IC 2077
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IC 2077
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
I actually snort at that. “Very recent archaeology. I like that, Mister Redback. But, yes, I can do that. I have been digging through graves for a very long time. Shovels might still be needed for the fine work, though. I have a vehicle in the car park below the hill that has a couple of tents in the back. I can call it forward and set something up.”
I turn to the Dwarf. “As an alternative, I know that someone here is very good with illusions, so perhaps whoever it is can simply conceal what we are doing from your customers? After all, the less time we need to spend here, the sooner we will be out of your hair.”
I pause and look between Oblique and Midnight then back. “I have a separate question, though. From a few words I have heard, it seems that one or both of us were expected. If so, may I ask who alerted you and what they told you about us? After all, I did not know that Mister Redback would be here and from what I can tell, he did not know I was coming. Are you willing to share that information or is it too much of a secret?”
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
I nodded towards Midnight and she answered the Vampire: “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the Singers themselves – if you can find them – how they know those things. She only said there would be emissaries asking questions. “
I tipped impatiently with my right foot on the ground. The nervous energy had come back and I no longer wanted to stay within this stuffy office.
“Let’s go. It’s been over 48 hours since the last time I desecrated a grave.”I just waited long enough for the cat girl to describe the place and liberate a shovel from a caravan before I went off to begin digging. I left it to Romanova or whatever she called herself to organize the tent.
Despite the graves being fresh it was hard work as the sun had baked the ground again already. Sweat began to stream from my brow and I had to take off my coat and suit. The shirt followed too as I didn’t want the silk to get dirty.
It took half an hour to reveal the bodies we were looking for.
Standard S-K body armor for their Schnelle Eingreiftruppe. The patches did fit, and looked genuine, but the uniforms were remarkable new. Of course they didn’t carry any identifications, so I tried to salvage what tech I could find. They carried Walter Securas and HK-227 SMGs but the ammunition was a cheap knock off brand from the South-East. On a whim I opened the mouth of one of the dead and took a good look at his teeth. I nodded to myself and used the shovel to pry two molars out.
Sweating but grinning I turned to the vampire: “Definitely no S-K SE guys.” I tossed her a tooth. “Amalgam fillings. You find those only with poor bastards from outside the corps. I’d say not even from organized military – those take care to not have mercury in their soldiers.
I’m pretty sure this was either a false flag or a rogue operation. Seems like they didn’t even have magical support with them. That one got cooked by a power ball or something like it.”Next he took a look at the girl. She looked young and healthy – for a corpse. Severed brachial artery. The shot must have been instantly deadly.
I could still smell a faint trace of incense on her wide clothing. Afterwards I needed a break and let the vampire take a look for herself, while I emptied a bottle of water.
I felt the exertion and the recently closed axe wound across my back. When I had cooled down enough I got dressed again. -
[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
I nod at Shrike’s suggestion to call the truck up to the top of the hill. Even if we do not need the tent, the dimming light will make it difficult to make out details and the headlights of the vehicle will help. I leave the trailer with Midnight and Shrike and walk to the front of the circus area to meet the truck while the other two walk off to where the bodies are buried. By the time I get over there, the cat woman is gone and Shrike is busy digging away at the baked ground. He had already removed his suit jacket and shirt and I moved them to the cab of the truck to keep them from getting too dirty.
Telling Achmed and Hamad to get a tent set up around the area and get a large light set working, I grab a shovel and jump into the shallow hole with the man and grin at him as I begin digging. “No sense letting you have all the fun.”
Once the tent is up and the light on, Achmed walks over with some sort of device in his hands while Hamad grabs a shovel and looks to enter the hole as well. “Hey, Miss Romanov, I have a scanner here that could be of use. let me see if I can pick up any metal in the ground.”
I smile at him. “Sure, Achmed, and it is Tatjana, remember?”
He smiles back. “Yeah, I remember. But I also remember what my uncle told me.”
I stop working and lean on the shovel a bit and change to speaking in English. “I won’t tell him if you don’t. Shrike Redback, this is Achmed. He is driving that monster over there and is apparently some sort of whiz kid to boot. And the man getting ready to help us with the other shovel is Hamad. He was brought along to be the guard here but I think we are safe enough for now. Achmed and Hamad, this is Shrike Redback. It seems that he will be our partner for a bit. Say hello, but I do not think he understands Arabic, so please use English when talking around him.”
