Nexus: Ziva Payvan Book 2 (30 page)

-66-

Underground District

Chaiavis

“Where do we even start?” Aroska muttered.

From the beginning
were the first words that came to Ziva’s mind, though she remained silent. After four hours of looking around the Underground they had come up short, so they’d ventured further into the heart of the city. With the number of people around, going on foot had proved to be more efficient than flying, though not having a quick means of escape if they needed one made her nervous.

The two of them stopped and took several seconds to just stare into the heart of Chaiavis’s Endion Entertainment District. With limited habitable space for expanding outward, most of the city was built upward; despite the fact that it was only midday, the massive structures shrouded the streets in darkness and the holograms were lit up as if it were late night. People and aliens of all shapes and sizes moved about between the bars and shops, dodging the occasional hoverbike or groundcar whose pilot was brave enough to press through the gauntlet. It was loud too – music, laughter, and a variety of languages filled the air and created a single deafening roar that was already giving Ziva a headache. She looked up to where the throngs of ships and aircars moved to and fro, feeling small with the city’s towering buildings rising up on either side of her. Blue sky and sunlight were visible high above.

“Just like home, eh?” she said, clapping Aroska on the shoulder as she took the first steps forward.

They began walking. Just like the Underground, Endion bore a striking resemblance to downtown Noro. The sense of familiarity once again brought Ziva comfort, but the deeper in they travelled, the less in control she felt. Knowledge of the city and street life was certainly a plus in this situation, but if this Kat Reilly character really frequented this place as often as Bosco had said, she would still have a huge advantage over them.

“You’ve heard the old saying, ‘It takes a Haphezian to kill a Haphezian’ right?” Aroska said. “If that’s true, don’t you think it would be just as accurate to say it takes a Haphezian to
find
a Haphezian?”

“If that’s the case, she has just as much chance of finding us as we do of finding her,” Ziva responded, carefully scanning the crowds as she strode forward. “This is her turf – there’s no telling how she’ll react when she sees us.”

They continued forward in silence, weaving in and out of the drunken club patrons, gamblers, and the occasional vendor who had ventured out into the street to advertise his wares. Here in the crowd during the daytime hours, Ziva felt safely anonymous – the order for her arrest seemed light-years away, if not nonexistent, and even if anyone nearby was aware of it, she doubted they cared. In fact, the majority of these people were probably trying to avoid some form of the law themselves, whether they be capital criminals or petty drug dealers.

She turned and followed Aroska into the first club they came to. The two of them hesitated in the doorway for a moment under the watchful eyes of a pair of bouncers, taking in what little they could see. The interior of the establishment was dark, lit only with deep red lighting panels, and it was nearly as crowded as it might have been during late night hours. The cloud of cigar smoke was so thick that the club’s patrons were hardly more than shadows visible through the haze.

Ziva caught Aroska’s arm as he began to step forward. “Who’s going to stand out more, the bar rat or the off-worlders?” She released his sleeve and nodded for him to head to the right. “Be vigilant.”

She turned to the left and began taking slow, even strides, sweeping her gaze back and forth with each step. On her right: the bar. All but a few of the stools were occupied by customers, some of whom were conversing with the bartender or each other but most of whom were hunched over their drinks in silence. None of these people appeared to be Kat Reilly – few were even female – so Ziva shifted her attention to the tables on her left. Most of these were full as well with people either eating or playing cards. Some of them eyed her warily as she passed, but it didn’t take long for them to return to what they were doing.

Clusters of customers stood in the center of the walkway talking, laughing, and casually sipping at drinks – they paid her little mind as she slipped by and continued around the main floor’s circular path. Live music could be heard somewhere ahead, though the band itself was invisible behind a wall of dancing patrons and a collection of game tables. More tables were situated further along the path, positioned in front of several large viewscreens that were streaming live feeds from various sporting events around the Fringe.

The sensation of being watched had become prevalent in the past several days, and there in the bar it had flared up again. Ziva stopped walking and took a moment to listen, not just to the general din but to each individual sound around her. She turned in a slow circle, looking back over the things she’d already seen, searching for anything that had changed since she’d passed. Nothing seemed any different than it had the first time, but the feeling of eyes upon her hadn’t faded. She turned around when a familiar scent reached her nostrils and found Aroska making his way toward her. The sensation diminished as he neared, and Ziva breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he had probably been the source.

“Nothing,” he said, continuing to glance around regardless.

“Likewise.” Wondering how many more clubs they would have to search before they found something, Ziva carried on in the direction from which Aroska had come and he fell into stride beside her. They worked their way back around the bar, keeping cautious eyes on the door and anyone coming or going.

One of the bouncers, a thick-bodied human man with a shaved head, was watching them again as they exited. The other, a species Ziva didn’t recognize, was speaking with an aircar pilot dressed in a full flight suit and helmet. They put their conversation on hold until Ziva and Aroska were safely past, scrutinizing them as they went.

“You really think it would be that much trouble to just ask around?” Aroska muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“You tell me,” Ziva replied. “You’re the one who insisted we trust Bosco. He said she wouldn’t want that kind of attention, and
we
don’t
need
that kind of attention.”

They pressed on, though Ziva couldn’t help but feel they were wasting their time. She was confident, however, that if finding Reilly was this complicated, they would in turn be safe from Dasaro. Here they had a general idea of where Kat was located – HSP had no way of knowing where they’d even landed.

