Mass Effect: The Complete Novels 4-Book Bundle (102 page)

The plan made sense and Zon was smart enough to recognize that. “Fair enough,” she said calmly. “We’ll redirect our people accordingly. I’m sorry there won’t be enough time to loot vaults two and three, but something is better than nothing.”

Seconds later Nick found himself in a column of walking wounded that snaked out into a corridor, leading them to a blown door and the long narrow space labeled
VAULT ONE
. A muffled
THUMP
was heard as the Skulls blew a hole in the back wall and a biotic began to yell, “Take a pack! Take a pack!”

The backpacks were cheap and flimsy but that was fine since they would only be used once. Time was of the essence and all of them knew it as they shuffled through the vault toward the ragged hole in the back wall and the artificial sunlight beyond. Those who had been wounded weren’t required to wear a pack, but the others were, so that predesignated “loaders” could dump small ingots into each one of them. Most of the galaxy’s commerce was carried out digitally, but such transactions could be tracked, so criminal enterprises were forced to use other forms of currency, Beryllium being one of them.

The process was slow at first, but the line began to pick up speed as the loaders became more efficient, so
it wasn’t long before Nick and his escort were stepping through the newly created door into a chaotic firefight. It seemed teams one and two had successfully repositioned themselves to provide covering fire, but T’Loak’s people were infiltrating the area, and snipers were firing from all around. “Come on!” the girl said, as they began to cross the street. “Run!”

Nick couldn’t run. Not really. But he did the best he could as the battle grew more intense and projectiles pinged the pavement all around them. Then they were across the street and entering the narrow passageway that separated two buildings. The sound of fighting began to fade at that point and Nick thought they were safe until a batarian stepped out of a door eight meters in front of them. The merc was armed with an assault weapon that he leveled at them.

Nick was reaching for a pistol with his good hand when the girl shook him off. She was Level 2 at best, but there was nothing wrong with her “throw.” It pushed the batarian backward and ruined his aim. A burst of high-velocity particles flew over Nick’s head as he pulled the trigger three times. The time spent on the range paid off as two of the three rounds pulped the merc’s unprotected face.

Then it was time to shuffle past the body and clear the area as quickly as possible. It was clear that the plan to re-form and return to the hotel as a unified force had come apart and each biotic was on his or her own. And the girl knew that. “We aren’t going to make it back to headquarters,” she said grimly. “Not before T’Loak’s people attack the place.”

“Leave me,” Nick said. “I’ll be fine thanks to you.
All I need is a place to hole up until the fighting dies down.”

The girl looked up into his face. She had a broad forehead, wide-set eyes, and a nice mouth. It was set in a firm line. “No. I won’t leave you.”

Suddenly Nick saw something that was entirely new to him. There was a protective look in her eyes. And something more as well. A level of devotion he didn’t deserve. Nick smiled. “Thank you. Come on … There’s a hotel up ahead. You can check in for both of us. T’Loak’s people will be all over the place looking for stragglers pretty soon. We need to get off the street.”

The hotel was on lockdown and for a very good reason. The last thing the owner wanted was to get involved in a raging gang war. But the girl was determined. She beat her fist on the door until the manager opened it a crack. Then having gotten his attention she told a reasonably convincing story about how she and her husband had been walking past T’Loak’s bank when all hell broke loose. He had been hit by a stray round and all they wanted was a place to take refuge until the craziness died down. Fortunately the manager was human and inclined to help a member of his own race.

The twosome were inside a minute later, and entering a shabby room shortly after that, as the fighting began to decrease and traffic noise increased. Gun battles were common, people had to work, and life went on. For most people that is, the exceptions being those who had been killed during the robbery.

Nick sat on the bed, fought to suppress a groan as
the girl lifted his feet up off the floor, and lay back against the pillows. “Tell me something.”

The girl sat down next to him. Her eyes were brown and very serious. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name.”

“It’s Marisa. Marisa Mendez.”

“My name’s Nick. Nick Donahue.”

