by David Ryker
I felt my own fists curl, but I stayed where I was. The shotgun was back on me again, as well as the pistol. There was no way I could move without catching at least two bullets. I’d have to wait for an opportunity if I was going to make a move.
Everett turned back to me, clasping his hands behind his back. He stood between Roquefort and Food Stains, well out of reach of me. “So, you are the money-man, come to save our little Blair.” He laughed and I had to stop myself from joining him. He was trying to sound menacing, but it came nowhere close.
“Come again?” I said, keeping my hands firmly in the air. Everett might not have looked like he’d be much trouble, but Food Stains’ finger looked twitchy on the trigger of his shotgun and the gauge looked like it’d put a pretty sizeable hole in me.
“You know,” he went on, not acknowledging the question, “a lot of people think they can cross me — but it always comes back. Everett never forgets, and Everett always collects what’s owed.”
“I thought you were Everett?” I asked.
He glared at me. “I am.”
“Oh, sorry — it’s just the whole talking about yourself in the third-person thing sort of threw me.”
He scowled now, his little eyes narrowing. “I don’t think you’re grasping the gravity of the situation.”
“No, I don’t think I am — why don’t you lay it out for me?”
“Thirteen years ago, Blair stole from me. She stole a lot from me. And now, she’s going to pay it all back. With interest.” Everett clasped his hands behind his back again and smirked.
“Blair?” I asked. Was that our Everett’s real name? “Look, Everett 1.0 — whatever this is, whatever sort of revenge you’re trying to enact here — we can work it out.”
“Revenge?” He chuckled. “I don’t want revenge. I want my money. I’m a merchant — a man of trade, not a man of blood.”
“And the guns?” I asked, nodding at the two guys who had them pinned on me.
“People often think they can take advantage of me — like Blair here — but they can’t. Roquefort and Sachs are just here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He puffed out his chest.
“So what — you want your money, and you called me here to give it to you?”
“Blair said that you would be happy to settle her account. But that it could only be you.”
Everett, or Blair, or whatever her name was, was watching me from under her brows. I knew why I’d been called here, because if it was Volchec, or anyone else, everything would come out, and Everett’s life would be over. I didn’t know how this was going to go. I needed to buy time, and I could tell this guy liked to talk. “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, “but can you fill me in on what’s happening here?” I wondered whether Dem had said anything as to who she was working with, or why she was back on Notia. I betted that she hadn’t — we were here covertly, after all. Maybe I could throw this guy off balance a little, at least until I figured out what the hell was going to go down. If I could get these guns off me, then I might be able to do something. “How do you know Aimee?”
“Aimee?” Tiny Everett’s eyebrows shot up. He ran his hand through his thick brown hair and blew hard between his lips. “This isn’t Aimee — and she’s not a merchant, despite what she might have told you and the girl.”
I tried to look shocked. “What do you mean? I’ve been working for Aimee for the last few years — protecting her, escorting her — what… what are you saying?”
Everett was trying to measure me, but I didn’t think he could get a fix. “She’s not who you think she is. I’ve known Blair since she was a little girl. Long before you worked for her, she worked for me. She had a gift — one I put to good use.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, slowly lowering my hands.
“She used to acquire things for me. Things that couldn’t always be bought, and right when she was starting to become really valuable to me, she stole from me, and disappeared.” He stopped and turned to our Everett, running his hand up her thigh. She shuddered and pulled away from him. “And a shame, too!” he continued, “because she was just starting to get pretty.”
I gritted my teeth but held my shit together. He let his grubby fingers linger at her belt before spinning back to face me. Everett swung around on the chain, recentering herself, her eyes fixed on mine. She wasn’t saying anything — she was letting me move this where I wanted. She couldn’t do anything from there, anyway. “Are you sure you’ve got the right person?” I said, shrugging.