Both men nod and say hello to Shrike and Achmed uses his scanner to point out the most likely place for the metal.
We go down a couple of feet and the loose soil starts to become a problem so I stop momentarily to cast a Shape Soil spell to keep the sides from caving in then go back to work. Soon, both Hamad and Shrike are shirtless and I am treated to the sight of two strong and healthy men sweating as they work the hole. Eventually we find the bodies and I let Shrike get a good look at them first, nodding as he explains his finds. I smile at him as he steps aside for me to look closer at the dead men. Kneeling I feel around their heads and also look closely at their mouths, getting a bit of information. Moving down the body of the man I am kneeling at, I turn his hands over and look at them closely then remove my sacred blade from its hidden sheath and use it to cut the man’s right hand off.
Standing, I walk to the edge of the hole and hold up the hand for Shrike to look at. “I am not an expert on guns and ammunition, but I do know bodies. I am pretty sure that man is Eastern European, perhaps Hungarian but maybe something more Balkan. There is a very small tattoo on the ridge between the thumb and forefinger. This is a sign of a group of mercenaries that is based out of Budapest but takes in thugs from most of the countries in that area. They are pretty small stuff, mostly armed protection jobs. They provided the security crew on a dig expedition I did in the Carpathians a couple of years back. They were very hard men and I did not care for their attitude because they were more like thugs than professional security, but the government had arranged for them and I had to accept their attitude. I could send a pic of the tat to a friend and confirm if you like.”
I leave the hand with him and go back to looking at the bodies. I find the same tattoo on the other man and let Shrike know before going to the edge of the hole and climbing out. Sniffing, I laugh. “Ewww. I am going to need a shower after that work.” I watch as Shrike turns to put his shirt on and notice again the staples on his back and reach out to touch him on the arm. “I would like to spend a few minutes seeing the dead off, if that is alright with you. I know that she was given some sort of ceremony, but her friends were not here and someone should say nice things about her. I will not take long.”
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When Al woke up from his drinking binge the thought of light was so unbearable he turned off his cybereyes. Somehow the trid volume had been turned up to eleven, and scarred hands scrabbled among empty cans and dog hair-covered bedding to find the remote. An agonizing four seconds into the day’s consciousness he was mercilessly suspended in a Kelleresque absence of external stimuli. Not really sure if it was night or day or that he cared, he lay back and contemplated being back in (or at least near) London. After nearly thirty years, he’d been a day away from SoCal. But when friends called, a man answered.
Maybe it was time to stop making any more friends, though.
Content to neither move nor feel nor think, he put his hand on his ‘link to ensure he’d know if it vibrated.
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Earl’s Court, Below, London]
Alice and Alfie pause for a short rest on the bridge leading to the Courts, having just passed the first of the Guardians. Even with her cane, Alyce finds it a bit difficult to walk for more than a few minutes at a time right now, possibly due to her wounds or being quite tired or perhaps a bit of both. While sitting on the stone bench, she ponders the Guardians. No one really knows who…or what….they are, but they seem to remain on duty all the time, never being replaced or given relief, yet their presence at each end of the bridge is so much a part of Below that no one really questions them. They just are. After a few minutes rest, she stands and continues her walk, greeting several of the people that go past her in the opposite direction. Alyce is not immensely famous, but a number of people do know her, or maybe it is just that she is known to walk with a Hell Hound.
The walk to the Earl’s House is thankfully short and she walks with her Hell Hound up the stone stairs leading to the huge double doors, where two large footmen open them for her and greet her by name. Her facial ink alone would grant her access to the building even if her name was unknown, and here she is welcomed as one of the family, which she is, in a way. She is a ward of the Earl and enjoys special privileges here that few others have. Passing through the open doors, she greets the footmen by name and they are pleased that she has remembered them.
Entering the large, marbled Great Hall, Alyce feels the hydras on her body react to being here. The sorceries involved in the creation of the tattoos give a certain sort of life to the small creatures on her face and arms as well as the much larger one on her back. They know when they are back here and tend to move about more freely in this building. Alyce is approached by a liveried footman who welcomes her by name. “Good evening, Miss Krait, you are expected, but you are early. I will let them know that you are here. May I send you some refreshment?”
Alyce smiles at the man. “Thank you Thaddeus, I would like some water, please. I know that I am a good bit early for my appointment and I would like to rest for a bit so will just take a seat over there and wait to be called.”
