by Lyn Forester
“Yes. As I showed your cashier when we arrived.”
“I’d like to see it.” His left arm comes forward, palm up, while his right stays in place.
Drake reaches into his breast pocket, and the other man’s grip tightens on his psy-gun.
A thump comes from the cashier area, like a body hitting the ground, and Reagen calls, “You pull that, and I’ll shoot you.”
A quiet whir fills the room as his partner changes the setting on her weapon to heavy stun. The guy freezes as she steps up behind him. Drake pulls his business card from his pocket and sets it in the man’s outstretched hand.
He shifts his arm enough to read the card and releases his weapon. He returns it Drake. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Mr. Esten. We’re cautious since the break-in.”
“Is Troy in the shop?” Drake tucks the card back into his pocket.
“He’s in his office.” Business Suit moves his jacket to cover his holster and rebutton it at the front. The material bulges at his hip, doing nothing to hide the weapon. “I’m Mr. Troy’s personal guard, Jerald. I can take you to him now.”
Reagen holsters her psy-gun as Jerald turns toward the hall leading back into the den. Past her, the cashier lies on the ground, stunned. She pulls the ventilation mask up over her nose, and Drake does the same with his own as they follow Jerald. A bright wash of colors and the sound of cheering come from ahead.
Before they reach the actual den, the bodyguard opens a door to the right and leads the way up a steep flight of stairs that twist back on themselves. By the time they reach the top, Drake’s certain they’re standing above the candy room. They exit into another hall and pass a line of doors on the left before coming to the end, where Jerald stops. He raises a meaty fist and taps on the solid-looking surface.
The knock echoes, the door a hollow fabrication. Cheap and bad for security. A muffled invitation comes through, and the bodyguard twists the knob to push the door inward.
The small office holds a desk just large enough to stick a chair beneath. The desk-port on top almost covers the entire surface. Two wood chairs sit facing it, backs positioned toward the hall. Troy stands, combing a shaky hand through the few wisps of brown hair that remain on his head. His pink scalp glistens in the poor lighting provided by a standing lamp wedged between the desk and right wall.
“Mr. Esten is here to see you.” Jerald announces.
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Troy blinks pale blue eyes at them for a long moment before he shakes his head as if to jog his thoughts into order. “Please, come in.”
They crowd into the office, and the club owner waves a chubby hand at the seats in invitation. Drake pauses behind the one on the right and glances at Reagen. She stands a step inside the door, gaze darting around the room.
He turns to Troy. “My associate will stay standing.”
Troy’s small mouth disappears into the folds of his cheeks as he frowns. “Is there something wrong?”
“There was a misunderstanding downstairs.” Drake sets the Black Corporation plaque on the edge of the desk and takes a seat.
Troy stares at the metal square for a long moment as his face pales. “What happened?”
“She shot Kenny, sir,” Jerald growls.
“I stunned him.” Reagen moves away from the assistant, eyes running along the ceiling, before she leans her back against the left wall. Her position blocks Troy behind his desk, gives her a view of the door, and places her below the newly installed camera.
Her arms stay loose at her sides, but a slight tension in her shoulders gives lie to her relaxed pose.
“When we arrived, the front shop was overcrowded. That violates Black Corp’s contract with the blue guard.” Drake leans forward and grips the seat to shift himself for a better angle. Now he can see Troy and the bodyguard. “I identified myself to Kenny, but he denied you were here. I followed protocol and temporarily closed the den.”
“How did Kenny get shot?” Troy’s shoulders droop as he slumps.
“Stunned.” Reagen taps her fingers against the wall, and a hollow echo fills the space.
Troy flinches and glances at her. Sweat breaks out across his forehead. “I’m sorry, yes, stunned.”
“When I identified myself to Jerald, he got a little nervous. My associate was forced to disable your cashier to cover me.”
“He’ll be out for three hours.” She shifts along the wall one step and taps again. A solid thump.
“I’m sorry.” Troy pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and mops the sweat from his brow. “My cousin loaned me some guards after the break-in. They’re overzealous.”
“Look.” Drake leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I didn’t come here to shut your shop down. Black Corporation can forgive some rule stretching. With Gr8 Games closed, it’s left to The Hut and Penned to take up the slack.”
“Yes, yes. Terrible what’s happening. My cousin is hiring more guards tonight.”
“We spoke with Victor last night about your break-in.” Reagen’s voice comes out emotionless as she takes two steps to the right and raps against the wall. The hollow echo seems to appease her because she stills, half a step from her original post.
Troy watches her from the corner of his eye as he shifts in his seat, then darts his gaze back to Drake.
Shit, he doesn’t know what she’s up to either.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
“About the break-in?” Troy mops at his brow again before tucking the handkerchief into his breast pocket. “It was, um, four days ago?”
“Wednesday, Mr. Troy.” The bodyguard rumbles from his post at the door.
“Yes, yes. Wednesday. I was at home with my wife, having lunch. Grilled mesuki. It’s her favorite.” He tugs at his tie to loosen it. “My cousin called to let me know the front window was broken.”
