experience of sneaking into places.”

  “Archaeology that dangerous is it?” Kaskey asked not completely seriously.”

  “Sometimes artefacts are in places where the people would happily see them perish in war rather than be preserved,” Rorckshift told.

  “It’s OK, we understand that,” Gulch said giving Kaskey a quick glare.

  “A ship just exploded taking off from the Space port at Prantz, planet of Oswith,” Tsyrker interrupted. “Reports are sketchy, but it seems to have been smuggling out Ankarian blood.”

  “So who’s was it?” Kaskey asked.

  “Unsure,” Gulch replied looking back at his screen.

  “I think you need to stop and ask yourselves what this Gothra is trying to achieve. What is she getting out of all of this?” Dr. Hendricks asked.

  ***

  Gothra was working on that as they spoke. She’d expected the attacks and had actually done her best to direct them to lesser targets. She had been partially successful, though the assassination of Loxiir wasn’t planned. The idiot should have stayed indoors as soon as he heard. And the Loggajello? That was a big blow, but it was a terrorist attack, a major tragedy. The Shen Mi had made the mistake of destroying some of the civil engineering around it and the insurance would be there to build it bigger and better with the support of the local government. That would make the Desards happy.

  The Desards wanted the Shen Mi’s operations weakened; wanted to make a space that they could muscle into. Yes, they all knew that Gothra’s places would suffer, but the Desards had the money to rebuild them. They were ready, while the Shen Mi were not, to rebuild and swoop into the holes in the Shen Mi Empire. They weren’t really criminals, the Desards, but logisticians; business people. They didn’t have gangs of hard men and women to swoop in and take over the Shen Mi outfits, but rather accountants and contractors ready to build where the rubble lay.

  Not that she took them lightly. They ran the same kind of criminal activities as she did; as the Shen Mi did and they didn’t get into that position without being ruthless.