DIRE : SEED (The Dire Saga Book 2) (15 page)

I headed back to my quarters, and Martin followed. I glanced up at him, but he just shook his head, until we’d gotten away from the front room, to one of the lounge areas I’d set up. He shut the door, and leaned against it.

“You want to talk about something?” I asked.

“Maybe. I know that look.”

“Oh?”

“That look that says someone needs a beating. I’m thinking you’re thinking you want to go take down some mobsters.”

I grinned. “The thought had crossed her mind.”

“Yeah. So let’s say you go in hard and brutal, like you did with the Black Bloods. Let’s say you win.”

“Foregone conclusion,” I said. “if the people they have are like the ones they deployed in the parking garage, then they won’t be a challenge.”

“Except it’s a different challenge.” Martin said. “They’ll fight back in different ways than the Bloods did. And unlike the Bloods, they follow the rules. Syndicate rules. They’ll have allies, and legal assets, and mercenaries, and shit. They might not have the crazy or the brute force that the Bloods did, but they got the mean. And people in charge who aren’t batshit crazy.”

I shrugged. “So it’s a challenge.”

“Yeah. But let’s say you win. Who comes in after them?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. There’s money in the casinos they control, and the brand of vice they got. Demand’s still gonna be there. But if you get rid of those guys, then someone else rises up. And on top of that, you just took out the Midtown Militia’s big secret ally, so that when the gang war comes, the Militia takes it up the ass the worst.”

I rubbed my chin, thought it over. “So what’s the solution?”

“There ain’t a simple solution. Most simple solutions are for dumbasses, ’cause the world’s a complicated place. But maybe you figure out your goals before you go charging in? What are your goals, here?”

That was a good question. I sat down on an overstuffed armchair and gave it some thought. Martin leaned against the wall and gave me space to ponder.

Finally, I nodded. “Got it.”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure Bunny lives through this.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all.”

“Kind of surprised.” He sat down across from me, taking the recliner. “I mean, I was expecting something more... ambitious, I guess.”

“Well, she can always scale it up if the situation demands. And if they kill her, she’ll kill them right back and take their stuff. Dire’s promises to Bunny preclude immediate or drastic action right now.” I spread my hands. “Only two goals in play; get enough money to grow and expand, and protect her friends. Bunny’s a friend, even if she won’t admit it. The rest of the city?” I shrugged. “Not Dire’s friends. A problem to be fixed eventually, once Dire has a good solution. But if the gangs move in on new territory or the mob grows in influence, so be it. Without a good view of the big picture, there’s no way to say that she won’t enable a worse situation later.”

Martin nodded. “Common fucking sense. Cool. Aight, just wanted to make sure you were thinking on this.”

“She’s always thinking.”

A knock at the door. I opened it, found Vorpal wearing a towel, and not much else. She took a step back as Martin’s eyes snapped open wide, and shot him a glare until he looked away.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Fresh clothes?”

“Dire’s might be a bit big on you.”

“I can roll sleeves and pantlegs up.”

“Good enough.” I left Martin in the lounge, went and got her some of my spare casual wear.

“Thank you. I will pay you back when I get my share.”

“Not necessary.”

She smiled, headed into the bathroom, and returned in a more clothed state.

“You seem calmer now.”

She was smiling still. “I have had time to think.”

“And?”

“I think that we are in a good situation. The cargo is ours, we can examine it at our leisure, and the longer we sit on it, the more frantic our treacherous employer will become. We stand to make much from this ransom.”

“Assuming the cargo’s not time-sensitive,” I pointed out.

“True. And also there is the matter of the other player in this game. And Chaingang.”

“Who’s probably working for the other player.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“No, it’s pretty certain. A plant-monster at the ambush site, and a kaiju at the rendezvous— no, once would have been coincidence. Twice is confirmation. It’s pretty obvious that he’s compromised.” I leaned against the wall, glanced back toward the front room.

“Who is the woman?” Vorpal asked.

“A guest, much like yourself. A vigilante of sorts.”

“She is dangerous. I have seen eyes like hers before. A killer. A fighter.”

“Like you?” I asked.

She grinned. “I am cuter than she is.”

I snorted. “Point.”

That made her happier for some reason, she straightened up a bit, and her smile grew.

Well, whatever. “In any case, Bunny will probably be leaving here soon. We’re going to go run her to the doctor.”

“I see. You trust me to stay here while you are gone? With the cargo, and your secret lair full of goods and inventions?”

“Well, yes.” I blinked. “Any reason Dire shouldn’t?”

She chuckled. “I would not trust me. You have only known me a few days.”

“Oh. That. Well, Dire’s pretty sure the security system could take you if it came down to it. Maybe not stop you from leaving, but any attempt to abscond with the cargo would end badly for you.”

Her smile died a bit. “Ah.” But she rallied, and put a hand on my shoulder. “I could come with you on this trip. Just in case.”

“Are you sure?” I looked at her hand, decided it wasn’t doing any harm there. “It will probably be boring. Just a run out to drop her off, and maybe some takeout on the way back, or something.”

“It would be less boring than staying here alone. Besides, I would like to talk with you more.” She squeezed my shoulder, and stared up into my eyes.

“Okay. Well, let’s collect Martin and get going then.”

Her smile cooled a bit, and she let go of my shoulder. I gave her a nod, went back to the lounge, knocked on the door.

“Safe to come out yet?” He asked.

“Er... as it always is, yes.”

“She wearing clothes, I mean?”

“Oh. Yes, come on out.”

Bunny offered the phone back to me when we returned to the front room, but I put up a hand and shook my head. “No need. Keep it for now. Here, take Dire’s number if you need something after this.” I gridmailed it to her phone. “So, what’s the word?”

