City of Broken Lights Page 14

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Patience was a cardinal virtue in both jobs the messenger carried out, his legal job and his clandestine one. He'd learned to fill his time mentally while he waited, to not allow the frustration of being kept waiting by others become a source of irritation. What he'd never learned to cope with effectively was being the bearer of messages that would not be received well.

  An old woman, stooped by arthritis and decades of backbreaking labor shuffled into the room. The worn, stained work clothes of a miner and ore processor hung from the woman's frame. Wisps of grey hair protruded from beneath a dirty cap, so worn from use the material covering the brim of the cap had frayed, revealing the material beneath that formed the brim. Long ago the hardness and difficulty of life had stolen the light from the woman’s eyes. With a single nod, the woman communicated to the messenger he would be seen now.

  Exhibiting more patience, the messenger followed the old woman as she laboriously made her way down the dimly lit passageway, turning first one way then another through the maze of hallways. He'd been here before, but the maze of twists and turns through dim light made remembering the route impossible. The woman descended a flight of stairs and turned to her left and pointed.

  At the end of a concrete service tunnel was a steel door. On the other side would be the individual to whom he'd been ordered to deliver the message. The messenger walked cautiously down the poorly lighted service tunnel, noticing how grimy and dirty the walls were. Shadows formed strange shapes on the concrete sides of the tunnel, made even eerier by the patches of black mold and the dark streaks created by water stains.

  Two raps on the steel door produced a booming sound that echoed both in the tunnel and the other side of the door. A buzz sounded followed by several clicks indicating many electronic looks were involved in unlocking and opening the door. A firm push on the door forced the steel barrier to swing inwards far enough to allow the messenger to step through without touching the door or the doorframe. Another buzz followed by a whirring sound indicated a servomotor had engaged to shut the door.

  A piercingly bright white light blinded the messenger causing him to stop. The room was pitch black save the single, blindingly bright light.

  “I would look down if I were you,” a masculine voice advised.

  Following the advice of the voice, the messenger did as suggested, his eyes gaining immediate relief from the irritatingly bright light.

  “You have a message for me?”

  “Yes. I have been asked to arrange a meeting.”

  “I see,” the voice answered. “How soon is this proposed meeting to take place?”

  “As soon as possible was what I was advised to tell you. Time is critical.”

  The voice did not respond immediately, instead considering the ramifications of the request.

  “Is this meeting in regards to the Chancellor’s daughter?”

  Uncomfortable in the presence of the man he'd been sent to deliver the message to, the messenger found it difficult to speak. He nodded in the affirmative to answer the question.

  “I see no reason to accommodate such a request.”

  “I told the Ambassador that.”

  A grunt emanated from the voice, indicating surprise.

  “The Ambassador sent you, now did he?”

  “Yes,” the messenger responded, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

  “This changes things,” the voice laughed. “If for no other reason than the fun of watching Ambassador Marshall squirm on a hook I’ll agree to the meeting.”

  The messenger nodded, relieved the voice was not angry. “I am ready to return and deliver your message.”

  “Tell the Ambassador I’ll meet him, if for no other reason than to hear his offer. Assuming he has an offer to propose. Otherwise, tell the Ambassador the original terms and deadline are in effect.”

  With great care and attention to detail, the messenger memorized the precise wording of the message he was to return and deliver to Ambassador Marshall. The sound of the locks disengaging and the servomotor opening the door behind him filled the messenger with relief. He didn't wait to be told to leave. Waiting outside the door was the old woman. Without a hint of emotion or interest, she began the trip back to where she'd first met the messenger. The loud boom of the door shutting made the messenger jump. He was glad to be leaving the dreary dark space.

  “BE CAREFUL,” SULLY admonished. “Father Nathan, it’s okay if you mingle. Sarah, be unobtrusive. Watch and learn everything you can.” The pair nodded and waited for Sully to push the door to the tavern open. Both were eager to go inside. Father Nathan to escape the heat of the evening and Sarah to avoid the bothersome attention of a group of young men watching her from the opposite side of the street. She ignored the catcalls and whistles.

