Bluebird, p.19
Bluebird, page 19
“Good.” Ginka resumes her thoughtful expression. “The question we need to be asking ourselves is why did Janus know that I would be here and yet be uncertain of your presence…”
“I don’t know,” Rig admits. “When I spoke with him on that call on Ascetic, you were wearing that weird mask, right? He couldn’t have seen your face then.”
“Where did I slip up?” Then she hisses, “Triton. He must have sold us out.”
“You know him more than me.”
“Damn it!” Ginka curses under her breath, tightening a gloved hand into a fist. “Why am I slipping up? I’m supposed to be better than this.”
“Whoa – it’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes.” She pulls the link out of her sleeve and shows it off, letting the metal of it catch in the light. “Don’t tell Triton just yet. Call him and figure out where we’re supposed to meet him now that we’ve got it. If this is a setup, I’d like to be skedaddling before Janus gets our scent again.”
“I share the sentiment – though not your word choice. I don’t skedaddle.”
Ginka pulls her link out. The call connects within an instant and she holds her link in the palm of her gloved hands so that Rig can hear and see his floating hologram image as well.
“Triton. I hope you’re ready to deal with us.” Which is both polite and also very threatening. As per Ginka’s usual, it would seem.
“My favorite monster,” Triton says in greeting. “I’m assuming from your call that you have my prize? That, or you’re about to tell me everything’s gone wrong and that I should flee into the night. I’m hoping for the former, but with you I can never tell.”
“We have it,” Rig tells him. “I lifted it from the guy. He shouldn’t suspect a thing until he tries to use it to call his ride out of here. There’s plenty of fancy clocks hanging on the wall, it’s not like he needs to check the time every two seconds.”
“Good, good. I’m in an office deep in the west wing. Pinging my location for you now – it should be easy enough to get to. I’ll arrange things so that the guards and servants have cleared out. I imagine you don’t want anyone trying to tell you that you’re not allowed back here.”
There’s a buzz as the information goes through. Ginka nods sharply at the data package, all picture-perfect determination. “We’re on our way.”
The call cuts out.
Ginka stows her link with hands that shake in anger. “That lying bastard.”
“Please don’t beat the shit out of him until after we’ve gotten a location from him. If I have to put my job on the backburner, you can manage to put aside your vengeance quest or whatever too.”
“I know how to get a job done.”
It’s up to her to hastily follow along as Ginka sets a quick pace towards the west wing.
As promised, the hallways of the west wing go from being crowded with party guests, to sparsely populated with servants, to completely empty as Ginka drags Rig through the twists and turns towards Triton’s office. No noise emanates from Ginka’s footsteps and, in comparison, Rig’s feel louder than a ship’s engine. Her job requires the ability to walk softly, and she’s no novice at the artform, but Ginka is deathly silent compared to the faint click of her pink shoes on the metal floor.
They come to a stop in a small deserted corridor, Ginka tapping out a code onto a wall mounted panel. A light flashes to confirm the code and part of the wall fades away to reveal a set of doors. A stealth cloak? Exactly like the one on Chickadee. She knew that Triton was good at his job just from his reputation, but that man really has superb taste if he uses the same tech as her.
Once she’s been pushed through into the room, Ginka shuts the door behind them. This place is so filled with Pyrite spiraling furniture and faction memorabilia that it is clearly not Triton’s, not unless he’s secretly been a die-hard Pyrite loyalist this entire time. Borrowed for the evening, probably. The man himself is lounging behind a wrought-iron desk, his feet up on the top and his hands busy fiddling with a series of holographic panels that are quickly dismissed with a flick of his wrist as soon as he sees them enter.
“Welcome to my place, dear monster,” he says cheerfully.
Ginka doesn’t return his levity. “Triton. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, so if you could get this done with, it would be greatly appreciated.”
He sighs in disappointment. “Oh, alright. Link?”
Rig tosses it straight into Triton’s hands.