“I know. Everyone does.”

“I want to thank you, Marisa. You saved my life.”

Marisa looked down. “It was nothing.”

Nick brought his left hand up under Marisa’s chin. Her eyes met his. He meant to say something but wound up kissing her instead. Her lips were soft, she smelled like soap, and the pain in his shoulder was momentarily forgotten. It felt good to be alive.

Aria T’Loak was furious. She had returned from Thessia only to learn that her bank had been robbed the day before. Though a very small part of her net worth, the loss was irksome and might signal weakness. And that was never a good thing on Omega. The fact that the heist had been carried out by a low-rent gang like the Skulls, and a heretofore unknown group called the Biotic Underground, meant a loss of face. Both of the offending organizations had already been punished with reprisal attacks, but neither had been wiped out. That meant further efforts would be required in order to deal with them.

So as the asari stood across from the bank and looked at the damage, she was angry. But something more as well. T’Loak was worried. Because when she climbed up onto the broken column that led across the street and straight to her bank she realized how elegant the plan had been. Not the sort of thing she expected from the Skulls. Had the idea originated with biotics then? Yes, she thought so. It seemed that
there was a new and potentially dangerous player on Omega. One that would have to be watched.

Fortunately her people had been quick to react to the attack. So while the bank robbers had been able to remove the contents of one vault the other two remained untouched. Still, the loss of material worth 2.5 million credits was nothing to sneeze at, and someone would have to pay. Even if T’Loak was partially to blame for failing to anticipate the way in which the column could be used. It was a lesson learned and one that would be applied to all of her other holdings. Anything that could be used as a giant club would be seized or purchased and destroyed.

A very frightened batarian was waiting for T’Loak inside the building. Later, in the wake of the robbery, he had been apprehended trying to board a freighter bound for Khar’shan. That was why a pair of armed turians were positioned behind him. His name was Obo Pol and he’d been in charge of the bank on the day of the attack. T’Loak faced him across two meters of debris-strewn floor. “You’re alive,” she observed.
“Why?”

“They attacked without warning,” Pol answered lamely. “I thought they were going to try and enter through the north wall so I sent the quick response team there. That’s when they blew the column. And they had biotics. Lots of them.”

“Excuses won’t cut it,” T’Loak said harshly. “The column was a surprise. I’ll grant you that. But once it hit you should have rushed reinforcements to the control center, yet you failed to do so. Not to mention the fact that you attempted to run rather than remain here and take responsibility. That’s why they’re going
to hang you. And right out front too … So people can see the connection. Take him away.”

Pol tried to run but the turians were ready. They stunned him, and with help from two additional mercs hauled the batarian away. The hanging wouldn’t repair the damage done to T’Loak’s reputation, but it couldn’t hurt, and would provide Omega’s citizens with free entertainment.

Tann Immo had risen through the ranks of T’Loak’s syndicate to become one of her most trusted advisers. And that was why he had been brought in during the aftermath of the robbery to sort things out. Once Pol had been carried away he took the opportunity to speak. “We have three prisoners.”

“Good,” T’Loak said irritably. “Hang them too.”

“If you say so,” Immo said gravely. “But one of them claims to have been present when your daughter was murdered.”

What felt like ice water trickled into T’Loak’s veins. “Where is this person?”

“The prisoners are in a secured area at the north side of the building.”

“Take me there.” T’Loak followed Immo down a passageway toward the center of the bank. Having left the column and the impact zone behind, things looked normal. They passed the offices associated with T’Loak’s profitable loan-sharking operation, and a data center that also functioned as a backup for computers located elsewhere, before entering the maze of small rooms that the guards lived in.

One section of the residential area had been put to use as a medical clinic where the wounded were being cared for at T’Loak’s expense. Because she felt that
just as incompetence should be punished, loyalty should be rewarded, which explained why the turnover rate in her organization was relatively low. “The prisoners are being kept here,” Immo said, as they passed a pair of guards. “They were wounded and left behind when the attackers were forced to withdraw. Two of them are Skulls. The third is a member of the Biotic Underground.”

