CHAPTER 32

The gravtrain station wasn’t exactly busy at 0630, which made blending into the background a challenge, but to Nat’s mind they at least still had the element of surprise on their side. If Roche Flores was anything like other crime lords of her acquaintance, his chief weakness would be his overconfidence. She gave a sidelong glance at Ofeibia Xi, who was striding across the inlaid tile floor like she owned the place; Addy Sayers flanked the woman on the other side, eyeing her like a raptor waiting for its prey to slip up.

As they crossed towards the platform, Nat’s earbud – Xi had provided them all with comms equipment, though locked to a single channel – crackled to life.

“Eyes on Flores,” came Gwen’s lilting Caledonian accent. “Ten o’clock.”

It was a sign of the Coire Ansic boss’s paranoia that he himself always accompanied the train to Tralee, then took an express sub-orbital hopper back to Stranraer. Not exactly a cost-efficient way of getting around, but when you had the money, you spent it.

“Copy that,” Nat murmured, letting her gaze drift naturally in the direction indicated.

There was no mistaking the man. Half a dozen figures in dark suits strode alongside him, eyes looking outward in every direction for threats. Cocooned amidst them, talking with the loud tones of someone yelling down a comm connection, was Roche Flores himself: short, balding, and slight of build, but younger than Xi’s reconnaissance photo had made him look. His bodyguards towered over him like castle walls.

The group approached the security checkpoint, but rather than stepping through the scanners they were quickly ushered off to one side and let through a swinging gate with absolutely no further checks.

Xi gave a sharp snort. “Nothing subtle about that.” She cocked her head at Nat. “We could have done the same, you know. I don’t know what Flores is paying them, but I assure you it would have been well within my means.”

“We could have,” said Nat. “But if the security guards are already on his payroll, they’re not going to jeopardize that relationship. Or, worse, they’d take your money, then turn around and let Flores know that somebody else had bought their way aboard, putting the entire Coire Ansic on high alert – if they didn’t just decide to completely scratch this run.”

“You don’t disappoint, major,” said Xi. “I can see why you replaced Kovalic.”

Nat didn’t rise to the bait; the syndicate boss was always needling, probing around the edges, looking for a wedge to get any of them to give up information that they didn’t mean to. She let the comment wash over her, relaxing the shoulder muscles that had tensed up at the mention of Simon. Hopefully he was safe, wherever he was. They’d be headed back to Nova soon enough. Maybe even with some intel that could help clear his name.

“All stations green?” Nat murmured over the comms.

“Green,” said Gwen.

“As grass,” came Tapper’s voice.

“Ready,” said Addy.

“Good,” said Nat. “Keep comm usage to a minimum until checkpoint Echo. Good luck.”

There were a series of double-click acknowledgments over the comms, which then went quiet. Even Gwen hadn’t been able to suss out all the details of Flores’s security arrangements, and it was all too possible that his people would be scanning for off-band transmissions. Everything should be on a clock from here on out anyway, assuming it went smoothly.

Though when did things ever go smoothly?

They stepped onto the platform, the gleaming tube of the gravtrain humming quietly on its repulsor fields as it snaked several hundred meters long through the station. The three women made their way towards their car near the front of the train. Tapper and Stack would board towards the rear, Gwen and Xi’s other goon, Deng, in the middle. That would give them plenty of coverage, just in case the Coire Ansic had sprinkled more security throughout – and again, given how paranoid Flores seemed to be, they couldn’t discount any possibilities.

Nat was about to climb aboard when Xi suddenly looped an arm through hers, as though they were two girlfriends on their way to a lunch date. The syndicate boss smiled at her, even as her nails pinched Nat’s forearm. “Just to remind you, major: play this straight and everybody gets what they want.”

As many times as Nat had cautioned Addy Sayers about losing her temper and decking someone for the slightest provocation, she felt her own cool straining at the seams. How hard would it be to take Xi’s own forearm, flip the woman over her hip, and leave her wheezing on the platform? Not hard. But all the consequences of those actions followed quickly in her mind’s eye: Brody’s life might as well be forfeit, and they’d have to spend the foreseeable future looking over their shoulders with no doubt an even higher bounty on their heads.

So instead she just gave Xi a curt nod as they climbed the steps into the train.

Most of the gravtrains Nat had ridden in her journeys across the known galaxy – on her home planet of Centauri, independent worlds like Haran, or even Illyrica’s own surprisingly efficient public transit system – were designed for commuters: rows of seats, a few with tables for people to do work, maybe a rudimentary café car offering snacks and coffees.

