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The Dwarf had done extensive renovations to his lair in the weeks since Roland’s last visit, but it still retained all the charm of the original. Which is to say, very little charm at all. The former door had been uninteresting, unadorned, and solid. The replacement was a menacing riveted rectangle of black metal, far heavier than its predecessor. Lucia pointed out what Roland was already thinking.
“Figure that’s for you then?” she said though a wan smile, “Rodney trying to send a message?”
Roland grunted and gave the door a long hard look. He gauged its weight and thickness with a keen craftsman’s eye and then he shrugged, “Well, at least the Dwarf is still underestimating me.”
Lucia gave her partner a sideways look, “I dunno. It looks pretty heavy...”
“You just want me to smash up the Hideaway again, don’t you?” he rapped on the panel, eliciting a booming ring, “If it comes to that, this door won’t be a problem. But aren’t you supposed to be preventing me from exerting myself?”
“Are you saying it would be exerting yourself? Like maybe you couldn’t break down this door and perhaps beat the crap out of the Dwarf again?” Lucia was joking, but she really hated Rodney the Dwarf and the thought of destroying his bar and beating him up again cheered her immensely.
A speak-easy style viewing panel slid open and a gruff voice grumbled, “We’re closed! Go away!”
Lucia didn’t give Roland the chance to respond and instead shouted to the hole in the door, “I swear to god, Barney, if you haven’t figured out what is going on here then I am going to tell Roland to drag you out of there and put your ass on like a goddamn snow boot!”
“Shit!” the hidden voice gurgled, “Sorry ma’am, uh, Roland, sir, uhhh... fuck!”
Lucia laughed at Barney’s consternation while she listened to the various locks and latches operate on the far side of the barrier. Roland murmured to her, “You know, when you cuss a guy out you sound exactly like your father after three scotches.” She smiled at what was possibly a compliment.
The door slid to the side on quiet motorized tracks and Barney the doorman stood in the threshold looking sheepish. He was a textbook Dockside goon, a big wall of a man with more muscles than brains and a face that had been used to stop far too many fists. Barney wasn’t a bad sort of guy, but he was dumb and mean and that was not a good combination. Fortunately, he was terrified of Roland and Lucia, and this made him pliable. He moved aside and waved the pair in.
“How’s that knee?” Lucia asked politely, noticing the brace Barney wore and the shuffle in his steps.
“It’ll mend, ma’am,” Barney’s tone was civil, if pained. That brace and a permanent limp were gifts from Lucia, and would evermore remind him not to underestimate small women in any future bar fights.
“Is the Dwarf in his office?” Roland changed the subject.
“Yeah,” Barney smiled, “Doors are unlocked.”
“Hah. I bet they are,” the big man boomed, “So I guess he remembers me, then.”
“Kinda made an impression the last time, Big Guy,” Lucia reminded him as they strode past the bar and toward the unmarked office door at the back of the room. Hideaway looked far too normal during the daytime, Lucia observed. The last time she had been here, it was packed with young bodies lurching and dancing to bad music and indulging in the kind of remorseless fun only hard drug use made possible. Now it was just an empty bar, dark and quiet, with that stale-beer-and-vomit smell that all empty Dockside bars seemed to have. It was bizarre to see the site of one of her most terrifying experiences in so banal a fashion. She found herself looking at the spot where Nico Garibaldi had died, or where Roland had nearly beaten his brother to death.
It was hard to believe this silent dusty old gin mill was the same place.
Has it changed so much? Or have I? It was a disconcerting thought, because she knew the answer already.
Roland was already keying the office door, and Lucia’s stomach lurched at the voice that came through the speaker, “Tank, ye’ big fookin’ shite-stain! C’mon inside.”
Lucia stayed just behind the big cyborg as he passed into the hallway that led to the Dwarf’s office. The door at the far end was already open, and she followed her partner through it, moving to his right side so she would not be hidden by his bulk.
Rodney “The Dwarf” McDowell was barely five feet tall. His moniker was earned and not ironic as he had the appearance of every dwarf stereotype from old fantasy books. His hair was white, and it sat in an unruly mane that blended into an enormous beard. He was stocky and barrel-chested, sporting a thick waist and a big nose.
He did not dress to the type, however. Today’s outfit was a lime green leisure suit and a yellow turtleneck. At least Lucia assumed it was a turtleneck since Rodney’s beard obscured the collar and half his chest to boot.
What really got most people staring however, was the large mechanical claw that the Dwarf had for a right arm. It was big and disproportionate, terminating in a three-fingered clamp that waved and spun lazily when Rodney was thinking too hard.
“And I see ye’ brought yer wee lass wit’ ye! How are ya, missy?”
Something about the way Rodney leered at her made Lucia unreasonably angry, and she could not figure out exactly what it was. Lucia was accustomed to men looking at her. While she was probably never going to win a modelling contract or work in Holovids, she was not insecure about her looks and never had been. Men looked at her all the time, but something about the slimy, misogynistic, avaricious, and predatory mien of the little bastard made her skin crawl. Rodney wasn’t just undressing her with his eyes, he was molesting her. He wanted her to be uncomfortable, and he enjoyed her revulsion.
