Vendetta on Venus (Stark Raven Voyages Book 4) Page 5

  "He's not a good person," Chan said gently. "He's apparently not all bad, but he's not a nice man. He does real harm."

  "I know that!" There was fury in her face now. "Don't you think I know what a snake he is? I know it better than anyone."

  "All right." He plodded over to the bed and sat down, then let himself lie back. "Oh, that feels better. I hurt everywhere."

  Joss leaned over him. "Do you want more morphine?"

  "Yes," he admitted. "So don't give me any. I'll be all right."

  "You should stand up," said Rhett. "Your muscles will stiffen. Your original idea was a good one. A nice walk will improve your state considerably."

  Chan stared at the robot, startled. "I just need to rest a bit."

  "No," said Rhett. "You need to walk. Perhaps in the corridor outside. I will accompany you." And Rhett turned his head a tiny bit, seeming to glance at Lisa, then turned back to Chan.

  He doesn't have eyeballs. He can see her. He has no need to turn his head. What in space is he trying to say? Chan sighed. I guess I better find out. "Help me up, would you?"

  They left Lisa's little apartment, Chan keeping close to Rhett in case his dizziness returned, Joss following close behind. "We'll be back in a few minutes," Joss said as they walked out the front door. Lisa, lost in her own thoughts, didn't reply.

  The corridor outside was broad, with a line of planters down the center trailing flowers onto the floor. The ceiling was four or five meters high. Even in the poorest neighborhoods, space was abundant. They walked along, passing other apartment doors and the occasional shop. When the crowd around them thinned, Joss moved up to stand beside Rhett. "All right," she said, "what's going on?"

  "I received a phone call," Rhett said. "I thought it would be prudent to discuss it without Miss Lisa present." He gestured toward a little alcove on one side of the corridor. "Perhaps over here?"

  They walked to the alcove and waited for a cluster of pedestrians to move out of earshot.

  Rhett looked at Chan. "I am entered in your phone as an emergency contact," he said.

  Chan nodded. If he lost his phone, someone without his thumbprint would be able to access only a small file with Chan's name and a few other details. He'd used Rhett as a contact because the robot couldn’t possibly lose or forget a built-in phone.

  "I have a message from Geoff," Rhett said. "He wants you to call him back."

  It took a moment for that to sink in. Finally Chan looked at Joss, shrugged, and said, "All right. Er, we can't use my phone, though. He has it."

  "I'll place the call now," Rhett said, and went silent. A moment later, Geoff's voice emerged from the lower half of Rhett's face.

  "Captain Chan?"

  "I'm here, Geoff."

  "Are you all right?"

  Chan shrugged, which hurt. "I'll be fine. How about you?"

  "I'll live."

  The man sounded genuinely relieved, and he didn't dwell on his own injuries. Chan scowled, a strong impulse to like the man conflicting with an overwhelming desire to punch his lights out. "What do you want?" he said curtly.

  "I need to get off of Montgolfier," Geoff said. "You have a ship."

  There was no need to tell the little weasel that the Raven was off-planet and effectively impounded. "And why would I let you on my ship again, Geoff?"

  "Because of my luggage," Geoff replied. "I'll be bringing a fat suitcase full of iridium with me."

  There was a long, thoughtful silence. Finally Chan said, "What's your game?"

  "I'm in some trouble." Geoff sounded vulnerable and scared. Of course, he projects what he wants people to see. Taking him at face value would be pretty stupid.

  "You've met a couple of my new, ah, business associates."

  "Yes." Chan grimaced, thinking about how close he'd come to torture and death.

  "They have certain … expectations of me, and they won't just let me go. But if I keep helping them, they will be attempting a robbery. And they don't use charm and persuasion, like I do. They use guns and bombs."

  Chan felt his stomach tighten.

  "They'll kill a lot of innocent people," Geoff said, "and when they don't need me anymore they'll throw a bullet in me, too."

  You're lying in the bed you made, you little … Chan suppressed the thought. He had a shot at getting his iridium back, and thus his ship. "How do I know I can trust you?" Never mind that you can't trust me.

  "Well, if I show up without your iridium, you can kick me off your ship. You won't get your suitcase back any other way, I can promise you that. You've got nothing to lose."

