Poison Agendas Read online

Orion shrugged. "Could have been killed for a lot of reasons." he said. "If this guy was tight with the Brain Eaters, well, gangs have enemies." As a former gang member, Orion knew it better than most.

  "Gangers didn't off him." Kellan said with conviction.

  "Probably not." Orion agreed. It wasn't like gangs to use poison as a weapon. "It could have been someone else, but that would be a pretty big coincidence. Like you said, if somebody considers this data worth killing for . . ."

  Kellan nodded. "Then it has to be worth something, right?"

  "Yeah. So what's the plan?"

  "Then you're in?" Kellan asked, and Orion smiled.

  "Let's say I'm interested and I want to hear more. What's the plan?"

  "We go into NAN territory, locate the stash and figure out what's there. Once we know that, I've got an interested buyer and we can negotiate price."

  "We?" Orion asked. "So you've already got a team put together?"

  "Not yet, but I've got some leads. You can help me out with that part, if you want."

  "And what's this job pay?" Orion asked. Kellan knew that he was in, but there were certain formalities to observe.

  "Even split of the take." she said. "Minus expenses."

  "How big a team?"

  "Dunno yet, but no more than five."

  Orion nodded in agreement with that number. "Okay." he said after a pause. "Count me in."

  "Great." Kellan said. "The next thing we need to do is put together the rest of the team and set up a meet. You up for that?"

  "Just point the way." the elf said. "Who do you have in mind?"

  "I got a few names from G-Dogg, and I already know one other runner who's interested. She goes by Midnight."

  "Midnight?" Orion asked, raising one eyebrow. "I've heard of her. She's pretty high-class—how'd you get her on board?"

  "I have my ways." Kellan said with a pleased smile. "I've set up meets with a few other possibilities." She flipped open her phone to show Orion the screen. He glanced at the addresses and times displayed there.

  "Looks good." he said. "Let's do it."

  * * *

  The so-called Elven District near the southern shore of Lake Union was what most Seattleites thought an "elven neighborhood" should look like. Whereas Tarislar was filled with derelict and abandoned buildings covered in a fine layer of ash from Mount Rainier, the Elven District was home to brick-front townhouses and renovated nineteenth-and twentieth-century buildings. Ivy grew in profusion across many of the buildings, and there were murals painted by metahuman artists. The whole neighborhood had an artsy, bohemian feel to it, carefully planned to attract both tourists and locals interested in elven culture.

  Orion hated the place. From the moment they parked their motorcycles and began walking down the pedestrian-only streets, he insisted on pointing out to Kellan all of the Elven District's flaws, starting with the genetically modified strains of ivy and continuing with the murals, the "traditional" elven and dwarf architecture, and the shops filled with "handmade elven crafts."

  "Yeah, handmade in little faerie tree houses." he sneered. "More likely made in Tsimshian or Hong Kong by underpaid child labor."

  "It's just drek for the tourists." Kellan said, in an attempt to pacify him.

  Orion snorted. "Most of them think Tir Tairngire is like faerieland or something, and Seattle has the exclusive trade agreement."

  He continued his rant by moving on to racial stereotypes, and only stopped talking because he was struck momentarily speechless when Kellan stopped in front of a shop and indicated it was the address she had displayed on her phone.

  "You have got to be kidding me." Orion muttered, looking up at the shop's carved wooden placard. It showed a sword and hammer crossed above an anvil, with the name mithril arts arcing above it in pseudorunic script.

  "What?" Kellan asked.

  "Tradfant." Orion spat, as if that explained everything. When Kellan gave him a quizzical look, he continued. "This place caters to people who expect metahumans to be like something out of a fantasy novel. You know, elves all in flowing gossamer, carrying bows, dwarfs wearing furs and chain mail and saying drek like 'By my father's beard!' It's all a bunch of fraggin' racist tourist crap. The worst thing is that some metahumans actually buy into this drek." He threw up his hands in frustration. "It's the traditional fantasy types who make it so nobody can see metas as normal people."

  "Well, this is the address the guy gave me." Kellan said. "So behave yourself, okay?"

  Orion sighed. "Fine. But I don't know what kind of talent you expect to find in here."