The operators of the Burns Expanse Limited had clearly realized that nobody was riding this on a daily basis, and that those who had decided to undertake a journey that could more easily be accomplished by other more efficient means were here because they wanted to enjoy the experience.

So, instead of the usual rows of seats there were a series of private compartments, accessible via a narrow corridor. Nat had seen similar designs on old vids from pre-galactic Earth. It had a distinctly old-timey nostalgic feel, made all the more indulgent by the sumptuousness of the fixtures: from a thick, lush carpet beneath their feet, to the soft warm light from the wall sconces, to the richly varnished imitation wood of the compartment doors.

If nothing else, the compartment ensured they would have a secure base of operations, with nobody snooping on them.

Nat located their berth about halfway down the car and waved her sleeve at the door panel. It whispered open, letting them into a small room with an expansive window that covered the entire outer wall, two facing benches upholstered in plush faux velvet, and luggage racks overhead. Xi and Sayers followed them in; the glass in the door immediately frosted into privacy mode as it slid shut.

“Well,” said Sayers, looking around, “this is cozy.”

Xi sniffed, running her fingers over the bench’s fabric. “Chintzy imitation. The appearance of luxury, perhaps, but nothing more than that.” She sat down in the middle of the seat, arms stretched out along the back, effectively claiming that side for herself. Nat tried not to roll her eyes as she unpacked the bag she’d brought onboard: Gwen’s discreet contacts had come through with all the equipment she’d asked for – or close enough – and they’d prepared specialized kits for each of them, according to their needs.

“Flores’s car is towards the rear of the train,” Nat said, as she laid out her gear, “and it requires an authorized sleeve to access. But it doesn’t have dining facilities, so they’ll have to venture out to the café car for refreshments. That’s our best opportunity to surveil them and get a sense of what we’re up against.”

“Sounds easy enough,” said Sayers, taking a seat opposite Xi. “I should be able to get close enough to clone one of their sleeves.”

“You’re certainly adept at worming your way into someone’s good graces,” said Xi with a silky tone that didn’t quite obscure the snideness in her voice.

Sayers ignored the jibe, though Nat could see the muscles in her jaw twitch. Putting these two in close quarters had not been her first choice – Nat had read the reports from the Queen Amina job. They hadn’t told the whole story, but Nat knew enough to read between the lines: Xi had gotten under Sayers’s skin, played on her insecurities, her desires. Had it been genuine, or just a ploy? In the end, it didn’t really matter.

Except Adelaide Sayers had taken it personally. She’d come a long way from the hotheaded young woman that Simon had recruited, but she still had a tendency to act first and think later. In the kind of high-risk scenarios the SPT all too often found itself, that could be an asset – but in a situation like this, with a player like Xi, one misstep could quickly be fatal.

There was a gentle chime over the loudspeakers and a pleasant automated voice announced a last boarding call before the train got underway. Nat checked her sleeve – right on schedule, as expected. Though the Burns Expanse Limited did have human operators to oversee matters, the system itself was largely automated. She spared a last glance out at the platform, which was now empty aside from a couple latecomers dashing to get onboard in time.

Once the train started moving, there was no turning back; the plan would be in motion, and everything depended on their execution. But the train wasn’t the only moving part in this operation and there was a lot that could go wrong. Glancing over at Xi, Nat raised an eyebrow. “What’s the status of our other teams?”

Xi tilted her head to one side. “Yancy’s convoy was already en route this morning. They’ll be in position on time.”

“And our overwatch?”

The syndicate boss’s eyelids lowered halfway. “Oh, your pilot is just fine, major. Maintaining the holding pattern, as discussed.”

Sayers lifted one of the cases and slammed it into the luggage rack with somewhat more force than required, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by either Nat or Xi, though the latter seemed to derive somewhat more entertainment from it.

“Everything is right on schedule,” said Xi, with her customary broad smile that hovered between charm and threat. “And I have the utmost faith in your plan.”

Something about the way she said it did not inspire the same confidence in Nat. That the syndicate boss would try to double-cross them, well, that seemed obvious – the question was when. If Xi could have taken Flores’s money without their help she would have done so, which meant that their situation was secure up until the moment Flores’s money was in the crime lord’s hands.

Then it was anybody’s game.

Another chime and Nat felt the subtle shift as the gravtrain slid into motion, the platform slowly sliding by outside, then more rapidly as they picked up speed. After a moment, they plunged into the darkness of a tunnel before exiting into the blinding intensity of the Caledonian afternoon. The windows tinted automatically in response as the low buildings of Stranraer whizzed past, the desert of the Burns Expanse beyond.

Showtime.