A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle) (26 page)

Diomedes cut the link.

"I probably shouldn't have asked that yet." Michael sighed and turned to Marc. "Think he bought it?"

"You'd know more than I would. Hey, how much does Diomedes know about computer security, really?"

"He doesn't, I thought."

Marc tapped the console.
"As secure as it was, then, this might be a local link. If it was already set up in the bar, he wouldn't have had to do anything special to it."

"Maybe we should ask the bartender."

"Why, because he was so helpful last time?"

"Okay, so then I guess we wait.
"

Five minutes after hanging up with Fagles, Diomedes paced the private safe room above the 'Pyre. He was trusting Lars too much. But if the bartender wanted his money, he wouldn't betray him. No, the danger would come after Diomedes left and paid the man. Once he had his money, would Lars turn on him then? Tip others to where he'd gone? He'd have to make sure Lars didn't know where he went.

But that would come later.
Michael and the other would be there soon. Lars would take some drinks to their table, tell them so no one else could hear that Diomedes was waiting for them upstairs. They'd bring the drinks with them, and then he would see.

Diomedes sat on the stool by the terminal and waited.

Fagles had been skeptical of their offer. So many questions, not the least of which was who Michael's associate was and how he found them. He was adamant about comparing the coordinates to the point of being insulting. As if Diomedes would agree to go along with anything if the data didn't check. The man was skeptical, but he didn't have much choice. Diomedes hadn’t shared their promise to clear his name.

Fagles'
s voice echoed in his mind from their phone conversation. "
This almost seems too convenient. But your blunders leave us little choice.
" He'd been quick to point out that Diomedes better be sure about them; he'd be the one going up there. Like Diomedes needed to be reminded it was his ass on the line. But Fagles had come up with an additional suggestion. One that Diomedes agreed with.

They wouldn't like it.
Diomedes was sure of that. It was Reason One he was seeing them in person. Threats were more persuasive in person. Reason Two was another they wouldn't like. They wouldn't know about that one. Not until they couldn't do a damn thing about it. Even Fagles didn't know about that one.

The small voice came again.
No. You can't do this!
He had ignored it before when he poured the vial into the beers Lars would bring them. It remained a tugging irritation, even after it was too late to matter.

Yes, it's already done.
It had to be done anyway.
Footsteps on the stairs saved him from debating the matter. They were coming.

Diomedes stood in the shadowed corner along one side of the door, weapon out.
There was a knock. "Yeah?"

"It's Michael. And Marc."

The kid wasn't stupid enough to use his name in the hall. Good. "In. Slowly."

The kid came in first.
Diomedes got his attention with a wave of the gun. "Over here. Anyone else but your partner comes in after you, you get a bullet."

The kid hesitated a moment, an eye on the gun.
Then he kept coming. "It's just us, like I told you."

"We'll see."
Michael came in the rest of the way. The other one followed and closed the door. They moved across the room to stand near the wall. Diomedes kept his aim on Michael. They'd brought the drinks Lars had given them. Good.

But they haven't
drunk them yet. You've only got two doses, and they're in those glasses. You can't let them leave if they don't drink!

Diomedes
nodded to himself. "Guns on the table. Now."

Michael scowled
. "How many times do I have to tell you we're not here for that?"

Diomedes raised the gun a little more.
"Just shut up and do as you're told."

"Fine.
Whatever. But if we're going to do this you'll have to trust us eventually."

"No reason I should trust you again, after what you did."

"You can't hardly—," the kid started. "Look, forget it. We've got other stuff to worry about now, don't you think?" He drew an auto-pistol from under his coat and set it on the table. He added a holdout from the small of his back a second later.

A second weapon back there.
You taught him that, didn't you?

Shut up, Diom
edes thought. He turned the gun on Marc. "Now you."

Marc put a single, sissy piece of his own on the table.
"That's all."

"You're a liar."

Marc took a step back. "I don't even own another one! Look, you can frisk me if you want to!"

He's afraid.
He's hiding something.

Or he's just intimidated.

Diomedes moved closer. He patted the timid man down with one hand and made sure not to disturb the glass in his hand. He wasn't lying. No second piece.

"Well?" Michael asked.

"He's not lying. So he's an idiot. No backup piece?"

Marc shrugged like a fool.

"He's with me," said the kid. "I'm his backup."

"Yeah?" Diomedes gathered the weapons and stuffed them into his bag.
"And who's yours?"

"Same as yours."

Michael doesn't have anyone either. You should be looking out for him like before, not—

He has Marc!
He has whoever Marc's working for! He doesn't want your protection! And if he doesn't see it coming then he deserves what he gets! Maybe he'll learn something!

And when will he learn it?
In the few moments before the end?

Diomedes tried to shut out the voices.
"Before we do any of this, I want the coordinates. They don't check out, this ends right here."

Marc took what looked like an oversized palmtop computer off his belt and slipped out a memory strip.
Diomedes snatched it from him and slid it into his phone for transfer to Fagles. "He'll have to check it." The two men glanced at each other, and Diomedes decided he didn't like them standing there. Too easy for them to move, for one thing. He motioned to the table. "It'll be a minute. Sit. Drink. Or something."

