“He’s going to be open this late at night?” Luthor asked.
“He only does business at night,” Thaddeus assured them.
The large man prowled like a lion. Every muscle was tensed. His eyes darted around, looking for any danger that might threaten his beloved priest. Tanya felt safer knowing he watched out for them. Vika held her rifle as if she planned to shoot it at any moment. Thaddeus might look more intimidating, but Tanya suspected Vika’s knife would be at an enemy’s throat before he managed a single step.
They turned onto a street composed entirely of utilitarian concrete business space such as might have housed any number of small manufacturing companies twenty years ago. A large opening for cargo doors formed their only entrances. Now they sat dark, cold, and empty. The rolling metal doors had all been ripped off—presumably sold for scrap like everything else of value—leaving gaping rectangular mouths. Tanya didn’t blame the homeless for not occupying these shelters, she wouldn't want to be eaten by those buildings either.
One mouth had light pouring out of it and a functioning door about halfway down. Three men inside waited for them.
The two larger men wielded fancy-looking machine guns. The firepower stood in sharp contrast to their unkempt, tattered clothes. The bald one in the middle—presumably Jose—bore no weapon other than a sneer that popped out of his goatee. He had a stylized “2180” tattooed across the crown of his bald head. Behind them were rows of steel shelves holding every conceivable electronic item and a wide assortment of weapons.
“Thadd!” Jose said, hands wide in mock welcome. “It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough,” Thaddeus growled.
“To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you learned the error of your sad pathetic life yet and returned to the Pound? Or do you enjoy your new job as the priest's bodyguard too much? He has you trained well.”
“I will rip out your throat and—”
Roc grabbed a fistful of Thadd’s tattered shirt, “Peace,” he said forcefully, “love your enemy, pray for those who persecute you.”
“Let him pray for me then!” Thaddeus shouted. “I want to persecute all over his ass.”
Ostafal laughed, which didn’t help her large friend’s temper. Tanya could see that Jose had even raised the hackles of the unflappable priest. “What is it you want? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”
Ostafal had all the makings of a first-class son of a bitch. One such quality was his enjoyment of his weaselly voice a little too much.
“If I were a wagering man—I’m not, money is much too likely to run away when you bet it on things, math you know—I would say you felt pity on these pathetic people,” he gestured at Tanya, Luthor, Michael, and Vika. “You brought them here because they need something you can’t provide. Am I getting warm?”
Tanya shifted uncomfortably.
“So that means, they are criminals, running from the law.” Ostafal’s eyes seemed to pierce every part of them, Tanya felt naked.
“Oh, and nice choice of bitches, got some nice asses there.”
Luthor ground his teeth audibly in anger, but the Uzis trained on him seemed to stay his hand.
Vika glared at the man. “Fool. I would shoot you dead before your guards got their hands out of their pants.”
Ostafal threw his head back and laughed again. “Yet you didn’t shoot me, because you know that everyone else in here would die,” he laughed some more.
Tanya felt like she’d had just about enough of Jose Ostafal’s posturing. They hadn’t come to hear him yammer. They had come for train tickets. She found her mouth running before she could stop herself.
“Congratulations. You have convinced us all you are smart. Gold star for you. Can we get down to business or do we have to put up with another soliloquy?” she turned to the others. “No, better yet, let him keep talking. Maybe he will complete this shitty Shakespeare impersonation and off himself at the end of it.”
Ostafal took out a pistol from a leather hip-holster in the blink of an eye. “Best put a leash on that whore before I have to put her down.”
Tanya was pretty sure she heard Luthor’s teeth physically crack from the strain of restraining himself, but he feared for her life and it kept him in place.
Ostafal returned his gun to its home. His yellowing teeth flashed in the well-lit room. “To business then. What do you need?”
“Four train tickets to Chicago.”
