Shadowrun 45 - Aftershock

by Jean Rabe, John Helfers (v1. 0) (epub)

  He opened the door and went out into the hallway, locking the condo behind him. He passed by the elevator and struggled up the stairs to the roof. “Now I got me one last piece of business to take care of.”

  It was raining. He tipped his warty visage up and let the drops patter against his rough hide. Then he ambled to a waiting helicopter.

  40

  6:01 p.m.

  Belver Serra finished up the last of her current workload by four o’clock, leaving her with two hours to pace the carpet and worry about what had gone wrong—a loyal corporate executive rarely left with the regular work shift.

  Her hair was brushed back and lightly lacquered in place with a light hold, iridescent Tres Chic spray. An injection of ShadeAway had cleared up the dark circles under her eyes after a night of restless tossing and turning. When the sun had risen, and she had not been contacted by her Johnson or the Lone Star cop, Belver had started to seriously worry.

  Even so, she had gotten up, dressed, and headed to the office like it had been any other workday. In fact, she had arrived two hours early. The thought of calling in had never crossed her mind, as that would have looked suspicious in and of itself. She, like any good corp sarariman, knew the first rule of playing in the big leagues: Never admit anything you don’t have to.

  But in my case, there’s nothing to admit to. Anyone would have to know what the plants are about to understand what they could do. Otherwise, they’re just decorative plants. And with my pet out of the picture, terminally, he cannot tie me back to this, and neither can those three local yokels. So I should be all right. At the office, she stuck to business as usual, the gnawing ball of worry in her stomach gradually dissipating as the day progressed.

  Unfortunately, her secretary didn’t seem to possess the same fortitude as Belver, and had called in sick, so the executive was also serving as her own doorkeeper. When the message came up from the lobby, she nearly choked on the peach tea she had been sipping in an attempt to stave off a headache.

  “Ms. Serra, there is a Sergeant Jhones Redrock from Lone Star here to see you. ”

  She dabbed at the droplets of steaming tea on the otherwise spotless desktop with one hand as she stabbed at the intercom pad with the other. “What does he want?” she asked, even though she already suspected the answer—he’s here to deliver bad news about the plants. Keep playing the part, they’ve got nothing on you.

  “He says he is here on a private matter that he will discuss only with you in person.” In the background she heard a gruff voice say, “Tell the big macher I'm coming up. ” “Very well, send him to my office. Tell him my secretary is out and he should just let himself in.”

  Belver took a moment to make sure everything was in place in her office, then sat in her leather chair, awaiting her visitor. She fumed inwardly, but was careful to not let any trace of her fury show. How dare this insolent dreg come to see me at my corp! By the time I’m done with him, the sanitation crews won’t hire him! They’ll have to pick him up with the rest of the garbage!

  There was no knock at the door, it just swung open. The dwarf walked in, dressed in a well-cut double-breasted Victory suit. He crossed the main area of the office to stand in front of her desk.

  “Officer, I’m very busy, so I would ask you to please state your business here quickly.”

  The dwarf hopped up into a chair, his eyes never leaving her face. “You can cut the corp bullspeak, Ms. Serra, there’s really no reason for it. After all, we’re old friends, you and I.”

  What the frag? The cop wasn’t acting at all like she had expected him to. By now he should have practically been groveling at her feet, begging to atone for his complete and utter failure to deliver her those plants. “Officer—Redrock, was it? I’m afraid that I have no idea what you are talking about. If you do not have anything to discuss—”

  “Oh, we have a great deal to discuss, but most of that can wait until later. What I wanted to come by to tell you personally was that I’m square with you. You and 1 are settled up.”

  That was too much for Belver. “Now you listen you runty little worm! You’re not finished until I say you’re finished! I know that those plants are out there, and you can still get them for me, and you will—”

  “Really, Ms. Serra, unsuppressed rage does not become you.” The dwarf leaned back in his chair, further fueling Belver’s anger.

  He’s actually making himself comfortable! She was about to tear into him again when he started speaking.

  “The plants were delivered to Plantech in time for them to complete their deal with Shiawase. They’re gone, Ms. Serra, and whatever machinations you had in mind are gone with them.”

  Now it was Belver’s turn to lean back in her chair. Good, then the idiot never knew what was special about the plants. That’s something, at least. “I see. Well then, you leave me with no choice but let your—people—know that you didn’t come through.”

  “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. Do what you like, but I’m clean.” He slid off the seat and began heading toward the door. “Have a nice day.”

  Belver wanted to let this odious little man scuttle away back to the rock he’d crawled out from under, but she couldn’t help herself. “Who was it?” she asked. “Who paid off your marker?”

  Jhones smiled. “No one. But it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I’m not going back to that world.”

  Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway: her boss. Not only her boss, but also the reclusive owner of Keashee, a man she had seen only once, when he had hired her six years ago.