  Sully stepped in far enough to leave room behind him for Sarah and Father Nathan to enter and slip away from him without drawing attention to themselves. His right eye adjusted automatically to the dim interior lighting. Sully waited for his remaining organic eye to adjust before he started towards the bar where Mitch was working.

  Taking up the same seat as on his previous visits, Sully waited for Mitch to finish with regulars before coming down to serve him. Despite the poor lighting Sully noticed the broken fingers on Mitch’s hand as the man approached, frowning unpleasantly at Sully.

  “Why are you here?” Mitch demanded, his tone ugly and openly hostile.

  "Nice to see you too," Sully growled. Before Mitch could react, Sully's right hand shot out and grabbed the bartenders injured hand, pulling the hand to his chest and drawing Mitch's face close to his own in the process. "Tell me, Mitch. Who did this to your hand?" Mitch expelled a pained yelp and tried to pull his hand back. Unable to do so, the bartender pleaded with his eyes for Sully to release the damaged hand.

  “Mitch, we both know I’m the reason your hand is injured. That means I need to talk to the people who did this.”

  “I can’t afford any more trouble,” Mitch pleaded.

  “Who did this,” Sully demanded.

  “Please, they wanted to know if you were looking for Katrina.”

  “It’s okay,” Sully said firmly. “You had no reason not to tell them about me.”

  “Look, I have to live here. This is my place of business. You don’t seem to get it. I can’t have these guys coming back.” Mitch pulled his hand away and clasped it to his chest with his good hand. “I have a family too. I know you’re looking for your daughter and I like Katrina. But I love my own kids more, you know?”

  “Tell me who did this,” Sully repeated. “Tell me so I can find them.”

  “They’ll come back,” Mitch protested.

  “Not when I’m finished with them,” was Sully’s ominous response.

  BROKEN NOSE LOOKED up from his tablet and stared at the comm on the table. Its irritating buzz was not helping his headache. The pain behind his nose was throbbing and threatening to spread beyond his bruised sinus cavities.

  Without a sound he picked up the device, opened the link and listened, taking mental notes, nodding as he listened. A brief, “yes, sir,” was the only comment he made before breaking the link.

  “That from the boss?”

  “Yep, Bert. Might be a change in plans. For now, we’re just to sit tight on the bird and make sure she doesn’t pull a runner again.”

  Bert leaned back and rested his head on the arm of the couch again. “So long as we get paid I don’t care what the deal is.”

  “It’s nothin', Bert. We'll get paid. Don't worry. Just have to make sure nothing happens."

  Broken Nose winced as he touched his nose. The prisoner had managed to both break his nose and take a chunk of flesh from the appendage when she’d bitten him. He was okay with holding on to the bird a bit longer if it gave him a chance to make her worry about what might happen to her.

  Even if the order came to let the prisoner loose, Broken Nose and Bert had plans for her
. He grinned at the idea he and his partner had discussed. Stalking the woman was part of the fun the pair had planned.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I watched Sarah as she made her way across the street. Something was different, and I couldn't put my finger on it.

  “She’s furious with you.”

  Father Nathan’s voice startled me so deep was my concentration.

  “What?”

  “Have you sat Sarah down and talked with her?”

  I must have been staring at my friend like he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

  “You know, explained things to her?”

  “Father, you’re going to have to be a little more clear than that.”

  My friend stepped around me to get a better view of Sarah. “She’s fully visible, Sully.”

  I turned and looked at my partner as she weaved in and out of the tired, downcast workers making their way home.

  “So? She does that from time-to-time.”

  “No, she doesn’t, Sully. Not unless she’s in a familiar place and totally comfortable with her surroundings or she’s with one of us.” Father Nathan looked me directly in the eye. “Mainly, with you.”

  Waves of red flashed before my organic eye. I could feel my pulse quickening and my face becoming flush.

