Chapter Sixty-Seven - Things get Better

“One of the best fields for the able-bodied, regardless of nationality or gender, is security. The training is usually covered by the corporation, and the work pays quite handsomely. Only a fool would underpay the people in charge of keeping them alive and safe.

Men are usually preferred, but women and some younger men prefer female-presenting guards. It’s very much an equal-opportunity job.

Also, sometimes you get to beat up reporters and hobos.”

--The Coach’s Playbook, a guide to becoming corporate security, 2032

***

I stormed through the lobby, a woman on a mission. It was hard not to notice the additional security they’d put up. More guards by the doors, more personnel behind the counters so that clients coming in were treated faster. They even brought out a few of those dog-drones with the spinal-mounted guns. Ugly, but it made the point.

“Ma’am?” one of the hotel employees asked as he jogged to catch up.

“Yeah?” I asked without slowing down.

“We’ve, ah, heightened security. We’re working with some private investigators to track the origin of the package. The hotel apologizes for what happened. That box shouldn’t have gotten past security.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” I said. “I did. And now I’m going to go pay the bitch responsible a visit.”

The employee’s head bobbed up and down. “Thank you. Eleanor didn’t deserve that.”

“She didn’t,” I agreed. We stepped out into the parking tunnel, and I saw a pair of valets scurrying to push my hovercycle closer. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Do me a favour and keep the security on alert until then?”

“Certainly, ma’am,” he said.

I nodded and moved over to my bike, a leg swinging up and over before I fixed my jacket behind me. I leaned forwards, turned the bike on with a twitch of my augs, then gave it gas.

Setting destination now. Just follow the lines. I’ll keep an eye on the hotel while you’re out. Their added security is simple, but it should assist to some degree.

“Going to be expensive for them,” I said as I flew up and merged into a high-speed traffic lane filled with nicer corpo rides.

Possibly. But the hotel’s PR staff is already disseminating information about the attack.

“They’re spreading news about it?” I asked.

Oh yes. A Vanguard was unsuccessfully attacked in their hotel. An employee died, and now their security measures are increasing to such a degree that the entire establishment will be much harder to enter. They’re playing up their part of the narrative. I think the idea is to create the impression that the hotel is a place where incredibly dramatic things happen and one where the management are quick to react to such threats.

I sniffed. It sounded stupid to me. But then... I could imagine Lucy gleefully telling me about how such-and-such a place had someone try to assassinate a samurai. It would get their name out there a lot more than usual and in channels they couldn’t normally advertise in. Sickeningly clever.

I didn’t have the energy in me to really give a shit.

The traffic ahead of me slowed down enough to start grating on my nerves, so I dipped under the cars ahead and shot past them in complete disregard to a whole heap of laws. It was a good thing I didn’t have a license, or it would have been revoked on account of my driving already.

“Where’s this leading to?” I asked.

A restaurant called the Yawning Eve. It’s one of the highest ranked eating places in New Montreal. Rather exclusive.

“Fancy as all hell, I’ll bet,” I growled.

I caught sight of the place as I curved around a few skyscrapers. A slim tower, with a large doughnut about three quarters of the way up, all glass walls with a few landing pads just below it. I’d probably seen the building a thousand times before in media pics and while taking busses across the city, but I’d never paid it any attention.

Diving down a little, I rode over to one of the cleared landing pads and slowed down. The bike’s computer flicked on an auto-assist that helped me come to a smoother landing than I’d ever have been able to manage myself.

I climbed off the bike, then started walking towards the one entrance near the pad.

A valet ran over to me. “Greetings, and welcome to the Yawning Eve, do you have a reservation?”

“No,” I said.

“Ah, in that case, do you wish to make one?” he asked.

We reached the doors, and I tried them once before realizing we were locked out. There was a keypad next to the door. It took my augs a split second to unlock them. “I’m going to go visit someone that’s here,” I said.

“You, ah, can’t do that, ma’am,” the boy said.

Stolen novel; please report.

