Near the end of the hall, armed MHS workers are removing dogs from their cages and guiding them into the back to be put down. The guy in the HazMat suit fits another bullet in his breech-loader as his coworkers lead in another stray.
"We used to use drugs, y'know? But it turns out bullets are cheaper." HazMat man sounds cheerful as he puts the gun up to another mangy skull and pulls the trigger. Some people really like their work, I guess.
I look all through the cages, but I don't find anything resembling the hologram in my pocket.
Nothing but dead ends, so far… but I do know somebody who might know somebody.
Soon's Barbecue is one of the more upscale restaurants on the outskirts of Little Asia. Close enough to Downtown to attract the discerning businesspeople who work there, but only a block away from Little Asia's smorgasbord of whores. Soon's customers pick 'em up like after-dinner mints. It's also my favorite place to eat in the entire sprawl. My old friend Phah is working there as a waiter. With any luck, I could get the information I need and a good meal at the same time.
Back before I left the company, Knight Errant had me infiltrate a gang they were looking to bust up. Phah joined at the same time I did, and we went through the initiations together. Real bonding experience. I made sure Phah got out of the way before the hammer came down. He shows his gratitude by getting me meals at Soon's. Works for me.
I'd changed into my best suit to blend in with the wageslaves coming in on the lunch crowd, but I go around the back and let myself in through the door to the loading dock: the maitre d' and I aren't on the best terms. On the way to the kitchen, I pass a slaughtering room where two undercooks had strung a dog up and were beating it to death, and found Phah taking an order out. He got me a table near the kitchen and a couple cans of Kirin 2.0.
Half an hour and two beers later, Phah's shift ends and he returns with a tureen of soup, two bowls, a bottle of the hot Korean fish sauce called nak mam, and more Kirin. We eat in silence. Maybe it comes from growing up on rancid soy products fished out of garbage cans, but Phah and I are really truly serious about food. I don't even ask what it was until we were finished and sipping beer.
"Bo sin tang. Soup made from shredded dog meat and skin, served hot. Good for your health. One of the lunch crowd ordered it and sent it back when he found out what it's made of."
I watch Phah roll his eyes. He hates to see good food go to waste.
"It's good. You serve a lot of dog around here, man?"
I let my left hand scratch a scar on my right wrist. Phah's eyes followed suit and did the same thing to the identical scar on his wrist. Time for business.
"Sure, omae. We serve the best dog in town. Traditional Korean cuisine, dog," he says, a bit of pride in his voice.
"Lot of Amerinds in here too," I note.
"Boss has been expanding the menu. Lot of the tribes ate dog before the Anglos came. Now you've got the new Amerinds acting old school, wanting to taste what great-great-great-great-grandpa did. Brings in the Tribals, too. Even the pinkskins."
He sneers. Phah is big on any history related to food and hating Anglos. Probably because he's at least half Anglo himself. So am I, come to think of it.
"So you guys serve dog. Where do you get them?" I ask.
Phah raises an eyebrow as he drains his beer, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe he took it the wrong way.
"New mission," I explain. "Salaryman's dog disappeared, maybe kidnapped. But whoever it was didn't leave a ransom demand. That says to me that whoever took the dog had somewhere to offload it."
"Figure maybe old Soon's was that desperate for dog meat, eh?" Phah laughed. "Nah, Sticks. We buy ours legal. Premium dog, raised right here in Seattle. None of the street mutts either."
Phah's brow wrinkles in thought as he opens another new can. I keep nursing my fourth. I can't afford to get shitfaced in the middle of a job.
"I'll tell you what, though… there is someone I know. Not our usual supplier, but sometimes a very valued customer asks for something specific, y'know? Here, let me get you her number." Phah is, if anything, worse at computers than I am. It takes him almost a minute of fiddling with his commlink to send me the number.
I have one more question I have to ask before I go. I'm curious.
"Hey Phah, why do they beat the dogs to death? There must be an easier way to do it."
"The boss is traditional. You could smother it, or slit its throat and let it bleed out, but beating the dog releases adrenaline, flavors the meat. Old Korean practice. It's supposed to be good for your virility too. Eh, eh?" Phah delivers the last line with a comical bit of eyebrow wagging.
I leave through the back door, same way as I came in, and Phah gives me a baggie of kitchen leftovers to take home. I wire him two hundred nuyen on my way out the back. It's still hot as hell outside, but it's gotten darker. I see storm clouds rolling in over the omnipresent smog, and the air feels heavy. I crank up the filter on my respirator – hopefully a little oxygen will help clear my head after those beers – and start walking.
The number Phah gave me is an unlisted commlink number. I don't exactly feel like calling it up blind, which means more Matrix work. I'm not great with computers, so I get others to grease the Matrix monkey for me. Daly, for example, is a secretary at Lone Star and a real wiz at that hacker stuff. Better yet, Daly owes me a little favor, so I call it in.
I ask Daly to run the number Phah gave me through Lone Star's reverse directory, but it turns out he's already familiar with it: the commlink of Miriam Xiu Liu.
"She's the owner of Obedience First, a local canine training facility. Raises a couple breeds and trains 'em – helpers for the blind, K-9 for some of the smaller security corps, guard dogs, that kind of thing. Maybe something shady on the side."
Daly's voice sounds pissed. Speaking of which, that beer was really starting to kick in.
"Uh-huh. How do you know her?" Dammit. Someone showed me how to hack the public toilets in Downtown once, but I forgot. No way I'm wasting 2 nuyen on one now.
"We keep an eye on everyone who supplies the other security agencies in our jurisdiction. Look, I gave you enough, okay? I'm not supposed to tell this stuff to civilians."
Right. So Lone Star keeps tabs on the others cop corps. Makes sense. I sidle over to a handy empty alley and lean up against the brickwork. The air stings a little on my exposed flesh, but I'm past caring.
"What breeds does Obedience First deal in?"
"Bernese Mountain Dogs, Greyhounds, and Australian Kelpies."
Bingo.
"Okay Daly, we're square."
The soft ping of a disconnect signals the end of the conversation. Rude bastard. Obedience First covers a couple acres up in Snohomish. It isn't raining just yet, so I have the cab drop me a block away and walk in. Hopefully, I don't smell too drunk. The secretary isn't thrilled to see me, and even less thrilled when I ask to see his boss. I bluff a little and tell him it's about a special delivery for Soon's. Must be the magic word, because not five minutes later I'm shaking hands with Miriam Xiu Liu.
Xiu Liu turns out to be a petite woman with Asian eyes, a Mediterranean nose, a pale complexion, and a shock of electric blue hair. She looks to be about the same age as I am, and she speaks English with a slight North Seattle accent. Maybe it's the beer goggles talking, but I find her very attractive.