“Those are easy enough to provide. Surely, if you are getting them from me, there is something else you need too,” he rubbed his pasty palms together. “Anonymity. Invisibility from the scanners perhaps?”
“Just the tickets. I am sure we can find a way through security.”
“No, I am sure you cannot.”
“I see what you’re trying to do,” Tanya said, “quit trying to up-sell us. I am sure there is a way through security without whatever it is you’re trying to make us buy.”
“You’re right, I want to go selling my most valuable items to people I can’t trust, who are clearly wanted criminals, risk having the goddamn carps track it back here and arrest my ass. Then my ass will be put in a penitentiary where it will be penetrated by polluted perps or I’ll have my CPI chip privilege stripped permanently!” Ostafal abruptly finished shouting and smiled, evidently pleased with himself or his alliteration. Tanya couldn’t tell which. “I’m not trying to up-sell you… I am telling you that your plan is impossible. You can’t smogging do it!”
She hadn’t expected such an outburst. But unfortunately, it had convinced her.
“Fine,” said Luthor, “what do you think we need?”
“You need a signal inverter, something only I can provide.”
“What is a signal inverter?” Luthor asked, though Tanya had no doubt Ostafal would have told them anyway.
“It is all very complicated. I don’t want to confuse you,” Jose replied, “there are a lot of really smart homeless folks from bankrupt tech companies. They take old tech, new tech, whatever, and splice it together and reprogram it. I doubt you would be able to comprehend anything that they could build.”
The man was infuriating. He continually did his best to insult her intelligence, and pretty much everything else outside of her mother—though that was undoubtedly coming before long.
Luthor repeatedly shut his eyes. He looked like he was trying not to strangle Ostafal. “Try me,” was all he said.
Jose folded his hands together in mockery of an elementary school teacher. “It’s all simple Mathematics. My signal inverter works just like noise canceling technology except with electromagnetic radiation waves instead of sound waves. I am sure you didn’t know this, but noise canceling works by emitting the exact opposite wavelength of incoming sound. As they meet, the opposite waves negate each other, eliminating the sound altogether. The signal inverter does the same thing, except with EM waves. It reads the signal produced by a given CPI chip and emits the opposite electromagnetic wave in real time. The result effectively cancels the CPI signal, by reducing the amplitude to a level undetectable by the scanners the carps use.”
Regardless of what Jose claimed, it did not sound like simple math. It sounded like post graduate, applied trigonometry or some other smoggingly complicated thing. Though Luthor certainly would have understood it, the man had unlocked the secret of controlling gravity for God’s sake. He could figure out a signally-thing.
“How many signals can this device block? What is its effective range?” Luthor asked.
Better you than me, I don’t have a damn clue what to ask.
“It can block up to five signals at once. The boys tell me that its range is ten meters, but I wouldn't stretch it past five, just to be on the safe side.”
“Alright. Sounds impressive. Let’s deal,” said Luthor.
“Is it safe to assume that you plan to barter?”
Tanya hadn’t thought much about how exactly they were going to afford anything. Mark scans were off limits and therefor
e so was buying anything with actual money.
Vika palmed her rifle, extending it in her right hand. “What can this get us? .306 special, custom sniper scope. Laser is sighted to 300 meters.”
“I don’t often deal in guns. They are far too dangerous. Someone is liable to get killed you know,” he smiled cruelly, “and since they’re illegal to civilians, they have a way of being tracked. Every gun has a Government GPS unit to monitor its location.”
“I already disabled the GPS unit.”
“Maybe your friend will give you a gold star too.” Tanya’s face grew even hotter. Why did they have to deal with this polluter? “Regardless, there is no way for me to confirm what you are saying. You may or may not have actually disabled it and I am not inclined to take your word. Besides, I don’t have any shortage of firearms at present.” He gestured to the men flanking him, who smirked and brandished their Uzis.
As if we hadn’t noticed them already. I swear, men and their guns… I need to have Luthor make a chart to show that the size of your gun has nothing to do with the length of your penis.