I paused then stared at him. “Do you really think you can stop me? Save yourself... yourself, and run over to someone who can do more than hook himself onto my ankle and get dragged along, alright?”

“Uh,” he said.

A car landed on the pad behind us, some sleek luxury thing. “Look, an actual client.”

I stepped in while the valet hesitated. The entrance was a little tight, with a spiral staircase leading up to the floor above where the tables for patrons were all laid out with spectacular views of the city.

Stomping up the stairs, I was greeted by a butler-looking guy with a towel over one arm and about six security types. Most of them didn’t match. Different armours and gear. I figured I was dealing with the security from a few different clients.

“May we help you, ma’am?” the butler-sort asked.

“Burringham,” I growled. “Where is he?”

“We don’t disclose who our guests are to--”

He paused as my shoulders slid open and my railguns installed themselves next to my head. The panels over my thighs opened as well, and a few lights in my armour started to glow a rather ominous red. “Burringham. Now.”

The butler swallowed, then nodded. “Right this way?”

I followed him into the main part of the doughnut. The floor on the edge was made of rounded glass, though there was a rail around it to stop people from stepping out onto it. The view really was spectacular, even though everything was as grey as it always was over the city.

I found Burringham sitting across from a CEO-looking type. His secretary and some other assistant were standing not too far away, by an entrance into the tower proper.

There was, of course, more security. I recognized most of them as the guys Burringham had hired. They eyed me up and down, but didn’t seem entirely nervous.

Myalis tapped into their comms, and a quick glance at their texts almost had me smiling. Their boss seemed to think that if I was there for trouble, then they wouldn’t see me coming.

“Stray Cat!” Burringham said. He gestured to the table where a few entrees were laid out. “I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m sure we can find a chair for you. Maybe even a bigger table if you want to join us. They have these little bread-sticks here, I swear they’re addictive.”

“No thanks,” I said. “I’m here for something else.”

“What’s wrong?” Buirringham asked.

“Should I...” his guest said.

Burringham shook his head. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure. Stray Cat’s a friend,” he said with one of his winning smiles.

“Just had a few things I needed you to know,” I said. “First, I figured out who sent that assassin after you.”

“You did?” Burringham asked. “Great. Who is it? I’m sure we can make an example of them.”

“Problem is,” I continued. “They just tried to kill me too. Sent a bomb to my hotel. They actually did kill someone. Nice girl by the name of Eleanor. Hotel staff.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. I could have sworn his question was genuine.

I waved the comment off. “I’m fine. Got to wonder though, why in the fuck is your secretary trying to blow me up?”

I’d been eyeing the secretary from the corner of my vision the entire time. She was tense, but not more than one might expect from having a samurai just show up. The accusation had her squirming though. “Mister Burringham, I can assure you,” she began.

“Shut up,” I said over her. “Actually, no, don’t shut up. Instead, why don’t you tell me what in the fuck you were thinking?” I moved over to her while the other assistant scurried out of the path in a hurry.

“Linda?” Burringham asked.

“You’re lying,” the secretary said.

“It shouldn’t be that hard to prove that you’re not the one,” I said. “But I’ve got this itchy feeling that tells me that it really is you. Which makes me want to know, really, why? What’d you get out of it?”

She swallowed, then glared at me. Her silence stretched for a long moment.

She has just sent a message to the security guards around you. I intercepted it. She asked them to apprehend you.

“Did you really just ask the guard here to arrest me?” I asked.

“You... you pose a threat to Mister Burringham and his campaign.”

“Linda, what are you on about?” Burringham asked.

I glanced at the guard in charge. He shook his head. “We’re paid well, but not well enough to interfere with whatever this is,” he said.

I nodded. “Hey, Burringham, could your CEO buddy over there do us a favour and arrest her? Just in case your own security is compromised. I got the feeling they’re clean, but just in case.”

“I...” Burringham turned to his guest who nodded. “Certainly?”

I nodded in turn. “Cool, cool. Oh, and Linda? This is for Eleanor.”

I got to say, that meaty feeling of my fist meeting Linda’s cheek was incredibly cathartic.

***