Crossroads (11 page)
“Good to see you, too.” I gasped, “but easy on the ribs, chummer. It’s been a long night.”
Boom immediately set me down and noticed Trouble standing in the doorway for the first time. Suddenly, I might as well not have been in the room.
“Hel-loooo.” the troll said with his mild Cockney accent. “Who ’ave we ’ere? Welcome to the Avalon, dear lady.” He caught up Trouble’s small hand in his own massive one and bent low to bring it to his lips. “I’m Smedley Pembrenton, but you can call me Boom.”
Trouble’s lips quirked into a smile.
“You can call me Trouble.”
“Well.” Boom said with a laugh, “I always said that Talon knew how to bring Trouble into my life. I’ve never been so happy about it before, though. Your reputation proceeds you, Lady Trouble. There are some who speak very highly of you in the sprawl.”
Trouble demurred at the compliment. “Thank you. I’m flattered to know I’ve come to your attention.”
“If you hadn
’
t, I wouldn’t have recruited you to work on that business involving Fuchi Pan-Europa.” the troll said.
“That was
you
?” Trouble said. Boom nodded with a smile and a wink and Trouble merely shook her head.
He ushered us into the spacious office and offered us our choice of the leather upholstered chairs and couches scattered in front of a massive desk of dark wood and plastiglass. I gratefully accepted a steaming mug of coffee—the real thing, from the smell of it—that Boom poured from a small service sitting on the well-stocked sideboard. It was what Boom always called “kid’s coffee.” heavy on the milk and sugar, which was the only way I drank it. I was impressed he remembered, but then Boom always had an amazing memory for trivia and assorted facts. It was one of the things that made him a good shadowrunner and, apparently, a good fixer.
He settled behind his desk, and I could see the changes that had come over Boom since I saw him last. The boisterous, fun-loving nature and the rough-and-tumble troll shadowrunner were still there, but I also saw Mr. Pembrenton, the shrewd fixer who’d built up a substantial reputation for himself as one of the best shadow-brokers in Boston.
“Talon, you told me you wouldn’t come back to the Hub unless your life depended on it, so I’m guessing from that look that you’re not back ’ere just to catch up on old times. What’s going on?’
“You got it in one, chummer. My life
may
depend on it, and Trouble’s too. We’ve got a problem with an ex-Johnson of hers who may be trying to ice us both, somebody who may have some yak connections.”
Boom’s beetle brow furrowed. He didn’t like anyone messing with his friends. “Who is it?” he asked.
“A wagemage for Manadyne named Garnoff.”
“Doctor Anton Garnoff?”
“You know him?”
Boom smiled at me, showing a lot of tusk. At this point I should have stopped being surprised by my old chummer’s connections. “Talon, term, I know a
lot
of people. Yeah, I know Garnoff, big noise with Manadyne’s research department. Didn’t have him pinned for a Johnson, though. More like a target than an employer. What’s he got against you two?”
I shrugged. “It’s got something to do with digging around in my life before I left Boston, but that’s all I know. I figured you might be able to tell us more, maybe what kind of runs were going down lately But if you haven’t heard about Garnoff doing any hiring, then it must be something pretty secret.”
“Well.” Boom said, “you could always just ask him.”
“We can’t exactly make an appointment at Manadyne and tell his secretary we want to see him about his shadow-business.” Trouble said with an edge of sarcasm.
“Quite so.” Boom replied with a tusky grin, “quite so. But you
can
meet him on neutral ground and maybe get a better idea of why he wants you geeked. Seeing the two of you in the flesh might shake his tree enough to get something loose.”
“How are we going to do that?” I asked. “Can you arrange a meeting?”
“Well, it just so happens that Dr. Garnoff is going to be at a little party thrown by Manadyne, a meet-and-greet the corp is running to garner more business and make connections, particularly with Novatech and some of the other local corps. I was thinking about going just to yank the chains of the Japanese suits over having to be polite to a troll for an evening, but this will be even better.”