  “Say whatever it is you have to say in plain language,” I ordered.

  “Sarah feels threatened, Sully. The fact you’ve done nothing to address that feeling is why you’re on her crap list.”

  I was growing more confused by the second and my face must have shown that as well.

  “She’s trying to provoke you,” my friend informed me, stoking the flames of anger already growing inside.

  “By walking down the street as plain as day?” I glared at my friend. “You’re the one making me angry, not Sarah!”

  "Sully, to be as smart as you are, you can be really dense sometimes." Father Nathan glanced around and then pulled me close as he began walking down the sidewalk in the same direction Sarah had taken.

  His voice low, the good father spoke clearly so I could hear. “Walk a bit in Sarah’s shoes.”

  “And just what would that accomplish?”

  My flippancy earned me a tug on my shirt, pulling me closer.

  “She’s a clone. Sarah can never fully relax and feel safe. Her very existence has to be kept secret. But when Sarah is with you, she feels safe, protected.”

  “That’s silly,” I snapped. “Sarah doesn’t need protecting. She hasn’t for a long time. You know as well as I do what that minx is capable of.”

  “Tell her that,” Father Nathan said, pushing me away. “You saved Sarah from a serial killer. More importantly than that, you gave Sarah purpose by giving her job, a reason to stay in one place. At the end of every day, Sarah knows there is somebody who worries about her.”

  “I’m not the only one who fits that category,” I protested. “There’s you, Alice, Ralph, and Joe, just to name a few. How many creeps have Giganto and Baldie tossed out of Joe’s on Sarah’s behalf?”

  “It’s different with you.”

  "Maybe," I admitted. "But I don't see why Sarah's angry all of a sudden."

  My friend looked to cast a look of disgust in my direction and sped up, closing some of the gap between Sarah and us.

  “Sully, we showed up on Athens II thinking the two of you were going to be hired to do some investigating. I planned on mixing some rest and relaxation with visiting other clergy and trying to learn a few things. Instead, we find out you have a daughter.”

  “How could Sarah be mad at me for that?” I protested. “I was as shocked as anyone else!”

  Father Nathan kept talking, ignoring me. “Making matters worse, the person who wants to hire you is an ex-girlfriend.”

  “Sarah knows I’ve been with women in the past!”

  “Irrelevant,” Father Nathan pointed out. “Sarah has never been confronted with the actual presence of a woman from your past. Throw in the fact the two of you have a daughter, albeit by cloning, and it should be obvious why Sarah is so angry with you.”

  I stood opened mouth as my friend left me standing on the sidewalk. I found myself muttering aloud. “What have I done now?”

  JENNIFER SMILED AT the Governor and turned to make her way towards the restaurant’s exit. She made sure to wiggle a little extra for the benefit of both the Governor and her master. It never hurts to set the hook a little deeper when the opportunity presented itself.

  “I can see why you like her,” Rankin chuckled.

  “What’s not to like,” Markeson replied, leaning back in the comfortably padded seat of the booth. He took a sip of the expensive scotch he’d been drinking, savoring its smooth burn as he swallowed it. “Of course, there is one small problem that could become a rather large one if I don’t find a solution soon.”

  “She’s married?” Rankin blurted out.

  Markeson laughed and slapped the table with the flat of his hand. "Oh, that's a good one." He paused to gather himself before continuing. "No, Jennifer is mine for the plucking. The problem is she really cannot stand Cassandra. Hates her with a passion. Complains about Cassie all the time."

  Pretending to be tactful, the Governor assumed a serious expression and asked, “What about your, ah, other acquaintances?”

  Markeson’s response was to shrug his shoulders, indicating indifference. "Not one of my many conquests measures up to Jennifer." He winked at Rankin and grinned devilishly. "Jennifer, well, I'll be honest, Cassie is her only competition in the one area where it really matters."

  Rankin’s face became flush as he leaned closer “And just what might that be?”