The Dwarf’s greeting set her jaw, but she forced herself to smile sweetly, “Delightful, Rodney. How are your teeth?” The last time Rodney had disrespected Lucia, she had arranged for several of them to be removed.
The Dwarf grinned, revealing quite a few shiny new gold veneers on the right side, “Pretty as a picture, lassie! Ye like ‘em?”
“Call me ‘missy’ again and I’ll make the other side match,” she kept her voice sweet.
The Dwarf put his hands up in surrender, “Don’t get cranky, love. Just showin’ there are nae any hard feelings, is all. Can’t have you and yer oversized boyfriend gettin’ all belligerent on me, can I?” He laughed, “I’m not even sure which of ye’ is more terrifyin’ anymore.”
“She is,” Roland rumbled, meaning every word of it, “I’ll just kill you. Ms. Ribiero will hurt you in ways that don’t get better. Now let’s talk about your employees and why my house is to be respected, shall we?”
The Dwarf winced comically, “Yes. About that. I’m very sorry those two fook-wits went and screwed up a simple message... “
“They tried to force their way in. Through Ms. Ribiero I might add,” Roland interrupted.
“And Holhouse will be limpin’ like Barney fer the rest of his fookin’ life over it. Feels like we’re even on that one, boyo. Besides, there is a whole lot more shite to worry about right now that’s more important than yer wee ego.” Rodney was suddenly deadly serious, “Somebody went after the Board last night. All of ‘em. Got Cherenkov, Porter and Carter.”
Roland’s face went blank. Lucia’s eyes widened and her jaw went slack.
“Yeah. Exactly. And if ye’ had just listened to the fookin’ message my boys were bringin’ ye, ye just might have had the jump on some of this shite.” The floppy white mane wobbled as Rodney shook his head, “They was supposed to tell ye that a whole crate of those fooked-up-lookin’ killer-assassin-or-whatever-bots had just shown up at Farragut’s, ye great big arse!” He threw up his organic hand in frustration, “I was tryin’ ta fookin’ help ya’!”
“Now,” Rodney continued, “We got three dead Board members, and a wounded Chairman...”
“They got to Pops?” Roland interjected.
“Yeah, but Mack and Mindy were on site so he is only a wee bit banged up. Mack tore the shite out of his suite with that pair of arse-buggerin’ mini-guns in the scrap, though!”
“Mack was never subtle,” Roland mused.
“Oh? And you are?” Rodney fired back, “Any-fookin-way, we got three dead Bosses, and nobody has a great-goddamn clue who hit ‘em. If the Board goes down, it’ll be chaos on the streets, and eventually Gateways or the cops or what have ye’ will be all over Dockside.”
He pointed at Roland, “Ye’ve always fixed it so no racket got too big here, boyo. Sure, I run a little nose candy, arrange for some of Madeleine’s girls to find clients, and I make a shite-ton of dirty money into clean Creds. But yer the reason neither me nor any other Dockside crew has got the cash or firepower to survive a bloody fookin’ mafia war!”
“And that means you want me to fix the situation?” Roland asked, “Because I did the job you and everyone else wanted me to?”
“No. I want ye to fix it because that’s what yer fookin’ paid ta do! I know the Gateways suits are gonna come to ye eventually, and I’m tellin’ ye that I am gonna help ye get the job done. That’s what I sent Holhouse and Timmons ta fookin’ tell ya.”
“Alright,” Roland said. “So what’s the situation? We are down Cherenkov, Carter, and Porter? That’s Summertown, The Brook Line, and Quinzy. Damn.”
Roland began ticking off the zones out loud, “Summertown should be fine, Cherenkov was always just a proxy for Pops, anyway. Dodged a bullet there,” Roland was as well versed on New Boston crime syndicates as anyone, “Carter held The Brook Line for a long time. He was grooming that little shit, what’s-his-name, for promotion anyway. Hopefully they don’t collapse.”
“Yeah,” The Dwarf agreed. “But the Quinzy shipyards are goin’ to be a problem right quick. They’ve never been all that stable ta’ begin with, and Gateways is very fookin’ touchy about them freighters. Hell, we all are!”
“There are other shipyards,” Roland replied, “I’m more worried about the crews falling apart over there. Porter barely kept a lid on them as is, and I can’t imagine they’ll wait for the Board to appoint a new Boss.”
“Especially after that shite in Big Woo,” The Dwarf reminded Roland, “Lots of us petty thugs are getting’ a wee bit big fer our britches these days.”
Roland liked McGinty, but The Dwarf had a point.
“Are we missing the big picture here?” Lucia finally spoke up, “Is this really a gang problem? Or should we be focusing on whoever is trying to kill off The Combine?”
Roland nodded in agreement, “Good point. Who the fuck benefits from hitting the Board?”
Lucia gave Roland that “I-can’t-believe-you-are-this-dumb” look and said slowly, “It’s a huge criminal organization that steals, kills, embezzles, and until recently actually enslaved people. Roland, everybody benefits if they go down.”
