Not Gonna Waitby J A Howe |
Part 1 and Part 3 appear in this issue. |
| part 2 of 3 |
Finally he got up, undoing the belts of the chair. Collected dishes to put in the washer. They’d have new ones by next day. He leaned on the wall, hovering with his arms crossed — giving Liz a perverse mental picture of Jesus or something.
“I am not happy about this at all,” he said finally. “But you do what you do.”
“You did ask, yo.”
“Yes, I did. I ever tell you I was a con when I came up here?”
She blinked.
“Guess not. Well I, when I came up here, I was poor. I came up here to get away from boring old life on Earth, my family. A lot of people did. I worked the mines a while and got sick of it fast. So I decided stealing on the side was a better way to go; it seemed to be more lucrative, faster money. Sure, it was. For a while, but Elizabeth, it was so empty. So harsh.”
“Life’s harsh,” she said. “You ain’t trying to get me to change my ways after all this time, yo. I could give you a list of ganglanders who go to your confession box, you want one. Devout as all hell.”
“So could I.”
“So, what — gonna turn me in now? That it?”
Father Richard sighed. “To whom? We both know that the police up here are no good. Oh, some of them do try, but this is a bit more than they can chew. It’s not going to get better, not for a hundred years or so at least. I knew it when I was a little pen cachi on the streets, and I know it now. Mob justice works here for now, and people like you.”
He smiled wryly, scratching his receding hairline.
“So, I’ll help you. Because I know it. The Druids know it, and so do the cops here, the ones with brains. We need you... hah, I sound like Uncle Sam.”
“Who?”
“He’s a person from Earth. You probably wouldn’t have heard of him. So. What you need is an escort to this party, and a target. Do you know who Michaelson was going to see?”
She shook her head.
Father Richard nodded and tapped his wrist. “Did you hear all that?”
“Yes, be right there,” buzzed a voice with a distinct Welsh accent.
CACH!
Liz stared at him. “What — you a spy or some cach like that? You gonna kill me, yo?” Her voice rose highter with every word; she was shaking. She’d always trusted this dog, Chrissakes!
“Liz, I’m not a spy...”
She was grabbed from behind then just as she reached for a knife to throw. Voice from the tape hissed in her ear. “No, he’s not, but I am, girl, and you’re going to let go of that knife now, trust me.”
She was spun around.
Girl eyed Richard warily, struggling.
Hard eyes, those, under bushy black brows.
She met ’em level on.
Nobody pins the Girl!
“Elizabeth, meet David ap Paul. The flower expert I was telling you of.”
She tried to get out of the grip but couldn’t. “Now, now, girl, you’re not getting off here. I know what you can do; I’ve watched you for years.”
“Let me go!”
“Not till I’m sure you’re not going to pin me. Hm? You want the job over with, well the clock ticks, Cinderella, and you’re almost late for the ball.” Casually he twisted around her again, just as she thought she’d found a space.
Twllt din. He had her again, just as secure.
Stocky guy, black hair and brown eyes. Some bulges that she decided were weaponry — you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t specifically looking. Girl was used to checking it by now, though.
He saw the direction of her look and grinned. “Only the weapons I want people to see,” he said. “You’re a sharp one. But you can’t get to the Velvet Show without me.”
“Why?”
A few missing teeth now showed as the grin widened. “Because I have our tickets, and I can find the blokes we’re looking for. You’d never catch him on your own, you know. All you know how to do is kill and steal. You’re rough around the edges, Miss Hopkins, and this one’s smoother than the cream in cock-a-leekie soup.”
Dog was probably right, but she still struggled. He’d no right to grab her; no one grabbed the girl without consequences. He did hold tight though.
“Oh, and you want to mold me, do you?” she said, dropping the street accent for a minute. He blinked, and that was all it took. She stomped his foot and finally got free.
Two seconds later she had hit the ground, gasping in pain. She’d wrenched an ankle at least. “Bastard!”
Suddenly the pain was gone as he let go of her again. He knelt down a safe distance nearby. “Not really, since I know my parents. You see? Only a trained professional knows how to do that — or maybe one of Cho’s men, since it’s an Asian technique. Do I want to mold you? Let’s say for the present that it’s more like your cousin here said, it serves me a purpose having folks like you here. But now, you’ve the fates intervening, and a slightly different course is to be followed.”
He held out a meaty hand. “Accept help? Because this will be difficult if not impossible to fix, unlike anything else you’ve done till now. And I think you know it.”
Dog was right there, she thought sullenly, and let him help her up.
She glared at Richard. “You’re not a spy, huh?”
“No, just an informant,” he sighed. He knew this was not what she wanted to hear.
He was right. “Why, you...” She dove at him and found her arm wrenched back. “OW! Stop that!”
David spun her around. “Then you stop it. Cool down, all right? Thought you were the only one up here with any secrets? Even old Cho has some, as you’ve seen.”
She got it suddenly. “You want him, don’t you. That’s why.”
“Ah, so there’s the brain now. I can’t disagree he’s a fair prospect. The thought of him helpless as he is now, the most powerful gangster this side of the Moon, that’s certainly attractive. But no.” He loosed his hold on her again, sighed. “It’s something the people back Earthside don’t understand. Like you, he’s an important part of this place. I need him alive and here, just as I need you.”
Wheels turning in the girl’s head now, you bet, yo. Didn’t take long to figure out this dog. But she was on the watch now. “I’m the best,” she said defiantly, her chin in the air.
He nodded. “That’s true. And you’re about to become better.”
“How?”
“You’ll see. Time for a change of pace, let’s say. Come on. Or do you want me to hold you like this all night?”
