Crusade For Vengeance (Dark Vengeance Book 2) (9 page)

“It all looks the same,” Hanna said, looking out the window. 

Valerie smiled as she drove the wheelie van through the Zeus Ghetto.

“Unfortunately, that’s true throughout the Pantheon.  I thought you two looked this up on the datanet back on Blaze?”

“We did,” Deni answered.  “But it’s a different planet!  Surely it should at least feel like it?”

“It certainly feels colder,” Hanna said with a visible shiver.  “That’s for sure and when does it stop raining?”  The skies opened not long after they got off the cargo shuttle.  All three were drenched finding the vehicle Valerie bought outside the spaceport.  The rain was still falling two hours later.

Valerie managed to get a look up between the drab forty storey buildings at the dark clouds hanging overhead.

“There’s not much wind.  Probably not for a couple more hours I would guess.  Olympus has a more temperate atmosphere than Blaze and much larger oceans.  You tend to get rain in Zeus at least once or twice a week, sometimes more.  I know you girls are used to the annual wet season, rather than the more regular rain storms, but trust me, it won’t hurt you, it’s only water.”

The van had three seats in the front and they all sat in a line.  Valerie on the right, driving, Hanna in the middle and Deni on the left.  Valerie saw Hanna slump down into her jacket with a very audible “Humph.”  Deni grinned over her friend at Valerie and it reminded her distinctly they were both teenagers.  She tried not to laugh.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to stifle the chuckle, Valerie asked.  “How are we doing, Deni?”

“A few more klicks,” Deni consulted her wristcomp’s map.  “If we continue up this street for one point two kilometres, then take a left turn down Franklyn Gardens.  It should be down there.”  They were heading to a safe house Sneaker gave them.  He purchased it through his contact on the freighter’s crew, when they made sure the route was safe to use.  The details were sketchy, none of them knew what they were going to find.

Out on the streets people moved about and cars passed in the opposite direction.  Valerie agreed with the girls.  If it wasn’t for the weather, they really could be back in Inferno.  Even the clothes the Manuals wore were the same.  In all probability, they were made in identical factories, to identical specifications, to save money.  With no real competition and with built in biodegrading shelf lives, there was no need for the Privileged owners to spend time and money on different designs.

“Here we are,” Deni said pointing.  “Next left.”

Without Deni navigating or using a wristcomp’s route finder, it would have been almost impossible for Valerie to find the right road.  There were no street signs and they all looked identical.  She turned where Deni indicated.  The traffic was lighter on this street and they made good progress.

“It’s up on the right by the look of it, fifty metres, and after these two buildings.  It’s set back from the road a bit I think.”

Peering through the rain, Valerie thanked her superior eyesight.  There were no visual enhancers on the van.  Exactly as Deni said, the buildings came to an end and there was an open permacrete yard. Valerie pulled into it.

“That’s just perfect,” Hanna groaned and Valerie agreed with her.  It seemed Sneaker’s contact had purchased an old, rundown vehicle workshop and it looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

“Well it’s permacrete at least.  We can be sure the roof won’t leak.”  Valerie said as she tried to sound upbeat.

“Oh, brilliant.  We left our nice comfy flat for this, Deni.”

“Come on, Hanna.  We’ve lived in worse.  Remember the place we used to crash in on Ketelmeer row?  That didn’t have a roof.”

“Alright, alright.  Stop trying to cheer me up.  Can we at least drive in?”

“We need to open the doors first,” Valerie said shaking her head.  “I want to check it’s clear and no one is crashing there before we do that.  Pistols out, girls.”  Valerie’s Tea Chest was in the back of the van in its smugglers crate, along with the rest of their gear.  They armed themselves before leaving the spaceport.  “I’ll go in and check it out.  You stay here and keep an eye out.”

They both nodded.  Valerie swung the vans door open and stepped out in the rain.  She kept her speed to a normal persons sprint and ran to the door.  It was a mechanical lock and the key she had been given actually worked.  The door was stiff and unused, groaning as she pulled it open.

Ignoring the rain, Valerie stood with the door ajar listening.  Not hearing any response to the noise from the door, she stepped in.  It was dark inside and she entered at the side of the main workshop.  Several old, degrading wheelies sat up on the ramps, with more at the back in the dark.  A thick layer of dust covered everything, including the floor.  Valerie could easily tell from the lack of footprints, no one had been in this part of the building in a long time.