“Excellent,” he says with a grin.
“Get it open,” she tells him, “and see if you can access the files inside.”
He swings his feet off his desk and places the link down, pulling out a set of pliers and opening the back of the link up. “Am I looking for anything in particular?”
“If you can run a search on the name ‘Daara,’ that’d be fantastic. But honestly, I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Multiple color-coded wires are strewn about his desk, and he plucks out a green one to attach to the link’s mechanical guts. The other end gets plugged into a computer terminal and he begins to assemble a spare parts abomination out of the link. She watches the swift movements of his fingers as he adds a converter here, a red-crypter there, messing with aspects of the link that she doesn’t understand, which says less about her and more about how skilled at his job he is.
Lines of code start to appear on the computer’s holo screen. Triton hums thoughtfully as he reads them. “Nothing in the files, I’m afraid. This link is practically empty save for evidence of a few erased calls, which maybe I could get at under usual circumstances, but they’ve even scrubbed the evidence of which communication satellites they bounced their call signal off. I couldn’t access them even if I tried.”
Damn.
“But you can still get me to PI’s headquarters?”
“Should do.” He explains, “Every PI link has to have a way of locating their headquarters, otherwise agents who have been undercover or otherwise out of contact with their organization can still return to wherever their headquarters happens to be that week. It’s a piece of firmware buried deep into the circuits. I’m basically stealing that.”
“Wouldn’t there be some sort of safety protocol to prevent people like you from doing exactly what you’re doing?” Rig asks.
“Oh, yes, but I’m very good at my job. It allows a one-time communication to the headquarters’ systems. The agent connects it to a ship’s computer, puts in the correct code that only they know, and the system sends the ship to the right destination. Which unfortunately means that what I’m stealing for you isn’t going to last long. I can get the current one-time code, but it’s going to move before the week is out, and if you can’t get there in time, you’re going to have to come back, and I’ll do this all over again.”
“That’s fine. I don’t plan to dawdle on the way.”
“Got some big important reason why you’re in such a rush?”
“Not any of your business.”
Another series of beeps emanates from the link and Triton’s face lights up in glee. He unplugs all the wires, disconnecting everything until there’s just the link left. “Here you go,” he says, holding it out. “All done. Good luck.”
Rig closes her fingers around the link and–
As soon as it’s back in her hands, Ginka darts forward, grabs Triton’s shirt, and drags him to his feet.
Wires tumble off his desk and onto the floor as he coughs and sputters, her fist against his throat.
“Cactus, maybe don’t choke him to death before he can talk–”
“Who else are you working for tonight? How many?” Ginka demands, ignoring Rig in favor of spitting the question out at him. “Did you really think you could double cross us and I wouldn’t see it?”
Triton’s eyes are wide as dinner plates. “N-No one! I swear!”
“Lie to me again. I dare you. You know what I’m capable of.”
“I’m not lying, I promise! I have no other clients tonight, I’m just here for you and to consult with the Governess, there’s nothing else. I wouldn’t double deal; you know me.”
If Ginka doesn’t stop, the man is going to die trying before he can spit out a single answer. Rig reaches out a hand and stops just short of laying it on Ginka’s shoulder. “Hey. Let him breathe for a moment. He helped us out for free even if he might have sold us out. Don’t repay the favor by actually killing him, okay?”
“Favor?” Ginka retorts, “You think he’s doing this for us because he likes me? My people spared his life, working for free is him returning the favor. And,” she adds, glaring at Triton, “I know exactly who you are – or did you think I had forgotten? You’re a traitor who abandoned his library, and the only reason you’re not dead is because you’re valuable and were willing to compromise. But I should have known you have no loyalty to anyone – certainly not to Ossuary.”
“I haven’t sold you out!” Triton insists, trying to yank his shirt out of Ginka’s unshakeable grip. “I wouldn’t do that, no matter what you think of me. I didn’t tell anyone you were coming, and I have no other clients.”
