As he counted and felt each coin, she could almost smell him speculating about her possible vulnerability and how much cash she might be carrying and she knew the moment he decided it was better to go with what he had.
“Be you wanting more,” he muttered, “you are knowing how to find me. The sounds of his movements covered by the wind, he went scurrying off.
She ran her hands through her hair, it felt stiff and wet, beaded with sweat and condensation from the chilling air. Best have a bath tonight, she thought, wash the mop. Or I’ll be scratching everywhere. Hmm. Wonder if I’ve got pale roots showing. Better fix that.
She glanced down the wharf. The men at the incinerator were still watching her. She got to her feet, shook her hands and arms, then went strolling off, her senses alert, her hand on the stunner in the pocket of her jacket. It was only a step to the rooming house, but one of the first things Digby had ground into her was closest to your base is your biggest danger.
In the narrow way between the warehouses, the wind mugged her as she walked, snatching at her, blowing gravel against her hard enough to bruise her even through the heavy cloth of her trousers.
There was a cluster of sounds behind her. A scrape. Another. Several small crackles.
She didn’t bother looking back, just moved as quickly as she could without actually running.
The street was dark and empty and getting damp as the rain started falling steadily; there were a few lights from windows in her Rumach’s facade and from other Rumachs along the street, pale amber squares with dark lines of bars crossing them, not much illumination on a night without moon or stars. She slowed once she was out of the alley, strolled across the street. The short hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and itching like crazy. In her right-hand pocket, she slid back the sensor cover on the stunner, felt the handle vibrate minutely against her palm. In her lefthand pocket, she separated out the front door key and held it ready.
When she was about to step from the street onto the short wooden walkway leading to the stairs and the front door, she heard another a flurry of scuffs. Coming on his toes, the oof’narc…
She whipped round, triggered the stunner and dropped him, a heavy dark figure, a blob in the slanting rain, bulky, without grace in his standing or falling. Then she was back around, sprinting up the walk, thrusting the key into the lock.
##
She made sure the door was locked and started for the stairs. The concierge looked out her wicket, saw that Rose was alone and going quietly about her business, went back to what she’d been doing.
Rose unclamped her hand from around the stunner, blessing whoever it was who’d invented the thing. The cretin out there who tried his chances, he’d wake in a couple hours with a sore head and maybe a touch of pneumonia to give him an incentive to stay the hell away from her. No body for her to explain to the authorities.
She climbed the stairs, groaning silently each time she had to lift her weary legs another step. Old, she decided, that’s what it is, I’m old and crazy. She sighed, switched keys and unlocked her door.
Kikun was waiting for her, a shadow in the windowseat. She felt a jolt in her groin, felt herself flushing bright red. She cursed her thin skin and blessed the dimness in the room, only one candle lit and that one the width of the room away, on the table by the bed. He probably felt none of this churning and would be horribly embarrassed if he noticed. So would she. She liked to have things very clear and limited between her and the occasional lovers she acquired; ambiguity and uncertainty were threatening.
She tossed her jacket on the bed, crossed to the basin and washed her hands, splashed water on her face, then sat on the bed and tugged her boots off. Still without saying anything, she swung around with enough violence to make the bed squeak under her and stretched out, the pillow folded under her head, her fingers laced over her stomach.
Kikun coughed, a failure at covering a chuckle. “Hard day?”
She wrinkled her nose, thumped her thumbs on her stomach. Cool down, she told herself. Come on, Rose, don’t be a fool, it’s not his fault you’re hot to trot. Shayss, what a phrase, Digby would never let me forget it if he heard me… “Hard night,” she said. “Nearly got jumped. Not a problem, I think, just some shisskop after spare change.” She gave him a quick summary of what she’d learned from Bungkuk. “You get anything more?”
“I took a look at the Kipuny Shimmery. Didn’t try to go in. Busy place, even early, I went over before noon. Then I went to the auctionhouse where Sai has a grungy office-two rooms, third floor, bayside. Got a hulk guarding the place, he sits in a corner with his feet up, chewing a cud of Kunja, a ottoshot on his lap big as he is. That thing ever goes off, it’ll knock out the whole front wall. Two overage whores answer com for him and take messages. When there’s nothing doing, which seems to be most of the time, they chatter away, one of them does tapestry, the other works on lace, I suppose they’re doing it for money, he can’t be paying them much. From what the women were complaining about, he’s almost never there, he stays out massaging his contacts and keeping his links clear with the different kevars.