The workshop went to the top of the two storey building and took up half the floor space.  The back and left hand portions of the building had a ground and second floor.  Unusually, all the internal walls were made of permacrete and not the much cheaper and flimsier polycarb.  Not wanting to alert anyone by using the building’s lights, Valerie trusted her own senses and made a quick sweep of the ground floor rooms.  They were also empty of any signs of use, but the place had obviously been left in a hurry at one point.  There were a lot of old engines, spare parts and tools left lying around.  Valerie even found a fully equipped machine shop in the back, the machinery presumably too big to remove easily.

Happy no one had been in the ground floor seemingly since the last owners abandoned it, Valerie headed up the only stairs, on the left hand side of the shop floor, by the door she entered through.  She found more of the same on the second floor, but also there were signs of human habitation.  A couple of old mattresses, discarded clothes were scatted about and a corner used for a toilet by someone. 

None of it looked recent and Valerie couldn’t help smile.  Hanna would moan bitterly when she told her to clear it up.  What worried her, was how they got in.  With no sign of them downstairs, they must have found another entrance.  Right at the back, in the far left corner, Valerie saw a window boarded up with a polycarb sheet.  It looked secure from a distance, but as she gave it a closer inspection, she could see it was loose.

Pulling it aside, she looked out.  Under the window were piles of crates.  They weren’t close enough to allow someone access, but she guessed they might have been in the past.  The crates must have fallen down at some point.  Whoever squatted here hadn’t been able to get back in.

Satisfied it was safe for the girls to come in, Valerie went back to the shop floor and tried one of the bay doors.  The switches didn’t do anything and after trying the building’s lights, she realised the power was off.  Not knowing if it just needed switching back on or something more serious, she opened up the side panel of one of the doors.

The design was older than the hyperspace drive by centuries.  A chain ran down each side and attached to the roll up door.  All she needed to do was unhook the motor and haul on the chain herself.  It resisted at first, years of grime and lack of maintenance held it in place, but it was no match for her powerful muscles.

With a high pitched screech reverberating around the workshop and making Valerie wince, as it hurt her enhanced ears, the door rolled up.   Holding it in place with one hand, Valerie waved to the van.  Whoever took the driver’s seat flashed the lights and it rolled silently inside.

The girls got out and Valerie closed the bay behind them.  She saw Hanna take a long look around with raised eyebrows before turning to Valerie.

“What’s the plan, Guv?”  Now she was here, the girl was all business.  They may well be teenagers, but they learnt a long time ago when it was time to make a fuss and when to get down to work.

“I’m in no rush, we need to establish ourselves first.  That means power, water and living quarters.  Deni, get to work on the electrics.  Find out why there isn’t any and fix it if you can.  Hanna, get us unpacked and set up our stuff in one of the back rooms upstairs.  It’s the most defensible and with a little work, has a ready-made back door.  I’ll inventory what we need.”

“No problem,” Hanna said.  “How long are we planning on staying?”

“We could be here some time.  Without the Crew and the network we had on Blaze, you don’t break into a Privileged building overnight.  We’ll have to build ourselves up a bit first, and gain intel on our local neighbourhood, before branching out.”

“Surely the longer we stay,” Deni said.  “The more chance we have of being caught?”

“If they were going to get us, it would have been at the spaceport.  That’s where they checked our DNA ID’s and Scribe’s passports worked.  If they didn’t, the Zeus police, if not a company of Devil’s, would have already hit us.  As long as we lie low and stay out of the Privileged areas, we’ll be safe enough.”

“Makes sense,” Deni said with a shrug.  “Power it is.”  She opened the back of the van and pulled out her tool belt and Hanna grabbed their bags.

People moved in all directions down the wide boulevard causeway deep inside Solopaca Tower.  Expensive boutique shops lined both sides, people sauntering back and forth wherever the whim took them.  On average, each of them would spend enough this day to feed a Manual family of five for a year.  It mattered little to those who considered themselves to be the Privileged.  They had the sovereigns to spare.  Why shouldn’t they indulge themselves?

Through this crowd of decadence walked a man at ease.  His clothes could have easily come from these very same stores.  In fact they were purchased in a similar shopping boulevard within a tower in a completely different system.  He always made a point of not buying his clothes locally.  In a world of seemingly infinite wealth, you needed to find uniqueness elsewhere if you wanted to stand out from the crowd.