The footman nods and bows low before leaving her. A woman dressed in the livery of the Earl, soon approaches her, bearing a large tray with a ewer and a crystal goblet on it. She places the tray on a small table near Alyce and withdraws. Alfie curls up at Alyce’s feet and she can feel the warmth of his body against her legs and smiles. Sitting, she has a chance to finally relax and let the furor of the last hours run off her. While waiting, she takes a drink of the water then makes some clicking noises with her mouth, feeling the hound at her feet stir as he accepts the commands to watch over her. Letting her body go limp, she slides into the matrix and lets her avatar race as fast as thought to a small restaurant that has outside tables facing a large outdoor stage. A group of oddly clad performers are up and she listens to their music as she orders some food. After a moment, she sends a message off.
>>Al [Alyce]: Hey you. I miss you. My body is in Below and I am waiting to see the Earl and the Old One, so I thought I would go eat that dinner I talked about. My VR self is sitting right now at a small table outside the Psycho Barn café, looking at that stage we sat in front of. Do you remember it? A group I do not recognize is playing some rather good psychobilly music and has the smallish crowd dancing. The board out front says the group is called Groove Singular. I have not heard of them before but perhaps you are familiar with them? Anyway, the music is good and the food is good. The only thing missing to make it perfect is you. You have not responded to any of my messages so I assume that you are very busy and so I will not take up too much of your time. I am attaching a sound file to this so you can hear a couple of the songs that this group has played so far while I have been here. I hope that you like the music. I am very sorry for bothering you about getting shot and hope that you did not worry too much. It appears that the damage was not overly severe and I am already walking again, although with a slightly greater limp than before. I am told that even that will go away over time if I let it rest and heal properly. I will have some interesting scars to show you if you are ever interested in seeing them. Be safe and please know that there is someone who wishes you the best of luck and fortune wherever you are. Your Friend, Alyce.<<
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
I point to the cab of the truck and tell Shrike that I put his nice clothes in the front seat to keep them cleaner then I climb back into the hole as Hamad and Shrike get dressed. The only time I spend on the men is to use my sacred blade to cut their heads off and toss them to the side. The girl deserves better and I take some time with her. I can tell by the incense and how she is laid out that she was at least placed here with some respect, which causes my estimation of Oblique to rise a bit. Most people would have simply dumped her in the hole with the others and left it at that.
If she has not had a decent service, she will be wandering the void for at least a generation until she is given a chance at rebirth. I speak to her of the afterlife she will find and her eventual rebirth if she has not already made her way there. If she has already found her way, my words may still give her comfort in her next life. Using a finger, I trace ancient symbols of karma on her forehead and cheeks, reciting by memory from the Samsara texts. I close with a short prayer that she use this as a step to achieve true nirvana and ultimate freedom of the soul. Finished, I stand and spit on the corpses of the two assassins, knowing already that they will suffer horribly in their next incarnation.
Climbing out of the hole, I stand to one side and stop sustaining the Shape Soil spell and cast another one, this time forming a curved pillar from the soil we had removed from the hole. Arcing the pillar over the hole I cancel the spell and watch as the pile of dirt collapses into the burial pit. Now finished, I assist Achmed and Hamad as they collapse the tent and light stand, putting everything into the truck bed. Standing in the headlights, I look at Shrike and smile. “So, where to, Mister Redback?”
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[Nightfall, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
I caught the hand and looked for myself for the tattoo. I wasn’t familiar with it, but then I hadn’t been to the Balkans in quite a while. Probably a dead end anyway. I vaguely waved with it towards the vampires’ two Renfields and replied:
“Suit yourself. Personally, I don’t think she will care or listen one way or the other. Last rites are for the living. I have to make a call.”
I stood up and went a few steps outside – just a habit I had caught up some 80 years ago when mobile communication had started to be all the rage – and opened an AR connection to Puck:
<<Hello Puck, how’s life as an operator in a cushy office? It’s very sandy out here and I might have gotten a splinter in my thumb.>>
The reply came as acidly as I expected:
<<Suck it, Lanius. While you are playing with sandcastles, I’ve been working non-stop to find out more about those attacks. So what have you got for me – besides what is clearly a lie about splinters. I know you have the hide of a rhino’s ass all over you.>>
<<Charming as ever. The circus people weren’t that helpful – kept me waiting all day only to tell me where they buried the victims and some of the attackers. Just opened up the graves. Seems like a false flag operation. One of the attackers had amalgam fillings, so I’m thinking lowlife mercs – they have tattoos that might identify them further. I’ve attached the photos. The helis went west – could mean they were shipped off or are simply hidden in the desert.