“Your security system didn’t alert you to the break-in?” Reagen stares at the floor as she asks the question. Drake follows her gaze to see a square indent in the carpet close to the wall, where the weight of furniture pressed the fibers down. The round leg of the desk stands inches away from it.
“We had a cloud skipper infestation last week. They liked the energy levels put out by the old cameras.” He wheezes out a laugh. “Pest control finished clearing out the gel the day before the burglary.”
“What did the shop look like when you arrived?” Drake asks.
“The intruders broke one of the display shelves, stole candy.” Troy shrugs. “Jerald can give you the exact numbers for lost inventory.”
“What about the aphremore dispenser?”
“It was untouched. We lock all the hoses and stems up at night, and the thieves didn’t break the door down. The tank weight matched the log from the night before.” He fidgets. “They didn’t take anything of consequence.”
“Do you have any idea why they targeted your shop?”
“I think it was local kids trying to impress the night pirates. It happens sometimes.”
“Like an audition.”
“Yes, yes. Pirates like destruction, so the kids destroy something to prove themselves.”
Drake nods, remembering the shattered bike they’d ridden past last night. Reagen straightens from the wall. “Pirates don’t just go around destroying things. They want something they can sell. Your candy isn’t worth enough to interest them.”
Troy’s face flushes at her disparagement of his product, but he doesn’t argue. The candy’s a gimmick he doesn’t spend very many credits on.
“What did they take from your office?” Reagen asks.
“What do you mean?” Troy pulls the handkerchief back out to mop at the sudden sweat on his forehead.
“Your desk is new.” Drake folds his hands together, fingers pointing toward the floor. “What happened to the old one?”
“The hoodlums destroyed it.” Damp circles start to spread from beneath his arms.
“The original one was bigger.” Reagen scuffs her shoe at the inden
t. “Too big for this office. You had a new wall built.”
“The updated security system requires more space. We had to expand into my office to make room.”
“What did the thieves take from in here?” Drake asks softly.
Troy’s eyes flicker toward his desk-port, then around the room.
“What was on the stolen desk-port?” Reagen asks.
His gaze skitters between Reagen and Drake, as he realizes he’s boxed in. He glances to the doorway. “Leave us.”
“I’m not supposed to leave your side, Mr. Troy.”
“Leave us!” His high-pitched shout cuts the other man off.
The bodyguard glances at them, then steps back into the hall, moving one door down. No doubt to watch the office from the security monitors next door.
Once he’s gone, Troy slumps in his seat. “Can you please close the door?”
Brow raised, Drake stands to comply. Reagen stiffens as the lock latches but doesn’t protest.
Drake settles back in the chair and leans forward. “Tell us what’s going on.”
“My wife has been cheating on me,” Troy blurts out.
Drake blinks in surprise. Not the news he was expecting.
“How did you find out?” Reagen asks to fill the sudden silence.
“I’ve suspected it for a few months.” He stares at the top of his desk. “My wife has expensive taste, so I spend all my time at work, trying to get the shop to pull in the same credit levels that Penned does. I went home early once, to surprise her. The house smelled of cologne. She said she’d met with an accountant to discuss our investments. But she isn’t good with numbers. It didn’t make sense. So I hired an investigator. That’s when I knew.”
“Did you confront her about it?”
“No. I love my wife.” He scrubs the handkerchief across his eyes, throat clearing. “I want to stay with her.”
“Then why hire the investigator?”
“For protection. If she tries to divorce me in the future, I wanted proof of her infidelity. She can’t take the shop in a separation if she’s broken our nuptial agreement.”
Drake puts two and two together. “The evidence was on your desk-port here.”
“I thought it would be safe.” Troy hiccups. “Who would break into a Black Corporation business?”
“Is there anyway your wife found out about the investigation?”
“It was a blackout case, and I never spoke to anyone about it.”
“Was there anything else on the desk-port that was important?”
“No, just everyday business files.”
“So that’s why you didn’t report it to Black Corp?” Reagen asks.
“Not much to report, right?” Troy laughs, a hollow sound that dies the moment it escapes his mouth. “Revenue hasn’t changed, and the aphremore wasn’t touched.”
“Any idea who would break into Gr8 Games?”
“Probably the same kids that broke in here.” He glances around, at the sparse furniture, no decorations in sight. “They would have found more to sell there. It’s common knowledge Newland keeps expensive trinkets in his office.”
Except the thieves hadn’t taken trinkets; they’d taken Newland himself.
~
“Did it feel hot in there?” Drake asks as they exit The Hut.
“No, it was cold.” Reagen adjusts the collar on her jacket. “It’s warmer out here.”
That’s saying something. The night temp has plummeted another ten degrees with the switchover to Star-Light. Drake pushes through the line from Penned, now long enough to swamp The Hut’s doors. Victor will rake in the credits tonight.
“That was a lot of sweat.” He pauses on the other side, unsure what their next step will be.
Reagen gives the street a quick glance as she comes up beside him. She keeps her voice low. “Yeah, we made him nervous.”
“More nervous than he should have been if all he lost was evidence of his wife’s infidelity.”
“We should dig deeper into his finances. Double check that his books balance.” She pulls her palm-port out to glance at the time. “It’s getting late.”