  Chan glanced at Joss, who shrugged. Rhett mimicked her. "All right, you've convinced me," Chan said. "Can you meet me right away?" He clenched his fists, thinking about how he would take the suitcase away from the little rat. Then he remembered the knife cutting into Geoff's chest, and flushed. He's not a nice man. But he's not all bad.

  "Keep your ship prepped," Geoff said. "I have to wait for an opportunity to grab the suitcase. I'll call you when I've got it. It could be any time. Or it could be a day or two. It won't be any longer than that, though." A tremor came into his voice. "In three days they're done with me. If you haven't heard from me by then, you won't be hearing from me at all."

  "All right," said Chan. All his righteous indignation had abandoned him. If he'd had the Raven at his disposal he might have even offered Geoff sanctuary, suitcase or no suitcase. "Be careful."

  "Oh, I will," Geoff said. "Talk to you soon." He broke the connection.

  "I forgot to tell him to bring my phone," Chan said. "I want it back." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Damn it. He's going to bring us the suitcase, and we're going to send him on his way. And his friends are going to kill him."

  "Oh, right," said Joss. "You don't know."

  He looked at her. "Know what?"

  "Liz is on the lam." She grinned. "She broke out of Aphrodite with the Raven. She's on her way here."

  Rhett said, "While it would be nice to recover the iridium, it is no longer necessary. We do not have to aid Mr. Geoff."

  Chan thought of Mar coming toward him, knife in hand. Geoff, with absolutely nothing to gain and everything to lose, had made the choice to get in Mar's way. Chan wanted to think that he'd do the same thing in Geoff's place, but the truth was, he didn't know.

  "Yes," he said. "We do."

  Chapter 5

  The call came nine hours later. Liz and the Raven were still three hours away.

  Chan didn't share that detail with Geoff.

  "I've got it!" The con man's voice was an excited whisper coming from the speaker on Rhett's face. "Meet me on Deck Ten, Blue sector. It's right by the docks." He broke the connection before they could reply.

  "It's only three hours," Chan said, trying to assuage his own conscience. "I'm sure we can keep him alive that long. We'll just keep moving around."

  "It's probably too late for him to go back," Joss said. "Let's go find Blue Sector."

  Deck Ten, Blue sector turned out to be the huge, gaudy hall where they had cleared customs two days before. Chan, without a phone, stayed close to Rhett while Joss plunged into the crowd. Chan did his best to look in every direction at once, wondering how Geoff was going to react to the news that there was no ship.

  "Hey there, fella. First time on Venus?" The woman was short and plump, with a freckle-dusted face and beady eyes. Her jacket clattered and rustled when she moved. "I got some top-of-the-line jewelry. Made with real Venus rocks." She held out one side of her jacket. The inner surface was festooned with watches and necklaces.

  "Get lost," said Chan, standing on his toes to look over her head.

  "Arright, arright. No need to get all mad." She vanished into the crowd, shooting him a sulky look over one pudgy shoulder.

  "Hey, buddy, you know which way to Yellow sector?"

  Chan didn't bother looking at the man who spoke. "No idea. Just got here." He moved away, ignoring the man's reply. There were balconies high above the crowd, and he
wondered if he would be better off looking down from above. Or if they would make a good escape route if Geoff showed up with gangsters on his heels.

  "Buddy. Hey, buddy. Buddy." A large brown hand landed on Chan's chest, and he looked down, annoyed.

  The man accosting him was freakishly tall. He must have weighed less than Chan, but he was more than a head taller, with brown skin and a shaved head covered by a little knitted skull cap. He wore a jumpsuit of eye-searing orange, and he carried a fist full of data chips.

  "You looking for a hotel, buddy? I got a lead on the nicest hotels on Venus. Premium places. All the real amenities, if you know what I mean." He chuckled, a low, phony sound that was supposed to show that he and Chan were men of the world. "Everything you need, buddy. Everything you could want."

  "No." He was too tall to see over, so Chan stepped around him, Rhett following.

  "You think it's expensive, right, buddy? Hey, I understand. Money's tight these days. I can steer you someplace nice and cheap. But the amenities," and here he dug an elbow into Chan's ribs, letting him know that the 'amenities' involved more than fresh towels, "are not exactly bargain basement. You pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, there, buddy?"

