Ah, so this was Dezhda's accounting boss. We shook hands. Her grip was firm, the skin dry, the fingers long and fine.
"Don't worry about it," I told her. "Half the time I don't even know what to call myself-"
"Ms. Sanverth, who was-Oh! Hi, Sharkie!" Speak of the devil. Dezhda came over to us from a doorway down the hall, a typical big smile on her face. Her hair was in a ponytail, and while she wore a white blouse like Ms. Sanverth's she'd matched it with a knee-length pencil skirt and black tights. She looked great, as usual.
"Sup, Dezi," I said with a wave. I felt absurdly glad to see her. She was so aggressively cheerful it was hard to feel down around her.
"I've told you several times, Dezhda. Rouenn is fine," said Ms. Sanverth sternly. She even sounded like a teacher.
"I know, Ms.-Rouenn, but I just can't help it. See? Calling you by your first name just feels weird."
"Why? That's ridiculous. Don't you think, Sharkie?" she asked, turning to me with a dangerous glint in her eye.
I twitched, not expecting her to address me. "Hm? That's right, M-mmmRouenn." Ms. Sanverth-which was how I was stuck thinking of her-raised an eyebrow, and I saw Dezi trying not to laugh. Yeah, that was me. Smooth as sandpaper and slick as dry rubber.
"I'm glad you agree," the older woman said archly. "You're Mr. Walker's new hire, aren't you? You go out and punch people for him, or something like that?" The look in her eyes told me she knew exactly what it was I did for Walker.
"Something like that, yeah," I answered slowly. From the corner of my eye I saw Dezi shuffling her feet nervously.
"Well, I'm glad. While it's true there are some people who just need to be hit, he's too old to be doing it himself. He really ought to be more careful." She crossed her arms, as if to say 'and that's that.'
I wondered what Walker would think of being called 'too old.' "I'll let him know that when I see him,"-I bit my tongue to keep from saying the wrong name-"Rouenn. Good?"
"Oh, don't bother." She rolled her eyes a little. "I've told him already, several times. He's a very poor listener. Now, I believe you have something for me?"
Damn! I'd almost forgotten about all the cash in my jacket. I pulled the bundles out and handed them to her. "There you are."
"Here I am. Dezhda, I'm going to put on a fresh pot, and then we can sit down and get this counted." Dezi nodded. "Sharkie, Mr. Walker is upstairs. His office is straight ahead on the second floor. It was good to meet you."
"Same, Rouenn."
She gave me a firm nod then twirled around and went down the hall, her stride long and proud.
"She is definitely a Ms. Sanverth," I muttered to Dezi.
"Right?" my friend said, green eyes wide. "She just has this…like, teacher energy, you know?"
"Exactly. I thought she was gonna make me hold books up in the corner or something."
"Those would have to be some big books for it to bother you," she said. I jumped into a silly bodybuilder's pose and flexed, making her giggle. "I feel bad for always messing it up, but I keep on doing it!" she went on. "Plus Rouenn is so close to Rhoann, and I don't want to call my boss my boyfriend's name by mistake, that would just be so-oh, it would be like this time in our building's school class when I called the teacher 'mom' by accident, and the other kids just went quiet for a second. It was so embrassing they didn't even make fun of me, they just felt bad!"
We both laughed at that, then I asked her a question. "You like working here, Dezi? It's going well?"
Her eyes left mine for just an instant before returning. "Yes. I do and it is. Ms. Sanverth and Mr. Walker are good to work for, and the work itself is fun sometimes too."
"Accounting work?" I said dubiously.
"The way we do it? Yes." She grinned slyly, an odd expression for her but one that fit her face. "Are you doing okay too, Sharkie?"
My thoughts went immediately to the encounter with the muggers. I didn't want to talk about that to anyone right now, let alone Dezi. "I'm good. Work's work. They keep paying, so I keep showing up. She gave me a weird look, like maybe something had shown on my face, but let it go.
"That's great! You know, I wonder if we'll get to work together on something sometime-"
"Dezhda, would you please come in here and help me count this?" Ms. Sanverth called from down the hall.
"Well, I have to go," said Dezi. "It's great to see you, Shark-"
"I've also got a few books I need you to hold," came her boss's voice again. We both froze and Dezi went red as a Talsangre motorbike. I couldn't help grinning.
"Good to see you, too," I whispered. "Good luck in there."
She gulped and waved me a tiny goodbye before going to face the music.
I shook my head as I went upstairs. Hopefully poor Dezi wasn't getting smoked too bad because of me. How that woman had heard us I'd never know. Bionic ears, maybe?
The old wooden floor creaked beneath my weight as I climbed the stairs. Straight ahead there was a tall paneled door left half open. I went up and rapped on it.
"Yeah, come in," came Walker's voice from within.
I did so, having to give the door a shove where it stuck in the warped frame. The room was a high-ceilinged office lit by a small electric chandelier. The walls were dark wood paneling except for the one to my left, which was a set of age-scarred built-in cabinets. Walker was directly ahead of me, seated behind a desk the size of a small armored vehicle. He was reading a packet of crinkly-looking paper, and a pair of rimless glasses rested precariously low on his nose.