  A bell jangled as Kellan opened the door to the shop. It was like stepping into the past, or onto a set for a simsense production. Or maybe the props department of a simflick. The inside of the shop was paneled in rough-hewn wood, also used for the shelving and the counter running along one side. Racks and display cases held swords, daggers, axes and other medieval weapons. Some were beautifully detailed, others much more functional looking. There were heavy shirts of fine chain links ranging in sizes from dwarf to one displayed on a troll-sized mannequin, which dominated the back corner. Armored greaves, gauntlets, breastplates and a profusion of helmets took up the rest of the display space.

  The curtains in the doorway to the back of the shop parted and a dwarf woman emerged. She wore what looked like a medieval peasant costume: a puffy-sleeved blouse and a long, homespun-looking dress with a full bodice laced up the front. Her light brown hair was long but caught up in braids wound at the nape of her neck. She favored Kellan and Orion with a wide smile and a twinkle in her brown eyes.

  "Hello there!" she said. "Welcome to Mithril Arts. Can I help you?"

  Kellan did her best not to snicker at the pained expression on Orion's face. "We're looking for Draven." she told the woman.

  "Of course." she said. "He's in the back." She nodded toward the curtained door. "Go right ahead, he's expecting you." Then she bustled off behind the counter.

  Kellan led the way through the doorway, pushing aside the curtain. The space behind the shop was a combination of storeroom and workshop. It included an old-fashioned forge, complete with anvil, hammer, tongs and other tools of the blacksmith's art. The forge was cold today, but a dwarf was sitting on a low stool beside a workbench. He was linking metal rings together to make a shirt of mail, twisting and crimping them with a set of pliers and deft movements of his large hands. He glanced up from his work as the two shadowrunners entered.

  "Right on time." the dwarf said, glancing at the analog cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. "Come in, come in." He set aside the mail and began clearing off a couple of the nearby stools.

  "You're Draven?" Kellan asked, and the dwarf nodded vigorously.

  "That's me." he said. "Have yourself a seat and let's talk business."

  Kellan studied Draven as she and Orion settled in next to the burly dwarf. Like his entire race, Draven was built wide and low to the ground. Kellan estimated he was about a meter and a half tall—average for a dwarf. He was barrel-chested, with wide shoulders and arms thickly corded with muscle. He wore a tee-shirt that stretched across his chest, and a pair of faded jeans under an old leather apron. Heavy work boots covered his feet. He had a thick mane of brown hair, receding somewhat in front, and a full, bristling beard. His hair was braided into a thick ponytail that stretched down his back. The portions of his face not covered in hair were craggy and deeply lined. He was older than Kellan expected—at least twice her age, she guessed. Still, his bulging muscles showed he was in excellent shape, and a few scars, white against his tanned skin, showed that Draven was a dwarf with experience.

  "Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Maybe a little something to drink?" He had a trace of an accent Kellan couldn't identify. It sounded vaguely Scottish or English.

  "No thanks." she said, and Draven nodded.

  "You wouldn't mind if I had a drop?" When Kellan shrugged, Draven took a flask from the workbench, popped the top and belted back a deep gulp before replacin
g the stopper and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

  "Well, then, let's get down to business." he said. "You told me you're looking to make a little trip out of town, eh?"

  "That's right." Kellan said.

  "Delivering or picking up?" Draven asked. "Or is it both?"

  "Picking up," Kellan told him, "or at the minimum, checking out a location." She briefly explained the run.

  The dwarf nodded. "There's the potential for a good haul?"

  "A very good haul, and everyone gets a share."

  Draven's bushy beard split into a smile. "An' just how much potential are we talkin' about here?"

  "We won't know for sure until we get there," Kellan told him, "but it's a lot of potential, if I'm right."

  "And a fair amount of wasted time and effort if you're wrong."

  "I'm not." Kellan said.

  Draven paused for a moment. "Well, you're certainly sure of yourself, I'll give you that. I can see why Lothan decided to take you on."

  "You know Lothan?" Kellan asked, and Draven chuckled.

  "Of course I know Lothan." he said. "He and I were working the shadows before you were even a twinkle in your daddy's eye. I take it he either doesn't know about this particular opportunity of yours or doesn't much care for it. Which is it?"