“I’d know her anywhere!” he nearly yelled. “It’s her. Of course it’s her — she sought out Roquefort here, looking for information — how would she know to speak to him if it wasn’t? What she didn’t anticipate though, was that Roquefort now works for me.” He laughed to himself. “Things have changed since those days, isn’t that right, Roquefort?”
Roquefort’s nostrils flared. I could see in his cold expression that he didn’t like working for Everett — I guessed it was necessity, or, something else. But he wasn’t here by choice. I was slowly putting it together. Everett had gone off, seeking information, like she said. She’d found this Roquefort, an old friend, maybe — I still wasn’t exactly sure — but she’d thought he’d help, not realizing he was fixed up with Everett. He’d brought her here, jumped her and tied her up, and then Everett had demanded that she pay up, with interest, and probably knocked her around a little for good measure.
“How much does she owe?” I said lightly.
Everett’s lip started to curl up a little. “With the accrued interest…” He stared at me for a few seconds. “And judging by that lovely steel you’re sporting, which can’t have come cheap… Oh, shall we say… A million?”
I almost swallowed my tongue. “A million?!” Both Dem and I said it in unison.
Everett laughed throatily. “Yes, it’s no less than that Alpha that you’ve got out there is worth alone. And I’m guessing that you and the girl didn’t buy those for yourselves… I buy and sell things for a living, boy, so don’t try to shit in my mouth and tell me it’s chocolate.”
I set my jaw.
“If Blair is here peddling cheap machine parts, but is asking about Iskcara, and comes with two Mechs for backup — one of which looks near new — then I’m not going to stand here and let you tell me that you don’t have that kind of stack.” He narrowed his beady eyes at me.
I took a breath. “And if we don’t?”
He smiled and laughed under his breath. “Then we’ll put a bullet in the both of you, wait for the girl to come looking, and put one in her, too. Then, we’ll pick up your steel and whatever else you’re peddling at that booth, and call it even.”
I bit my lip, feeling our Everett’s eyes on me. “Okay. That’s fine. Let me go and get it.”
“No,” Everett 1.0 said sharply. “Tell Roquefort where it is and he’ll go get it.”
“It’s in a safe.”
“So give him the combination,” he said.
“A biometric safe.”
“We’ll profile you and spoof it.”
“On our ship,” I hedged.
“Just tell us the bay number.”
“It’s locked down — only we’re authorized to—”
“Roquefort still maintains his place in the Collective, he can access it.”
I chewed my tongue, trying to see a way out. Could I lie to him, send Roquefort down to our ship and hope that the others took him out before he said anything? Could I lie and send him to another, random bay? Would they know? Would they check? None of the bays were under our Everett’s name. I just needed to get Roquefort out of the way. I thought I could take Food Stains if he was.
“Well?” Everett asked, growing impatient.
I took a breath, with no idea of what I was going to say next.
Red? Can you hear me?
It was Alice — or her voice at least, in my head. Alice? What… what are you doing here? I tried to keep my expression as even as I could. I clear
ed my throat and Everett did what I hoped he might — he kept talking.
“Listen here, whoever-you-are, you need to understand the seriousness of this situation. While it’s not my intention to resort to violence…” I let his voice fade away and concentrated on Alice’s instead.
You think I was just going to let you go? she said. Jesus, that guy had bad news written all over him. I can tell there’s something going on with you and Everett, something you don’t want out — something bigger than you two being… whatever — but it doesn’t matter. If any of us are in trouble, we’ve got to be there, right? No questions asked.
And the others? Are they here? I asked
No, they aren’t. I respect that you want to keep this quiet, but I couldn’t let you go. If anything happened and I just did, then… But that doesn’t matter now. Tell me what we’re looking at, she said hurriedly.
Five in the room. Me, Everett, three tangos. Where are you? I was struggling to keep my countenance pensive, as though I were hanging off every word of Everett’s monologue. He was recounting how badly a similar situation had gone for someone who tried to screw him over before. He looked like a man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
At the top of the stairs on the balcony. Armed? Her voice was growing louder as she edged, closer, getting clearer. I could tell how close she was by how her voice felt. It was weird, like a radio signal getting stronger.