In any case, they seem to have targeted a circle of ritual magicians. Their leader, a young woman, fled. Her companion died. See if you can find her with facial recognition. I also took a hair sample for DNA profiling.
Oh and before I forget it: Schwarzkopf has also sent an agent to investigate, a vampire calling herself Tatjana Romanov. Archaeologist by trade as she says. As far as I can tell she seems to be genuine – but that doesn’t mean anything with those blood suckers. Especially for those working for a dragon.>>
It took a moment for Puck to reply – probably to cover his ass by asking management directly for guidance:
<<That is very interesting to hear. For the moment stay with her. If you’ve done what you could, get ready for your next location: There has been an attack in London aligning with this one – same MO. It’s worth checking out. But first visit our local office and take a look around there. At the very least they have lost inventory – or worse cooperated in the attack.>>
<<What about the attackers themselves?>>
<<Don’t worry – now that we know it wasn’t rogue S-K personal per se, it’s no longer that pressing. Wrap up, your transport is on the way. We’ll remove the markings for now. Ask your new friend to join you. The boss is very interested to learn what Schwartzkopf’s agenda on this case is.>>
<<Roger. And don’t overwork yourself. Don’t want you get road rash on your ass from moving to much on your leather seat.>>
I killed the connection before he could reply and turned back to the vampire:
“Management is satisfied with my findings. They are sending me to London to investigate a similar attack with a short stop at the local S-K headquarters – you want to come? I’ve got a T-Bird inbound. Should be here in a few hours.” -
When the comm did sound, it wasn’t “Me So Horny” but Tom Waits’s “Way Down in the Hole.” He still didn’t feel like opening his eyes, so he thumbed to comm to voice command and croaked out an order to send the text to his image-link. Then he watched Alyce’s words scroll by in the blackness.
He knew she was caught up in the whole hot-sim thing, but ‘the food is good’? That’d require a level of detachment from reality he’d never be able to understand nor conscion. Well, to each his own, he figured. Academic for him anyway….
Now he’d have to get up. He found one of his burner ‘links and entered a message. <<Confirmed you were okay. Enjoy your VR dinner. Not really up for acute nausea and vertigo just at the moment. Obliged for songs.>>
He didn’t know if she’d also been contacted by Silk or not, and he wasn’t in the habit of passing on secrets that might not be his to share. If she had also been contacted, he’d know soon enough.
He disabled – read: physically removed – the GPS on the burner, then programmed it so send the message in half an hour. Then he attached a small charge set to obliteate the commlink the instant the message was sent. Then he put the ‘link in the Porsche and told it to drive toward London for thirty minutes and then come back. Finally, he double-checked his Fairlight was set to receive only. He knew the rest of his home was wifi-clean.
He was no hacker, but you didn’t have to be one to keep them out of your business, and he liked his privacy.
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Earl’s Court, Below, London]
Alyce is in the middle of a very satisfying after dinner tea when she receives the reply from Al. Part of her is watching the new band that has just taken the stage and well into the first song, which seems to be well received by the crowd and justifiably so, in Alyce’s opinion. As another part of her reads the message, she frowns. “What does he mean when he says he confirmed I was okay? Did he call the hospital or something? Why not contact me directly?”
She signals the virtual waiter to her table and transfers enough nuyen to cover the charges and a generous tip then slips out of VR to AR and then back to her body. Shaking her head, she reads the message again, wondering why it is that she cannot fail to be completely misunderstood when she talks or writes to the man? What is it about her that fails to be clear? She goes back to her original messages and makes sure that they indicated that he should pick the location for the dinner and she would join him there. Somehow, her words had been scrambled yet again and she has failed to communicate. She begins to work on a message to Al, trying to explain what she had meant. As she searches for the right words to say she experiences what some people might call an epiphany and stops the mental writing. Her mind is roiling in a mass of self doubt and then it clears, leaving her with……………………nothing. She grasps for concepts and realizes that every one could be misunderstood. No matter how she tries, Al will always misunderstand her. He has declared that he loves her so she cannot accept that this is on purpose, but she simply cannot make herself understood to the man. Even when she thinks she is being concise and clear, he interprets her as being womanly and emotional. This continuous reality is destroying her from the inside and is even affecting her work.
