Fixer Page 9

  “Hey!" Ralph spoke again.

  “I’m just being honest,” Pops explained. “You’ve got the biocloaker and the new pistol; you won’t need anything else. The pistol is masked because it’s a prototype.”

  “Guess you’re right,” I agreed and gave over both of my guns to him.

  “Make sure you clean and oil him weekly,” I spoke to Pops as I handed over Ralph.

  “Daily!" the gun squawked. I had to laugh.

  Pops placed both weapons under the counter. The next second, his phone rang. He lifted the set and placed it on the counter. Pops picked up the black receiver and leaned back as the cord dangled to the main body of his old phone. Someone told me it was made from an ancient synthetic material known as Bakelite.

  Pop spoke for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear what he had to say since his back was turned. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d installed sound dampeners in certain areas of that shop to keep people from listening in on his conversations.

  The talk wasn’t long. Pops placed the receiver back on top of the phone and slid the set under the cash register.

  “You need to go in the breakroom,” he informed me. “I have some special customers who will be walking in here in a few minutes. It wouldn’t be a good idea if they saw the both of you here.”

  “Why?" Zilpha had to ask.

  “Should be obvious,” he responded. “A lot of people would like the bounty Korth put on your heads. It’s not small by a long shot.”

  “Oh."

  We headed to the breakroom again.

  “Who do you think they are?” Zilpha asked me as we returned to the table. “He seemed to have been in a hurry to get us back here.”

  “Could be anyone,” I responded. “Pops deals with some pretty shady creatures. Remember those military types in here? I’d bet their trip to his shop doesn’t exist on record.”

  “Why would they come here? Can’t they get whatever they need from their own supply chain?”

  “Not always. He sells more than guns and ammo. Maybe they needed something the empire would like to pretend doesn’t exist. An assassination device, maybe. Or an unlisted beam weapon for a dirty job. All kinds of reasons they would come here and not want to talk about it.”

  Zilpha was quiet for a bit. Finally, she spoke up.

  “Sorry I didn’t say anything about Jenica earlier, but you were gone two weeks,” she said.

  I wasn’t angry with her, just disappointed. As I’d told Zilpha before, she had a right to her own life. We weren’t even engaged. I still didn’t know if our relationship would continue much longer, even after what happened today. Hard to believe she was the prim and proper girl that her brother once described to me.

  Years ago, Zilpha’s mother had kept her under close watch and refused to let her out for any length of time. She was all there was to remind her mother of her husband. Drez was a problem for her mother early on, but she intended on keeping Zilpha around. This made it a huge issue when Zilpha decided to leave on her own.

  “How long do you think he’s going to be out there with them?” she asked.

  “I have no way to know,” I returned. “I’ve never had the pleasure of spending much time around this place, so I’m not sure how Pops runs the store. Speaking of pleasure, did Jenica make those purring sounds when you were down on her?”

  “Yes," she confirmed. “I prefer it smooth down there, but it was kinda hot with her, because she’s got that pelt all over her body. Guess it’s like that where she comes from.”

  I decided to let the matter of our mutual interest drop and stood up. “You stay put,” I told her. “I’m going to have a look around this warehouse to see if there are any quick exits. Pop would never sell me out, but if he’s overpowered out there, we may have to get out of here quick.”

  I walked out of the breakroom and tried not to think about Zilpha and Jenica. It was an image I didn’t need at the moment. What if she decided our little cat woman filled her prescription and that they were determined to leave together? I’d seen this happen to people I knew on the station more than once. It seems all hot to have two women at home until the day comes when you show up after work to find the place cleaned out and with a “You never understood us!” note taped to the refrigerator door.

  I recalled one of the lobs I worked with on a few jobs for Korth. He had three women at his place waiting for him each day. He had them all employed at various illicit establishments near the docks and pocketed their money himself. As all were Terran, they fetched a high price on the saloon circuit and massage parlors. He also bragged all were trained to keep each other pleasured while he was gone. so he never had to worry about them. Why they didn’t bop him over the head and clean out the bank account one day was something I never understood.

  I circled around the back room and looked at the crates and boxes stacked up on the shelves. It reminded me of any other warehouse I’d seen, other than the manifests on the shipping clerk’s station. It was stacked up with a pile of forms that listed the merchandise by number and not description. I investigated some of those crates and saw the rifle barrels. Pops didn’t want to advertise what he did here.

  I couldn’t find any back doors other than a large metal sliding door over the loading dock. It was locked. and I didn’t know how to open it. Not a big revelation that Pops would keep everything secure when there was so much firepower in this warehouse. I wondered if any of the other establishments around here knew what it was that Pops traded.

  There were a few locked side doors that I ignored. From the locations and appearance, I guessed them to be machine shops. Pops had to modify his supply from time to time, and he wouldn’t want to send them out to have the work done. I noticed oil on the floor.

  Since there was nothing that counted as an emergency exit, I headed back to the breakroom.

  Zilpha was still there with her cola. “Find anything?” she asked me as I sat back down.