Boom grinned slyly. “You can see Garnoff, and maybe ask him a few questions. He won’t be in any position to try anything tricky and you can get some answers out of him."
He reached out and clapped me on the shoulder. “It’ll be just like the old days.”
“Yeah.” I said with a grim smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“What do you think?”
“Boom, I’ve seen smaller
countries
in my time.”
The troll’s “place” in the Back Bay area turned out to be an entire brownstone that Boom had bought and renovated, giving him enough space to house about ten squatter families back in the Rox. The four-story building had two guests rooms, a fully outfitted media-suite, and all the modern amenities. Trouble was obviously impressed, particularly with the state-of-the-art electronics in nearly every room. For someone who didn’t used to know which end of a jack to plug into, Boom was pretty techno-savvy.
“So, do you like it?” Boom asked. He was like a kid showing off a new toy.
I smiled and nodded. “It’s a long way from some of the digs you had in Seattle. Most of those wouldn’t even let you stretch without touching the walls.” Buildings were rarely constructed with trolls and other large metahumans in mind, even these days. The cathedral ceilings and wide rooms of the brownstone seemed barely comfortable for someone Boom’s size.
“I still have to duck under the doors.” he said, “but otherwise, it’s not bad.”
“You’ve definitely come up in the world, chummer.”
“Can't live on the streets forever.” Boom returned.
Ain’t that the truth?
I thought. Seemed like most shadowrunners managed to move up and out of the streets or found a permanent residence in an unmarked grave somewhere, sooner or later. I wondered a bit about some of the other chummers Boom and I used to run with and what happened to them. Boom showed us the rest of his place, including the guest rooms, then excused himself to make a few calls and arrange things for later.
The third-floor bathroom was pure heaven, and I made sure to take a nice, long hot shower. I used my time in the shower to clear my mind and organize my thoughts. Whatever Garnoff wanted from me, it was just a matter of convincing him it was more expensive for him to get it than to forget about it. In the old days, I probably would have retaliated against Garnoff with less provocation than he’d already given me, but I knew there was no profit in revenge or retaliation. Manadyne wasn’t a major-league corporation, even with their windfall from Dunkelzahn’s will. I had connections with bigger players than them, so it shouldn't be that difficult to get them off my back By the time I started drying myself with one of the thick, plush towels, I was pretty confident about handling the whole thing.
When Trouble came into the bathroom I think I let out something of a yelp before trying to cover myself with the towel. I managed to babble out something that sounded like “ Wha . . .?” while I tried to get my voice to work.
“We have to share a bathroom.” she said, undoing the clip that held her hair back and allowing it to fall across her shoulders. “Hope you don’t mind.” She started taking off her shirt, apparently heedless of the situation.
“Uh, no.” I said, when I found my voice again. “Of course not. Why would I mind?” I wrapped the towel securely around my waist. “No problem. I was done anyway.” Trouble started taking off her neo-spandex sports bra, and I beat a hasty retreat out of the bathroom, without even retrieving my old clothes. She didn’t say a thing, but I could have sworn she was laughing at me.
The place where Boom took us that afternoon was a branch of Armante of Dallas, a very posh establishment that catered to corporate execs and other high-rollers. Boom was greeted the moment we walked through the door by a dapper-looking elf in a subdued, but fine-cut suit, something that wouldn’t distract from the place’s own wares.
“Mr. Pembrenton!” the elf said with what looked like a genuine smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Something for the Manadyne party?”
Boom returned the smile and nodded. “Yes, Marcel. I need something suitable for my guests here, Thomas and Ariel.” He gestured toward Trouble and me.
I don’t know what shocked me more, the idea that Boom was known in a place like this or the fact that his Cockney accent had completely disappeared as he spoke to Marcel, replaced by something vaguely like an upper-class Boston Brahmin accent. Even his speech pattern was different, perfectly suited to the tony atmosphere.
