As I read through the dossier on Mike Bayer again, I became more aware of how inadequate it was. There were no listings of known haunts, each of his known associates was listed as terminated, and the only organizational connection was Dark Night. Plenty of information was provided on his Meny record, but anything in his file that could possibly give me a lead either was missing or had a red "D-Notice" stamp on it. The address they provided had to be worthless as the paper it was printed on. If Cloak expected me to be able to track him by psychic ability, I'm afraid they were going to be gravely disappointed. Either they were setting me up to fail, or the assignment was a sham and they were going to lead me to him for a termination.
On a whim, I told the cab driver to pull over near a Shiver station and I went in to find a chippy link. Using my oyster, I ran two searches. The first was for any open termination warrants for Bayer and it came out clean. The second search was for an address and phone number and I got both which matched the dossier. I figured that I could check the addy out later, once this lame broom job was finished.
Central Processing and Customs, or CPC refers to a series of secure warehouses at the south side of the Spaceport used to store everything that the dock grunts don't feel like checking. While a lot of these still need to undergo "sanitization" to remove pests or contaminants, others have problems in their manifests and have to be checked by hand. Basically it's miles and miles of huge armored green containers set aside to become a procrastinator's purgatory.
The Yellow BPN had us looking for War World equipment that may have been rerouted to Mort by mistake. Angus said that the clerk who assigned it told him we'd get a 1% finder's bonus in addition to making the streets a safer place. I just shook my head in disgust. Guys like that should be the ones out here doing the grunt work, not combat trained operatives like us.
After about an hour of standing around waiting for the Waster and beau to show up, my patience ran out and I decided to get us moving. Looking over the basic BPN info, I winced when I realized that half the warehouse, meaning several hundred containers, had to be checked by hand for potential contraband. I sent Gael and Nix to the dock office to review the shipping records in order to narrow our search while the rest of us got busy. Armed with handheld sniffers, we divided into two teams and started on the first of two rows in this section. Angus and Obie took the first while K'rth and I took the next, popping each container, checking it, and then resealing it. Considering that the sniffers can detect weapon residue simply by opening the crates, I figured that boredom would be our worst challenge. I hoped that Gael and Nix found something, otherwise we could be here a week popping crates for 300 credits. On the good side, at least it wasn't another Blue BPN pig hunt.
Two hours into the work, Casper showed up with a wide "I just got laid" grin on her face while the boyfriend loitered around looking at the containers. I wondered if he could read.
"Any luck yet?" she asked, still smiling.
"How nice of you to show up," I started, but K'rth gave me a look that encouraged me to be a little kinder. "Don't you think that we'd have Shivers here to take possession if we'd found anything?"
"I don't know. Probably not if you were thinking about keeping some of it for yourself."
I smiled and shook my head. Yeah, stealing cargo from a secure area while being watched by Cloak Div would be a real smart way to keep breathing. I handed her a crowbar and spare sniffer and pointed to the end of the next row.
"Why don't you put all your energy to work and start on that row over there?"
She giggled, which was really unsettling, and walked away to get McNeil to help her. I turned back to K'rth and helped him pry the door off one of the crates.
"At least they're out of my hair." I said as the sniffer showed yet another negative. K'rth nodded but didn't comment.
The paper trail that Gaelyn and Nix were on didn't turn up anything, so they joined us and we wasted the rest of the day popping crates. We cleared about six of twenty rows without finding anything but off-world cockroaches and junk and our moods began to get snippy with boredom. Either Casper noticed the team's attitude shift or she was more bored than we were and called everyone together.
"I think that's enough manual labor for today" she said looking at me. With a glance at her watch she grinned. "Let's meet back here about 9 am and get the rest then, ok?"
I couldn't help myself and piped up. "You going to be on time tomorrow, or should we start without you?" K'rth mumbled something that I chose to ignore and I gave her my best sarcastic smile. The Waster's face drew into a smile and I knew it was about to start. She never lets a chance to cut someone pass, especially when it's me.
"I'll be here earlier than you, even though I'm dating something besides my left hand."
"My hand is probably a lot smarter and cleaner than your dates."
She half laughed and started forward, but K'rth gently intercepted me and pulled me away. As the squad split up for the evening, I wondered if tomorrow was going to be as much fun as today was. Unfortunately, I knew that the fun wasn't over yet and told K'rth about Bayer's address. Instead of getting rest, the two of us decided to check it out before we went home.
Along the way, we stopped in the 45th Street Bazaar for something to eat and sat at "Wok the Dog", a Chang food chain that I've eaten at ever since I was a kid. The place is an open-air stand, with customers on all four sides and a dozen workers who alternately take and prepare orders in huge Woks made of pounded metal. It was all of two seconds before they noticed us, and a young man came over to take our order. Unlike a lot of operatives or employees, almost all vendors are very quick and friendly since it makes a difference to their survival. It was probably a family run franchise, so they had even more at stake.