  “Nope," I told her. “A lot of grease and oil on parts of the floor, but I think those doors lead to shops. No back doors if we need to get the hell out of here, other than the steel gate over the loading dock, and it’s locked down tight. I hope Pops finishes his business because I don’t like the feeling of being trapped back here.”

  “I don’t either.” Zilpha tossed her cola can into the trash. She hit it from across the room, and the can stayed in place, which shocked me, given the level of trash piled up in that thing.

  I stood up again and patted her shoulder. “Stay here for a bit longer,” I instructed her. “Maybe I can hear what’s going on in the front of the store. It would be good to know if he does have some trouble.”

  Chapter Eight

  I walked over to the entrance to the store and listened. It wasn’t easy to hear anything because the door was closed. It made sense to have a door that near the back room when you were a gun dealer. I remembered that Pops buzzed us through to the back warehouse when he told us to go sit in the breakroom, but all we had to do to leave it was push on the door. Now, it was shut tight, and I couldn’t hear a thing through it.

  The door did, however, have a small window to keep people in the back from being struck by the automatic door when it opened.

  I tried to look through the door to see who Pops was with, but couldn’t get a good enough view. There was another person walking around in my field of vision, but he appeared to be Irunian. He walked back out of my range, then left through the front door. It hit me that this was one of Pop’s runners he used to convey messages and merchandise around town. Whomever Pops was talking to now with wasn’t in my visual range. There had to be a reason that the window didn’t show the cash register, which is where Pops stood most of the time. I hadn’t spotted one security camera in the place, but Pops would be a fool not to have them. There were no screens in the back anyway, so it was no use going to the breakroom to see who it was at that counter.

  I closed my eyes and tried to see what I could pick up. Although it was be
st to have a visual on anyone I probed, it wasn’t necessary. I tried my best, but nothing came up. I felt Pops right away, but I’d been around him long enough to recognize his mental signature.

  The others I couldn’t read. I could tell there was a group of them, but their collective signs were too strange for my limited abilities. They blended together too easily, which was a major problem I had with non-Terrans. At least, I knew they didn’t originate on Old Earth.

  I was ready to walk back to the breakroom and sit back down when I spotted one of them through the door window.

  He’d broken off from the main group and went over to one of the display cases to have a better look. Something caught his attention, and he turned, butt he didn’t look at the door window. Even as short as he was, he could’ve spotted me if he had looked in my direction.

  I took a step back when I realized who Pops was dealing with.

  Rum Travelers.

  Most of the sentient species in the galaxy could trace their origin to a planet. Not the Rum. They traveled about the known worlds conducting trade wherever they could swing a deal. One of the first outsider people the Terrans encountered on leaving Old Earth, they quickly introduced them to the other beings. For a small fee, of course.

  This proved to be mutually beneficial for everyone involved as the Travelers acquired new clients and the Terrans new friends in the great universe. The Terrans also ended up in the middle of several interstellar wars, but that’s another story.

  The Travelers called themselves “Rum,” but it was years before anyone on Old Earth learned this name. In the meantime, the Terrans began to call them "Travelers” because they moved around the galaxy in search of new markets and opportunities.

  Physically, the Travelers resembled the mythical gnomes of Old Earth’s ancient past. They were short, no more than five feet in height, with four feet being their average size. They were stocky, which allowed them to make repairs on the most difficult machines and sell you a maintenance contract. They kept to themselves and were not prone to violence unless, gods forbid, someone tried to break into one of their compounds.

  They were also famous for moving merchandise around that other people wouldn’t. Once the big combines moved in on their source of income, the Travelers began to deal in cheaper versions of existing guns and interplanetary ships. They stayed out of the interstellar craft industry, as it was too costly for them to get a foothold.

  And so, it appeared that Pops was doing some trade with the Travelers. Not surprising, since they had many mutual interests, from what I could tell. Both dealt in guns of questionable origin. I was certain he wanted them not to see us, though, as they would sell Korth our location.

  Now that I knew what was out there, it became easier to home in on their mental signs. I stepped back out of the view of the window and concentrated. I was unable to get actual words and thoughts, but with enough focus, I could pick up what they wanted.

  Or I almost did until Zilpha bumped into me.

  “I thought I told you to stay back in that breakroom,” I told her.

  “Sorry," she explained, “I wasn’t going to sit pretty and wait to find out if your friend was ready to sell us out to Korth.”

  “Pops would never do a thing like that....”

  “So you say. Look, he’s your friend, and you trust him; I understand. But you need to remember that over the last few years, I’ve learned to trust no one. Especially that lousy brother of mine.”

  “Then, be quiet,” I told her. “I need to concentrate so that I can pick up what they’re doing out there. Pops has a bunch of Travelers in there, and I want to find out why.” I turned back to the door.

  “Travelers?” she asked. "I’ve only seen one or two of them.” Zilpha went over to the window to have a look.

  I pulled her back by the shoulder. “Careful. Not yet. Not until I find out why they’re here.”

  I moved away from the window in case any more had walked over to this side of the shop. Now, I couldn’t see any of them. The one Traveler had moved back to his comrades, near the cash register.

