I get up and limp my way toward the street, disappearing into the rain and shadows.
I manage to survive the night. I pull a few account cracks, dribble enough stolen funds to keep me going. A platinum wig to cover my hair, oversized shades, and an elegant hat and shawl keep my face as hidden as possible, along with an oversized coat to hide my shape and gait from identification. I board an airship, keeping on the move as I study the layout of the Haven, exploring its infrastructure and the who's who of key players. And I keep up with the latest news. To my surprise, the city didn't burn down. But whatever mess Tommy Tsunami and Newman were involved in ended with the same result for both of them.
Corpses.
Tommy Tsunami was stabbed to death in a shootout that turned the mayor's mansion into a war zone. The news stations ran a lot of contradicting headlines, but in truth, the details were scarce and sketchy. Blame was quickly placed on Tommy, painting him as a madman gangster on the loose in the city, put down like a dog after attempting to kidnap the mayor. He killed Captain Graves in the ensuing shootout with armored robot stormtroopers that rescued the mayor. Nothing was said of how Tommy was gutted, but the crime scene photos included some bladed weapons collected from the rubble. I don't have to guess that Selene had been there.
A much smaller section mentioned the recovery of a body identified as Frankie Newman from the West River. Despite the bloating, I recognize him immediately. He was supposedly a nightclub singer of all things, but I knew it was just a cover. Whoever Newman was, his secret died with him.
There was conspicuously no mention of Selene or another important part of the puzzle. Despite his obvious involvement, none of the news stories bothered to mention the name Mick Trubble. Whoever he was, he had friends in high places. Or enemies.
And speak of the devil, he appears like a magician. Or more like a man at the end of his rope. Stumbling to a seat, he fumbles for a pack of cigarettes and lights one. His face is marred with fading bruises; his cheeks dotted with stubble. Pulling his battered fedora over his eyes, he leans back and exhales a stream of smoke toward the NO SMOKING sign.
"So, you managed to stay in one piece."
I look up in surprise. He chuckles around his cigarette.
"Yeah, I made ya when as soon as I walked in. Don't worry; your secret is safe with me."
I look around, but the few passengers on the ship are occupied with their VR visors, ears plugged with whatever's streaming. I get up and take a seat next to Mick Trubble.
"I guess you had a busy night too. I saw what happened to Tommy Tsunami on the news."
He grunts. "Not my work."
I lower my voice. "Selene?"
"Yep. She's one cold dame. Beautiful but deadly. The best dames usual are. Don't think she won't forget about you, either. Surprised you haven't dusted out already."
"It's not that easy. Getting killed is a lot easier than getting a legit Transit pass. It's like they don't want anyone to leave this place."
He barks a humorless laugh. "Darlin', you don't know the half. But I tell you what — it's your lucky day. Just so happens I got a legit pass in my possession. A wise man gave it to me. Been holding it for an emergency. Didn't think it to be someone else's emergency, but here we are."
My heart does a summersault. "You'll sell it to me? I don't have much right now, but I can get more as soon as—"
He cuts a wry glance me. "As soon as what? You're living on borrowed time, sweetheart. With Tommy Tsunami out the way, you're all Selene is gonna focus on. Take the Transit pass and hightail your getaway sticks on outta here."
"Why… would you do that? You don't even know me."
He shrugs. "I dunno. You seem like a good kid. And enough people have died in the last twenty-four hours. If I can prevent one more, maybe I can get some sleep. You want it or not?"
"Yes."
He opens his the holoband on his wrist and pulls up a map. "You'll have to get it yourself. Got the location marked. Nab it and get the hell outta Dodge, kid."
I feel my eyes moisten. "Thank you, Mick. You… just saved my life."
A snore is the only answer. Mick Trubble has slumped over, fast asleep.
I remove the cigarette from his lips and squeeze his hand. At the next stop I get off and make my way outside, where the sun is shining for once, rays beaming between the massive buildings like glimmers of newfound hope.
The Transit pass is the real deal. I nearly die when the heavily armed security android scans it and runs my identification. I have to use my real name, the one that can never be associated with the life of Jinx La Fox. And it works. I make my way into the Station, where only one tram enters and exits the Haven. Once boarded, I sweat through my clothes, expecting any minute for alarms to sound or some assassin to slip in and put me on ice. I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact with any of the other passengers. It seems they have the same idea. Anyone who boards the tram must have valid reasons for not wanting attention.
The departing announcement finally sounds. The tram hisses as the electromagnetic brakes release. The sensation of movement, the blur of the station when the train whirs past. Darkness illuminated only by streaks of light as it enters a tunnel that seems never to end.
I'm leaving New Haven the same way I came in. With nothing. But unlike when I entered, I'm grateful. Grateful to a man I don't know. A man who might be the most dangerous I've ever met. I owe him big time. Maybe he knows that. Maybe he's already forgotten my face. But I like to think otherwise. I like to think we might meet again someday.
Just not in New Haven.