  “Mr. Boeing, please come in.” She stepped around her desk, unnerved by his sudden appearance. Alarms jangled wildly through her mind, but she maintained her poise. “If I had known you were coming, I would have been prepared—”

  The impeccably dressed troll held up his hand as he entered the room, leaning heavily on a polished, dark mahogany cane that was as thick as Belver’s toned arm. Jhones stepped to the side to allow him entrance. “No, don’t worry about it, this won’t take long. Belver Serra, it has come to my attention that you have recently committed internal fraud by using company assets when you dispatched a Keashee security team to an address in Everett. While the gentleman whose name had been signed to that internal order is now deceased, recent evidence has come to light that implicates you in this affair.”

  Belver’s stomach contracted violently, and she grabbed the corner of her desk for support. He knows; I don’t know how, but he knows. And then her internal question was answered as the troll brought up a chip player and activated it. Belver’s face turned pale as she heard her own voice discussing the details of her treason against Keashee.

  Still, she rallied against the immutable evidence. “Sir, I find it hard to believe that you’re giving any of this any credence. Voiceprints can be faked, and I can’t believe you’re going to take this—gentleman’s—word over my own.”

  Hood limped across the room to her, looming over her as he leaned down next to her ear. “Ms. Serra, I saw your treachery with my own eyes at the Everett.” He straightened again, and turned away from her. “Based on this evidence, I have no choice but to terminate your employment contract with us. You will immediately be escorted from the building by security. I’ll have your personal effects sent to your home.”

  The dwarf chimed in at this point. “But I wouldn’t think about starting your search for another corp anytime soon. There are two Lone Star officers waiting to speak to you on a whole battery of charges, including conspiracy to commit corporate larceny, unlawful use of corporate resources, conspiracy to commit murder, coercion of a Lone Star officer and I’ll bet if we dig a little deeper, we’ll find a link to that poor zhlub who died in his car early this morning. Belver Serra, you are under arrest on suspicion of committing the aforementioned crimes.” He looked toward the door, where a Keashee security officer and a Lone Star officer both waited.

  Belver was incredulous, watching her world collapse in a few short minutes. Even wo
rse than the threat of possible jail time was the soon to be unalterable stain on her resume—that she had been fired with cause. It meant she would never be able to work in any reputable part of the corporate sector again. Her career was finished.

  In desperation, she lashed out at the dwarf. “You’re going to try to stick me on a coercion charge? But that means you’re admitting your complicity in all this.”

  Jhones nodded. “I’ve already given my statement to my superiors, and I have accepted my punishment—which, 1 might add, pales in comparison to what’s going to happen to you.” He waved at the two men to take her away. “Sayonara, Ms. Belver.”

  Once the pale and shaken Belver had been escorted from the office down to a waiting Lone Star patrol car, Jhones turned to the huge troll and stuck out his hand. “Domo arigato for your invaluable assistance in this matter, Mr. Boeing.”

  The troll bent down to shake it, a wince of pain flitting across his features. “It was my pleasure. I cannot stand someone using my corporation for their own personal gain. Come, let me walk you out.”

  As they exited the office and headed for the elevators, Jhones kept glancing at the CEO. “Pardon me for asking, sir, but are you all right? I mean, your leg and all.”

  The troll smiled as they waited for the elevator to arrive. “Thank you for your concern, but it’s nothing. I play competitive jai alai, and took a ball on the thigh in my most recent match. At one hundred-sixty kilometers an hour, they pack quite a wallop, even to me.”

  “Ah, of course. Well, I hope you’re feeling better soon.” The elevator chimed, and they walked inside. Jhones’ eyebrows raised when he saw Mr. Boeing wince again when he pushed the button for the lobby. A jai alai hit shouldn’t have bothered his leg at all. His arm is hurt as well. He took a closer look at the troll, noting the swept-back horns, similar to the seriously wounded troll the DocWagon had hauled out of the Historic Everett Theatre. Could this guy be—nah. Still, I’ve got the strangest feeling that I’ve seen him before.

  “Something on your mind?” Jhones looked up to realize Mr. Boeing was looking down at him.

  “No, nothing at all. Once again, thanks for your help.” The dwarf bowed, and had the satisfaction of seeing his bow returned just as deeply. Could that have been him? Ah, frag it, who knows. After all, it's not like I have any hard evidence linking him to the run. He could have been catching a flick at the theater as well, as improbable as it sounds. Besides, he thought wryly as he crossed the polished marble floor of the lobby toward the doors, all those trolls look alike to me.

  41

  6:46 p.m.

  From the main building of the Keashee Corp, Jhones took the light rail to Capitol Hill, getting off at a high-rise in the middle class neighborhood. He flashed his badge to the doorman, and walked inside to the elevators, where he pushed the button for the fourteenth floor. The lobby was quiet at this time of day, and a car arrived for him immediately. On the way up, he examined his hands, looking for any tremors, any trace of nervousness. Just say your piece and get going, he thought.

  On the way up, he tried not to think about what had happened to Simon in the theater—how he had seen the storm of muzzle flashes, and had tried to pull his partner down with him to the floor as he had ducked out of the way. But it had been too late. By the time Alpha Squad had arrived to secure the area, the human was already dead, having taken a bullet in the throat and across his shoulders, shattering his neck and clavicle. If it hadn’t been for Jhones’ vest and helmet, he might have joined his partner, but the sec men had been aiming high, as usual, and most of the slugs had passed right over his head. The nightmares, however, would be a long time fading.

