Return
The trip on the Amelie had been relaxing and a lot of fun, especially the time spent with Nick, and part of me was sad when we docked at Salteri Industries, one of the largest shipyards in the orbit of Teraxis, and the closest one to Zesta.
For operational security, Rashid and I decided to split up and enter the station on separate shuttles, blending in with the workers that were constantly going to and coming from the shipyard. Thanks to my cap, the long-haired platinum blonde wig, and a bit of well-applied makeup I felt reasonably safe. It wasn't the kind of advanced disguise I had used when I was still working for the Syndicate, but it did the trick.
Borrowed overalls, open wide enough to show some cleavage, further helped to keep curious looks away from my face, and even though I had plenty of customers among dockers and shipyard staff, nobody recognized me. The transfer to the station went through without a hitch, and while Rashid's mission was securing accommodations, my job was running some errands.
*
After procuring tools and information on the black market, I was now strolling down the lower docking ring, looking for a friend. Fortunately, he was a creature of habit and I knew where he usually ate his lunch -- that is, unless he took it on the go, after meeting Anahí at the Nymph.
I walked behind him for a few meters and waited until he was away from his colleagues, then I cleared my throat and whispered, "Jarod, hey!"
He turned around and it took him a moment to realize who was standing in front of him.
"Cassie?" he whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. "I heard what happened. How's Ani? Is everyone okay?"
I nodded. "Things got a bit wild there for a minute, but we made it out in one piece. They're all safe, I left them at a Syndicate supply base."
"Thank God," he said, relaxing visibly, "I've been worried sick. There were a lot of rumors flying around when you were suddenly gone. But what's with the collar?"
"Collar?"
"The one around your neck."
Damn, I thought and ran my finger over the engraving, just like my girls always did. I had gotten used to wearing that stupid thing a lot quicker than I liked to admit, and heavy as it was, at least it wasn't uncomfortable.
"That's just my cover for the trip back. The agencies check the registration number before removing it, and then the warrant would pop up. Sucks, but I'm stuck with it for now."
Jarod glanced at it. "As long as you're not registered, the tamper protection isn't active, so there's no alarm. I know a guy, let me make a call and we'll cut it off."
"That's tempting, but I have to meet Rashid in half an hour. I'm here to tell you that Ani says she misses you a lot and she's looking forward to seeing you again."
A smile ran over his face and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you. Tell her that I love her to death and that I'll go on the run with her if that's what it takes. Or can I reach her somehow?"
"You'll have to tell her yourself in a few days. It's better to stay radio silent until Rashid and I have sorted things out here. We're working on getting those arrest warrants squashed, and I'm sure you'll have her back in no time."
"Understood. By the way, I've been at the Nymph, the day after you left. The good news is my boys and I repaired the door and locked everything down. The bad news is that someone stole your coffee maker."
Those fucking bastards, I thought. It was a small consolation that without the title to the business and the prostitution license, the Nymph was useless to Martha and her clan. Sure, they had managed to put a competitor out of business, but at least they couldn't run the Nymph themselves. The last thing I needed was a bunch of squatters at my home.
"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked. "I could put you in one of the ships that are waiting for maintenance. Nobody goes there until the actual work starts."
"We're covered, thanks," I said and pulled an envelope from my back pocket. "But there's something you could do. I have some money for my part-timers, to make sure nobody's falling behind on their bills. Could you get this to Joanne for me?"
"Done. And if you need muscle, weapons, or anything else, just let me know."
*
Rashid had organized a room for us at a friend's hotel -- a cheap and quiet place on deck eighty-nine that we used as our safehouse. The owner was a former army buddy of his and we could count on his support and discretion.
Compared to past operations, where we had paid visits to some well-protected people on behalf of the Syndicate, this operation wasn't very complicated. Gabriel Rodriguez, the Chief of Police for the lower decks, was our unsuspecting target, and he wasn't hard to find. Posing as a delivery girl, I was able to follow him when he left work at the precinct back to his apartment in an affluent neighborhood on deck forty-six.