Al will apparently not change, so she will have to, if only to stop the hurt she feels after every misunderstood conversation. She deletes the message she was working on and sends another. >>Al [Alyce]: Thank you for checking on me. I am sorry that you were not able to find a place for us to meet for dinner. Maybe another time. Alyce.<<
Sending the message brings a certain sense of peace to her. It is almost like ending a nine year love affair that just has never quite worked out is a relief in a way. Realizing that if she is taking one big step, she might as well take another, she calls up a list of the various sharing circles she belongs to and sends them all a request to remove her from their invitation lists. An odd sort of realization that she probably should have done this years ago settles on her and she smiles to herself. She realizes that she is free to concentrate her emotions and expressions of love on those that seem able to return it. She has given her heart and soul to Al and there is nothing that either he or she could do that will ever change that, but she can and will begin to focus on another aspect of her life while she waits to see if Al will ever come around.
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[Nightfall, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
Sian sighs. Crap, now she will have to give Hassim the truck without really getting much use out of her. She looks at the man in front of her and nods. “Yes, I would like to accompany you if your craft has enough room to be comfortable. I have two duffle bags that are sort of important to me. Would they fit on the aircraft? Would you require the services of my crew in this investigation of the local S-K office or should I release them?”
She pauses before continuing. “Are you discounting, then, the source of the mercenaries used to attack this place? If so, may I ask why?”
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[Nightfall, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
“Storage shouldn’t be a problem – it’s not a luxury jet, but it’s fast and you have enough room to stretch so it’s not necessary to be especially comfortable.
I don’t care about your crew – if you need them take them with you – although I don’t know if you want them to come to London with you. But whatever you do, please don’t start snacking on them. I was berated the last time when I got blood on the seats.I’m not discounting anything. I just don’t have the time to go looking for the mercenaries here when they are most likely just a bunch of hired guns anyway. I want to know who hired them and where they got the equipment from. The last part is the reason why we are visiting S-K here.”
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Awake now, less hungover, and puttering around his workshop while berating Spike for his infatuation with his own balls, Al received Alyce’s response.
He read it three times, then played previous messages back in his head. Tried to dissect where the wires had gotten crossed. Failed. Her message didn’t really require a response, but no use leaving things misunderstood. He’d send her a message. But the Porsche still wasn’t back, and he couldn’t keep on blowing up commlinks. What the hell, he’d go into London, make the call from there. He had nothing better to do at the moment.
Rationalization? Yes. What of it?
Knowing Silky could call at any time was a good excuse to pull the tarp off the Ferrari. He tossed some needful things in, turned his baby a mean shade of metallic maroon, and hit the road. Fifteen minutes and thirty miles later he was on the outskirts of London. He let the M1 take him around to the north so it looked like he was approaching from that direction, then punched Alyce’s number. When she picked up, he spoke without preamble. “Sorry ta miss dinner. Ya said you was goin’ Below, an’ since I don’t go down there by choice an’ git the pukes in VR, assumed that meant you was busy an’ dinner was off. But then ya know what they say ’bout assumin’ things.”
He congratulated himself on the manful and gentlemanly way he made it as if her mistake had been his own.
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[Nightfall, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco]
I shrugs. “I do not intend to have them accompany me to London. Their particular expertise would be useful if we had needed to remain in Morocco for a bit, especially if I needed to go into the desert to track down the helicopters or the rest of the attackers. I will release them if your bike has room to carry me. I can put one of the bags on my back and leave the other to be returned to Prague later. Can you give me a few minutes to sort some things from one bag to the next?”
I turn to go talk to Achmed and Hamad then stop and turn. “I do not know you well, although much better than you think, and I have followed parts of your life with great interest, but you do not know me much at all. I know that you have had dealings of some sort with others of my kind and that these dealings have usually left them dead and you not particularly fond of vampires in general. I think that if you can put aside your prejudices for a bit that you will find that I am not your normal garden variety vampire. I do not snack on my friends and these men are clearly in that category, not that you would know that. I have no intention to work against you or your employer and hope that we can work together. My Master is clearly of the impression that whatever happened here is important or he would not have sent me to look into it and if he thinks it is important, then I think it is important.”