They searched through three more clubs, repeating the process of entering, splitting up, finding nothing, and leaving. The feeling that someone was watching had returned, and this time Ziva was unable to trace it back to Aroska. She listened carefully for any footsteps approaching behind her and checked what little she could see of her reflection as she passed a window.

She was still focused on the peculiar feeling when Aroska stopped short and began examining the items at one of the vendor booths. He selected a cheap knock-off targeting visor and fit it over his eyes, checking himself in a small mirror before turning toward Ziva.

“How do I look?” he asked, grinning.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ziva demanded, crossing her arms. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized something was off. She couldn’t clearly see his eyes through the visor, but she could see enough to tell he wasn’t looking at her.

His smile diminished and he replaced the device, taking a step toward her before speaking. “We’ve got a tail,” he said. “Check your six – our pilot friend from the first club.”

Ziva bristled. This was the presence she felt, she was sure of it. She turned, glancing over the crowd before fixing her gaze on a holographic advertisement above the street. Searching with her peripherals, she spotted the blue flight suit within seconds – the pilot who had been conversing with the club bouncers stood perhaps sixty meters behind them, casually looking about at the booths and passersby. The face within the helmet gradually turned in their direction but looked away again when its owner realized they were looking.

They both turned in perfect synchronization and began walking again, keeping their heads and voices down as they went. “I’ve seen him hanging around outside every club,” Aroska said. “He’s been back there at least ten minutes.”

Ziva picked up her pace a bit, though she had no intention of trying to shake their follower. The presence she felt, the presence of this person, had her greatly curious and she placed a warning hand on Aroska’s arm when she saw him reach for his pistol. “Let it play,” she instructed.

“What if it’s HSP?”

“It’s not HSP,” she replied, unsure how to elaborate further.

It was always possible that it could be a bounty hunter hired by HSP – there was no doubt in her mind that Dasaro would send someone after them. Any hired guns, however, wouldn’t have shoot-to-kill orders; the captain would want that great privilege for himself. These hunters would only have instructions to relay information regarding her location, which the agency would no doubt act upon in no time. Suddenly everyone who appeared to be paying them a little too much attention or walking a little too close was the enemy. Ziva moved faster.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Aroska turned his head toward her but his eyes were straining to see behind him.

Rather than respond, Ziva shoved him down the first alley they came to. The area was dark, lit only with the dim lighting panels positioned above the side doors of all the clubs. Few people were walking this path – those who were appeared to be either homeless or drunk. Smaller passages branched from the main one, leading to more shady and secretive establishments, and the hustle and bustle of the next street over could be seen far ahead.

“You’re going to create a diversion,” she said once they’d made it a suitable distance into the alley. “I want to have a chat with this guy.”

She dodged a Durutian man who was passed out beside one of the club doors and ducked down one of the smaller alleys on her right. Signaling for Aroska to go left, she pressed her back against the grimy building wall and fingered her kytara under her jacket. She removed it and held it down at her side, prepared to engage the blades as she listened for the stranger’s approaching footsteps.

The pilot paused at the end of the alley, most likely wondering what had become of them. The person took several tentative steps forward – Ziva thought she caught a whiff of their scent as they drew closer. She waited several more seconds before signaling for Aroska to step out of his hiding place. He did so hesitantly, pulling his communicator from his belt and studying the tiny screen with a frown.

There was a brief catch in the footfalls of the approaching person as they caught sight of him. Then the steps quickened, and Ziva could picture the figure lowering his head in a futile attempt at remaining inconspicuous. She drew a deep breath as she heard him come within meters.

Aroska stepped forward, successfully attracting the pilot’s attention as he flashed an innocent grin and held up his communicator. “Excuse me, I’m wondering if you can tell me—”

He got no further before Ziva leaped forward, the blade of her kytara angled for the pilot’s head. A second kytara blade, slightly curved, appeared out of nowhere, crossing hers before she had a chance to grab him. Aroska retreated, startled – his pistol was drawn but he held it low and looked on with wide eyes. It was for the best, Ziva decided, shifting all of her focus to her weapon and her opponent. He would only get in the way.

Caught off guard and unsure who she was dealing with, Ziva did the only thing she could think of and mentally took herself back to a previous kytara duel. Truth be told, she was out of practice – the last time she’d fought a real opponent was the day she’d killed Gamon. It appeared, however, that the stranger was just as shocked as she was. He was a decent swordsman, though he seemed inexperienced in that he relied on sheer strength rather than the finesse and elegance that would allow him to use his Nostia to supplement his fighting skills. Still, his reflexes were good and he continued to block her blows with little effort.

She thought she heard Aroska say something, but she ignored him and caught the pilot’s forearm with her free hand. Ducking low, she swept her leg around and caught him behind the knees, sending him to the ground and wrenching his arm around as he went. The kytara slipped from his grasp and Ziva pulled it into her own hand, shoving him onto his back with her foot. He began trying to scoot away but fell still and held his hands up in surrender as she crossed the blades above his throat.

“Slowly,” Ziva growled, gesturing at the helmet. “Who are you?”

There was a long pause where her eyes were locked with those behind the visor. Then, gradually, keeping his gloved palms open, the pilot reached up and began tugging the helmet off. A great pile of blonde hair – so blonde it was nearly white – came cascading out and Ziva found herself looking into the icy blue eyes of not a man but a young woman. Like Bosco, she had no
gesh punti
but the silver streaks in her hair were unmistakable. She held her hands up, staring fearlessly into Ziva’s face and breathing hard.

Ziva retracted the kytara blades and returned her own to its holster. “Kat Reilly?”