Gambler (8 page)

"How did you get that?" Fenton hissed.

"Ah, so you are ready to talk?" Nova
asked.

The man frowned but said nothing.

"I have copies of this ready to send out to
all the casino staff, including Mister Cracos. I wonder what he'd
think of it?" Nova asked, the picture of innocence.

"Don't!" Fenton cried out, stepping towards
Nova with his hands held out.

"Then just answer a few questions for me and
I'll be on my way."

Fenton gritted his teeth and stared down at
his shoes. "Fine."

"Why do you have these?" she asked, holding
up the picture of Fenton's locker.

"Security," Fenton said.

"I can't imagine taking compromising images
of your boss is a good way to get job security."

"It's all I could think of. I have a wife
and kids. They need me."

"How exactly does snapping your co-workers
like this protect your family?" Nova asked, confused.

"So I can't disappear."

"What do you mean 'disappear'?"

"Like the others. I can't disappear just
because Cracos decides he doesn't like me. These are an insurance
policy," Fenton explained, gesturing to the images.

"The others?" Nova's brow furrowed at the
man.

Fenton looked up and down the street before
turning back to Nova. "People, they've been disappearing. They just
won't show up for work and no one sees them ever again. That can't
be me."

Nova thought for a few moments.
Disappearances on Tabryn weren't that uncommon, the drugs and crime
eventually took their toll, but Fenton seemed genuinely frightened.
She stored the information away for the time being.

"Do you have more photos?" she asked.

"Why would I tell you?" Fenton asked, on
edge.

"I'm working for Cracos," she said and
Fenton's eyes widened. "On a completely different case."

Fenton let a long breath out.

"The casino is losing money. Maybe your
photos will tell me where."

Fenton tapped his foot on the ground as he
considered Nova. His eyes flicked to the gun at her hip and her
hand which rested just next to it. His eyes returned to her
face.

"Fine. Wait here," Fenton said. He felt
around behind his back before allowing his chip to be scanned and
sliding into his house as quietly as smoke.

Nova stared at the door; sure that Fenton
would be able to see her via the door's security system. Her eyes
didn't budge as she waited. Fenton may have planned to never come
out. But eventually either he, or his beloved family, would have to
leave.

Many minutes later, certainly longer than it
should have taken, the door opened and Fenton side-stepped out,
closing it right behind him.

"Here. This is all I have." Fenton shoved a
small screen at her. She took the device in hand and looked down at
the picture. She swiped her hand across the screen and it moved to
the next image, and so on.

"You getting this, Cal?" she said out
loud.

"Yes, it's being recorded."

Nova nodded when eventually the device
returned to the first image.

"Thank you, Fenton," she said, returning the
digital viewer.

"Is that all?" he asked, his voice
rough.

"For now."

"Leave me out of it," he said, regaining his
courage now that Nova was leaving. "I have nothing to do with
stolen money."

"We'll see."

She strode to Crusader, parked only a few
blocks away. She climbed inside and went straight to the command
pod where Cal was looking up at the images as they flicked across
Crusader's front screen.

She sat in silence and stared at the
pictures as they cycled across the screen, shaking her head at the
loose morals that were rife within the casino. Drugs featured in
every second photo and the others showed married men and women in
questionable positions with people other than their spouses.

Nova nearly choked when an image popped up
showing Cracos in a dark corner of the casino. His arms were
wrapped around a woman; one hand firmly grasping her right buttock,
with their lips locked. Nova recognised the red-haired woman
immediately and was relieved when the picture changed. There was
only so long she could look at Vicki's pale legs wrapped around
Cracos's midsection without throwing up.

Many of the images had been taken with the
casino's own security cameras and some were taken with other
image-capturing devices. Nova chuckled at a photo showing the
elderly man she had sat next to on her first night at the casino.
She looked hard at the picture and shook her head as she saw that
the man was losing that game as well.

Overall the pictures revealed nothing of the
missing money. Nova hadn't really expected them to; Cracos had
already had his own security staff scour over every second of
recorded video from the casino's extensive security system.

