“Yeah,” she said—different problem. Same problem. She held her breath. Felt something flat and round and plastic in her pocket, her heart going doubletime.
“This is Kady?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You can say.”
“Word is, problem’s gone major. You’re tagged with it. Go with it the way you said. Time’s welcome. But when you get your launch date… you let us know. Very seriously.”
The guy walked off then.
God.
“What the hell?” Meg asked.
“I dunno,” she said, thinking about a shadowy ’driver sitting out there spitting chunks at the Well. And MamBitch, who prepared the charts and their courses, and shoved them up to v and braked them. “I dunno.” Her stomach felt, of a sudden, as if she’d swallowed something very cold.
“Is that what I think I heard?” Meg asked. “They think we could be in some kind of danger?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, God, great!”
“Let’s not panic.”
“Of course let’s not panic. I don’t effin’ like the stakes all of a sudden.”
She leaned forward on the table, pitched her voice as low as would still carry. “Meg. They’re not going to let us run into trouble.”
“Yeah,” Meg whispered back. “Let’s not hear ‘run into.’ I don’t like the words I’m hearing. I don’t like this ‘Go with it.’ Maybe I want a little more information than we’re getting into.”
“They’re saying we’re doing the right thing—”
“Yeah, doing the right thing. We can be fuckin’ martyrs out there, is that what they want?”
She reached across the table and grabbed Meg’s hand, scared Meg would bolt on her. “We got a real chance here—”
“What real chance? Chance your high and mighty friends are going to hold us a nice funeral? Chance we can collect the karma and they stay clean?”
“Meg, I can get you in.”
“Screw that.” Meg jerked her hand back. “I don’t take their charity.”
“Meg. For God’s sake don’t blow it.”
Meg set her jaw. Took several slow breaths, the way she would when she was mad. “What’s their guarantee? Shit, we could be bugged here—”
Sal took the flat plastic out of her coat pocket, which had a little green light showing. Palmed it, fast.
“God,” Meg groaned.
“They’re ahead of the game. They’re not going to let us walk into it.”
“Oh, you’ve got a lot of faith in them. That’s contraband, dammit!”
“Meg, they’re not fools.”
“They must think we are.”
“We made them an offer, Meg, they’re saying they’re agreeing. They’re warning us.”
“Yeah,‘tagged with him.’ I like that. I really like that.”
“Meg.” She couldn’t lay it out better than Meg already knew it. Meg looked like murder.
But Meg said finally: “So we’re tagged with him.—Are we talking about giving up that lease?”
The answer was yes. Meg knew it. Meg knew it upside and down.
“Shit,” Meg said.
“We’ve got what they want. They want him. They paid their debts. That’s what they’re saying. They’re asking us take a risk, and we’re in, Meg, they’re making us an offer. If we screw ’em on this—or if we back out now—”
She was down to begging. There were pulls in too many directions if Meg skitted out on this one. God, everything she wanted, everything. “A Shepherd berth, Meg. One last run. We get Dek out in the big quiet for a few months and that’s it. Ben and Bird set up with those ships. Karma paid. We’re getting out of here, Meg. A chance at a real ship. Both of us.”
That scored with Meg. Only thing that could. Meg’s face got madder. Finally Meg said: “Hell if. Wake up, Aboujib.”
“Hell if not. This is big, Meg, dammit, this is it.”
Meg shook her head. But it meant yes. All right. We’re going to be fools.
“You better be right, Aboujib.—And that jeune fils damn well better get his bearings. Fast. If they’re going to make a case on him—he sincerely better not be crazy.”
CHAPTER 14
SPENDING his sleeptime with Bird wasn’t exactly what Ben had planned. Breakfast with Dekker wasn’t his idea of a good time either, but Bird insisted.
So here they were, himself and Bird at the table and Dekker in line—Meg and Sal were sleep-ins: they’d gotten in late last shift, up to what Ben didn’t try to imagine. Dekker hadn’t seemed enthusiastic about their company from his side either: Dekker had answered his door, said Yeah, he’d be there, and arrived late—clipped up the sides and all.
“All he needs is a couple of earrings,” Ben muttered.
“Be nice,” Bird chided him, over the sausage and unidentifiable eggs.
Ben looked at him, lifted a chilled shoulder. “Hey, did I do anything?” But he reminded himself he had better bite his tongue and keep criticisms of Bird’s precious pretty-boy to himself, the way he’d made up his mind yesterday that since the insanity had gotten to Meg and Sal he had as well go along with it.
Bird shot him a look that said he didn’t trust him not to knife Dekker in his bed. That was the level things had gotten to. That was the primary reason he figured he had better go along with it.
Until Dekker slipped up. Then he was even going to be charitable about “I told you so,” he sincerely was—so long as Bird saw it clear when it happened and came to his senses.
So Dekker walked up with his cup of coffee and his eggs, not quite looking at either of them, kicked back a chair and sat down.
“I have to apologize,” Dekker said first off, still without looking at them.
Ben manfully kept his mouth shut.
“I sort of wandered off yesterday,” Dekker said.
Bird shrugged, but Dekker wasn’t going to see that gesture, looking at his plate like the zee-out he was. Bird said, “Pills will do that.”
“I’m going off them,” Dekker said. His hand with the fork was shaking. Badly.—A real mess, Ben thought. Wonderful. We’re supposed to go out with this guy. This is going to be at the controls out there.
Dekker did look up then, shadow-eyed as if he hadn’t slept much. “I cut you off yesterday. If the offer’s still open—I’d like to talk about it.”
“Offer’s open,” Bird said. Ben thought: Hell.
Dekker didn’t say anything for a moment, just stirred his eggs around on his plate. Then a second look at Bird. “So I want my license back. What’s the time worth?”
“Depends on your work,” Bird said.
Ben did a fast calc, what Dekker had, what gave them a solid return on putting up with him. “10 k flat. With a guarantee you get the license.”
Dekker looked bewildered—maybe a little overcome at the price and not understanding the quality of what he’d just thrown in. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d thrown it in—except he’d had this nanosecond of thinking he’d asked high and Bird was already on his tail. So it just fell out of his mouth: There you are, fancy-boy, I can fix it, I can, so you damned sure better mind your manners with me.
Bird didn’t say anything, Dekker didn’t, so Ben added, with a certain satisfaction, “Fair, isn’t it? Guaranteed, class 1.”
Bird looked a little worried. But he still didn’t say anything.
“Whose guarantee?” Dekker asked.
Ben gave him a cold stare. “Mine. On the other hand, if you ask anybody the time, Dekker, if you pull any shit on us out there, you’ll take a walk bare-assed.”