I walk back the couple of steps I have taken and hold out my hand to him to shake if he wishes to.
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Earl’s Court, Below, London]
Alyce receives the call from Al and passes it to her receptors so that she can actually talk to him. “Hello, Al. As usual, I am sure any misunderstanding was in how I worded my message to you. Sometimes things get so mixed up in my head, you know. I am sorry, too, that we missed dinner together. What I had meant to say was that you could have gone anywhere to eat and simply set up any sort of ‘link with a screen in front of you and I could have gone there on the matrix and shown up on the screen while we ate. You would have been eating real food and I would have been doing the same in VR. I apologize for the mistake. Maybe we can do it another time. By the way, in case it should come up in conversation, I have asked all of my sharing circles to remove me from their invite lists as I do not intend to go to any more activities such as that. I think that I have got past that phase of my life and am ready for something else.”
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Al saw the disconnect now, but no wonder he hadn’t caught on…why would it even even occur to him to go somewhere to have dinner with an image on a screen? Hell, he could do that from home. For neither the first nor the last time, he thanked his Maker he’d been born a man.
He responded to Alyce’s revelation, idly wondered how long her new leaf would stay turned over. “Well, I’ll allow that’s a mite healthier, not ta mention more in keepin’ with yer avowed Christianity, Eastern Papist though it may be. But ain’t fer me ta judge, all of us bein’ fallen souls. Hope it works out for ya. Not sure how long I’m around for, so I’ll see ya or I won’t.”
He cut the connection before saying something he’d regret. Why did her new choice make him feel that a whole alternate lifetime of doors was now closed to him? And why did he find himself caring so much, considering that his own life was perfect?
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[Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Earl’s Court, Below, London]
Alyce opens her mouth to say something but Al cuts the connection before she can. She shrugs and closes her end as well. It had seemed like he had had something else to say but thought better of it. But at least he had prevented Alyce from saying something dumb. She had not had the time to tell him that all he had to do was hint that he wanted her and she would have done anything and gone anywhere just to spend a small bit of time with him. And this right after her decision to not tell him those things. Alyce shakes her head, wondering again what it is about that man that brings out all the stupid in her. She realizes that she will need to work on that. A lot.
Her stomach growls and she laughs. Her avatar had eaten a good meal but her meat body is now hungry. She scans about and notices a uniformed footman not too far away and gets his attention, asking if she might have a spot of tea and perhaps some Jammy Dodgers if they have any, or some other sort of biscuit if that is not available. The young man nods and hastens away, returning in a few minutes with a young woman who is pushing a small cart with a tea service and an assortment of biscuits, including a small pile of her Jammy Dodgers. Alyce thanks them both and pours out as they bow and back away.
It crosses her mind that something must be going on as she has not been summoned yet for her appointment with the Old One.
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Soap opera sorted, Al figured if Silky was going to be hitting up for a favor at any moment, he’d best fortify himself. He stopped at an off-license, bought two six-packs of…they didn’t have anything American so he settle for Australian…Foster’s, and started driving and drinking. Neither in any direction, but both as fast as he could.
Which was pretty damned fast.
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[Late Evening, Saturday March 20, 2077; Earl’s Court, Below, London]
A footman approaches Alyce as she is finishing her tea, bows, and waits to be acknowledged. Alyce smiles at the young man. “Yes, Willard, what is it?”
“I am told to let you know that something of importance has come up and your appointment has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning after breakfast. You are invited to dine with the Earl in the morning.”
Alyce stands with the aid of her cane and the massive Hell Hound rises with her. The young footman takes a step backwards, even though he has seen the hound before. “Thank you, Willard. Please let the Earl know that I will be happy to join him for breakfast. Did he happen to say what time?”
“He did, Miss Krait. Breakfast is scheduled to begin at 0730 promptly.”
Alyce thanks the man and leaves the large building for her own modest house. It is not too far away and the walk helps stretch the muscles a bit. She takes a somewhat circuitous route that allows her to go past several of the gardens of Below. Once inside her house, she draws a bath and soaks for a good while, taking the opportunity to send letters to her children the others to Grace, and Stephanie. After the bath, she retires to her bed and begins to let her mind second guess herself on just how smart it was to cancel all of her sharing invitations at once instead of easing into a new life without all that sex. She mentally shrugs and tells herself that time will tell. Before falling asleep, she touches the Orthodox cross and the wooden voodoo charm that are always at her neck and sends her prayers out, saying special words for Al. As she drops off, she wonders where he might be and hopes that he is safe.