  Chan walked faster, hoping the man would take the hint. There was no sign of Geoff, but it was frustratingly difficult to see very far in the crowd. He shot an irritated glance at the big hustler, wishing he had the man's height.

  "What you lookin' for, buddy? Maybe I can help you find it."

  "No. Go away." Chan spotted a blond head in the crowd, took a couple of steps, and stopped when he saw it was a stranger.

  "My name's Charles. What's your name?" The hustler stuck out a hand the size of a spacesuit helmet, waiting for Chan to shake it.

  "Piss off, Charles. No offence." Chan turned his back on the man. "Or, if you're going to be offended, do it somewhere else."

  "Hey, I'm not offended, buddy. I just want to help you—"

  "Phone call," Rhett interrupted.

  "Hey, I can set you up with a phone plan while you're here. Best rates in—"

  "This way," said Rhett, and set off through the crowd. Chan followed him, and Charles mercifully stayed behind.

  When he spotted Geoff the man had Joss at his side, the two of them moving briskly across the wide, crowded floor. Geoff carried an expensive-looking aluminum briefcase, floating on a mag-lev rack. So long as he kept to the red stripes painted on many of the city's floors, the suitcase would levitate a few centimeters. It still had inertia, but he didn't have to lift it.

  Joss looked calm but alert, ignoring Geoff, scanning the crowd. Geoff was rigid with tension. He looked wretched, and Chan felt a tiny, guilty glow of satisfaction. The jerk deserved to suffer.

  Geoff's shoulders lifted a fraction when he saw Chan. The look of relief on his face was enough to make Chan ashamed of his schadenfreude. He reminded himself sternly that Geoff displayed the emotions that would serve him best, not necessarily the emotions that he felt.

  Still, Chan felt a bit petty.

  "Here." Geoff thrust the suitcase at Chan. "Where's your ship?" He glanced over his shoulder, then scanned the hall. "I really want to get out of Montgolfier."

  "First I want to see my iridium," Chan told him. They moved to a little rest area where a couple of walls intersected. There was a small table with some chairs, and Chan sat down. "Rhett? Do you mind?"

  The robot lifted the suitcase from the rack and set it on the table. Geoff ignored it all, pacing back and forth, head turning constantly as he watched for danger.

  The case clicked open. Inside, neatly stacked, Chan saw several dozen gleaming metal bars. He took one out and passed it to Rhett.

  "Genuine," the robot said, hefting the bar. "Or a remarkably good fake."

  "They're real," Geoff snapped. "I'm not screwing around."

  Well, if there was a con going on, Chan was in no position to negotiate. He snapped the case shut. "Let's go. We're going to Green sector."

  Geoff's head whipped around. "Green sector? All the ships leave from here." He flapped an arm around the hall.

  "Ah, yes." Chan tried to lift the suitcase, felt his tormented muscles protest, and sighed, letting Rhett take over. "About that. Our ship is actually still in transit."

  "What?" Geoff paled. "You lying bastard!" He thought for a moment, then said, "Granted, the situation is not without irony. But still."

  "It'll be fine," Chan told him. "We just need to hide out for about three hours. We'll find some out-of-the-way café and hang out until … What's wrong?"

  Geoff stared past Chan's shoulder, his features going slack. Chan turned, feeling his stomach drop toward his feet, knowing what he was going to see.

  There were three of them, hard-faced men with cold eyes, a hundred meters away through the crowd and closing fast. They wore business suits and carried themselves with an unconscious arrogance that made Chan think of wolves in a chicken coop.

  "Are we safe in a crowd?" Chan asked.

  "Not for a second," Geoff replied.

  They abandoned the mag-lev rack. Rhett lifted the suitcase and the four of them started walking, without a destination.

  "They're gaining," Joss murmured.

  Chan scanned the crowd frantically, looking for inspiration. There had to be police around. The question was, how to get their attention?

  A large brown head appeared above the crowd, and a familiar face smiled in recognition. "Buddy! I see you found some friends. I can fix you up with a real nice rented room. All the amenities."

