Operation nomad operator.., p.6
Operation Nomad (Operator Chronicles Book 3), page 6
Jimmy turned his back to the bar, facing the interior as Wraith ordered her drinks. Boomer and Yeti patiently waited for their turn to order.
"Dimitry," Yeti called out to Jimmy, using his fictional name. "What are you drinking, mate?"
Without taking his eyes off the scene before him, Jimmy shouted over his shoulder. "Beer. Wet. Cold."
"Okay, buddy," Yeti replied.
Moments later, Wraith brushed up against Jimmy on his left, her eyes transfixed on the stage. "Let's go find a good seat. There in the corner. We can get close to the far stage while keeping our backs to the wall. It's also close to the emergency exit."
Jimmy agreed. "Let's have a seat, then."
They moved together, weaving through the tables and plush couches throughout the club floor until they reached the far side of the second stage. Each of them grabbed a seat on the stage and sat down. Jimmy was seated to the left of the others, with Wraith, Boomer, and Yeti to his right
Boomer didn't waste a second getting the dancer's attention. He let out an ear-piercing whistle that made Jimmy wince. "I've got something for you over here, darlin'!"
Jimmy couldn't help but roll his eyes and sigh as Boomer dangled some dinar notes to coax the dancer close to him. By this time, the dancer, a tall brunette who was topless and well-endowed, strutted with her high heels and began to dance in front of Boomer.
The operator had a smile from ear to ear as he scanned her up and down with lustful eyes. She didn't have a compliance collar on, so it was obvious Boomer was distracted from the mission at large.
Jimmy tilted his head, locking eyes with the dancer on the other stage. She was wearing a collar and was fully nude, aside from her see-through pumps. He scanned her, hoping she was within range, but nothing came back.
Undeterred, Jimmy waited patiently for the song to change. Although he was not a gentlemen's club aficionado, he'd spent enough time in them in his younger years to understand the general format. Each dancer would dance to the three songs. One fully clothed, one topless, and one totally bare. It was simply a matter of waiting for the dancers to come out one by one.
"Hey, tiger," a flirtatious female voice whispered in Jimmy's ear. A delicate hand grazed his shoulder. Jimmy craned his neck and saw it was the dancer from the other stage. "I saw you gawking at me, and I figured you'd want a private dance.”
Her smell was more intoxicating than Jimmy was comfortable with. His thoughts shot to a mental image of Raptor disemboweling him in rage. But he was on a mission, and he knew he had to play the part.
Although the dancer didn't register as SNA, Jimmy realized it would be a prime opportunity to move deeper into the establishment where he could extend his scanning range.
"Lead the way, sweetheart," Jimmy said with a smile. The dancer reached down slowly, interlaced her fingers into his, and then held his hand intimately as she guided him to the back of the club. Jimmy glanced back at the others. Wraith offered a sharp nod as if she was approving of his actions, while Boomer and Yeti were pumping their fists in the air like grown men-children.
Jimmy fought the urge to shake his head as he refocused on his path of travel. He tried – and failed – to avoid looking down at the dancer's voluptuous backside. Even though he and Raptor didn't have a formal commitment, he was not the kind of person who stepped out on a partner, and the entire situation made him feel awkward.
They entered an archway flanked by bouncers, both wearing black suits like the others, but one of them was smaller than the other and wore a compliance collar.
Shocked to see a member of the security staff wearing a collar, Jimmy scanned the smaller man. Astonishingly, the ping bore fruit.
[IDENT: LANCE CORPORAL MORALES-GARCIA, ENRIQUE
SNA MARINE CORPS]
Jimmy avoided eye contact with the captive bouncer, doing his best to act like a typical patron as he was pulled along by the dancer.
A moment later, a waypoint pinged in Jimmy's HUD. With one hand interlaced with the dancer's and one in his pocket, he thumbed the compact nano module. Billions of tiny nanoscopic eyes surged out into the air, and soon, mapping data began to populate his HUD. Now Jimmy could virtually see through the walls. He then mentally sent a command to the data pad to slave itself to the nano cloud, effectively extending the range by an additional ten meters or so.
"Have a seat right there, and get comfortable," the dancer said.
Jimmy obliged, finding a plush couch in a semi-private niche recessed into the wall. He took his time sitting before leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head with a facsimile of a flirty smile.
"How many songs would you like?" the dancer asked as she slipped into the seat next to him, letting her fingers brush against his chest gingerly.
"I think three is a good number," Jimmy said with a wink. "Maybe more if you do a good job."
"Oh, baby, I'm the best there is. Can I offer you any extras — for an additional charge, of course?"
Jimmy understood her meaning, but decided to play ignorant. "What kind of extras?"