T’Loak nodded. “Which one claims to know about Liselle’s death?”

“A Skull named Shella. She’s in the last room on the right.”

A batarian was stationed at the door and came to something resembling attention as T’Loak approached. She gave him a nod and entered the room. It was empty except for a bed and the human female laying on top of it. She appeared to be about thirty or so and wore her hair in a military-style buzz cut that served to show off the elaborate tracery of tattoos on her scalp. She was skinny, her face had a pinched look, and T’Loak was struck by the look of defiance in her eyes. The human was sitting up with a pillow under her right knee. It was wrapped with bandages. “So,” T’Loak said, “your name is Shella. Do you have a second name?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “It’s Shella.”

T’Loak might have smiled on some other occasion but not now. “I see. Okay, Shella … I’m told that you murdered my daughter.”

“No,”
Shella said emphatically. “I said I was present when your daughter was murdered. There’s a big difference. The killing came as a complete surprise to me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” T’Loak replied. “But go on—convince me. And while you’re at it tell me who slit her throat. More than that, make me believe it.”

“I’ll tell you,” Shella promised. “But only if you allow me to live. Otherwise the name of the person who killed your daughter dies with me.”

T’Loak didn’t like being forced to do things. And the fact that Shella had been among those who robbed her made the demand that much harder to stomach. But she wanted the information and wanted it badly. “Maybe I’ll agree to your proposal,” she said, “and maybe I won’t. I’m going to ask you some simple questions. The kind you’ll be willing to answer if you want to live. Then, if I like what I hear, the deal is on.”

“Okay,” Shella replied cautiously. “Depending on what you ask.”

T’Loak battled to maintain her composure. “Where did the killing take place?”

“In Paul Grayson’s apartment. You knew him as Paul Johnson.”

That was true. And Aria felt a slowly rising sense of excitement. Maybe Shella
did
know who the killer was. The Illusive Man claimed Grayson was responsible for Liselle’s death, and T’Loak had assumed the same thing, but was it true? “Something was removed from the apartment after the murder,” T’Loak said. “What was it?”

Shella didn’t hesitate. “A large quantity of red sand.
Your
red sand.”

That was enough. T’Loak believed her. The woman
had
been present. Maybe she was the killer and maybe
not. She would agree to the deal. Then, if there was proof that Shella had been holding the knife, the asari would kill her.
Personally
. “All right … Start talking.”

“So we have an agreement?”

“Yes.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You don’t,” T’Loak replied grimly. “But you know my reputation. Everyone on Omega does. When I make a deal I honor it.”

Shella clearly had her doubts but was in a jam. All she could do was take her best shot and hope for the best. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything I know. Before joining the Skulls I was a freelancer. Cerberus hired me.”

T’Loak was already paying close attention. And the mention of Cerberus heightened her interest even more. “You worked for Cerberus? In what capacity?”

“I was a communications tech working for an operative named Manning. The Illusive Man sent him here to collect Grayson and bring him in. I have no idea why. They don’t tell freelancers things like that.”

If the Illusive Man was in any way responsible for Liselle’s death T’Loak wanted to know about it. “Go on.”

“We found a way to get past the security guards out front. Then we managed to enter the apartment. Your daughter was present. One of our team members knocked her out with a tranq dart. Grayson was next. And that was when Manning did what he did.”

T’Loak tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Which was?”

“He had a knife. From the kitchen. He used it to slit your daughter’s throat. He hadn’t gone there with the intention of killing her. Or so it seemed to me. But Manning is the only person who would know for sure.”

T’Loak was determined not to cry. Not until later. When she was alone. She cleared her throat. “So, Manning is alive?”

Shella shrugged. “How would I know? But yes, probably. He’s a survivor.”

“Describe him.”

So Shella described the man she knew as Manning, the way he handled himself, and his relationship with the Illusive Man, which she described as “close.”

T’Loak’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “How close?”