He glanced up when I entered. "Sharkie! Just gimme a second to finish this, would you? Don't wanna lose my place for the fifth time."
"Go for it. I get paid by the hour."
He snorted and kept on reading. It looked like real veggie-fiber paper, not plastic or smartsheet stuff. A pirate broadsheet, maybe? I looked around while he finished up. A half-closed laptop sat on the desk, looking incongruously small. Four or five slabs of various makes sat next to it. The wall behind the desk had a pair of windows, giving a nice view into a tent village built in a vacant lot behind the building. Also behind the desk was a coatrack, on which hung Walker's jacket and holstered gun, and a few photographs in simple frames.
One looked recent, showing Walker and Marie as I knew them along with a bunch of Bones I didn't know. The photo had been taken in a club or bar and everyone was laughing. Next to it was one of him and Marie alone, much younger. Both wore smiles, though Walker's was nervous and Marie's like a cat who'd just gotten into the good sushi. Walker had his Bones tattoo but Marie didn't. Next to that picture and a bit smaller was one of an even younger Walker, looking sullen. He stood with a willowy, dark-haired girl and a familiar-looking boy, both grinning at him. Doc Laggard and his older sister, I realized. The sister that had died. Last was the smallest photo of all, and the hardest to make out. It was of twenty or so kids, boys and girls both. They stood in two rows and behind them was a monstrous pit, miles across and who knew how deep. Gigantic lights shone down into it, revealing tier upon tier of roads and cuts along its walls and massive earthmovers made tiny by the distance.
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I was still looking at this one when a finger intruded into my view. "That one's me," Walker said. He indicated a dark-haired boy in the front row, small but wearing a fierce expression. “Sixty-sixth class of Mining Division Formative School Rho-3, Fehu Pit-or Pit 4, as Admin calls it. Taught us all about runnin’ equipment, different kinds of stone, how to be a good little miner and dig ’til our hearts gave out.” He smirked. “And they were real clear about stayin’ away from those Holy Bones guys.”
“Guess you didn’t pay much attention.”
“Oh, I learned plenty of lessons. Just not the ones they were tryin’ to teach. Anyway.” He set his glasses on the desk and leaned back. “You get our little cash flow problem taken care of? Was it the Blues?”
I slowly shook my head, wanting to tread carefully. “Nope. These guys were about as freelance as you can get. But I had a real frank discussion with them, and it’s not gonna happen again.” I was banking on the typical gangster’s love of euphemism here. Walker would have wanted me to kill the muggers and be done with it and I wasn’t going to tell him I’d let them live.
It must have worked, because he gave me a grin. “Good. Glad to hear it. That’s that last kinda crap we need in the middle of a war. Speaking of, I’m pulling you off of Winky’s team-not that you did a bad job or anything, s’just I got some more specialized work in mind.”
“Yeah? What’s going on?” I couldn’t help feeling a little excited. Even barfights got old after three or four in a day.
“Alright. You know how I’m always tellin’ you that the Blues got friends uptown? Well, we’ve got word-reliable word-that they’re gonna meet up with some of those friends pretty soon to hand something off.”
I frowned. “Hand what off? Cash? Drugs?”
“No clue,” he said with a shrug. “Our source didn’t know. But whatever it is, it’s got to be important. The guys doin’ the meet work under Commander Canra, who, just in case you forgot, is head honcho of the whole damn outfit.”
“How’d you get a mole so close to him?” I asked, before realizing there was no way he’d tell me. Besides, I’d been struck by another thought. “Wait. Which side of the split are they on, then? Mikey’s or Paolo’s?”
“Good question. We been hackin’ phones and creepin’ on the net tryin’ to find out the same thing. So far as we can tell,” he continued as he lit a cigarette, “Mikey’s guys are loyal to the General Staff-that’s their version of the Runes. Status quo, old guard, whatever you want to call them. Paolo’s crew, though, they’re ready to change shit up. There’s rumors Paolo got passed over for a promotion to the Staff and he’s been pissed at the commander ever since. They’re the ones tried to whack me after that powwow we had. War means plenty of chances for ‘regime change,’ if you catch my drift.”
“So that means the guys at this handoff are Mikey’s.”
“Or at least on the same side, yeah. Not that it matters. At this point if we fuck either of ‘em over its a win for us.” He leaned back farther and kicked his boots up on the desk. “We help out Paolo’s boys, Mikey’s are weaker. We help out Mikey’s boys, why, we get some credit for it when this all blows over.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” I was surprised. “I thought we wanted to take the Blues out.”
His eyes went wide. “Oh, hells the fuck no! Do we want them weak? Sure. Maybe even under our control. But we ain’t tryin’ to wipe ‘em out. Not at all.”
“…why not?” I asked, giving him a weird look.