The dancer slowly leaned into his ear, her lips delicately grazing his earlobe. "I'm open to anything you're willing to pay for."
"How about just the dances at first? The day is rather young, and I want to make an evening of it," Jimmy said.
"Well, I'd be glad to make it memorable for you," she said as she removed her top, revealing her breasts.
< I'll stay quiet, if that helps.>
It was easier said than done, but Jimmy was resolved to stay in character.
"What's your name?"
"Candy."
It was obviously just her stage name, but Jimmy decided not to press any further.
"And what do I call you, sexy?" she said as she slowly mounted his lap, leaning forward so her chest dangled inches from his nose. Her perfume was doing its job, and Jimmy felt his pulse race slightly.
"Shit," he said aloud, completely by mistake.
"What's wrong, honey?" Candy asked as she slowly nuzzled his neck, her hands wandering down below.
"I'm just excited, is all," Jimmy backpedaled.
"You haven't seen anything yet. Imagine seeing the back of my head bobbling up and down on your lap, baby. You might just want those extras sooner than later."
For the first time in recent memory, he found himself feeling dirty. Really dirty. The fact that he was becoming erect didn't help the situation at all.
"Just dance for me for now, Candy," Jimmy said, intentionally deepening his voice. "I want to take you all in for the time being."
"Oh, I can take it all in, all right. In more ways than one."
8
"Lead the way, Ramus. You're the one who knows where the slave market is," Top said.
"I can't. Not unless you remove my collar. There's an expected protocol for slaves in public."
"For the record, you're an inmate, not a slave," Ghost added.
"Well, for all intents and purposes, I'm a slave today. But it should be said I never personally sold slaves here. I had people for that. I just broadly understand the process," Ramus said.
"Well, I'll take the lead in that case," Ghost said. "Raptor, you take up the rear and watch our backs."
"Also no," Ramus said. "I'll be expected to walk behind my masters in public."
Ghost blinked in confusion. "So, you're saying my rear security is contingent on a man in a compliance collar?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. And for the record, I have a vested interest in keeping you all alive. I'm a commando, not some low-level thug." Ramus retorted.
"Let's get moving," Top chimed in. "We're just standing around as if we've stepped on our own dicks."
"Speak for yourself, Top," Raptor said.
"Ignoring my hyperbole, let's get moving. It's much harder to determine if we're being followed if we're stationary," Top said.
Wordlessly, they all moved out. Ramus took the rear, tucking his chin in as society would expect him to do. The streets were busy with vehicle traffic, and the midday sun was high in the sky. The ambient temperature was pleasant, as the human sector was in the southern temperate zone of the planet.
The smells of street food being cooked filled Ghost's nostrils. The notes of fry oils and roasted meats threatened to make the operator hungry as he passed the various vendors with drifting eyes.
Ghost activated the mapping data in his HUD and selected the navigation function. The pre-loaded data filled his natural field of vision as he selected the icon for the slave market up ahead.
"Looks like it's two blocks ahead of us on the right," Ghost said, just loud enough for his companions to hear.
"Be advised, the market is highly regulated and will be teeming with local authorities," Ramus added.
"Good to know," Ghost replied, as they continued on their way down the moderately crowded sidewalk.
They traversed another block before Top abruptly stepped aside and walked up to a stand adorned with fresh flowers. "My mother would love one of these," Top said.
But Ghost knew the truth. It was a pre-determined code phrase Top was using to subtly inform his teammates that he suspected they were being followed. By stopping at the flower stand, the operators would casually scan the area for threats.
"Five dinars per rose," the vendor, a squat man with an apron, said.
"I'll take two, my good friend," Top said, with a friendly smile. But Ghost knew he really meant he'd identified two individuals following them.
Top collected his roses and gave the vendor his money before returning to the group. "Government," he whispered.
It made sense. Had a delegation of Marines been on his world, he would have sent surveillance assets also, Ghost reckoned.
"Are you worried about losing your roses, or do you think it will be fine if they remain in plain sight?" Ghost asked, referring to the pair of agents following them in code.
"Keep your friends close and your roses even closer, I always say," Top replied. It was all Ghost needed to hear. All of them had countersurveillance training and could easily shake their tails, but not without triggering some kind of response. If they actively evaded the government agents, then it would be a telling sign they were up to no good and could compromise the mission.
A pair of pings hit Ghost's HUD, and without turning to look behind him, he knew it was Top marking the agents with icons.
"Now we can all keep a keen eye on my roses," Top said casually.
They continued, and soon the street traffic came to a halt with the installation of pedestrian barriers, as the slave market grounds were designated for foot traffic only. Ghost looked to see an elevated platform, likely the auction block, and several adjacent structures with nondescript utilitarian designs. There was an open space for crowds to gather in front of the auction block, but at the time, there didn't appear to be any activity.