"Another dead end," Nova said, slapping the
control panel. Tabryn was proving even more horrid than she had
originally thought.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

A vice-like grip clenched Nova's heart as
she slouched down the all-too-familiar street. The pavement was
cracked with the occasional weed pushing its pathetic way towards
the sun. Dull grey buildings, decorated with graffiti, pressed in
on her. Slogans pronounced various gang allegiances and down an
alley a painted monkey smoked on a cigar. Mixed amongst the names
and gangs were cries for help. No Way Back was a common tag in this
area of the city, one of the bleakest areas of Outer Tabryn: the
urchin district.

This was where Nova had grown up. Here, she
had spilled her first blood, and here she had learned to fight.
There wasn't much about her childhood that she liked to remember.
Looking up at windows still broken from her youth, reminded her of
how little the universe changed. She felt like she'd been running
her whole life from that grim reality and yet here she was; her
feet stepping down the same dirty pavement, breathing in the same
smoggy air, and passing the same broken hovels.

What the hell was she doing back here?

But of course if something big was happening
in Tabryn, like a major steal from the planet's biggest casino,
then Roxanne would know. Roxanne. Nova's memories of her were
clouded, usually by cigarette smoke. She ran a brothel and an
orphanage. In a place like Tabryn, A always led to B.

Nova didn't remember arriving at Roxanne's
door. Maybe she'd been born right there on one of the dirty beds?
Nobody knew, and Roxanne had seen so many children come and go she
wouldn't have been able to tell her. In Nova's memory, Roxanne was
always wearing a deep red silk dress. It had a puffy underskirt
which ballooned out in a bell. Apparently, they were all the rage
in old-century Earth and Roxanne was determined to see them make a
come-back.

Roxanne's hair was always made up to
perfection; a bun with tantalising wisps of auburn hair framing her
face. She had jewels aplenty which glittered in the buzzing
electric bulbs of the broken-down house. She had been stern,
unyielding, and determined to survive in a world where everyone
else was dying. That was Roxanne.

Nova took a deep breath as she turned the
last corner into the street she'd grown up on. Why did everything
have to look the same? The tumbledown buildings, even individual
bricks, lay exactly as she remembered. A broken toy lay abandoned
on the sidewalk. Maybe it had been one of hers? Once upon a
time.

The evening was setting fast, but she
couldn't have come any earlier. Anyone who knew anything, would
have told her that Roxanne's didn't open until dark. Everyone would
be asleep while the sun was up.

The street glowed with dying orange and
purple shades, all was quiet, except for one house.

In this region of Tabryn there weren't many
houses, having been replaced with big apartment blocks, but Roxanne
loved old things. She had insisted, and through sheer force of
will, had managed to keep the old house.

Light poured out of the windows and music
flooded out onto the street. It was a charming attempt at happiness
in the bleak and dreary neighbourhood.

Unlike the rest of the city, Roxanne's house
had changed since Nova had last been there. Bits of it had fallen
down and been replaced. There was even a new room tacked onto the
side. Two doors led into the building, the one on the left was
coloured red with a silhouette of a woman painted on its front, and
it led into the warm room filled with music. The blue door on the
right hung from rusted hinges and the dim light behind was
accompanied by silence instead of music.

Nova took a deep breath. She could barely
remember the last time she'd been here. Before she left Tabryn she
would occasionally drop by to say hello to the children. She'd
never liked Roxanne but she did respect the woman's strength. It
took a lot to stick out your chin after being beaten so many
times.

Nova grabbed hold of the doorknob on the red
door and pushed it open. The light and noise grew tenfold and she
felt like turning away and slamming the door behind her. Before she
had a chance to turn tail and run, someone grabbed her hand.

"Well hello there, you. I haven't seen you
around here before. What's your flavour?"

The girl holding Nova's arm had a pretty
face and pouted lips. She blinked up at Nova with a sly smile and
her busty dress showed off her modified assets. She held her hand
out to the rest of the room.