  "He's not interested." Kellan said. Would that kill Draven's interest as well?

  "Well, Lothan likes to play it safe these days." Draven mused. "He was quite the daredevil in his younger days, though, let me tell you!"

  "You still seem pretty daring yourself." Kellan replied, and Draven smiled.

  "Ah, if only you'd known me twenty years ago." he said. "Still, I can't afford to play it quite as safe as Lothan does these days. You have to take risks if you want to find the really big score, eh?" He gave Kellan a wink and slapped his leather-covered thigh with one hand. "All right then, Kellan, if you say this opportunity of yours is worth the effort, then I'm willing to give it a chance."

  "Great." Kellan said. "We're meeting tonight to outline the plan." She gave Draven the place and time, and the old dwarf nodded.

  "I'll be there." he said.

  Kellan didn't speak again until they were out of earshot of the shop.

  "Well?" she asked Orion. He remained silent for a bit longer, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket, then shrugged.

  "You sure he can still cut it?"

  "G-Dogg seemed to think so."

  "G-Dogg didn't exactly give you his A-list, did he?" the elf observed.

  "He wouldn't have given me runners who couldn't do the job." she countered.

  "Well, I guess we'll find out. Let's hope this next guy is a more impressive prospect, though."

  Chapter 12

  Tukwila was in the southern downtown area, not far from the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, so it didn't take them long to travel there. Lone Star did a good job of patrolling I-5 during the daylight hours, especially close to downtown and the airport, so they managed to avoid any trouble with go-gangs. Tukwila, on the other hand, was considered the roughest neighborhood in the area. It made Columbia look upscale, though it was a far cry from the lawlessness of the Redmond or Puyallup Barrens. Needless to say, Lone Star didn't put much effort into keeping Tukwila safe for the SINners.

  The address Kellan had been given was a bar that was just as run-down as the rest of the neighborhood. It was a one-story building with peeling white paint, and heavy steel mesh protecting the windows. Weeds sprouted up from cracks in the pavement, choking parts of the parking lot. The lot was empty. In fact, according to the faded sign on the door, the place wasn't even open for another hour.

  Kellan tried the door and found it unlocked, so she pushed it open and stepped inside, followed closely by Orion.

  "We're not open yet!" called a voice from the other side of the room. Kellan could see a swarthy man wearing a stained apron, with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He set a cardboard box on the top of the bar, glaring in their direction from under heavy black brows.

  "It's okay, Lou." another voice said. "They're here to see me."

  This voice came from the back corner of the bar, and the speaker stood as he spoke, setting a half-empty glass of beer on the table. He was tall for a human, and his rough-hewn features and erect posture gave him a strong presence. He had a prominent nose, sharp cheekbones and a coppery complexion that contrasted with raven dark hair, worn long in a single braid down his back. He was dressed in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned at the collar. He wore a white thermal shirt underneath, and a necklace of carved bone. Both shirts were tucked into a pair of faded jeans, in turn tucked into laced-up moccasin boots.

  As Kellan appraised him, his dark eyes regarded her. Whatever his opinion, his face remained as impassive as stone.

  "Natokah." he said by way of introduction, confirming he was the man they had come to meet.

  "I'm Kellan." she said. "We talked. This is Orion."

  Natokah nodded acknowledgement and gestured for them to sit. Once they were all seated he said matter-of-factly. "You are planning a foray into Native territory. You will need a guide, and an intermediary to speak with the spirits of the land—though I see both of you have your own capabilities."

  Interesting. Kellan knew Natokah was a shaman. She'd hoped to have access to his expertise when she contacted him off G-Dogg's list. Obviously, he'd noticed her and Orion's magical talents.

  "We can handle ourselves," Kellan said modestly, "but we're not experienced in dealing with spirits from the native lands."

  "I am." Natokah replied. "Very experienced. Where do you plan to go?"

  "Salish-Shidhe territory." Kellan replied. "Recon the target site and return with information on what's there."

  "And what do you expect to find there?"

  "Something to make the trip worthwhile." Kellan countered.

  Natokah offered a faint smile in return. "So you're not sure." he said.