The Velvet Show was held at the Rad, the Moon’s largest hotel, over in Colony Six. Six was located over on the hard rock side of the Moon, where she noted it was alread y starting to go dim light. “This is the place where all the food of the Moon is grown,” he told her as they sped through the tunnels that connected every colony dome. “It’d be a bit odd to your eyes at first, you’ll get used to it.”
All this for a stupid body, she thought. “So how they hold an exotic plant show here, yo, and not get the fuzz on their twllt din?”
“Same as any crime that’s undetected. Payoff. By the way, you look lovely.”
She hoped so. Liz didn’t dress up too much, unless the job was some hot shot she needed to catch at a party. Most of the time she tried the street kid look because hell, girl was small for her age and not too hard on the eyes even so. But with the black tight-fit she wore now, hair up and all, she looked around her age, she guessed.
“You gonna tell me your job for me?”
He grinned. “I was right, you aren’t as obtuse as your street front makes you out to be. Helps that I won’t tell you, I expect.”
“Oh, sure.”
The streets of Colony Six were fire-lit already, like hers would be in a few days. Liz and Dave walked past glowing blue fireballs that hovered over cans like little moons themselves. “They like to keep it rather rustic here, or at least their idea of it,” he explained at her comment on the lack of electricity.
“Ffwcia — no computers?”
“Oh yes, there are some. And as you can see, there is some indoor light.” He nodded to a house nearby, where the windows glowed out at them. Reflected on some shrubbery that was far too perfect to be alive.
Liz made a disgusted noise. She hated places where Colonists decided they were sick of no plants outside on the Moon. Like plastic was supposed to be better? Girl didn’t think so. Ffwcia, it was stupid looking. Even funnier to watch ’em dusting off the flowerbeds in the morning.
Damn place looked far too perfect for the girl. Liz frowned at the houses, each tile precise and plain, with gaudy plastic flower displays in front of each. “Thought this was a farm colony?”
“It is,” he said. “This is where they live, is all. The farm buildings are no less boring though. Ah, here we are. Straight ahead.”
Fat slob of a robot stood at the door in a monkey suit. “Monsieur, Madame?” it said in refried French. Liz resisted the urge; she had an ear for tongues, had to in her work, and she was dying to know how many Occitan words it understood. Girl was too conscious of the big twllt din at her side.
Too much to get done, she told herself fiercely. Heart pounding too fast, calm it and get the job over with, yo. Then you can go back to your own life. Check it?
Right behind the can opener, a human stood.
“Marco Conte, meet Elizabeth Jones....”
“Enchanted, Miss Jones,” said Fatso. She recognized his name instantly. Marco Conte was the other big shot in Twelve. He was also known as a ffwcio idiot, brother ran the show for him word on the street said. “You have good taste, Master ap Paul.”
“Sparky around?” David asked.
Girl stared around meanwhile. She couldn’t help it — yo, this was a ffwcia of a place. Sure, she noticed others turning to see her, but hey, she’d never thought much of guys. Check Marco, with bling over his fingers, for instance. Like she wanted one of those?
“...having a medical problem, David?” she heard Marco say and turned back to the conversation.
“Something like that.” He winked at Liz, who bit her lip.
Time to get lost.
“Oh, look, dear, they have pink orchids!” she enthused. Batted her eyes at Fatso here, who took the bait.
“Ah, well, I should allow you two to enjoy your evening,” he said with a bow. “Senor, Senorita.” Moved off through the crowd, kind of like a whale in a garden.
Liz suppressed a snort.
“You know, you’d be attractive if you weren’t so crass,” David remarked under his breath.
“Sorry, this is me. I’m here to do a job, not get laid, got that? Now, who’s this Sparky?”
“He works as a contractor. Deals in genetic engineering — bugs and stuff like Cho had done. He knows Michaelson. If we can get an idea of the thing Michaelson was up to, we could find Cho. There are five cryo areas in this section of the Moon, three legal.”
“Got it.” But she didn’t, not quite.
She liked the flowers. Cach it, there was life in here. If you could get rid of all the cach, the penguins and the booty, all flashing bling, it’d be damn pretty, yo.
Girl never saw so many different colors in flowers before.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Dog couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Thought he was Mister Slick, probably. “Too bad none of these are natural. They’re all mutations.” Like the twlltadin wandering around, she thought nastily.
“Hell, can’t you just appreciate what’s here, yo?”
He gave her a cool look. “No, I can’t. I’m here to do a job, same as you.”
They went around the room, him pausing every so often to shoot the cach with some homie or other.
“Buenos noches, Senor ap David,” said a voice. Homeboy wasn’t bad looking either, this time. He was sizing the girl up too. Nice suit. Stains on his nails said he must be the one they were seeking — or he knew him from the biz.
She answered for David, asking Homeboy’s name. Eyes lit at the sound of his language. “Lovely AND talented,” he replied in English with an accent. Dog wasn’t faking like Marco had been, though. “Do I know you, perhaps?”
“Elizabeth Jones, meet Reynaldo ‘Sparky’ Contreras,” David said. “All’s set?”
Sparky shrugged. “Sí.”
“’Set?’”
Girl on guard now. Check all exits.
David nodded. “Well, sure. I beeped him earlier. Get ready for show time. How many minutes?” This last to Sparky.
“Five.”
“Beautiful. Come now, Elizabeth. He’s coming.”
David took her arm and started purposefully heading for an exit. Hey, wait... “What the — hey, we’re supposed to be finding the body!”
“Not too loudly,” he said calmly as he kept moving.
She suddenly noticed that Marco was gone, as were all the people with whom Dave had been speaking.
Cach.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to ‘blow this joint,’ as you would say.”
Copyright © 2007 by J A Howe