Two are. On my left and right. Third is unarmed.
What’s the situation? she said, her voice even, steady, cool.
No one’s shooting yet, but I think we’re short on time, and even shorter on options. I took in a slow breath. I don’t think we’re getting out of this without some help.
Where are they in the room? I’m looking at a door. I don’t think that wall will stop a round at close range.
I swallowed, trying to visualize where it was behind me. Two meters in just to the right of the door. I looked at Roquefort. Three meters in, a meter left. I glanced over at Food Stains.
Okay, which one do you want me to hit? Left or right? She sounded nervous — and for good reason. She was about to be shooting blind into a room that both Everett and I were in. If she hit either of us, that’d be a disaster. If she didn’t hit anyone, it’d be even worse. I flexed my fingers, wondering who was more of a threat if left alive. Roquefort looked the most seasoned and his hand was steady on his pistol. If something went down, he’d fire first. Food Stains was more like a hired muscle than professional help, but if that shotgun was packing buckshot, it wouldn’t matter if I got a step in, it’d still rip me apart. It was a tough call.
“Well?” Everett spat. “You’ve got five seconds.” He took a step forward. “Then, we start shooting. One.”
Shit. Left.
“Two.”
No, wait! Right. Right. Hit right! I almost yelled it out loud.
“Three.”
Are you sure? Alice sounded tentative.
Yes! For fuck sake!
“Four.”
Red?
Shoot! Now! Shoot!
The wall exploded behind me in a flurry of splinters and sparks. Four shots rang out in quick succession, punching through the wall in a diamond shape as Alice spread them around a little, maximizing her chances.
I dove forward. Buckshot sprayed over my head, raking across my back and shredding my jacket. Pain seared my skin, but it was just a glancing blow.
Roquefort’s chest exploded in a flurry of crimson mist as the second bullet hit him just above the heart. The first had gone wide, but the third punched a hole in his collar, missing his neck by a centimeter. The fourth struck him just below the ribs and he spun backward, spurting blood onto the floor.
My elbows hit the ground and I sprang sideways, driving my shoulder into Food Stains’ gut before he could drag his shotgun back down from the recoil. He grunted and staggered backward.
Out of my peripheral, I could see our Everett’s legs close like a vice around the little Everett’s neck. She twisted him up, still tethered to the girder, and dragged him backward as he tried to scramble for the curtain.
I regained my feet, ignoring the pain in my back and shoulder, and reached for the shotgun barrel. My fingers closed around it and twisted hard. Food Stains sagged and I threw a stiff hook right into his jaw. My knuckles sang, but I hit him again. And again.
He let go of the shotgun and tried to defend himself, pulling his arms up into a wide block.
I gritted my teeth and jumped up, slamming my knee into his stomach. His cheeks puffed like ripe blueberries, his lips puckering as the air was expelled out of him. His guard dropped, and my right hand joined my left on the shotgun. I heaved it around, swinging hard and watched as the stock came up over Food Stains’ shoulder and clattered into the side of his face with a dull thud.
His features crammed themselves against the butt and then slingshotted away as he tumbled through the air, spinning to a heap on the ground.
Everett was still caught up in our Everett’s grip as I turned, the door bursting open. Alice darted in low, sweeping the muzzle of her Arcram around the room with practiced precision. She lined it up on Roquefort, then Food Stains, aiming at Everett only when she was satisfied the other two were dealt with.
I wrung my right hand out, noting the deep ache between my second and fourth knuckle, and the seeming absence of my third. Broken. Had to be. It hurt like a bitch.
Our Everett twisted the other Everett around and kicked him into the room, gasping for air.