“Tell me you have something else to barter. Please.”
Everyone shared an awkward glance. It quickly became evident that they did not, in fact, have anything else worth bartering. The silence stretched on interminably.
“Wonderful. Showing up to the gun fight with a slingshot,” Jose rubbed his hands together, “that means the guy with the guns sets the rules.”
Ostafal turned around and reached into a large plastic bin on one of the many shelves strung out behind him. He produced what was presumably the signal inverter. It wasn’t very large at all. It was about the size of a wireless router with a scanning lens on the top. The exterior bristled with little antennae like an electronic porcupine.
Ostafal put his palms flat on the table on either side of the device. “Before you ask, I am going to tell you what it is going to cost: all the credits in each of your accounts and one of your CPI chips.”
Luthor was incensed. “You are talking about a lot of money—”
“We both know that is a bunch of bullshit. Judging by your clothes, you’ve been on the run a while, which means that either you have already spent most of your money or you can’t risk accessing it for fear of the carps finding you. Either way, credits are no good to you, and that is my price. You are lucky I am not charging you all of your CPI chips.”
“How do you expect us to—”
Ostafal interrupted, “I expect you to barter with the only valuable thing you have or do you have something else you wish to barter?” he flashed a sinister smile at Tanya.
Tanya would rather pick the dirtiest, smelliest, most generally disgusting Markless in the city and service him than be touched by Jose. The thought of his clammy hands and his damnable 2180 tattoo staring at her… Tanya shuddered. Though for once she did not feel envy for Vika’s beauty. If only Ostafal would try something on her… He would have no idea what was coming to him. She’d probably make him eat his own testicles. She would have paid to see that. She would have given up her Mark to see that.
“What do you want with our chips?” Luthor asked.
“I am afraid I am not in the habit of divulging delicate information like that for free. I’ll tell you for the price of…. another of your CPI chips.”
Luthor frowned.
“Your CPI chips will not be traced through this facility, as much for my security as your own. I have a very useful program, that again you wouldn't understand, that delays processing for several days. It then routes the CPI transactions through a half dozen neutral locations connected to my account.”
“But they will be notified our accounts were used?” asked Michael.
“Yes, but not for three days, and then all that will be obvious is that you are somewhere in New York City, nothing more.”
“That might actually help us,” said Michael, “if we can get on the train to Chicago but they still think we are here, it could really throw them off.”
“If it does what he says it does,” Tanya corrected.
“Yes, I suspect it would be good for business for me to con convicted killers with a routing program that doesn’t work. They certainly wouldn't come and kill me when the carps came looking for them,” he looked pointedly at Tanya, the tattoo making a poor excuse for a haircut, “as always, good thinking, you stupid whore.”
For perhaps the first time in her life, the absence of a weapon at her side was palpable.
Tanya longed for nothing more than to put a bullet hole between the 1 and the 8 on his forehead.
Luthor’s face could have belonged to a drunk on a weeklong binge with how red he had turned. At least Jose was an equal opportunity asshole, he pissed off everyone.
“He can have my chip,” Vika said, seeming to make the decision for the group. Luthor’s bulging carotid disqualified him from making any sound decisions; Tanya’s blood-pressure disqualified her.
Vika whipped out her utility knife with a flourish and placed it to her hand.
“Wait!” Ostafal said frantically. “It needs blood to soak in. Put it in here. He rushed over to hand Vika a plastic sandwich bag. She promptly sliced open her hand like she was peeling a potato. She stuck the tip of her knife in and popped out the small cylindrical device that transmitted her ID into the bag. She squeezed the wound until the requisite amount of the viscous liquid surrounded the chip.
“I require a bandage,” Vika said.
Ostafal for once did not comment on the situation, instead he handed her a length of white cloth. Sterile it was not, but it seemed to suffice for her purposes. He almost looked concerned, but then he probably had not expected her to fillet her own flesh without so much as a grimace.