  "If we were sure, there wouldn't be any need to go."

  "What's the payment?"

  "Some cred up front and a share of the profits." Kellan told him. She quoted a figure and Natokah remained silent for a moment.

  "That's not much." he said.

  "That's just an advance." Kellan said. "The rest is on completion."

  "How much?"

  "As much as we can get."

  "Split how many ways?"

  "Five, if everything goes well." Kellan told him.

  "Fewer, if it doesn't." Natokah responded. There was a moment of silence, then the shaman nodded. "All right." he said. "I'm interested."

  "Good. We're—''

  "Hey, you're not allowed—" Lou's voice shouted, then was cut off by a loud "Urk!" and a crashing sound. Instantly, the three shadowrunners were on their feet as a group of gang members wearing black and white poured into the bar from the kitchen entrance. They each wore a red fez topped with a gold tassel and carried various implements of violence. In the lead were Crash and the ork she'd run into at Squeak's apartment.

  "Colt!" Crash yelled, pointing at Kellan. "You're dead meat!" Natokah leaned toward Kellan.

  "Seems like you could use a trip out of the plex right now." he commented wryly, then the gangers charged.

  There were a half-dozen Brain Eaters, including Keefer and Zoog, armed with knives, hand razors or heavy lengths of chain. The ork carried a heavy wooden bat like a club. Two of them had visible cybereyes, their normal eyes replaced with solid silver spheres with no iris or pupil.

  Kellan kicked her chair into Crash's path as Orion's sword cleared its sheath in a flash of metal. As the Brain Eater tripped over the chair, Kellan reached for the stun baton inside her jacket. The close quarters made casting a spell too risky. Besides, most of the spells Kellan knew tended to involve things exploding, and she didn't want to wreck the bar. A pistol wasn't too useful in close quarters, especially in the midst of friendly targets.

  With a twist of his blade, Orion brushed aside the bat hi
s opponent was swinging at his head. Then he spun and buried his sword in the next Brain Eater's stomach, causing him to howl in pain. The elf yanked his sword free, sending the ganger stumbling backward and doing his level best to hold his guts in as he bled all over the floor.

  Crash only stumbled over Kellan's chair, keeping his feet under him, but she had her stun baton in hand by then. Scalpel-like blades gleamed at the ganger's fingertips, but her weapon gave Kellan the advantage of greater reach. As Crash lunged at her, she wielded the stun baton like a short sword, making a lightning-fast thrust at his torso. The tip of the weapon connected and there was a loud crack as hundreds of volts slammed into the ganger's body. He stiffened and dropped to lie twitching on the floor.

  Natokah ducked under the chain swung at him and hooked a leg out to sweep the Brain Eater off his feet. The ganger tumbled backward, losing his grip on his weapon as he tried unsuccessfully to break his fall. The shaman's voice rang out with an ululating cry that seemed to reverberate in the confines of the bar.

  Orion met Zoog head-on. A slightly curved blade emerged from the back of the Brain Eater's wrist, about the length of his forearm, tapering to a needle-sharp point. He swung the razor-edged spur at the elf, who blocked it gracefully with his blade. Orion held the sword hilt-up, blade pointing at the floor. As he blocked past his left shoulder, he just as quickly reversed it, bringing the sword down in an overhand arc. The Brain Eater dived to the side to avoid it.

  "Watch out!" Kellan yelled, as another of the gangers closed in on Orion, coming to help Zoog. A flash of Orion's double-edged blade held his second opponent at bay for the moment. Kellan lunged in at the second ganger, jamming the stun baton into his side. He jerked as it discharged, but his heavy synthleather jacket must have insulated him from some of the shock, since he stayed on his feet.

  Orion's sword had left a bleeding gash along Zoog's arm, cutting through his heavy leathers like tissue paper. The ganger cursed and came at the elf again, but was blocked by another twist of his blade.

  Natokah's chant rose into a shrieking call and Kellan felt the crackle of magical power in the air. She turned to see the shaman raise his hands, his fingers taking on the appearance of hooked claws. There was a sharp cast to his features, like the profile of some predatory bird. The floorboards of the bar groaned, like some great creature had been roused from a deep sleep.