“Two calls came in while I was sitting in a corner watching. One was a merchant looking for a shipper willing to go south, he didn’t say much, but apparently there’s some problem involved so he can’t go through the hiring hall. The other was a shipmaster looking for cargo, specific cargo which he seemed to think Sai knew all about.”
“Hmm. Sounds like he has possibilities. You’d better see if you can get a look at him, find out his patterns so we can lift him out, say we have to. I’ll take the Kipuny Shimmery…” She let her eyes droop closed, then forced them open; she was very, very tired. She wanted a bath before she slept, but if she didn’t shift herself soon, she’d be waking up come morning with her clothes on and a mouth like something died in it. “Kipuny Shimmery…” She sighed and started watching the candle shadows dance across the high ceiling. “Bungkuk says they play Vagnag there,” she said, her voice dreamy. “They tell you about my grandda? No? Hnh. He was an important man, you know. Almost as important as he thought he was. When I was born, he was CEO Botanicals Division, Cazar Company. We were living in the Chateau in Juoda City, Klan Karra. He never acknowledged my mama was his daughter, but he kept her close and ran her like she was his slave, didn’t quite kill the life in her, but he turned her sour, I remember… well, never mind… The man who was supposed to be my father, he ran off, Mama said he got killed somewhere, she thought, or maybe just dived down a deep hole. Grandda raged for days when she got pregnant, wouldn’t see me for almost a year after I was born. Don’t know why he didn’t make her abort me, or boot her out or something, well, yes, I do, it wasn’t that we were family, we were property and anyone who laid a hand on us was robbing him. My sire, that oof’narc, he scuttled like a rat, he knew he was a dead man if he stayed, it wasn’t that that made Mama so mad, it was because he didn’t even ask her if she wanted to get out with him, she was still furious about that the day she died. Wouldn’t ’ve gone, she said, but at least he could ’ve asked, anyway, what got me on this was Vagnag, when I got old enough to talk, Grandda used to keep me around like his dogs, long as I had sense enough to stay quiet, said I was his mascot, brought him luck. He had this thing about gambling games, Vagnag especially, he wanted to work out a way to win consistently without the down-and-dirty cheating which could get you killed in the company he liked to play with. I got SO bored. There was nothing to do but watch him and his sharks going at it, so I learned the games they played.” She sighed, yawned. “Big mistake. One day he caught me playing my own version of Vagnag with the Chateau boys, taking money off them, because I used to win most of the time, and it wasn’t because they were letting me win, I was just the Chateau bastard, even the sweep was more respectable than me, at least he had real family, family to claim him. Anyway, I was about six, regular little prodigy. A natural mimic with a trick memory. Impressed the hell out of Grandda, which surprised me, scared me, actually. He wasn’t an easy man with kids, and I’d heard nasty stories all my life about the kind of things he did to people when he was mad at them, so I didn’t like it much when he started paying real attention to me. Besides, life went sour on me after that. He brought in men, women, had them teach me everything they knew about playing all kinds of games, especially Vagnag. Fifteen years of hell, that’s what it was, Kuna, hour after hour, day after day, manipulation, math and aerobics and weightlifting, took all that and more. I ran away a couple times. He jerked me back. Third time was the winner, he was just settling in at a new place, moving up, using me to get where he wanted, I ran when I got a smell of a chance and this time, I got clear. Had a pretty good life for a while, yeh, walking the knife-blade, you can understand maybe what I felt; finally free of Grandda and his strings. Well, after a wild ride, I fell off the blade. I ran into this oof’narc who thought he was hot stuff, papa was a local bigass with a lot of pull. The oof’narc lost, accused me of cheating and tried to jump me, real loser, I didn’t mean to kill him, I was trying to keep him off, clumsy cretin, it was like he threw himself on the knife, the other players disappeared, I only knew their handles and gambling was illegal anyway on that world, so they were outta there. I hadn’t a hope in hell of getting off, it was the Strangler’s Cord for me, I was so damn scared, I was almost ready to yell for Grandda, not that he would ’ve come…” She stopped talking and lay gazing dreamily at the shadow-play on the ceiling.