The two-story apartments in that area spanned the full height of the deck and came with windows out into space and other amenities ordinary people couldn't afford. It was posh -- not to the point that it would be implausible for a police chief to own -- but quite a contrast to the lower decks he was policing.
*
We got up early the next morning and waited around until we saw him leave home at half past eight. Thanks to our maintenance overalls, we were all but invisible -- nobody paid a couple of custodians any mind -- and if anyone asked questions, we had a fake work order that would pass cursory inspection.
The tools I had bought made patching into the security system a quick affair, and in less than two minutes we had the door open without anyone being the wiser. Before going in further, we checked the video feed to confirm that the apartment was indeed empty.
"Piece of cake," I said, closing the front door behind me while Rashid was quickly skipping through the videos of the door camera. When I heard that he lived alone, I expected some bachelor pad with empty bottles of booze and takeout boxes -- certainly not something this sophisticated.
Rashid closed the surveillance menu on his data pad. "All clear. The only other person who comes twice a week is the housekeeper, and she was here yesterday. I'll set the proximity alarm, just in case he comes home early, but if he follows his pattern, he should be back by five thirty."
"Plenty of time," I said, walking down the corridor. "Over there, that must be the kitchen, and this is the living room."
The living room was tastefully furnished, at least as far I could tell, with a large couch and a dining area that would seat twelve people. A few framed photos were standing on the mantle of a faux fireplace -- a wedding photo, another one of a family with a young boy, an older couple in their seventies or eighties, but most showed a blonde woman, the one from the wedding and family photos. This wasn't at all what I had expected.
"Look," I said, pointing at a black and white picture of a young man in uniform. "He was in the Navy. Must have been a long time ago. At least thirty years."
Rashid picked it up and turned it around. "Ensign Joel Rodriguez, The Persephone, Fifth Fleet. Judging from the date, I'm guessing that's his son or some other relative."
"The name of that ship sounds familiar."
"Yeah. Flagship of the Fifth Fleet, they were defending Besha. We all know how that went."
"Gods, that's horrible," I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. "Put it back, exactly how it was."
*
That discovery had depressed me, so I decided to raid the well-stocked fridge in the kitchen to raise my spirits with a snack or two. One thing in particular caught my eye, even though opinions about it varied.
"Want some?" I asked and held a spoonful of peanut butter under Rashid's nose. I usually ate it on toast, but I was perfectly capable of finishing the half-empty glass without any kind of bread.
He shuddered. "Gods, get that awful stuff away from me."
"Come on," I said, leaning against his outstretched arm that kept me away from him. "It's a delicacy! Really hard to find these days."
"It's so sticky and sweet, my teeth hurt even looking at it."
I shrugged. "Your loss. Let's go and check upstairs. Maybe he has a secret dungeon or something."
*
The walls on the upper floor were lined with paintings, and most of them showed what looked like the same young woman, always happy and full of life, in various poses -- on a mountain, by a creek, at a beach.
"Look," I said, pointing my spoon at an easel standing in the corner of a small room. It was another portrait, but only half finished, and an assortment of paint brushes and colors were lying on a small table next to it.
Rashid was standing in front of a framed document on the wall. "He has an arts degree from Yatuma. Who would have thought?"
"When you think you know someone..."
I opened the door to the bedroom, revealing a king size bed, freshly made with white linens, and a small seating area near the entrance. There was a walk-in closet to the left and a door to a bathroom on the other side, and everything was impeccably clean -- unlike my cage at the Nymph where my rarely used clothes tended to accumulate on every surface until Sylvie or Carla made me clean up.
"You know who would have a bed like that?" I asked and put my arm around Rashid. "Mr. and Mrs. Sharma."
"Yeah," he said and grinned. "I wonder what they'd be doing if they were here."
"Carry me across the threshold, Mr. Sharma, and you'll find out."
I didn't have to ask him twice. He picked me up and carried me inside, and before I realized what was happening, he had thrown me on the bed from two meters away, almost making me drop my glass of peanut butter.
"Hey!" I protested. "You're a bad, bad man, Mr. Sharma."