He needed to be dispensed with. Whether it was the pain in my back and hand, the fact that he’d just threatened someone I cared about, the fact that I really didn’t like him, or just that I was losing my empathetic streak, I wasn’t sure. But as I wound up, lifted my knee, and then lashed out with a crescent kick, feeling something crunch under my heel as it connected with Everett’s temple, I didn’t really feel anything except a warm wash of relief.
He spun to the ground and lay still. By the time he settled, I was already untying the knot around our Everett’s wrists. Alice was checking the pulses of Roquefort and Food Stains by the time I got her down. She collapsed onto me and I held her up. She was clutching at her ribs and stomach — though he couldn’t reach her face, it seemed like he’d given what he could, where he could. But luckily nothing really seemed broken — nothing except my own knuckle, which was already beginning to throb.
“This one’s still alive,” Alice said, turning to us, her fingers on the neck of Food Stains. “What do you want to do?”
I looked at our Everett, her features set and grave. “It’s your decision.”
Alice sighed. “What are we doing here — are we calling this in?”
“No,” Everett said. “We’re not. Kepler — it’s why I didn’t want to involve you. It’s why I asked for Red, because… Because he knows something that—”
She held her hand up. “I get it. But I’m here now. And, while I don’t pretend to know what’s going on, if you don’t want this getting back to Volchec, then you know what needs to happen.” She stood up from Food Stains and walked toward us.
Everett nodded and sighed. “Yeah.”
“I’ll do it,” I said quietly.
“What?” Everett asked, surprised.
I took her arm from around my neck and Alice stepped under the other side, supporting her.
“Get her out of here,” I said to Alice. “Back to the ship, or… Wherever. Let me know where you are. I’ll catch up.” I was already rolling Roquefort over to get at my Arcram that he’d stuffed in his belt.
“You sure about this, Red?” Everett asked, her voice thin, her hand pressed to her stomach.
I nodded, standing up and pulling back the barrel to cock it. “Yeah, I’m sure. Now go.”
The door closed behind them and I thumbed the pistol up to the lethal setting, sighing, telling myself that this is what it was about. Not doing what felt right, but what was right for the team, what was right for the missio
n, for me. It was separating what I feared and what I knew.
I stood over Food Stains, staring down at the rolls on his neck, the beads of sweat oozing out of his greasy skin, and pulled the trigger, barely wincing at the dull thunk from the Arcram’s muzzle.
A little red hole appeared behind his ear and the gentle pulse in his neck halted and fell still.
I could taste the blood mist in the air, metallic on my tongue like old copper as I turned and walked over to Everett. I pulled the Arcram up again, leveling it at the side of his head. I didn’t even bother to check if he was alive or not. There was no point, and there was no other option. We couldn’t leave them alive. We just couldn’t. The very purpose of our being on Notia was to tie up loose ends, not make more of them. This needed to be done, and it needed to be over, and Volchec, or Mac, or Fish would never need to know. It was just one more secret to be locked down and buried in blood.
I exhaled slowly, wondering how my life had come so far from Genesis, and then I pulled the trigger.
Everett jolted and then lay quiet, and even before the blood started oozing out from under his face in a thick, dark puddle, the door was snapping shut behind me.
15
I got back to the stall to find Greg and Alice’s rig standing like a pair of sphinxes. There was nothing on the counter, and the bags were piled up behind it. Everything had been thrown into them, and two were so full that they couldn’t even be fastened up. There was no sign of Alice or Everett.
I glanced up at Greg’s stoic exterior, then slipped between his legs. Nothing seemed out of place, but it looked like Alice had just scooped everything off the top and into the duffels.
I went back to Greg and laid my hand on his leg. “All good here, buddy?”
“Hello, James. Yes, Pilot Kepler instructed us to keep watch over the stall, and that objective was completed successfully.” He seemed totally clinical. The familiarity, the jokes, the jibes — they were all gone.
I clenched my fist and knocked lightly on his thigh plate a few times, looking for some words that might help rebuild that bridge. “Good job,” I said instead.