CHAPTER 40

“Sayers, heads up. You’re probably about to have company.” Taylor’s voice had no sooner faded in Addy’s ears than she heard the clomping of footsteps outside the cargo car.

Well, shit. It was fight or hide time, and until she had a better idea of how many partygoers might be attending this particular shindig she was going with the latter.

Hiding behind the pallets might work, but if they took anything more than a cursory look around then it was going to be quicker than a game of hide-and-go-seek in a one-tree field.

Leaving wasn’t an option either: the door to the next baggage car was still locked; Taylor had only opened the one at the front.

Can’t go forward, can’t go back. What about… up? The ceiling was low, but the lighting strips ran along the top edge of the walls, leaving the rounded roof in shadow.

Then the door at the far end of the car was sliding open, and she didn’t have time to think further. Climbing up on the nearest pallet, she jumped and braced her hands against one wall and her feet against the opposite.

Three people entered, all dressed in dark suits; she recognized all of them from her encounter in the café car: the Imperial Fleet Security team. All had weapons drawn and were peering around the car carefully, looking for intruders in every corner.

Addy’s arms and legs, which had spent the first thirty seconds or so feeling fine, had now started to burn from the effort of keeping her up. Weirdly enough, they never made us do this move in training.

One thing was clear, she realized, as the security team continued their slow sweep of the car: she wasn’t going to be able to hide up here forever. Which meant she had to pick her moment. And, more to the point, her muscles needed to hold out until then.

Her left arm twitched and threatened to give way a few moments before the lead of the team – the woman they’d called Bala, whose sleeve she’d cloned – stepped directly beneath her, but she managed to press it more firmly into the wall, her teeth clenched as she ignored the fire creeping up towards her shoulders.

Come on, Addy. You can do this.

All four of her limbs were shaking now, but it didn’t matter, because the middle security was right below her and it was time to let go.

The man – she had just enough time to recall his name was Harmon – glanced up at what seemed like the last possible second, his eyes widening.

He gave a strangled cry as she came down on him like a Novan drop bear, except without the slavering teeth and nasty claws. The two of them collapsed in a heap, Addy grabbing for the pistol that had been knocked loose from his grasp.

“The fuck?” Bala had whirled, pointing her own pistol in their direction, but her aim wavered as Addy and Harmon’s limbs were tangled amongst each other, blocking any clear shot.

Addy got one hand around the pistol and started to bring it up towards Bala, but the third member of the security team darted up from behind, kicking her wrist and sending the gun spinning away into the far reaches of the compartment.

Grunting in pain – her wrist was severely bruised, but hopefully not broken – Addy rolled to her side and attempted to scissor kick the standing man’s legs out from underneath him. But with her own legs still burning from the exertion of keeping her suspended overhead, she couldn’t quite summon enough force, and her feet bounced off his shins. He didn’t fall over, but he didn’t look happy about it either.

Great. This really wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped.

There was a deafening bang in the confined space and a red hot round left a hole in the deck plating not a foot from Addy’s head.

“Don’t move or the next one’s through your head,” said Bala, her pistol aimed steadily at Addy.

In all the tussling and jockeying for the gun, she’d gotten too far from Harmon, who had scuttled away, leaving Addy exposed. The other officer – the one she’d kicked – was mirroring Bala’s stance from the opposite side, and between the two of them, they had Addy dead to rights.

But at least not dead. Addy raised her hands slowly and, as she looked up, she caught the flash of recognition on Bala’s face. “You. What the fuck are you doing in here? Who are you?”

Addy’s mind whirled. The team hadn’t discussed a cover – the plan hadn’t needed one, if it had gone as intended – and the last thing she wanted to do was to blow the mission, but she needed to give Bala something if she wanted to keep breathing.

Kovalic’s advice rung in her mind: stick as closely as possible to the truth. Or, at least, parts of it.

“My name’s not important,” said Addy. “I’m just an independent contractor.”

Bala raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem surprised. “Who hired you?”

“One of your boss’s rivals.” Addy nodded at the strongboxes. “You’re carrying a lot of cash and let’s just say it made an attractive target.”

“I bet. Harmon, check the cargo. Make sure nothing’s missing.”

The officer Addy had landed on scrambled upward, scooping up his dropped weapon. He walked over to the container Addy had opened, noting the broken seal, and checked it. “Everything looks OK here.”

“Check the seals on the rest,” said Bala, not taking her eyes off Addy. “Just in case.” She waved her pistol at Addy. “Meanwhile, you and I are going to take a little walk.”

Addy climbed to her feet very slowly, making sure to keep her hands visible at all times. The only thing worse than getting caught mid-operation would be getting killed for doing something stupid like slipping as she got up.