The two men sat, but they didn't drink.
Instead, they kept a wary watch on him. As they should. If Fagles cleared them, he'd lower the gun. Then they would relax. Then they would drink. For the moment, no one spoke.

Then
Marc reached for his coat pocket. Diomedes shifted the gun to him instantly. "Don't."

"It's
— I'm just getting a mint."

Diomed
es reached into the man's pocket, grabbed the contents in his fist, and tossed them on the table. Keys, a roll of mints, a battery, and some sort of scanner clattered across it. "There." Marc picked up the mints and had the sense to shut up.

Michael drummed his finger on the table, scowling. "So how've you been?"

"Like you care."

"
I asked, didn't I? You know we're trying to help you here, you could maybe ease up on the threats!"

"We'll see."

The kid opened his mouth again but Diomedes's phone cut him off. Diomedes answered it without a word.

"
They're genuine. Contact me again when you've broken the news to them, and we'll proceed.
"

"Right."

"
I remind you that we're walking a very thin line here. Make this work.
"

Diomedes hung up.

There. Michael is trustworthy.

This proves nothing.

Diomedes holstered the gun. "Alright. So you're legit." He glanced at their beers, still untouched.

"So what now?
How's this going to work, exactly?"

"We leave tomorrow. Forged access that'll get us
onto a RavenTech shuttle that we take from Sunrise Station to the Moon." He fixed Michael with a stern look. "Before you get any ideas, you don't get the access cards until we're on Sunrise. And you get them from me."

Michael met his gaze a moment, then simply shrugged.
"Sounds fair." The kid's hand fell to rest on his glass.

"It's non-negotiable."

"I said it sounded fair."

Diomedes gave him a grunt.
"When we get to the Moon, we get a rover to the site. Also RavenTech."

Marc spoke next. "And that's
— I mean, well are we landing at ESA's Alpha Station, then?" He was stuttering. Definitely he'd be easily intimidated.

But he wasn't drinking.
Neither were drinking!

"No," he answered.
"WSC base."

"Western Space Consortium?"
Marc asked. Was that relief in his voice?

"So?"

Marc only shrugged.

"
Now listen," Diomedes said. "I'm not an idiot. You're using me for something. Well I'm using you, too. You want to fuck ESA, fine. We do that. But you try to pull something else, try to do anything that screws with what I'm doing, and you're
done
. Understand?" He stared at Marc. The small man swallowed.

"How do we get back?" Michael asked.
He lifted his glass to swirl the beer around inside it.

Drink!

"Same way."

"And then what?"

"And then nothing. We're finished. That's the deal, take it or leave it."

Michael looked at the other and
then lifted his glass to his lips. For a moment that Diomedes didn't quite understand, he nearly stopped him. But the impulse passed, and Michael took a drink of his beer.

Finally!

"Can we have a moment to think about this?"

It was just a single swallow, but it was enough.
Satisfied, Diomedes stepped back to give them space. Now the other just had to drink.

The two
scooted their chairs back and began to talk in whispers. Diomedes could always just dump the beer down the other one's throat. There'd be a struggle, but once he did it, it would be too late.

Yet that would also mean they would know he'd done something.
They might betray him for it before Marc could get his name cleared. No, he needed to be more subtle. He needed to wait. Hell.

They were still
whispering. Michael already drank, his fate was sealed. It should have been satisfying. It was always satisfying when he'd beaten an enemy. But the other still had to drink, didn't he? Diomedes grunted to himself. That must be what bothered him. When the other drank, then he would feel better.

You can still fix things.
You can deactivate it.

But you won't.
If you do, they can turn on you—try to get a cut of what you set up with Fagles. You can't let them do that to you!

He needed the ins
urance the nanopoison gave him: tiny microscopic robots floating around in their blood, timed and waiting for the moment when they'd stop the drinker's heart. It would activate soon after they were scheduled to get back from the Moon. The op would be complete, and Marc would have no reason not to clear his name. He would do that. But they'd be fools not to demand a cut of what he and Fagles would get from what they found. No matter what they claimed, either they'd demand it in exchange for silence or they'd steal it themselves. The poison would ensure they'd be dead before they could try it.

Yes, he could deactivate it, but why would he?
The option only made it easier to give it to them. A way out if he made a mistake. He hated that it was a comfort to him. It wasn't a mistake! He shouldn't need reassurance.

Don't you have any balls?

"Alright," the kid said. The two turned back around. "I guess it sounds good, then. Where do we meet to leave?"

"Not so damn fast."
Now came the part they wouldn't like. "One more condition."

If a dog gave him the look the kid did
then, Diomedes would have kicked it. "Well maybe you should have mentioned that
earlier
?"

"You don't like it you can get the hell out.
You came to me."

"Look, I just meant
— Never mind. What is it?"

Diomedes pointed at Marc.
"Only he goes to the Moon. You don't go past Sunrise. You wait there until we get back." It was what Fagles had suggested. Separate them, make Marc feel vulnerable. All the easier to keep him in line. And accidents did happen, if they needed to.

The kid shook his head.
"No. No way. I go with him the whole way. I'm his protection."

"You don't like it, there's no deal.
I'll be his protection."