“Oh, plenty of reasons. First of all, those uptown connections? That’s all very personal. We couldn’t just waltz in and replace ‘em. It would be like the Blues trying to work with our people in the quarries, y’know?” I nodded slowly. “Plus, if we get to be the only gang in D-excepting the Guild, of course-well, it’ll start remindin’ people of the old Spiders. Monopolies are bad for the consumer, and ain’t nobody like that. There’d be a pushback. Plus, there’s Admin to worry about. So long as they think we’re too busy squabblin’ to make problems, they leave us alone. But we start lookin’ too big and strong? They’ll come and stomp on us, and government interference is not good for business. The best outcome here, weird as it sounds, is for the Blues to stick around in some kinda capacity.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Makes a lot of sense, now. You could teach a class on this stuff, Walker.”
He snorted. “Huh. Gangland Politics 101. Can you imagine? All them rich B-block college kids’d be cryin’ to their parents after half a lecture. Anyway. I ain’t just sending you to this meeting. Monta’s gonna go with you.”
“I thought he was still laid up,” I said.
“He healed up faster than expected. Doc Lag says he’ll be good by tomorrow.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to go to your big Runes meeting?” I asked hopefully.
“You ain’t that lucky,” he grinned. “I’m givin’ him some time off after he does this job with you. But we can worry about that after this smash ’n’ grab. I’m still waitin’ on some of the details, but-“ He was interrupted by one of his slabs vibrating itself across the desk. He rolled his eyes and picked it up, leaving me to listen to his side of the conversation.
“What’s up? Yeah? Shit. Where? You take care of it? Okay. And what did he have to say? Hmm, alright. Thanks for the heads-up, hoss. You did good. What to do with him? Hmm…Tell me. Does Jimmy Knucks still have that pen of hogs? Good. Well, you know what to do. Thanks again.” He hung up, and I raised an eyebrow at him.
“If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.” He sighed heavily. “Looks like I got one more thing for you to do today.”
I just shook my head and smiled ruefully. “Let’s hear it.”
“That was one of my boys from the north side of Port Town. He just caught some guy pushin’ hush there, some guy he didn’t know. They had a conversation”-by his tone here, it wasn’t a conversation I’d have liked to been around for-“and it turns out this fuckin’ deek works for the Blues! Now, Sharkie, are you much into drugs?”
“Not hard stuff.”
“Good. Good for you. I ask ‘cause if you were, you’d know that the hush our plucky li’l chemists put out don’t really measure up to the competition-or so I’m told. So my boys kept talking to this poor dumbass and he tells ‘em where the lab he gets his product from is. You see where I’m going with this?”
I did. “You just want me to wreck the place?”
“Well, see if you can snag some intel first. Computers, papers, that kinda shit. Then you wreck the place.”
I though about it for a few moments. “Doesn’t…doesn’t it seem a little too easy, Walker?”
“How d’you mean?”
“Well,” I said slowly, still thinking it through myself, “The Blues have to know their stuff is better, right, and that the bones would want to change that. Then this guy just shows up on your turf slinging hush-which anyone that lived past twelve ought to know is fuckin’ stupid-and he just tells your guy where the lab is?”
He leaned back, smoke slowly leaking from his nose. “My boys are pretty skilled ‘conversationalists,’ if you know what I’m saying…”
“I do. But still.”
Walker was silent for a few seconds. “Yeah, it’s shady,” he finally said, “but I don’t like passin’ up on opportunites. You just go in there real carefully.”
“So I’m bait again.” I was only half kidding.
He was courteous enough not to bullshit me. “I know it ain’t ideal, but I can’t get anyone else into play quick enough.” He rummaged around in his desk and pulled out a fist-sized metal cylinder. “Here, this oughta help.” He passed it to me and I turned it over in my hands. A flashbang grendade.
I gave him a flat look. “Seriously, man? One flashbang?”
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, Kings forgive me. I’m so sorry my free shit ain’t up to your standards.” He waited a moment but I didn’t back down. “Fine. Tell you what. I’ll come down there with you myself and we’ll take care of it together. Been too long since I did any fieldwork anyway.”
I leaned back, genuinely impressed. “You sure? Aren’t you too important or something?”
“Probably.” He shrugged. “But trust is important too. ‘Don’t give orders you wouldn’t carry out yourself’ an’ all that. ‘Sides, I’m still makin’ you take point.”
I just shook my head. “Miss Sanverth is gonna be pissed.”
He glanced back and forth, looking guilty. “You better not tell her I’m going in there with you.” I mimed zipping my lips. “Good. You wouldn’t believe the kind scolding that woman can dish out. Man, a couple weeks ago I got in a little dustup at a bar, ended up with a nice shiner-and when she saw it, whoof! I ain’t been chewed out like that since I was a kid.”
“That’s about the impression I got. You want to go do this thing?”
Walker stood with a yawn, stretching until his back cracked. “Damn. Yeah, let’s get it over with. Maybe we can get back afore she notices I’m gone.”
“I don’t know about that,” I muttered. “I walked here.”
“Well, lucky for you I’m too old and lazy for any of that shit. It’s time you met Allison Junior.” He burst out laughing at my groan. If she was anything like the last Allison I wasn’t in for too pleasant of a ride.
“Oh, quit your whinin’,” Walker chuckled. “I promise it ain’t that bad. Let’s go.”