It was still early and most of the patrons
had yet to arrive. By midnight, the place would be alive with
activity. As it was, there were only a few groups of people, mostly
working men and women. They eyed Nova with a mixture of curiosity
and greed. As an off-worlder, she would be a good source of
credits.

There were men and women in various stages
of undress with mods that made them especially appealing to certain
tastes. A woman opened her mouth to reveal a set of pointed
teeth.

Nova's breath caught in her throat; a
lecheon! But no, it couldn't be, the teeth were fake and there
wasn't a leach lurking behind them. Nova shivered. Who would be
attracted to a lecheon? She forced the memories of her recent
encounter with the coven on Boullion Five away and focused back on
the young girl.

"I know. There are so many choices," the
girl said with a giggle.

Nova frowned. "Actually, I'm here to see
Roxanne."

"Oh." The girl's eyes went wide. "I'm afraid
Mistress Roxanne no longer takes clients."

"I'm not a bloody client, she's a…… a friend
of mine," Nova said, failing to think of a better word.

"I see. What's your name?" the girl
asked.

"Nova," a cracked voice whispered from the
far end of the room.

Nova looked up with surprise. She could
barely recognise the woman before her. How long had she been away?
Surely not that long? But it looked like Roxanne had aged at least
twenty years compared to the woman in her memory.

"Roxanne," Nova said.

"Let her go Kell, we'll have tea out the
back," Roxanne said.

She turned on her heel and swept back
through the doorway from which she'd come. Her hair glimmered in
its customary bun, but the bright auburn had been replaced with
grey. The woman who had stood so tall and proudly for so long
stooped as she walked. She shuffled along, as slow as an
invalid.

Nova hurried across the room, ignoring the
curious stares, and caught up with Roxanne. The room had changed
from what she remembered. The furniture was new, or at least newer,
and ornaments decorated the shelves. The staircase leading up to
the bedrooms had been repainted. It was nice, for what it was.

One thing hadn't changed about Roxanne. She
walked with her head up and her chin out. Her eyes still sparkled
with defiance and bright intelligence as she lowered herself into a
plush armchair and gestured for Nova to do the same.

Nova sat and stared at the woman who had
been so many things; carer, teacher, task-master.

"So how is breaking heads?" Roxanne
asked.

She leant back in her chair and eyed Nova
with curiosity. A very young girl, too young to work in the front
room, appeared and laid out a chipped teapot and two cups. She
poured it with shaking hands and then disappeared, all in complete
silence.

Nova's heart tugged, she could remember
being that girl. She had scurried into this very room with a pot of
tea. Only she hadn't been so graceful. She'd spilled the tea and in
return Roxanne had backhanded her so hard that she'd stumbled
across the room until she hit the far wall.

"Easier than breaking hearts," Nova said,
reaching for a cup. She lifted it to her mouth and took a sip. It
was the exact same flavour that Roxanne had kept decades ago. Some
things never changed.

"Ha!" Roxanne laughed. "Each to their
own."

Roxanne reached under the table and pulled
out a long cigarette. She tucked it into her lip and held up a
lighter. Taking a big suck, the cigarette caught, the orange embers
casting a glow over the old woman's face. She blew out a plume of
smoke around the side of the cigarette without bothering to take it
out of her mouth.

"How's business?" Nova asked.

Roxanne glanced at the door leading to the
front room. A tinkle of laughter drifted through; the festivities
had begun.

"Same as it ever was. Only business that
pays even when everything else goes to shit." Roxanne took another
deep drag.

"Many children?" Nova asked. She fidgeted in
her seat. The room was too familiar and yet too different. The same
pictures stared down at her, but she should be an urchin running in
with snacks, not sitting in the plush lounge.

"More every year," Roxanne said with a
sigh.

She sucked again on her cigarette but this
time her drag was cut short by hacking, deep and throaty. It
sounded as if her lungs were filled with liquid, struggling just to
get another breath in.