  At the fourteenth floor, he got out and walked a route he had taken many times before, to a corner apartment door. He lifted his hand and rapped on the door.

  “Who is it?” a speaker next to the door asked.

  “It’s Jhones.” He waited for the maglocks to be turned off, trying not to fidget in the meantime. The door opened, and a pretty dwarf woman a few years younger than him looked out.

  “Jhones, what a surprise, I wasn’t expecting to see you until you came for Brenna this weekend.” Suspicion flitted across her features. “Now, you’ve been doing a good job of keeping up with the payments, so don’t tell me you’re in trouble—”

  Jhones held up both hands. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. In fact, it’s good news.” He looked at her for a long moment before continuing. “I’m out, Mara, I’m done with the gambling.” He sighed. “I know I’ve said it before, but this time, there’s no falling off the wagon, I’m through with it forever. I have no choice this time.”

  She stared deep into his eyes, then smiled. “You know what? This time, I believe you. I’m not going to ask how or what happened, but I believe you.” She stood back from the doorway, letting him see the hallway leading to the living room. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

  “I’d like to, but I have a wake to attend. My partner was killed in the line of duty, and the service starts at eight. Um—maybe, that is if you didn’t mind, I could come by tomorrow, when Brenna is home from school?”

  “Sure, she’d like that. And I’d like that, too. I’m proud of you, Jhones, I always have been, and I’m even more proud of you now.”

  The dwarf flushed and fidgeted in his shoes. “Thanks, Mara, and—I’m sorry for everything I put both of you through in the past few years. I just—couldn’t help myself. But I’ve got my head on straight now.”

  She took another long look at him and nodded slightly. “Look, you’d better get going. Give us a call before you come by, I’ll make gefiite fish, kishke and kreplach.” “Well, that is among the things I’ve missed about you— your cooking.” Jhones grinned. “I’ll call about six tomorrow night, all right?”

  “Sounds good.” Mara stepped close to him and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll see you then.”

  “Until tomorrow.” Jhones waved to her one last time as the door closed, then walked back down the hall with a

  new spring in his step. I don’t know how I could have ever given them up. And to think it took a human, and a goy, no less, to show me the right way back to them.

  He reached the elevator door and pushed the lobby button. Thank you, Simon, wherever your spirit is, he thought as the door closed.

  The streets of Ballard were quiet again after all of the excitement of two days ago, and the neighborhood had returned to its normal rhythms of life in downtown Seattle.

  A shadow detached from the darkness and crept through a grocery store parking lot, checking to make sure no one was around, but also intent on finding something else as well.

  The figure walked down an alley, turned a corner, and headed down a side street, its eyes sweeping back and forth. At length, it paused near a thick cluster of trees as it spotted its goal.

  In the copse was a gray van, mostly hidden from the street. The figure walked to the door, fingers twitching as it reached for the handle. The door was locked, but some quick fiddling with a tool pulled from a pouch popped it, and the dark form slipped inside.

  A low chuckle emanated from the driver’s seat as the engine coughed once and turned over. The dashboard lights glowed, revealing Max’s face in the neon radiance. “Well, it ain’t no Nightsky, but a ride is a ride, all the same.”

  And with that she eased the van out of its hiding place, and took off down the street in a squeal of rubber.

  Epilogue

  Hood settled back into the cushy seat of the Rolls Royce Phaeton Deluxe. He straightened the tapered lapels of his perfectly tailored Wellington Brothers suit and reached for his commlink. It took only a few minutes to arrange for a completely new team of security for the Keashee Corporation. He fired all the sec men who followed Belver’s orders and stormed the Historic Everett Theatre. Another call and he made provisions for the dead sec team members’ families to be taken care of for the rest of their lives.

  Afterward, he briefly contemplated taking l
egal action against Khase for killing the man, but then thought better of it. If he himself had a sister in jeopardy, maybe he would have done the same thing.

  “Blood is important in some families,” he mused. “And, as unfortunate as it seems, sometimes death is the high cost of doing business.” But he didn’t want it to happen again, so he would think twice about employing the two elves in the future. Assuming I can even find them.

  One last call, this time to Pan Geng, to make sure repairs were scheduled to start in the morning. Then he watched the raindrops striking the windows and he listened to the gentle tat-a-tat-tat against the roof—and the scraping and snuffling sound coming from a box on the seat next to him.

  Minutes later he stood on the tarmac in front of his private hangar at Sea-Tac, listening now to a staccato tat-a-tat of a harsher rain against his duster and the ground—it cut the noise of the planes coming and going.

  As he had a few days ago, the troll stared into puddles tinted neon by the reflected lights of the terminal and taxiway—seeing something far beyond the airport and Seattle. Rivulets of green, pink and electric yellow held his gaze for several moments.

  “Sir?” The liveried driver hovered near him at the open rear door of the limo.

  “I need you to deliver a package on your way home.”

  “Very good, sir. What package?”

  Hood reached into the car and retrieved the box. The scratching intensified. He turned toward the light spilling from the hangar door and opened the box lid just enough so the driver could see inside.

  “Is that what I think it is, sir?”