Marcel looked Trouble and me up and down, carefully appraising us. “I think we should have no trouble accommodating you. I’ll have Alexa assist the lady in choosing from our selection of gowns.” He turned to me. “If you’ll come this way, sir, I can show you something in appropriate evening wear.”
Boom and I followed the elf into the depths of the boutique, and I placed myself in his care for the transformation that was to come.
Marcel quickly took my measurements, although I suspected he could tell most of them simply by looking at me. He excused himself, and I turned to Boom.
“How did he know you were going to the Manadyne party?” I asked, “And what’s the deal with the high-class corporate-speak?”
Boom almost blushed under his greenish skin tone and gave a sheepish smile. “Lingasofts.” he said, pointing to a small jack nestled near the back of his neck, with a few small optical chips slotted into it. “They contain all the right etiquette so I don’t hose up in the wrong situation. I’ve learned most of it over the years, but the 'softs provide a lot of subtle cues you tend to forget about, and they modify my accent and my language as needed for the situation. I’ve got a Japanese language and corporate-culture 'soft for the party, too. I can probably get you one, if you want.”
He glanced at my datajack, and I was suddenly very conscious of the cool metal of the jack against my skin.
“No. thanks.” I said. “I think I can manage.” If he took any notice of my discomfort at the idea of giving control of my behavior over to computer subroutines on a chip, Boom didn’t mention it.
“As for the party.” he said, “it’s Marcel's job to know about all the soirees going on in the plex at any given time. He has to be ready for whatever his customers want, and there’s a big business in passing guest lists for parties around to the different caterers and boutiques, so they know what to expect. In addition to being a great tailor and social engineer, Marcel is one of my better contacts. You can learn a lot from what people wear and what parties they go to. To say nothing of their spending habits, their measurements, and who they buy gifts for.”
In a matter of minutes, Marcel returned, laden with articles of clothing for me to try on. He did a very good job with my measurements; everything fit almost perfectly. I picked out a charcoal Armante suit in a modern style, high-vent, split cuff, with understated lapels and a collarless shirt. The fabric was woven with Kevlar II fibers to provide some light protection, enough to stop the penetration of a small-caliber round. Marcel seemed to approve and began carefully marking the suit to get an exact fit.
As he checked the waist, Marcel looked up at me. “Will you be wearing any . . . special accessories with this suit, sir?”
I pondered for a moment. There might be ways for me to get a gun into the Manadyne party, but I didn’t much see the point. A mage is never really unarmed, and a gun could cause trouble and arouse suspicion.
I shook my head. “The only accessory is this.” I said, holding up the belt with my sheathed dagger on it.
“Hmmm.” Marcel said, looking it over. He reached out to take it from me. “May I?” he asked. I nodded and handed him the belt.
He held it up against the suit from a couple of angles. “I believe hiding in plain sight my be your best option, sir, unless a level of concealment is required.”
Marcel arranged a belt sheath that would fit comfortably under the suit jacket, allowing me access to Talon-claw. The sheath would be covered by the jacket most of the time, not making the dagger too obvious. Looking at the whole image in the mirror, I nodded my approval. The fall of the jacket was perfect and hid the weapon from view.
"One final touch.” Marcel said. He draped a black evening cloak over my shoulders, lined in deep burgundy, and closed it with a silver clasp with a Celtic knotwork design, then handed me a charcoal fedora with a deep burgundy hat band.
The overall effect was quite impressive, even I had to admit that. I looked at my image in the mirror and hardly recognized the slick, well-dressed mage looking back at me.
“Very nice, Marcel.” Boom said.
The tailor smiled in pleasure. “The cloak-lining is Kevlar II as well.” he said, “so it should provide an extra measure of protection. One can’t be too careful.”
I nodded. That much was certain.
Marcel made some final marks and checked the fit of everything, then took the suit for alternations.
“We'll deliver this to you for tonight.” he said.