At an hour when the city lay motionless, poised in suspension until the sun rose again, Craze stood inside Mr. Slade’s Emporium. The front door was now unsealed, and a case filled with chips was in his hand. The money weighed a lot, threatening to make him walk lopsided. He resisted, striving to regain the dignity Bast and the council had robbed him of on Siegna.
He set the burdened attaché down on the enormous X
on the floor. Nothing in the lobby had changed from his earlier visit except for the sacks of rice piled beside some trash on a shelf. Craze noted a piece of vine beside the sacks, a signal
from the aviarmen that the clear filament was attached holding the jar of pickled snoink at the fourth floor above the magnet and pulley system the smugglers had installed. He chanced glancing up, relieved not to see the shine of glass from the jar. The aviarmen must have painted it black as they had planned.
Although he was glad to know Talos and Lepsi had everything in place, Craze’s shoulders didn’t unclench and his steps came off stiff as he lumbered to the O
taped out a good twenty feet away. He stood mute in its center. A low hum disturbed the heavy quiet. The case shot up. A loud clang thundered through the empty building.
The magnet. Craze looked up, studying every shadow for movement, but he couldn’t detect the mystery folks. There had to be at least one above him to get the attaché of chips off the powerful magnet. Where were the others and how many? Another wild card in tonight’s scheme. He opened his ears wide to learn all he could, hoping the aviarmen had discovered more intel on the smugglers.
Another clunk disturbed the darkness. The hum stopped, replaced by the roaring engine of a generator. The pulleys lurched, squeaking as they turned. Craze spied a cube swinging above him. Light leaking in from the lamps outside weakly glinted off the large hook and chains. Gyrating like a pendulum, a pallet of crates groaned toward the floor, landing with a solid thunk.
As commanded by the smugglers, Craze kept his hands visible and his mouth shut. He stretched his fingers wide apart, knowing the aviarmen watched for his signals, subtle motions they’d worked out earlier.
Excitement trembled through Craze’s knees as he approached the pallet. His fingers shook unhooking it from the line that had lowered it. The symbols on the crates were strange, not anything Craze had seen before. A white circle with four thick red lines. He’d heard about it though. It marked
the Foreworlds.
Shit. The worse situation he’d imagined could be possible. Like chocolate, frizzers only came from the Foreworlds. Backworlders wouldn’t touch the cruel weapons that burned the skin and calcified bone. Horrid, horrid things. It was a huge bother that some Backworlders wanted those guns and would stoop to using them. That went beyond dastardly to traitorous.
He wanted to signal the aviarmen, his first two fingers snuggled tight against his thumbs, to call in the authorities, but it was too soon. The smugglers hadn’t sent the codes. He hadn’t gotten his hands on the chocolate. He desperately needed a return on his investments in this venture. Just one sack full of chocolate would help him and the aviarmen establish a great life out on the Edge.
Codes flashed in light on the floor. Craze punched the icons and numbers into the keypad on the first crate. The carton slid open with a soft whoosh. He placed the gum from his mouth over the latching mechanism to prevent it from resealing. The door opened and shut in a loop as it hit the sticky obstruction. Craze wiggled his left index and middle fingers for the aviarmen. The response came almost instantly.
Eptus streamed in from where they’d been hiding on the fourth floor. Square torsos with powerful limbs, they moved more agilely than their frames suggested. Enormous ears pivoted on their heads, which were canine in nature. So were their noses. Barking and shooting flash guns, they descended into Mr. Slade’s Emporium.
Craze covered his eyes against the blinding weapons fire. Stumbling, he grabbed onto the crate for balance. He missed. His hand sank into the chocolates, coming up with a frizzer. Craze yelped. The Eptus shot all around him, too close to be trusted. He dropped the forbidden gun and ran toward the shelf with the rice, slashing at the sacks with his fingernails.
The grains spilled out, falling to the floor as they depleted the sacks of their ballast in a rush. The bags lightened, and the jar of pickled snoink pulled them up off the shelf. The jar sank until the heavy glass hit the magnet switch and broke with a crack then a tinkle. Blackened shards, feet and tails, and pickle juice rained down, inciting the Eptus into a rage. They fought each other to snap up the brined morsels, grabbing, shoving, biting, swallowing without chewing.
The chocolates flew up, their metal foil wrappings attracted to the magnetic field. The layer of chocolate bars was thinner than Craze would have liked, but as few as thirty bars would allow him to recover the money he had spent and make a decent profit to share with Talos and Lepsi.
While the Eptus busied themselves vying for pickled feet and tails, Craze scrambled for the stairs. Two people draped in black stood under the pulley system holding a bag under the magnet. They turned off the power, chocolates dropped into their sack. The dark figures snatched up the few bars that escaped onto the floor, then their palms faced Craze, open and pale. They clenched their hands into fists three times before running down to the second floor and into the deep shadows. Craze sure hoped the chocolate takers were Talos and Lepsi. Their signals said so, but their mimicking of the smugglers was spot-on enough to stir up doubt.
He chased after them, his coveralls working hard, his lungs laboring in air not as enriched as Siegna’s. Eyelids fluttering and thoughts slowing down, his body threatened to hibernate. To avoid it, he had to slacken his pace, letting the distance between him and the chocolate grow. His lungs filled more easily and he no longer felt an overwhelming urge to sleep.
Seven seconds later, the patrol siren blasted through Mr. Slade’s Emporium. Much too early. They hadn’t made it out of the building yet. Craze shouted at the aviarmen, gesturing wildly to cut the blaring horn. They didn’t hear and didn’t see,
racing toward the room with the window leading to the balcony next door.
Craze sprinted after them, a good twenty feet behind. He leapt out of the window and onto the plank, shimmying over to the restaurant terrace. About to jump over to the deli, he was stopped in mid-air. Three pairs of hands pulled him back and handcuffed him to a pipe.
Several badges flashed past Craze. Blinking red and blue lights joined the sirens. The earlier alarm hadn’t come from the toy Craze purchased at Must Have Gear for the Edge
. It had come from real patrollers. Swarms of them swathed in lime green.
The brightly colored uniforms ran past him, intent on Mr. Slade’s Emporium, pouring through every door and window, raiding the failed deal. Eptus howled. Amplified patroller voices barked orders. Craze wondered about Gattar and the mystery folks in black. Had they gotten away? He doubted the Jix would pay him now and tugged at his binds. They and the pipe held solid. Shit.