"I was hoping we'd run into a live auction," Ghost said, disappointed the place seemed closed. "I could use a personal assistant to shine my boots for me."
"You'll get your chance later this evening," Ramus said. "Looks like we missed the morning session, but for your purposes, that's not a bad thing. The morning session is typically focused on newly acquired stock, whereas the evening session is for the resale of second-hand slaves. If any of your people are to be auctioned off today, then it would be during the evening session."
"Well, that's hours away," Ghost said, with a hint of frustration. "What can we do in the meantime?"
"What's the local time right now?" Ramus asked, not having a personal device of his own to check the time.
"It's about thirteen hundred-ish. But I'm compensating for the fact that Chartea is a thousand kilometers larger in circumference than Earth," Top said.
"Well, we have two hours to kill," Ramus said. "At about fifteen hundred, the slaves going up for auction will be made available for viewing by prospective buyers. That's your best chance to scan for IDENTs."
"All I heard him say was 'drink beer,'" Raptor said.
"We have to keep our wits about us and not dull our senses, Mrs. Dimitry," Ghost responded, using her fictional name.
"Actually, it's not a bad idea," Ramus shrugged. "Half of the buyers will arrive drunk, and the other half will end up being drunk before they leave. The auction house provides free spirits to potential buyers, as it seems to loosen up their wallets, and they tend to bid higher."
"You can't be serious," Ghost grumbled.
"I think he is. And I think it's a good idea," Top chimed in. "Bossman didn't specifically say we couldn't indulge a little, after all."
"Well, shit, what's the hold-up, then?" Mama said, as she beckoned the others to follow. "The boss is with the ambassador at the moment. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Mama led the others toward a rustic-looking tavern with Victorian pitch trim and whitewashed paneling. A wood-carved sign jutted out on a wrought iron framework. The sign read "Downtown Public House."
The dimly lit pub had a classic feel. Dark-stained wood paneling wrapped around the walls, and there were cozy niches for booth-style tables. The bar top wrapped around the far wall and stretched the width of the interior. Wooden tables and chairs filled the center space, which was sporadically occupied by other patrons.
"Do you smell that?" Ghost asked with a sly grin.
"I just smell cigar smoke," Ramus grumbled.
"Exactly!"
"Do I get a prize for getting the right answer or something?" Ramus asked sarcastically.
"Well, seeing how you don't have any money, I'll be happy to buy you a cigar." Ghost said, slapping the former commando on his back.
Ramus sighed as he slouched slightly. "Make sure to buy some for the others first. If a slave is seen indulging without his masters doing the same, then it could draw unwanted attention."
"I think you're just saying that because you don't want to smoke alone, buddy," Ghost chuckled.
"Oh, and by the way, you people will have to do all the ordering for me. I'm not allowed to partake in public without an escort, so I'm prohibited from doing it myself."
Ghost began to wonder if removing the man's compliance collar would have made bringing him along much easier, but then he dismissed the notion. It would have been a calculated risk, and Ghost wasn't willing to take it.
"Do the rules say you can't find us a seat, then?"
"No, they don't. I guess I'll make myself useful, master,” Ramus deadpanned.
Meanwhile, the others were already at the bar ordering drinks. Top craned his neck and locked eyes with Ghost.
"Hey, Steven," Top called out, using his fictitious alias. "What will you have?"
"Whiskey and a handful of their finest cigars, my friend," Ghost replied, before slipping his hand in his pocket and thumbing the switch on his nano module. He deployed a cloud of bots designed to create an invisible bubble around him, deflecting the sound waves emitted by their voices.
Once complete, Ghost glanced toward Ramus, who was pulling out a chair at a corner table. Scanning the immediate area, Ghost realized Ramus had selected an ideal location within the pub. It was close to the sign for the toilet, but in a corner where they wouldn't have to look over their shoulders the entire time.
Ghost walked over, pulled out a chair, and took a seat facing the entrance of the pub, so he could keep tabs on who was coming in or out.
Then, as if on cue, two figures happened to walk in. Ghost immediately dropped a waypoint on the men as they entered. Each one wore a casual suit, one black and one grey. Their curious eyes scanned the pub with serious expressions.
"Looks like our tails have arrived," Ghost said aloud, confident the nano cloud would muffle his voice from any meaningful distance.
"Idiots," Ramus scoffed. "They're either incompetent, or they want to be seen. Either way, I'm not impressed."
"My thoughts exactly," Ghost agreed. "I don't think they sent their best and brightest. But I suspect they don't care if we know we're being followed. Perhaps they mean to act as a deterrent, in case we're up to no good."
"I think you're giving them too much credit. These are glorified security guards, not operatives."