"Welcome. Help you?" he asked in chopped Killian. I speak one of the three Chang dialects pretty well, but didn't want to risk insulting him with a bad accent. Too many Gwailo, like the loud group to our left were mangling the menu pronunciations badly enough that it made even me wince. I didn't want to be classed with them and stuck to Killian.
"I'll take a number five with fried rice and an egg roll. My friend wants a number seven with steamed rice and wonton soup."
The young man nodded at every other syllable and sped off to stick the sheet of paper on a nail near one of the cooks. I watched as the man read it and began hacking up vegetables and meat. He poured a spoon full of oil into the wok and goosed the fire. A moment later it was quietly popping and he gathered his ingredients.
"How do you see this playing out between me and Casper?" I asked.
"You cowed her for the time being, but there will be other problems. If it becomes violent, her friend will step in to help her."
I smiled and looked around at the crowd. These places were really the melting pots of downtown. Every type of person from nearly every walk of life gathered around here to eat or make a living. You'd figure we'd be more tolerant of each other, but the proximity has only increased the racism. That's one of the many reasons Downtown is so damn dangerous.
"I can handle him and her at the same time, but would rather that it didn't come to that. I don't want to lose my friendships with the rest of the squad because of one Waster's attitude."
"You won't, but I believe the squad will divide if the two of you can't resolve your differences."
The cook tossed the meat into the wok and it began to sizzle and pop. He alternately stirred and flipped the chunks before hitting it with seasoning. The smell was incredible and my mouth started to water. Cheap and quick – what more could I ask for in a meal?
"I believe in live and let live, but I'm not going to let her walk on me."
"I don't expect you to. Just consider your actions closely."
A moment later the egg roll and wonton soup came and I could tell that the smell had teased K'rth as badly as it had me. We ate silently for a few moments and watched the fire lash the side of the woks as the cooks rocked them back and forth. If the smell was any indication, this could be the best meal I'd had in days.
As I polished off the egg roll, yelling on the far side of the stand caught my attention. The disturbance spread into the middle of the booth and I watched as a Chang street gang wreck part of the stand. Workers alternately scrambled out of their way or cowered and took the beating without fighting back. I guess that the stand was late on its insurance payments and we were unlucky enough to have to watch it. K'rth mumbled "dt'kl'dkshn" under his breath and I nodded. Dt'kl'dkshn translates roughly to "ball-less cowards", and when I saw their markings I knew these bastards liked beating on soft targets that can't defend themselves. My anger for dt'kl'dkshn runs deep and is probably as intense as my feelings against DN.
When I was in my early teens, the tenement that I lived in fell in territory claimed by a Kiesta subgang called "Los chicos silvestres" and the Wah Chang street gang. Before Shivers started camping in the area, the groups turned the four-block area into a war zone. Everywhere that I had known as a child – the playground, the arcade, the local stores –were dangerous now. Even though we weren't part of their war, we were still valid moving targets and they happily made our lives hell.
The gangs used force to recruit and would give you either regular beatings if you were uncommitted or a good knee breaking if you started to lean to the other side. Even though they were classed as "ethnic" gangs, they worked everyone in our racially mixed community with the same tactics. It wasn't uncommon to have every skin color wearing gang colors, but only members of the primary race ever made it into a position of power. Since I hung with mostly Chang friends, the Wah Chang knew about me early and I never had a choice.
My feelings for street gangs lies somewhere between resentment and hate. The fact that they do some good keeps me from completely condemning them, but I don't accept their actions. After all, they taught me a lot of things that saved my life – how to fight, how to pick a pocket, and a smattering of Chang. I even fell in love for the first time when I wore those colors, so there is some good amidst all the bad. But for the toll they take on innocence, I'll never forgive them.
I half smiled when I remembered that the Cloak spook hadn't mentioned the Wah Chang in my record. Since I was never caught for anything, there probably wasn't any paper trail to follow. The spectacle before me was making me tense and heat flowed up my chest and into my temples. I wanted to put them down, but I knew the family was doomed if anyone challenged them. Even then, it took every bit of my control to keep staring at my plate. My appetite was gone and I pushed the paper plate away from me. I hate those who abuse the weak and always enjoy putting dt'kl'dkshn in their places.
After the gang was satisfied with the whipping they gave the eldest workers, they left and things calmed down. The waiters got up and quietly began to clean the mess while the cooks began to replace the damaged food. The young man who had waited on us brought our meal, sporting a black eye and swollen lip. As he apologized for the disturbance, my stomach knotted tighter. I left him a generous tip and we made our way towards Bayer's listed address without me saying a word.
I was in a really foul mood and was looking for a way to shave off my anger. I really hoped we found Bayer or his DN friends soon so that I could put it to good, productive use.
Comments to rw