It took me another twenty minutes to locate the bluebird, partially hidden behind a stack of empty energy cartridges. I plucked it from its hiding spot and took it to the cashier, a blond kid in his late teens. Another guard stood a few meters away, a deterrent for anyone who thought they might be able to overpower the kid.
I set the bird on the counter. “How much for this?” I asked.
The cashier smiled and gently picked up the sapphire figure. “Mabel is not for sale; she’s our mascot.”
I smiled serenely when I really wanted to shake him and demand he get to the point already. But this dance was how Peter protected himself, and for all the kid knew, I really did just want to buy the bird.
I continued spouting the required lines. “I will pay you a fair price. My aunt adores bluebirds and this is the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”
“I am sorry, madam, but the bird is not for sale.” His grin was properly apologetic and charming. “Perhaps something else in the shop has caught your eye?”
“I will look,” I said. I’d already spotted the book on military tactics that was the next step of the process, but I made a show of poking around the shop. When I’d worked my way around to the book, I picked it up, flipped through it, then tucked it under my arm.
I waited an additional two minutes, time I silently counted off to keep from rushing, before I moved back toward the cashier. “How much for the book?”
“Oh, what a find! That’s a rare edition. It’s fifteen hundred credits.”
This edition was as rare as the air we were breathing and about as valuable. Guskov had a crate of them in the back. The fee was just another step to ensure I was serious about meeting with him.
“I will take it. Are you sure you aren’t willing to sell the bird?”
The cashier rang up my purchase and held out the chip reader. I checked the total, then paid with one of my credit chips.
After the payment went through, the kid said, “Perhaps the owner would be willing to sell for the right price. Write down your name and number and I will ask.” He handed me a white paper card and a pen.
I wrote down my real name and the address of my secondary com. I handed the card back to him and he glanced at it, then his eyes widened and he blanched. “My lady—”
“Keep that to yourself, if you don’t mind,” I said quietly.
“Of course. Sure. Will do.” He clamped his mouth shut.
This time my smile was genuine. “Thank you. I will await your call.”
I ordered a transport and collected my cloak. My stomach rumbled with hunger. I hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s dinner.
“Go to Tatiana’s,” the guard at the door said. “Best food. Good price.”
And also likely owned by someone in Guskov’s pocket, who would watch me like a hawk and report back. Still, food was food, and if Guskov protected it, at least I didn’t have to worry about the other factions jumping me. “Thank you.”
In the transport, I searched for Tatiana’s and found only one result, a noodle house a few blocks away on the other side of my hotel. It was still in the flower district, so the neighborhood should be safe enough. I set the destination and the transport lifted off.
The lack of sleep was catching up with me. I’d need to work in a nap or I wouldn’t be sharp enough to deal with Guskov. And in the absolute best-case scenario, he wouldn’t contact me until late tonight, anyway. Speedy this process was not, but it was my best chance of information until Nadia got back to me.
Tatiana’s noodle shop had that warm, welcoming vibe that treasured neighborhood gems developed over time. It might be a front, but it was a nice one. Business was brisk enough that no one paid obvious attention to me. I ordered a beer and a bowl of BioBeef noodles.
Synthesizer beef equivalent wasn’t quite as good as the real deal, but it was far easier to come by. Even if the shop didn’t have a synthesizer in house, they could order BioBeef from a local distributor for approximately 1 percent of the cost of real beef.
I carried my beer to a table in one of the darker corners of the room and lowered my hood. The strong scent of food wrapped around me, causing my stomach to once again complain about its empty state. Some days food smells nauseated me, but today was thankfully not one of them.
A waitress balancing a full tray expertly delivered a bowl of noodles as big as my head without dropping anything. The dish steamed gently and the smell was spicy and salty and divine.
I was nearly a quarter of the way through the meal, an achievement, when my news alert went off. I surreptitiously pulled up the info on my glasses only to lose the rest of my appetite.
Ian had gone through with it.
I was now a wanted woman, though House von Hasenberg was spinning it as a safety issue. They were concerned about my well-being considering the recent attack on me and would pay for information on my whereabouts. I was presumed disoriented and should be detained until a representative of the House could retrieve me.
The atmosphere of the shop hadn’t changed at all, but I felt as if I had a spotlight shining on me. Ian Bishop was once again going to ruin my best chance of information with his ham-fisted tactics. It’s as if the man lived to frustrate me, even from halfway across the ’verse.
I ordered a transport and tracked its progress. When it was thirty seconds out, I slipped from the table and raised my hood. I wove through the crowd toward the exit. I was two meters from the door when a man bumped into my left side.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Keep moving,” he said, his voice low.
I drew my blaster under the cover of my cloak, but I continued toward the door. We stepped out into the rain and my transport settled in front of us.
“This yours?” he asked. When I didn’t answer he said, “Get in.”
I twisted away from him and he let me go. He held his hands up as if approaching a scared animal. “I just want to help you, my lady,” he said. He had a striking face, not quite handsome but somehow arresting nonetheless. He was tall and lean and probably pushing forty, but time had treated him well.
“Who are you? Did Guskov send you?”
His eyes darted over my shoulder and I spun, but not fast enough. The stunstick hit like a lightning bolt. I screamed as my body lit up in agony. The implant in my brain erupted in pain so intense I thought my head was exploding.
When darkness rose to swallow me up, I didn’t fight the pull.
I came to on a hard bench. My head ached like someone had stabbed a stiletto into it, multiple times. My brain implant really did not appreciate being hit with a stunstick.
A quick peek around assured me that I was alone in a standard mercenary holding cell. I couldn’t quite focus on the wireless signals flying about the room, but I knew I was under surveillance.
I sat up with a groan and did a quick inventory. My right cheek throbbed and when I pressed against it, it felt bruised. Had I hit it when I passed out? I couldn’t remember.
The mercs had taken everything I had on me, including my weapons, coms, and credits. They’d even taken my cloak. I hated the thought of hands riffling through my pockets while I was defenseless. Hell, I hated being defenseless in the first place.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. I realized that perhaps I hadn’t given Ada enough credit. She’d successfully dodged security teams for years. I’d been caught in five minutes, maybe less, and we’d had the same training. She was going to have a field day with this.