“Yeah, well, sure. But besides that. Who benefits directly?” Only after the words had escaped his lips did he realize how stupid they sounded.
For once, The Dwarf was helpful, “This is off-world shite,” he said with conviction, “Has to be.”
“How so?” the woman asked, “I can think of lots of people who would love to take down The Combine right here on earth.”
The Dwarf shot her a sickly smile, “Because them fookin’ killer androids aren’t from around here, if ye ken my meanin’ I’ve been known to move a little hardware around for folks what might want it. I’ve got a pretty good idea jest what sort of toys everyone likes to play with.”
He wagged his head in the negative, “I’ve never seen nor heard of those spindly bastards before this. They aren’t made on Earth, and no one here uses ‘em.”
“Where did they ship from?” Roland asked bluntly.
Rodney winced, “Yes, well, there’s the bloody rub now, isn’t it? The bill of lading is from some no-name shell company from fook-all frontier space. I knew that was bullshite when I saw it. Those toys cost more than that wee company declared in earnings last year.”
“So where?” Lucia asked, her patience fading.
“I did a little inquirin’ if ye catch my drift, lassie. And I found out that the company on the bill of lading was set up by the brokerage, and that is a wee bit of a problem.”
Lucia gave the little man a withering glare, “There a lot of brokerages and lots of shell corporations. Why can’t we just go through their filings and see who the principals are?”
“Maybe in yer high-falootin’ Uptown world Miss—er - Lady,” The Dwarf corrected himself before Lucia removed the rest of his teeth. Her foot had already left the floor, and she stopped it before it connected with his mouth. She let it hang there, still as stone, so Rodney could see how close her fashionable boot had gotten to his face. Then she calmly placed it back on the floor.
Roland rescued The Dwarf from Lucia’s wrath, “He means The Brokerage. Capital ‘T’ and capital ‘B.’ It’s a network of off-world legal firms that create impenetrable corporate interconnections to hide money and illegal transactions.”
Lucia sighed, “You guys and your ominous names for stuff. So dramatic!” She switched gears, “So none of them file reports?”
“Oh, the reports are out there, but in what jurisdiction? Under what trade agreement?” Roland held up his hands in defeat, “Investigators have never been able to penetrate The Brokerage well enough to link their companies to anything nefarious. It’s why they can charge so much.”
“So, if I want to do something horrible and get paid for it, I can have this ‘Brokerage’ set up a shell company buried in so many corporate entanglements and in multiple jurisdictions such that I can’t be touched?” Lucia looked aghast.
“How do you think Pops can live like an emperor when his money comes from crime?” Roland shrugged, “By the time it gets to him, the money is so far removed from the corruption that created it that it can’t be linked to him well enough for prosecution.”
“And that’s why I cannae figure out who sent the kill-droids after ye,” The Dwarf declared, “I ain’t gonna try to fook with The Combine or The Brokerage. All this shite is way over my head.”
“Everything is over your head, Rodney,” Roland deadpanned. Lucia chuckled.
“Yeah yeah. I’m fookin’ short. Yer hilarious,” Rodney rolled his eyes, “but yer fookin tall as shite, ain’t ya?”
Roland’s eyes grew wide, “You want me to go after The Brokerage?” He breathed a low whistle, “That’s... that’s a tall order...”
“Now ye see how bein’ short can be a good thing, don’t ye just, boyo,” chuckled the tiny man.
“But that means going out to Enterprise, at least. Who holds this place down while I’m gone?” Roland knew he would not like the answer.
“I got ye covered, fucko,” said Rodney, “Jest leave it to me!” Roland could not think of a worse person to handle Dockside in a crisis than Rodney McDowell. If Roland set every building on fire right now and left, it would still be less risky than leaving his beloved home in the tender care of the avaricious and self-serving Dwarf.
“I’ll handle it,” Lucia piped up, “We need to maintain the neutrality of Dockside and the resident fixer. This situation is going to mean working with The Combine and Gateways very closely. I am far more comfortable in a boardroom than ol’ Rodney here. Hell, it’s my natural habitat.”
The Dwarf’s face lost its forced amiability, “Jest what the fook are ye after, lass? I’ve run a racket here for forty fookin’ years and I’ll be damned if some Uptown skirt is going to- ”
Lucia’s boot caught Rodney cleanly on the left side of his head. The black blur compressed the bearded face and slammed the jaw shut with a sickening click and ejected blood and tooth fragments in a foamy spray that painted the wall with pink dots. The Dwarf’s head spun to the side and consciousness fled in an explosion of shock and pain as his limp form oozed to the floor.
Roland grunted, “You really gotta stop doing that.”
Lucia looked at Roland, “He deserved it!”
He looked down at her, disapproving, “Sure he did, but sooner or later he’s going to start taking it personally. Then I’ll have to kill him and train some other hood to take his place. You’re really just making more work for me.”
She looked at the limp mess bleeding on the floor, “Fine. But I’m still not letting him handle Dockside while you are off beating up a bunch of lawyers in space.”
The pair turned and began to walk out the door. Roland smiled, “When you say it that way, it almost sounds like fun.”