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[Nightfall, Saturday March 20, 2077; Marrakech, Morocco]
Sian had repacked her duffles, moving things from one to the other, mostly clothes, then said farewell to Achmed and Hamad at the base of the hill and watched as they drove off. She now pulls her goggles down over her eyes and fastens her hijab scarf across her lower face then slings the duffle bag to her back by its shoulder straps before climbing onto the back of Shrike’s bike. She places her arms about his waist and her head against his back to lower her profile and decrease the wind resistance. She smells his sweat and knows that he can likely smell hers. When she is set, she taps a shoulder and says, “Ready back here. I hope I do not overbalance you too much.”
Shrike barely acknowledges her and sets the bike in motion for the drive into Marrakech and the local office of S-K Corporation. The small building that houses the local office is near the center of the city, only two streets off the main thoroughfare. But in Marrakech, the tallest “high rise” is a lofty three stories. The government has tried to keep the old-world aspect of the city’s original construction and so has restricted any development that would take away from that. The strategy has proven sound as Marrakech is considered a major tourist destination city. People can see modern buildings in the Rabat, the capital, but they go to Marrakech if they want rustic charm. Shrike drives them down the busy streets in a manner that has Sian thinking he has been here before or has downloaded some form of the local grid guide.
The main street is flooded with lights and tourists mix with locals, at this time of night usually moving from one bar to the next. The local police do their best to keep the main streets safe but they do advise tourists to stay away from the side streets at night and the alleys at any time. Shrike turns onto the side street that will take them past the office they are looking for and they both notice that the lighting has decreased significantly. It is pretty certain that tourists do not come this way much and Shrike and Sian can see shadowy figures either moving back into a shadow or stepping out to offer the pair sex or drugs for sale. The local S-K office is on the ground floor of a stone and stucco building with the main entrance on the front and an alley at the back, presumably with a rear entrance. As Shrike moves to the alley, Sian taps his shoulder again. “Keep moving. There is an auto down there with a definite heat signature where the engine is.”
Shrike drives past and stops the bike at the next corner as if trying to decide which direction to go. Sian sits back and stretches a bit. “How do you want to play this?”
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Night, Saturday March 20, 2077; Cirque de l’Ombre, Outskirts of Marrakech, Morocco
“Honey, I don’t know how more clearly I can it: I haven’t lopped off your head yet and unless you give a reason to do so I won’t. You haven’t offered me violence or other provocations and so I’ll offer you none in reply. You work for a dragon and are an immortal yourself – that entitles you to a certain amount of slack. And if you’d know me half as well as you think, you’d know that giving lip to practically anybody is part of my charm – so don’t get your bat knickers in a twist if I rib you about being an unholy abomination.
Also, me inviting you to come along should have made that clear already.”
In Marrakech I turned to her again:
“It might sound crazy, but I’ll just walk in through the front door and ask to speak the local head honcho.” I grinned and helped her down from the bike, taking one of her bags.
“Seriously, you need to learn to travel with less baggage. Follow me.”
It took me a few seconds to load the correct SIN into my link but as I approached the secured front perimeter my persona identified me as Monsieur P.G. Écorcheur, S-K Innenrevision. I really liked that identity although the boss had warned me more than once not to overdo it. But I figured that what I was doing now was the closest I had ever been to using this ID responsibly – so that was ok.
The guard – an over-muscled ork with black skin grunted with surprise when he recognized me on his display and even more when my prints and retinas checked out.
I didn’t bother to explain myself to him beyond a “She’s with me” and made a beeline for the main building.
I had studied the blueprints of the office, so I knew exactly where I needed to go – past the surprised looking admin lady and up to flight of stairs towards a really opulent office. I stopped to knock and gave the occupant exactly three seconds before I barged in.It was late, but not late enough for the SVP to be home – especially considering that he had some explaining to do.
The man in his late 50ies looked up surprised. He was tan – mixed heritage instead of beach, looked healthy and didn’t pack a gram of fat- so all in all a typical successful corp man:
“Good evening, Monsieur Sahedi. I’m here for a surprise inspection on the local inventory. Would you like to tell me what’s up with the three attack helicopters up front or do you intent to waste your and my time?”
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