Ginka drags him closer until his face is centimeters away from hers. “Then why does Special Agent Janus know I’m here?”
All the blood leaves Triton’s face. “He… He knows what?”
“He knew I would be at this party tonight. Now, when I encountered him before, I took great care to ensure that he didn’t see my face or hear my voice and now suddenly he knows that I’m going to be here. The only person who knew, besides Rig, was you.” Ginka bares her teeth at him as though they’re fangs. “What’s he offering you? Is the information you gave us even accurate? Which side are you really on?”
“I, I have no idea how he found out – I swear it!”
“Lie to me one more time–”
Oh for…
Rig steps in. “Cactus. I think he’s telling the truth. Besides, we’re wasting time. If we leave now – well, it’s not like he knows where my ship is or what its name is. Can’t sell information that he doesn’t have.”
Ginka keeps one eye on Triton as she snaps back, “What if he–”
There’s a knock on the door.
“Well, well, well.” A vicious snarl pulls at the corners of Ginka’s mouth. “If it isn’t your other clients. Did you know I’ve been looking to put the screws to a PI agent? Perhaps I’ll make you watch so you’ll know just what I’m going to do to you once I’m done with him.”
“The–” Triton stumbles and stutters over the words, gaping at the door. “The stealth cloak – it… it would have reactivated.”
Rig pauses. They’d gotten codes from Triton to enter, so whoever’s outside doesn’t have codes, which means they’re not a client – they’re knocking on an invisible door. She swallows a lump in her throat. That means the real question is if it’s Janus or the Kashrini servant.
Another knock.
“D-Don’t open it,” he begs. “Let me go. Please.”
Kkrrrrrrrr–
He’s shaking like a leaf in Ginka’s iron clad grip. “They’re hacking the lock.”
The door slides open.
Someone steps into the room.
It’s not Janus.
It’s not the Kashrini servant either.
It’s an unfamiliar human woman, tall and lithe and clad in all black. A strange streak of white hair is running through the woman’s blond curls, like a fake bit of hair that’s been clipped over her right ear, next to an unusually shaped link.
The silver barrel of a gun shines in her hand as she points the weapon straight at Triton.
“Hello again, Triton.” Her voice is deep and sharp. Her black eyes slide from Triton to Rig without even noticing Ginka. “And oh look, it seems as though you’ve brought me exactly who I was going to ask you to find. Two birds, one stone.”
She turns the gun on Rig.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Birds and Monsters
One moment, Rig’s about to be shot.
The next, Ginka’s throwing a chair at the strange woman’s head.
It smacks into her face at full speed. She falls, back arching as her head goes down, arm flying up. Her gun goes off with a crack, the bullet harmlessly hitting the ceiling.
Rig gapes. “Holy shit–”
Ginka bodily hauls Triton out from behind his desk, dropping him to his shaking knees and dragging him away from the downed woman. Unconscious? No – a weak and pained groan emanates from the woman’s crumpled form.
“Back door?” Ginka demands.
Triton’s trembling finger points to a corner of the room. “S-Servants’ corridor.”
“Go. Now.”
Rig flips her guns back against their holster. Fire burns through the fast paced, panicked drum of her heart as she sprints after Ginka and Triton.
Another stealth cloak drops to reveal a small door built into a corner of the office. Triton throws it open, and then they’re running out and into a deserted corridor, their footsteps echoing against the walls.
There are no sounds of pursuit from behind them, no crash of doors being broken down, no further gun shots. Doesn’t mean they’re safe or that the woman is out of the fight for good. In fact, when she considers how silent someone like Ginka can make herself be, it probably means the opposite.
Once, June had taken Rig to see a zoology project that a fellow librarian had been working on. A forest had been built into the library, full of birds and insects and all sorts of animals from all over the galaxy. A felidae had been released into the enclosure, and everywhere it walked, it brought silence with it. Birds stopped singing. Insects stopped chirping. Nothing beyond a tense, all pervasive silence.