  Leering, Markeson leaned close to the Governor and whispered. “They’re both freaks in the bedroom.”

  Both men laughed, the smug expressions on their faces belying their lecherous thoughts. “That, my friend, is a good problem to have,” Rankin informed his partner, chuckling as his imagination began to run wild.

  “You owe me by the way,” Markeson informed the Governor.

  All amusement vanished from Rankin’s demeanor. “I do not. Don’t start on that topic again.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” Markeson replied, shrugging again. “I was going to ask you to pay me back by taking Cassandra off my hands.” The bent cop stood up, leaving the bill on the table for the Governor to pay.

  “I’ll just have to find someone man enough to handle Cassandra and pry her loose from me and onto the lucky stiff.” Makerson set his hat on his head and adjusted it to just the right stylish angle. He smiled and turned to leave.

  Stunned by the offer and his failure to seize the opportunity, Rankin didn’t even object to being stuck with the bill.

  Outside in the cold, Markeson slipped his arm around Jennifer and led her toward his hovercar.

  “Well?”

  “It’s just a matter of time before the old letch calls me to set a date with Cassandra.”

  "I did well?"

  Amused, Markeson laughed at Jennifer’s question and hugged her while opening the passenger door to his hovercar. “Yes, Jennifer, you performed flawlessly.”

  MARSHALL STOPPED AND looked at the map on his comm. He was right where the directions given him told him to wait. He’d arrived with three minutes to spare. Now he had to wait. Unsure of what would transpire, the Ambassador leaned against the wall of the building at the intersection and watched pedestrians go by while he waited. He didn’t notice the pair of men dressed stylishly in black, one with a white shirt, the other wearing a shirt colored a light shade of grey.

  The contents of the hypospray rendered Marshall unconscious before he could notice the white bandage on the nose of the smaller man. Draping the arms of the Ambassador over their shoulders, the pair laughed and swayed from side-to-side as if they were nothing more than a couple of drunks making their way home, helping their hapless friend in the process.

  Given the number of bars in the neighborhoo
d, it was a sight nobody would think twice about. Even if one of the drunks was a well-known figure like an Ambassador.

  Chapter Thirty

  Katrina grimaced at the rough handling by the taller of the two thugs keeping guard over her. She watched the man out of the corner of her eye, taking care not to offend or agitate him in any way. He pulled the gag from her mouth and sat it on the end of the dirty mattress of her cot. "Behave yourself there, and I won't have to hurt you." Her captor scowled to prove he meant what he said. "If you bite me, I'm liable to bite back."

  Katrina smiled weakly at his apparent attempt at a joke. “My partner was out of line putting his hand up your skirt. You’ll need to be very careful around him, not that you weren’t justified in trying to bite his nose off.”

  The man finished removing the restraints on Katrina's legs and stood up, his hand extended. "My name is Bert. Don't use it unless absolutely necessary. If things work out for you, forget you ever heard my name. Are we good?"

  Katrina took Bert’s extended hand and pulled herself to an upright sitting position on the cot. Her arms shook, feeling weak from even that slight exertion on her part. “C’mon. You need to use the bathroom. I don’t feel like dealing with my partner if you have an accident and he comes back and finds me cleaning up your mess.”

  Bert led Katrina to the restroom, holding her hand as she struggled to maintain her balance. Severe pain shot through her hands and feet as her circulation returned. After checking the inside of the restroom, Bert helped Katrina inside the facility and stepped back out to allow her privacy while she tended to the process of relieving herself.

  After washing her hands and finger brushing her hair, Katrina opened the door and smiled at her guard. “Thank you.”

  "Don't mention it," Bert replied. "Now look, we need to get some things clear. For me, this is nothing more than a business transaction. I have no desire one way or the other to hurt you. I just want to get paid. My partner on the other hand, well, that's another matter. He's a bit violent, to begin with. You bitting him on the nose like you did, you gave him a reason to want to hurt you. Don't provoke him and I’ll try to take care of you.”