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Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Selen took the air car another kilometer up to get to the Meadows. Where Winter had been built on the ground and was laid out around the broad foundations of the skyscrapers of Sang, Meadows was a series of broad platforms anchored to those same foundations about halfway between the upper and lower cities. Those platforms weren’t lit externally beyond the occasional infrared or ultraviolet vehicle guidance beacons. Without the infrared contact lenses, Connor wouldn’t have seen the city at all.

Cerberus wasn’t what Connor had expected. The building was only a few stories tall, but it was large and squarish. Tinted glass sliding doors opened onto a dim, carpeted lobby with three security scanners.

After passing through those, they were interviewed by robot greeters before once again swapping out their shoes for sandals.

This time, the wash was optional. It brought a welcome sting to the raw flesh of Connor’s feet.

Once through the lobby, they were bombarded with bright lights and the deafening boom of music and chatter. People in stylish dresses and sharp suits huddled in groups and sat around gambling tables—Blackjack, Craps, Poker, and Roulette. Slot machines glittered and chimed along the walls.

Beyond that area, soft lights revealed a more somber environment: booths, a bar, and a few tables.

With his armored jacket and reinforced pants, Connor stuck out uncomfortably. Selen’s outfit wasn’t much different, but it didn’t seem to bug her when the occasional lady in evening gown stopped to give the two of them a judging look.

Connor wished they could be invisible for just a moment.

Selen tugged on his arm. “Back there.”

He followed her to a corner booth made up of dark wood surfaces and darker green vinyl seats. A small, silver-bearded man in a white linen jacket and pants sat alone, seemingly absorbed in a red-bordered report on his pocket computer.

The man looked up, bushy eyebrows arched, then powered off his computer and set it to his left. “You must be my potential contractors.”

Selen slid into the booth opposite the man. “That’s us.”

Connor scanned the softly lit space for any hint of spies or threats, then took a seat beside her. Immediately, he caught the stinging garlic on the other man’s breath. A greasy sheen covered the table just inside the man’s right arm.

He’d eaten something recently, which meant he’d been in Cerberus for a while. Had he already met with other mercenaries?

The little man tugged in the end of his trimmed beard, his eyes glancing at his pocket computer. “Someone does not like you, I’m afraid.”

Connor glanced around. Had he missed a threat?

Selen swatted his thigh under the table. “How’s that, Mr. …?”

“Puget.” The little man’s blue eyes sparkled. “But call me Félix, if you would.”

“All right, Félix: How is it someone doesn’t like us? We’re good people.”

Puget pulled the computer up and powered it on, flashing the display at them long enough that they could see the red-bordered report. “An anonymous tip, you see.” He cleared his throat. “Warrant for Connor Rattakul. Sought for dissident behavior in against the Directorate or valued citizens of the Talon Sector.”

The little man pointed at Connor with the device. “You are this Connor, yes?”

“I am.” There was no reason for Connor to deny it. The report had an image embedded. Maybe it was old and the resemblance wasn’t immediately obvious, but he hadn’t had any cosmetic work done to hide who he was. Age apparently hadn’t changed him as much as he’d imagined.

Puget set the device down in front of him and folded his hands. “Well.”

Selen leaned forward. “Wait, now.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t just write us off. My team can still do business.”

“And your team is?”

“Selen’s Devils. We get things done.”

“Your friend here, he is a Devil?”

Connor tensed. “Her second—”

Selen squeezed his knee. “He’s my second-in-command.”

A calculating smile curled Puget’s lips. “But he is a fugitive from the law, is he not?”

“A misunderstanding.”

“Those seem so commonplace.” Humor lit Puget’s bright eyes. “A government as big as the Directorate, misunderstandings must happen often, one imagines.”

“Right, right.” Selen settled back in the booth and threw her arm over the back of the seat so that her hand rested on Connor’s shoulder. “So, tell us what you’re looking for. We might be the perfect solution.”

“Hm.”

“Do a little research on us. We’ve got a good reputation.”

“Reputations can be fabricated, or so I have been led to understand.”

“References—I can get you satisfied customers.”

“Here on Mara? Could I talk to these customers? Could I see them?”

Selen crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

When the little silver-bearded man’s bushy eyebrows rose, Connor put on an apologetic grin. “We’ve spent most of our time in Coil Sector. Because of the—” He nodded at Puget’s pocket computer. “—misunderstanding.”

“Ah. Yes. This is sensible—very sensible.” Puget shrugged. “And yet it is a problem, you see? Without reliable clients who I can see…?”

The meaning behind Puget’s words was twofold: He didn’t consider Coil Sector people—and thus people who worked for them—reliable; and he was looking to leverage that concern into a rate cut. That was why Selen had suddenly gone sulky.

Connor didn’t normally handle negotiations beyond providing moral support to Selen. His view on things was straightforward: Pay a fair price for good service.

But Puget obviously wanted to take advantage of them.

So, Connor set his hands on the table in front of him, palms down, and did his best to look non-threatening and at peace with the universe. “How many offers have you made on this job?”

“You are the third team to have asked about it.” The sparkle was back in the little man’s eyes, but there was an almost malevolent quality to it.

“And what, exactly, is this job?”

“Someone has acquired information that is very sensitive and unfavorable toward someone who means a great deal to me.”

“Blackmail? You’re being blackmailed?”

Puget’s only answer was a hurt pout.

Connor rubbed the tabletop with his palms, noting the slickness of the surface. The robot cleaners didn’t put much effort into picking up after their human masters.

He reached behind him, where the adjoining booth was empty and napkin-wrapped utensils were set out neatly. He took a napkin and wiped his hands.

“Mr. Puget, for us to make a bid, we need to know what the job entails.” Connor set the napkin on the table.

The silver-haired man tugged on his beard. “You would need that, yes.”

“So, let’s start with location. Where is this sensitive data being held?”

“It hasn’t left Mara yet. That much I am sure of.”

Selen rolled her eyes. “Somewhere on this rock, huh?”

“Yes—on Mara. Somewhere.”

It was Connor’s turn to reach under the table and pat Selen’s leg. He needed to control Puget. “The job entails not just retrieving the data but finding it. Is that right?”

“Destroying it is quite adequate.”

“After we find it. Right?”

Puget nodded. He seemed to be taking glee from drawing the negotiation out, probably enjoying having so much power over his potential contractors. “The best bid I have received comes from a very capable team.”

“Uh huh. And we’d need to beat that bid.”

“If you can come in at…half, I will consider your offer.”

Half. That might not even cover their costs to get involved.

The little man tapped on his pocket computer and flicked his message at Connor. His own computer buzzed, and he opened it.

What? The number…they couldn’t possibly make a profit off that!

And it was all his fault.

Selen was going to fire him.

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