“He’ll see me in half an hour, over in the Cove. Can I beg a ride?”

I moved to the window, looked over the pickup’s progress. The robots were finishing up its new paint job. “Might be a bit tight, but we can probably do it. We’ll have to wait for the paint to dry a bit.”

And twenty minutes later, we were driving north. The three of us in the pickup, and Vorpal on her motorcycle.

Cobbles Cove was the oldest part of Icon City. Back before Nikola Tesla had bought the land to the west of it, the Cove was a small New England fishing village. Now it was a sleepy residential area, that had last seen major infrastructure rework back in the seventies. Blocks of weathered apartments and prefab houses shared space with strip malls and small parks. The subway station here conveyed many of the residents to their jobs in the surrounding districts... the only real fishing and cargo business left in Icon had moved south to Whalers Wharf long ago. According to Martin, most of it was Die Kriegers turf. He pointed out men in green jackets as we drove by, and I was surprised to find their colors identical to the gangers down the street.

“They’re in Whaler’s Wharf, too?”

“Yeah.”

I decided not to mention I’d stolen a van from them. He’d only worry.

We finally found the place, with two minutes left before Bunny’s appointment. It was a small orange brick building, perhaps two stories with a belltower. The sign proclaimed it to be the Greenwater Methodist church. The lot was bare of other cars, and I wondered if the doctor was running late. But the side door was unlocked, and I held it open as Martin helped Bunny through, giving her a shoulder to lean on. Vorpal brought up the rear, glancing around. She’d left her sword behind, hidden in a compartment on her motorcycle, but I was sure that she was armed in some manner.

Inside, white-painted concrete hallways stretched into closed wooden doors. The floor was tile and a bit dusty, and noteboards were stacked with fliers proclaiming bake sales, campouts, and other community events.

“Is this the right place?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Bunny said. “You know what a sacristy looks like?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. Don’t know what the word means.”

“I got it,” said Martin. “It’s where you keep vestments and censers and stuff. Different place in every church, though.”

“So a store room. I’ll go looking,” Vorpal said, and headed off.

I kept my guard up. The last time I’d been in a church it had been bad. At least this one had power, this time around.

Vorpal returned after a minute. “Found it.”

“Anyone in there?” I asked.

“No, but there are instruments laid out, and medical supplies around.”

“He’ll be along,” Bunny said through gritted teeth. She was braced on Martin, with sweat pouring down her face. Just the walk from the parking lot to this point had done a number on her.

“Think Hollowhusk has branched out?” I arched an eyebrow at Martin.

“Shush.” He shot a look toward Bunny. Ah, right, vigilante. Probably didn’t need to know about that contact. But she paid no attention, so I let it drop.

The sacristy was a ten by fifteen room, with shades over its windows, and a few hanging fluorescent tubes. Racks of vestments hung on the wall, along with children’s costumes and puppets. Bits of odds and ends had been cleared away, with a cot set up in the center of it, and a lamp shining down from a stand. Stainless steel medical tools were set on a towel, resting on a card table that had been pushed against the wall.

“Well,” I said, “we’ve got everything but the doctor.”

“You called, I came.”

The voice was rich, deep, and coming from behind us. I don’t think any of them could have faulted me for spinning around and grabbing for a weapon, not when they were doing the same themselves.

The man behind us didn’t look concerned. He had a deep, walnut-brown skin, and black hair that was running to gray. Stocky, with a bit of a gut. He was in his forties or early fifties, perhaps, wearing a lab coat, slacks and a shirt, glasses, and a patient smile.

“Easy,” said Bunny. “That’s him.”

“Guess there’s no point in asking who my patient is,” he said. And something about his voice tugged at my memory.

I knew where I’d heard it before. And that body shape, that skin tone...

Freeway! This was Freeway!

“Trap!” I yelled, diving into the doorway and wrestling a screamer grenade out of my purse.

“Whoa, hold on,” he protested. “I don’t know what—”

In the hall, Vorpal paused in the middle of drawing a knife, and from the room I saw her eyes go wide...

And another familiar voice echoed through the hall. “Gotcha, Doc!”

Timetripper.

Vorpal went still, as a shimmer appeared around her. She looked almost frozen. “Martin!” I yelled. “Earplugs!”

I took a few steps back and popped my own earplugs in, but before I could throw the grenade the air in front of me flickered, and I could hear normally again. Freeway had taken my earplugs.

He reappeared, standing next to Vorpal, arms outstretched and looking down the hall. “Nobody move! That means you too— hey!”

Everything slowed, as the air blurred, and I saw Freeway’s face shift into a mask of confusion—

—As Timetripper, now wearing a tattered tie-dye shirt and a pair of bell-bottoms, sauntered past Martin. He ducked Martin's easy swing in slow motion, and tried to go around Freeway. Tried being the operative word, as Freeway sped up, and clocked him one in the jaw.

“Ow! Fuck man, what the hell!” Timetripper’s words were distant, like noise through water.

I reached for my taser in slow motion.

Freeway pointed at him.“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re violating a truce. Stand down and leave.” His voice was clear.

He didn’t see another Timetripper coming in from the side. I tried to yell a warning, but my lips were moving slowly, slowly...

And then the other Timetripper grabbed Vorpal.

BIP!

Just like that they were gone, Vorpal with them, and time returned to normal.

“Freeway look behind— oh.” I finished.

“The hell?” Freeway asked.

“It was a trap, but not from you.” I said, returning the screamer grenade to my purse.

“Wait. Freeway? Fuck, I knew I recognized that voice!” Martin said.