Harmon and the other security officer were peering at all the boxes but Bala didn’t let her stick around to see the end result, motioning her to walk back towards the front of the car. The woman kept a professional distance; not so close that Addy could wrest her weapon away, not so far as to let her easily move out of the line of fire.

Fleet Security isn’t someone you want to fuck around with. She’d heard that from any number of folks who had dealt with them. They had a reputation for being well-trained and extremely diligent in their work.

Which once again raised the question of what the hell they were doing here, working as muscle for a criminal organization. That Isabella had loaned them to Flores seemed a lock, but why? What did the director of Imperial Intelligence get out of propping up a criminal organization? And where had the Commonwealth credits come from? Addy couldn’t help but feel she was missing a piece of the puzzle.

A memory of her old friend Boyland, the Novan cop who’d been the closest thing she’d ever had to a family, swam to the surface of her mind. He’d been working on some case or other; Addy had found him sitting on a park bench, staring up at the sky in thought.

“Cui bono, Addy,” he’d said at last. “That’s the key when you’re thinking about motive: who stands to benefit?”

Bala herded her through the connecting compartment and into the Coire Ansic’s private car. Unlike the rest of the train, this car wasn’t divided into smaller private compartments, but set up like a lounge, with one large open space dotted with tables, comfortable chairs, and even a bar in one corner. Wide, panoramic windows showed off the landscape outside – or probably did, at least, when there wasn’t a sandstorm raging. It definitely looks nicer from inside than it did from outside.

There were half a dozen people present, besides her and Bala: three who had the look of security, with the same dark suits and hard looks, and then a pair that seemed more like flunkies: their clothes were better cut and they held drinks as they bent their heads together quietly.

The last person present needed no introduction; Addy recognized him from the pictures Xi had shown them before the mission.

Roche Flores.

He sat in a plush armchair at one of the low tables, cutting a more imposing figure in person than in the images; something about the way he held himself, with the kind of overly relaxed posture of someone working too hard to conceal the tension within. He might not have the seductive and magnetic presence of Ofeibia Xi, but he gave the impression of someone who clung tight to everything he’d gotten in life. At the same time, there was an air of discomfort about him, like he was wearing someone else’s clothes.

Pale hazel eyes, almost watery, gave Addy an up and down as Bala approached, and Addy sensed the other woman tensing. “Caught her in with the cargo,” said Bala. “No sign of her accomplices.”

“Maybe you should go find them, then,” said Flores. His voice was nasal and unpleasant. “It’s not exactly a big train.”

“I’ll post security with the shipment for the remainder of the trip.” An aggrieved edge had slipped into Bala’s voice.

Flores waved a hand at her in a sharp dismissive motion. “Yeah, yeah.” But he hadn’t taken his attention from Addy, leaning forward in what was probably intended to be a threatening fashion. “And who are you working for, sweetheart?”

Anger flared in Addy’s chest, and only the reminder that Bala stood a couple feet away with a lethal weapon kept her from leaping across the table. If this had been Ofeibia Xi, Addy would have said the dismissive tone was an attempt to throw her off balance, force her into making a mistake. But there was something in Flores’s gaze – cruel and dumb – that suggested this was no sophisticated ploy: Roche Flores was a bully, plain and simple.

She smiled, showing her teeth, determined not to give him any satisfaction. “I wouldn’t get very far in this business if I betrayed my employers’ trust. Unless, of course,” she added, raising an eyebrow, “you’re tendering a counteroffer.”

The suggestion seemed to strike a nerve in Flores, and his dark eyebrows knit. “I don’t pay for information.” He glanced over her shoulder at Bala. “Kill her and throw her off the train.”

Bala stared at him, and Addy swore she could hear her holding back a long-suffering sigh. “What about the rest of her crew?”

“What, do I have to think of everything?” Flores snapped. “Security is your job. You deal with them.”

“Yes, sir,” said Bala, through gritted teeth. She reached out and grabbed Addy by the upper arm, wrenching her back towards the door through which they’d just entered. “Let’s go.”

Damn it, stall.

“This is a big mistake, Flores,” Addy called over her shoulder. “You’re going to regret it, trust me.”

Flores didn’t even bother to respond; he’d turned back to his two flunkies. OK, threats aren’t going to do it. Her mind spun as she tried to come up with some other wedge, something she could use against the man.

But Bala just shoved Addy forward, putting space between them once again, and forced Addy to keep walking towards the car’s rear, closer to an unfortunate fate. This is how it ends, huh? Her mouth had gone dry even as she scanned the compartment for options. Dive over that chair? She’d get shot before she made it a foot. Jostle Bala in the connecting door and make a play for the gun? The odds seemed bad, but she wasn’t going to go out without a fight.

She was still a few steps from the door, steeling herself for a move, when a familiar gruff voice spoke in her earbud, and relief flooded in along with it.

“I’d hit the deck, if were you,” said Tapper. “It’s about to get pretty toasty in there.”