Patrick Dorme moved with confidence in his immaculately tailored light cream suit.  A number of the women around gave him more than a passing glance, along with a few of the men.  Patrick smiled back at them all.  It was a well-practised smile saying ‘I would love to stop and talk but unfortunately I can’t right now.  If only we met another time.’

He knew, at one hundred and ninety centimetres tall, with his wavy blond hair, blue eyes and handsome rugged features, he was entitled to those looks.  Broad shoulders and a well-toned physique, coupled with the tasteful clothes, gave him the image of the well-to-do man about town. 

Some way ahead of him, a woman walked alone.  The bag, from the shop he saw her leave ten minutes before, in her hand at her side.  Slowly he reeled in the distance between them.  Attractive, long brown hair and with superb legs, she obviously relished showing off, the woman was certainly his type.  Her early thirties looks showed she was of a similar age to himself, passing her bi-centenary sometime in the last fifty years.

She also received several admiring looks.  Unlike him she ignored them and continued on her way.  The ring on her finger declaring her devotion to her life partner.  The package would be for them no doubt.  A trinket or something more substantial to celebrate their relationship.

The woman began to angle her walk to the right, so she was heading towards the aircar park.  From there she would fly to her own tower and surprise her partner with the gift.  Dorme stayed with her and he was now only metres behind.  A welcoming smile lit up his face as he said her name.

The woman turned.  Her face a picture of curiosity, turning to horror as she saw the Mag pistol in his hand.  The weapon cost Dorme a small fortune.  Even the slight hum of the magnetic coils was completely cancelled out when he fired.  The three shards of spinning metal entered her chest, ripping through her heart, and she fell back without a sound.

Dorme stepped past her, the smile still on his face, and entered the aircar park.  The Mag pistol slipped easily back into his hidden holster and a tap of a button on his wristcomp sent out two messages.  Filtered through layers of security to make them almost untraceable, they arrived with his contacts at the Zeus Police Department and Solopaca Tower security.  In moments all the security camera footage of the last thirty seconds would be wiped, in an accidental system sweep, and the police would not ask any difficult questions.  It would all be written up as a botched robbery, despite nothing being taken.

The kill was quick and clean.  Dorme saw the very life leave her eyes and he revelled in the moment she realised what was about to happen.  He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, stalking his prey for weeks to find the perfect moment.  All the while they were unaware he was there, inside their lives and learning everything about them. 

From when he accepted the contract, until he pulled the trigger, the anticipation grew.  It was that final few seconds he lived for.  The realisation they were to die, followed by the conversion of what had been a human being into nothing more than meat and bone, gave him a feeling unrivalled.  In all his life nothing could compare.  No drug, sex or even his official kills in combat, for the Legion Commando Devils, came close.  It was ecstasy supreme.

Dorme’s gleaming silver aircar sat where he purposely parked it, just inside the aircar park.  Climbing in, he activated the anti gravs and slid gently out of the parking bay.  With a small boost of the engines, the aircar headed towards Zeus’s crowded skies.  Behind him people were rushing to the woman’s warm and bloody body with no clue as to the killer.

The tower’s exit was already high enough for the Yellow band.  Dorme entered his destination’s co-ordinates and set the auto pilot, before sitting back with a satisfied smile.  Aircars moved all around him and his slipped into the traffic lane, flying gently between the tall surrounding towers.  It was only a short journey.  The aircar soon banked away from the others and entered another tower.

When the aircar slid into the landing bay, it automatically switched to hover mode and manual control.  Dorme leant forward with the smile still in place and took control.  This entrance had a valet service.  A woman stepped forward when he pulled alongside the open doorway.  Stepping out he gave the woman the code key and entered without a word.

“How may I help you, sir?” a doorman asked.

“I have a table booked in the restaurant,” Dorme told him brusquely.  He hated having to talk to the Manuals, but sometimes it was unavoidable.  Everyone who entered this level of the Artotina Tower must have an escort unless they were a resident.

“Of course sir.  Your name please?” the doorman asked politely and waved over one of the youngsters they used for guides.

“Sharif Schwartz.”

There was a slight pause while the buildings computer compared the name Dorme gave, and his biometrics, to the reservation.  The doorman turned to the young woman who was to be his guide.

“Please escort Mr Schwartz to the restaurant.”  The computer notified him via his com hidden within his ear.  “Have a good meal, sir.”