The same silence that seems to sink in through the corridor right now. As though something in the wind is chasing them.
Triton is huffing and puffing. Not used to sprinting, is he? “There’s… On the roof. Emergency skiff.”
“Stairs?” Ginka demands.
“To our right.”
They skid around a corner, Rig dragging her hand against a sculpture to steady herself as she turns. “Who in the fuck was that?”
“You tell me,” Ginka snaps, spitting the question at Triton instead. “I saw her link; do you think I’m blind? You’re dealing with a Handler and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know!”
“Bullshit,” she hisses under her breath. “She knew you.”
“I worked with her – I don’t know, five years ago? Six? I thought she forgot me!” he quickly explains, the words tripping out of his mouth like a drunkard stumbling out of a publica. “She’s Thrush-Eleven, or… or she was.”
A pounding headache of frustration is beginning to crack through Rig’s raging panic. “Enough, both of you! Why are we being chased by a bird?”
“Not a bird.” Ginka slides to a stop, yanking open a door labeled with a red emergency sign. Beyond it is a series of crisscrossing staircases leading up into the very top of the mansion. “It’s a rank. Thrush is the middle rank for a Windshadow Handler.”
Ice seems to pour into Rig’s veins. Windshadow. Holy fucking gods–
“Now both of you, quiet. They’ll find us regardless, but you could at least try to keep quiet so that we don’t attract other attention.”
Rig stumbles up the first set of stairs, taking point as Ginka guards their rear. Sandwiched between them is Triton, being about as useful as a floppy noodle.
“How,” she asks, “can they find us if we’re being quiet?”
“You have a heartbeat, don’t you?” Ginka replies, leaning over the railing to check the stairs below them as they ascend.
That’s no small bucket of terrifying.
Because she absolutely doesn’t want to think about that too much, she asks Triton, “How many floors to the roof?”
“Seven,” he replies, “Then we’ll be almost directly above the ballroom. I don’t think there’ll be any security up there, but – can you jack a skiff?”
“Yes,” Rig and Ginka say at the exact same time.
At least one of them will be able to do it if the other is too busy fighting. That little bit of hope takes her up the next two flights of stairs, her lungs beginning to object to the impromptu workout.
She smacks a quivering Triton on the arm. “Come on. Toughen up. We’re going to get out of this.”
“I’m a librarian,” he moans, “I’m not cut out for this.”
June’s a librarian as well, and Rig knows that if she were here instead, she’d have already taken charge of the situation like the born leader she is.
Ka-chnk.
That doesn’t sound good.
Rig stops and looks over the edge of the stair rail, peering into the depths below them. Darkness sits on the bottom floor of the stairwell, and she’s pretty sure that it was well lit when they entered. Red toned lights illuminate everything that she can see, but as she watches, the light fixtures on the second floor flicker.
Ka-chnk.
Another floor of lights goes out.
“They’re sealing us in,” Ginka says. She turns to the nearest door, spins – her foot smacks against the metal, kicking it open. “This is about to be a death trap. We’ll get to the roof some other way.”
The three of them hurry out the door, Rig tugging a stumbling and shell-shocked Triton along behind her. This hallway is exactly the same as the one a number of floors down, same red and blue lights, same shiny floors. Same lack of people. A suspicious lack of people. As far as she figured, Triton only cleared out the serving staff on his own floor to give them a clear shot to his office. This area shouldn’t be deserted.
She pauses before turning around the next corner. “Ginka…”
“I know, damn it,” Ginka curses under her breath a few times. “I don’t know what to; strategy isn’t my job.”
“And it is mine? I’m not a tactician.”
It doesn’t seem like her words got through. Ginka’s breathing hard, like she’s about to start hyperventilating as she rants, “I don’t know what to do, I don’t… I’m not supposed to work alone, this is why I keep making stupid oversights and failing to see things that are dancing right in front of my eyes–”