  Chan smiled in return, marched toward Charles, and drove a fist into the man's stomach. "I told you to leave me alone! Chan bellowed. "Now look what you made me do!"

  Charles doubled over, which made his jaw a tempting target, but the last thing Chan wanted was to end the fight. He wanted spectacle. He punched Charles on the ear, drawing a howl of pain, then shoved him away.

  The hustler straightened up, and Chan felt a pang of dismay as the man loomed over him. Sweet Buddha, he was big! A huge brown fist came looping around, and Chan ducked, feeling knuckles brush his hair. He never saw the uppercut that slammed into his cheek and knocked him sprawling on his back.

  "You could have just said no," Charles said, sounding aggrieved. He held a hand to his ear. "I think you ruptured something."

  "I did say no," Chan said, and swept the man's legs out from under him. Charles crashed to the floor and the two of them rolled across the tiles, grappling and cursing. It was incredibly painful, but Chan could feel his back muscles loosening with every twist and squirm.

  An elbow strike set off star bursts behind Chan's eyes. When the light show ended he was flat on his back with an enraged Charles kneeling on his chest. Charles drew his fist up to strike, and Geoff tackled him. They rolled to the side, and Chan hurled himself into the fray, trying to get a grip on one of Charles' arms.

  By the time a pair of security officers dragged Chan to his feet, the three thugs were nowhere to be seen.

  Joss never saw them coming.

  When the first cop appeared she took Rhett by the arm and steered him away from the fight. They were thirty steps away and still moving when the first set of cuffs clicked shut on Chan's wrists. She would fall back on Chan's original plan, she decided. Find a discreet restaurant in some random neighborhood and hang out until Liz arrived or the cops released Chan.

  They were out of the main hall and into a narrow corridor leading to a bank of elevators when she felt an explosion of pain in her side. Every muscle in her body went rigid, her legs straightening so abruptly that she sprang forward involuntarily before crashing face down on the floor. She couldn't bring an arm up to protect herself, and her cheek and temple banged hard against the tiles.

  Rhett collapsed beside her, tumbling into her field of vision with a metallic clatter. She managed to turn her head in time to see the three men from the entry hall shoving Tasers in their pockets and grabbing the suitcase.

  By the time she managed to get to he
r feet, they were long gone.

  Rhett lay in a graceless heap. She said his name, shook his shoulder, put a hand on his metal face and shook his head from side to side. There was no response. Fighting a rising despair, she settled back on her heels and stared at him, wondering what to do.

  Chan sat in the Montgolfier police station, his wrists in snug soft cuffs, pressing a coldpak to a bruise on his cheek and waiting for the ponderous wheels of bureaucracy to grind along. He'd been photographed and thumbprinted, and they'd taken a scan of his hand. The same had happened to Geoff and Charles.

  Now, they waited.

  "You didn't have to hit me, buddy."

  Chan glanced to his left. Charles sat beside him, their knees touching, holding a compress to a split lip. "I'm not your buddy, Charles."

  "You got that right."

  Geoff sat on Chan's other side. He'd come through the scuffle largely intact, though he was holding a hand to his stomach. Chan remembered the knife wound and winced in sympathy. The con man looked as if he was trying to restore a veneer of confidence, but stress and fear and injury had taken their toll. The glib grifter who'd charmed a small fortune out of the Raven's crew was gone, replaced by a gaunt, anxious man who flinched at loud noises.

  "Chan, James."

  Chan looked up at a young cop with a data pad. "Present."

  "Very funny. Come with me." The cop led him to an office where an older man sat behind a messy desk. A nameplate amid the papers identified him as Captain Elba. He gestured Chan to a chair and sat back, lacing fingers over his stomach. For a long moment the two men stared at each other.

  "James Chan," said the captain at last. "It's your third day on Montgolfier and already you're brawling with the locals."

  Chan gazed at him without replying.

  "I've sent your records off to Earth," the captain continued. "Are they going to tell me anything interesting when they respond?"

  Chan considered the question. There was a mysterious corporation with interests around Saturn that would very much like to find him. Whether they had his thumbprint, and whether they had any influence with whatever databases a Venusian cop could access, was another matter. "I doubt it," he said at last.