Dorme put the Doorman out of his mind and did not answer.  He strode past and the escort hurried to catch up, to take the lead.  She must have been experienced at her job.  She did not even try to make any platitudes towards him, recognising someone who knew where they were going.

The restaurant was not far.  The girl bowed to Dorme and he swept past her, into the large open room.  A host was instantly at his side having been notified he was on his way.

“This way, sir,” he said and expertly took over from the girl.

Dorme was forced to follow.  He did not know which table was to be his.  When booking the reservation, Dorme made several specific requirements and there were a number of tables capable of meeting them.  The host led Dorme through the other diners, to a table against the left hand wall set in a recess.  He bowed as Dorme took his seat.

“Your guest has not yet arrived.  Would you like me to activate the privacy screen now or when they join you, sir?”

“Set it now.”

The host tapped a button on his datapad and stepped back with another bow.  The screen was completely imperceptible to Dorme, except for a faint shimmer, from the outside there was now a light blue energy field obscuring him from everyone else.  The colour matched the room’s décor to fit in seamlessly. 

A holo menu popped up in the middle of the table.  Dorme selected a bottle of wine to be delivered once his guest arrived.  He did not have to wait long.  He spotted the host leading a very over-weight man looking to be in his late forties.  Josef Vagoni puffed and sweated even at the host’s slow and steady pace.

Shaking his head in disgust at a man, who after living for over three centuries, should know better, Dorme put it out of his mind for the moment.  After all it did not pay, quite literally, to be impolite to the man who held your Bullion chip.  That could always, come after it was handed over.

With a look of apprehension, the fat man stepped through the field.  He could not contain his surprise mixed with fear at the sight of Dorme sitting inside quite relaxed.  A waitress followed him in with the bottle Dorme ordered.  He waved the woman to pour without checking.  She filled the glasses expertly and left without a word or acknowledgement, just as Dorme would expect.

“Well?” Josef demanded.

Dorme inhaled gently the aroma rising from his wine and took a sip before answering.

“Well what?”

“Is she dead!?”

The sigh was deliberate though the reason behind it wasn’t.

“Of course.  I would not ask you to meet me if not.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”

“That is because she has been dead for,” Dorme checked his wristcomp’s chrono with an exaggerated gesture. “Twenty-nine minutes precisely.”

The fat man’s eyes widened.  “But we booked this meeting a week ago.”

“Yes, and I knew where she would be a week ago, so it is done.  I do not believe in wasting time.”

“Hah.  Good.  They said you were the best.”  Glee would be how Dorme would describe Josef’s expression.  The idiot even rubbed his sweaty palms together.  “That‘ll teach the bitch to angle herself to take my job.  Who the fuck did she think she was?  I’m a Vagoni.  We don’t take kindly to that.”

“Yes, yes and so forth.”  It was a speech Dorme heard many times, with no inclination to hear it again.  “Our business is almost complete.”

“Of course, of course.  The payment.  I took you at your word.”  Josef placed the one centimetre thick bullion chip on the table in front of him and slid it over to Dorme.  A small readout in one corner displayed the amount.  It matched their agreement exactly and Dorme slipped it inside his jacket.

“We should celebrate,” the fat man gushed.  “I’ll order their finest champagne to go with our meal.”

“No.  I am eating.  You are leaving.  Our business is complete,” Dorme said in a cool voice.  He had no intention of eating with this man and there was no need for any courtesy.

“What I thought…  Why else would we meet here?”

“We met here as I knew I would be hungry and it serves a tremendous side of veal.”  Dorme allowed his voice to cool further.  “There is no other reason.”

Licking his lips, the fat man hesitated before deciding the man he hired, who completed his job less than half an hour before and now wanted to eat, was not someone he should antagonise.  Josef hurriedly left the table and exited the privacy screen.  In his rush he almost knocked a waiter, who had not been able to see him, flying.

Safely behind the screen, Dorme allowed himself a smile.  The fat man shouted at the waiter before almost running out.  It was probably the fastest he moved in over a century.  The assassin shook his head at the vagaries of life in the Pantheon.  From his research it was obvious the target, Nina Hearnshaw, was far better at her job, by several orders of magnitude, than Vagoni.  The fat man must be adept at getting his subordinates, like Hearnshaw, to do all the work while he took the credit.  None of it mattered.  Vagoni hired Dorme and not Hearnshaw.

Perhaps Vagoni’s boss would like to hire him to get rid of the lazy leech.  Putting it from his mind, he deactivated the privacy screen and ordered his veal.