  Then, I spotted something. It was possible to get a better look by using the reflection off the back of a case. It wasn’t perfect, but I could still see how many there were and what they were doing.

  I counted six Travelers. All were gathered around Pops, talking loudly, which I couldn’t hear through the sound blanket created by the wall and door. I could tell the conversation was heated, though, as both Pops and the Travelers waved their arms in the air, arguing over something I couldn’t understand. One of them had a piece of paper out and showed it to Pops. This had to be the clan leader. I could tell by the way the others showed deference to him.

  I put one finger to my lips when I turned around to face Zilpha. She nodded and touched the purse she’d brought along. She had to be ready.

  I closed my eyes. Now that I had both their sign and visual image, it would be much easier to receive whatever sensations they sent out.

  From what I could tell, they weren’t interested in any of the merchandise that Pops had to sell them. They’d done a lot of business with him in the past, but today; they had something else in mind.

  Pops was angry. The Travelers called him earlier and let him know, through various code words in case someone tapped the phone, that they were interested in buying some older guns he couldn’t move. They’d called him 10 minutes ago and set up the appointment. He’d only agreed on such short notice because of what they wanted. Now that he found out what they were really after, he was pissed.

  It appeared the Travelers were trying to find the location of someone that a major gangster down around the docks was paying serious money to locate. In other words, they were looking for me.

  I wasn’t shocked. The amount of money Korth was offering for my ass was substantial. If the Travelers were trying to score big by finding me, others would follow. Now, with the Byzantium impounded, Korth was in a tight spot and couldn’t afford to appear weak. If he did, there were plenty of sub-bosses and rivals who would take advantage of his situation. It was the law of the jungle down on those docks, and everyone knew it.

  I reached down and felt for my gun. All I knew was that it had better work, if I’d exchanged Ralph for it. The biocloaker would keep me hidden, but anyone could make a visual match to my face.

  Zilpha had to know.

  I turned back to her. “Those little bastards are trying to find me,” I told her. “And that bounty will bring out more of these creeps. Time to party,” I said as I pulled out the gun Pops had given me minutes earlier.

  I looked it over again. According to Pops, it didn’t need ammunition, as the gun made its own. It sounded too good. Every thriller writer or video producer dreamed of such a thing. I held the gun up and tried to figure out what the model was supposed to replicate. It had a chamber for the ammunition, which was loaded. I couldn’t tell the type of gun it was, something about “Dirty” and “Harry.” Weird name for a prototype weapon, but those gunsmiths are a strange lot. Still, it felt solid in my hand.

  “Try to stay put this time,” I told Zilpha. “Only one of us needs to go out there, and that should be me, seeing as to how I’m the one they want.” I saw Zilpha frown, but I ignored her expression.

  I hesitated for a minute. This bunch of Rum Travelers looked familiar for some reason. I thought for a few seconds and placed the gun under my waistband. Then, I remembered where I’d spotted them before.

  Last year, a group of Rum Travelers sold Korth some bad ammo. He was told they had four crates of ammunition for a Bushsmersh 9000. If you know anything about that weapon, you’ll know it’s hard to find bullets that fit the chamber. Korth jumped at the chance, only to find out they’d switched the crates. When he opened them, Korth discovered the Travelers sold him rusted ammo for a Bushsmersh 7000, a completely different animal. When Korth realized he’d been tricked, I was sent over to the docks. My job was to intercept the Travelers and get his money back. I managed t
o complete the assignment, but, I left some Travelers bleeding and flattened in the process. They’d gotten in my way.

  This was the same group.

  I guess the money Korth was offering trumped any personal animosity they might have with him. Still, they wouldn’t forget my smiling mug. They would remember the day I came over to collect on the bill.

  The hell with it.

  I buttoned up my jacket to hide the gun and pushed open the door to the shop. One second later, I strolled into the room.

  “I understand you lads want to see me,” I announced as I closed the door behind me. I prayed Zilpha would do what I told her and stay on the other side.

  The Travelers froze. And then, they began to turn in my direction. Pops glared at me. I could read him and felt frustration from the older Irunian. He thought I should’ve stayed in the back room until this all managed to blow over, but, no, here I was, and he’d told them he had no clue where I could be found.

  “Thought you said he wasn’t around here?” the clan leader of the Travelers reminded Pops. “Something about you hadn’t seen him in a while?”

  “And he hasn’t,” I lied. “First time he’s laid eyes on me in a long time. I came in the back way and heard you talking about me.”

  The clan leader, who I knew as Macchio, turned his attention away from Pops to me.

  “I hear that you have something Korth wants,” he said. “Something that he’ll pay a lot of money for. Why don’t you come with us quietly? We could cut you in on the reward.” He smiled and snaked one hand down to a weapon stashed inside his jacket.

  “That joker looks familiar, Uncle,” one of the younger Travelers spoke up. “Wasn’t he the ghee that Korth sent over about those ammo cases?”

  “I remember him,’ Macchio remembered. “Fucker knocked one of you over the head and forced me to open the safe. All because Korth had given us the wrong serial number on those guns.