“I can look into that tonight. My desk-port at home has access to my work files.” Drake reaches for the disc-bike at his belt. “Where should we meet tomorrow?”
Reagen doesn’t respond, and he turns to his silent partner. Her head is cocked to the side, gaze focused on the other side of the street as she slides her palm-port into her pocket. He follows her line of sight. A GoGoNow vending machine glows from inside the window of a local SuppleMart.
“You want to pick up supplies before heading toward Central Plaza?”
“Yeah.” Reagen hops off the curb without waiting and hurries across the street.
“Cool, I could use a snack.” Drake jogs to catch up, waving an apologetic hand at the disc-bike that has to swerve to go around them. Its neon red quad-rings leave tracers as it zips away.
The market’s doors swish open with a ding as Reagen steps on the sensor pad. A blast of icy air blows short black strands from her face, and the bright overheads highlight the blue undertones of her inky hair. She should wear brighter tones for her coloring. Maybe he’d take her shopping when this was over.
He slides through the doors on their way to closing, setting off the sensor to pop them back open. The clerk behind the counter looks up and glares, irritated as chilly air sweeps in from the street.
The GoGoNow machine chimes its happy theme song as Reagen nears it, the front switching over to an animated smiley face that bounces across the display. She walks past it without a pause as she heads toward the back of the store.
Confused, he follows on her heels, snatching a bag of puffed rice off the shelf as he passes. He glances at the flavor, spicy cheddar, and runs into Reagen. Her elbow nudges his gut, halfhearted and weak. She’s stopped in front of a cooler, the high shelves of the market blocking them from view of anyone else in the store. He looks inside the cold case, not seeing any cherry flavored items that might have piqued her interest.
“What’s up?” He opens the cooler and pulls out a lime fizz drink. Perfect to offset the burn of the rice snack.
“Wait.” She bends, as if inspecting her options.
A ding comes from the front of the store as another customer enters. Low voices carry back as the new person greets the clerk.
A moment later, a scrawny kid in oversized clothes joins them. He shakes shaggy, brown hair from his eyes and glances at them. “Yo.”
The street urchin looks even grubbier than he did last night. New stains dot the oversized shirt that hangs from his bony shoulders, most likely acquired when Reagen tossed the kid against an alley wall after he tried to steal Drake’s disc-bike. The two had formed an instant bond, and the kid had agreed to become Reagen’s informant with the hope of earning himself a new datband and entrance back into Roen citizenship.
After witnessing Reagen’s skills with hacking, he no longer doubted her ability to deliver the offer she dangled in front of the kid. As a Black Corporation employee, he wasn’t sure if he should be proud of her skill set or apprehensive of her plans to bend the mob’s rules to her favor.
“Hey, Henley.” Reagen straightens, adjusts her satchel so it’s out of immediate reach of the pickpocket. “You got something for us?”
“Yeah, wasn’t sure if you’d be back down here, so I stuck close to the sector.”
“You forget the number I told you to call?”
“Naw, I called.” He leans around Reagen to shoot a scowl at Drake. “Someone kept shufflin’ me to a message box.”
She turns an identical scowl on Drake. “You should have checked who was calling.”
Drake looks down his nose at both of them. “Why didn’t you leave a message?”
“And, what? Have an audio trail linkin’ me to the palm-port I nipped?” He exchanges an exasperated glance with Reagen and leans close to her. “You sure he’s the best guy to be watchin’ your back?”
“Yeah. Not like I lowered my voice.” He snaps his teeth in Drake’s direction
“Henly,” Reagen warns, keeping her body between them when Drake takes a menacing step toward the brat. “What did you find?”
Casting a furtive peek over his shoulder, he whispers, “You serious about the datband?”
“Already in process.” Reagen pats her satchel, and Drake tries to remember which pieces she bought looked like datband components.
“No shit?” The kid eyes the bulging bag with respect.
“No shit.” Her voice doesn’t waver as she makes the promise. “Now spill.”
“I saw it after Lights-Out this morning.” He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a monocle as proof. The green lens sparks around the rim, an orange wash of light flickering across the glass surface. The scavenged remains of a pair of night goggles. “My person, Flick, has the other half. Keeps us safe after the level goes dark.”
“Good find.” Drake rolls a hand for him to continue. “Now what did you see?”
Henly carefully stows away the invaluable piece of hardware and shuffles closer to stand between them. “A transportation truck came through. The pirates cleared a path for it, like they knew it would be there. The headlights were off, and I could see the shine of the driver’s goggles. He pulled into the alley and parked behind the clubs across the street.”
“Penned and The Hut?” Drake clarifies.
“Yeah.” He nods. “The truck was back there for twenty minutes, then left.”
“Did you see what was going on?”
“Do I look like I want to die?” The kid’s spine straightens. “No, I stayed put and waited.”
“Any idea which of the clubs the truck went to?” Reagen interjects before Drake can snap back.
“Naw. The alley has access to both shops.”
“What makes you think it wasn’t a regular delivery?” Drake pulls up a mental inventory of all transportation cleared for smuggling on Level 4. It’s a short list, and none operate during Lights-Out. No point when they have Black Corp seals.