“The rest of you will need to scan your hands here,” he gestured at the gun-like CPI scanning device on the table. “The program will not retrieve any funds for 72 hours. When it does, your undoubtedly tiny bank accounts will be emptied by numerous small transactions throughout New York City. The carps will hunt you for a week before they figure out you aren’t anywhere in the tri-county area.”
The word suspicious could not have been more woefully inadequate to describe her feelings. The worst part was they couldn’t even screw the bastard over by spending their remaining money elsewhere—and Jose knew it. If they did, the damnable carbon police would swarm them. Their only chance was to trust him and try to get on the train in the next few days.
Tanya didn’t like it, but she scanned her hand the same as Michael and Luthor. It was a rather anticlimactic way to lose every credit to their name. Thaddeus and Roc watched silently. The only potential consolation prize was the possibility the government had already frozen all of their assets and Jose wouldn't have a turd to flush when he tried to withdraw the money.
#
Having finished with their transaction with Jose Ostafal they left. No one wanted to stay one second longer than necessary. Still, they had accomplished what they had set to do. It was always better to look on the bright side of things.
Luthor took out the stolen phone that Vika had acquired. “Damn. The battery’s dead.”
“You shouldn’t flaunt something like that around here,” Thaddeus said, “it could be dangerous.”
“What do we have to fear?” Luthor said. “There’s six of us and Vika still has her rifle.”
“I wouldn’t put it past the Dog Pound to hit a group this size, even if they have a gun. So put that phone away. No need to give ‘em any more reason,” Luthor did as he was asked.
“What makes the Dog Pound so dangerous?” asked Tanya.
Roc and Thaddeus shared a glance, “I ran with them for a year, D got me out before I had to start killing folks. The areas they control… some bad sh—” Thadd closed his eyes deliberately, “some bad stuff goes down in those areas.”
“They aren’t just a normal gang, are they?” asked Michael.
“They’re bigger than a gang. They’re kind of like a gang, crime syndicat
e, and drug cartel all rolled into one. But not really any of those either. Damn, I can’t explain it. Just don’t mess with them.”
“That doesn’t sound very appealing,” Tanya said, “they deal drugs?”
“No, they undoubtedly would have been stopped long ago if they were flooding drugs into the city. They’re strong, but the carbon police are still stronger,” Roc said, “they are dealing in something far more addictive than drugs.”
Roc stopped, as if he thought his description sufficient. But Tanya didn’t have a clue. What’s more addictive than drugs?
“Food,” said Thaddeus, “it’s where they get their name. Back right after the war broke out and everything got all fucked sideways, a huge distribution warehouse for some big pet store chain shut down. It was too expensive to fuel the semis to deliver the goods. So, it just sat there, abandoned until it was ‘liberated’ by those Dog Pound bastards—at least that’s what they called it; seems like stealing to me. Anyway, this was a big-ass facility, thousands of shipping containers of every type of pet crap you could imagine. But most of it was food.”
“Wait,” Tanya said, hardly believing her ears, “you’re telling me this syndicate is based off pet food?”
“Yup,” Thadd said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Why do you think they’re called the Dog Pound?” Michael and Luthor didn’t seem to be perturbed by the revelation at all either. People eating dog food? And more than that—an entire gang, syndicate, whatever, whose power was based upon dog food?
“Dog and cat food are perfect if you think about it. That… crap keeps forever— particularly the dry stuff—and it’s never going to get confiscated or rationed by the government for the military. The government’s not going to think to ration the left-over Kibbles and Bits, you know what I mean? So, they found themselves sitting on enough food to last fifty years.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Michael let out a low whistle, “there’s a lot of power in that.”
“Damn straight. And they used it too. They’re the most powerful gang in New York right now. All from selling pet food to people.”
“So, all they’re doing is selling food? That doesn’t sound so bad,” Tanya said.
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