“Thoughts?” Morty asked as the auto-taxi deposited them on the sidewalk and bounced back into the sky.
“We stay away from any spot where we took Gareth,” Xiomber said. “Past that, we need a roof and I’ve got the munchies.”
Morty nodded. Jorghen hadn’t been his favorite tailor in Londra, but he had needed to keep Gareth’s scent away from the woman who normally dressed him and his brother. He could imagine what it would have been like introducing her to Gareth.
And he would miss his favorite tea house, but the poor girl who had waited on them had probably been utterly traumatized by the time the cops got done with her. Seeing them again would likely bring it all back in a screaming flash that would end up with he and his egg-brother under arrest.
“Right,” Morty said, turning right and heading east down the street. Downtown Londra was commercial, but there were all sorts of places on the east end that got deep into the Bohemian side of things. Just the place for a couple of renegade physicists to hide.
A bus dropped them at the edge of a park. The weather was passable nice today. Just warm enough that people were outside, but not warm enough to encourage the kinds of nude debauchery Morty had seen around here in the middle of summer.
Still, his favorite hot dog stand was doing a brisk business. He got five, figuring Xiomber would stop at two, like he normally did, and they’d have to hit the pastry shop on the far side of the park afterwards, as always. The coffee was bitter dark, but Stanz didn’t like tea and Morty didn’t want to stand in line for any of the other shops or stands.
They ended up not far from the water fountain, leaned back against a couple of rocks in a bushy area with a good view of the ball fields and generally out of sight. The fountain was off and the fields were abandoned right now, but both would change within a week or three.
They ate in silence, watching the few students studying and a couple of young mothers with strollers, but the park was amazingly empty. Just the way Morty liked it. So much harder for someone to sneak up on them.
Morty checked his watch as a private sedan landed clear across the way. Omerlon’s people might be cut-rate punks, but they did understand punctuality. Three people piled out, two Grace and a Warreth, and started across the field, leaving the vehicle and the driver over in the parking lot.
From their seats, it would be almost impossible for the guys coming to spot them, which was how Morty preferred it. Smuggling themselves across the galaxy was enough of a pain in the tail. Trying to get guns from a reputable fence at the same time was too much.
Plus, Omerlon didn’t have any reason to hate them, as far as Morty knew. Nobody outside Sarzynski’s gang even knew the new boss had been human once, not counting the cops, let alone knew that he and his egg-brother had been responsible for it. Better for everyone to keep it that way.
Nope, hopefully this was just a job interview, and they could settle in and do nice, simple, criminal things for the folks around here for a while, at least until he or Xiomber figured out a way to turn themselves into the Constables, or somebody actually managed to take Maximus down and they might be safe.
That happened, and Morty could see retiring to a nice desert somewhere, living off the ill-gotten gains of a disreputable life of crime without having to look over his shoulder constantly for assassins.
The two Grace thugs pulled up short and took up a spot off to one side. Visible, but not close enough to listen. The Warreth moved to the edge of the fountain and sat.
Morty turned to Xiomber.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he said.
“Oh, hell no it isn’t,” Xiomber chirped. “I got lots of chances to sell your stupid ass down the line and set myself up as a king.”
Morty smiled.
“You aren’t rich enough to buy the right babes, Xiomber,” he sneered merrily. “Best you could do it rent them by the hour.”
“And they’ll still charge me half what they would you,” Xiomber countered. “Let’s do this. The dogs were good, but I want a turnover now.”
Morty shrugged and rose. He emerged from the bushes first, with Xiomber close behind. Like the Warreth, they were wearing light jackets and heavy dungarees today, but everyone kept hands in the open, like polite thugs meeting in public.
“You Xiomber?” the Warreth asked as they got to speaking distance.
“Nope. Morty,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “That’s Xiomber. You Danzeekar?”
“Correct,” the Warreth replied.
The two Grace appeared to relax a little, turning each a little sideways to make sure nobody else suddenly decided to join this shindig, like, say, cops. Or assassins.
Morty had no doubts that all three were armed, but that was just part of the game these days.
He walked close enough to talk, but didn’t feel like climbing up on the bench.
“So we’re out of work and looking,” Morty said.
“That’s the message I got,” Danzeekar replied. “Why is that?”
“Because Maximus is nuts and getting worse,” Morty snapped. “Turning into a killer. Smart money’s getting out now, while all the parts are still attached.”
“So, free agents?” the Warreth asked haughtily.
“It’s you or the cops, pretty boy,” Morty sneered. “Nobody else has enough moxie to keep us safe from assassins. You need a couple of high-end physicists in the organization?”
“Rumors say that you two also do genetic work,” the birdman observed in a neutral voice. “That true?”
“Yup,” Morty smiled. “We did some of the upgrades on Maximus, along with Talyarkinash Liamssen.”
“What kinds of upgrades?”
The beak was pointed this way now. Morty smiled as the headcrest popped up to full extension. He had the guy’s attention and interest, finally. Dumb-ass punk.
“That’s above your pay grade, pal,” Morty said. “And sure as hell not something to talk about in the middle of a park in the middle of the day, capiche?”
“So you want to come in from the cold?” Danzeekar said. “Just like that?”
“We got information your boss will find interesting,” Morty said. “Plus our skills and experience. You make us a good offer on salary and benefits, and we can do a deal. You empowered to negotiate at that level, or should we talk to the big guy?”
Morty held his breath while the Warreth considered. They really didn’t have a lot of leverage, but Omerlon’s folks wouldn’t know how hard he was bluffing.
Hopefully.
And wouldn’t call his bluff, either, because most of this was bluff.
“You got bonafides?” the man asked.
Bingo.
Morty nearly laughed out loud. Pretty boy was just a messenger, sure, but high enough ranking to dicker. Bonafides were secrets presented in good faith. That first taste of the cake before you bought the rest.
“Yeah,” Morty said as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “We upgraded Maximus to a full genius intelligence level as part of the other things we did to him. Liamssen wasn’t involved in that part.”
“How the hell did you do that?” Danzeekar was shocked. “He’s Vanir. They’re already about as fixed as you can get.”
Morty just smiled. Kinda rocked back and forth with his hands in his front pockets. Not quite mocking the guy.
“Oh, and the only other person who knows any of what we did?” he continued. “Talyarkinash Liamssen? She’s in Constabulary custody, and has been for several weeks. I imagine, from my own sources, that she’s spilled everything she knows. You saw how fast Hurquar has been dismantled in the last month, right? Wanna talk yet?”
“Yeah,” the Warreth’s headcrest bobbed three times. “You got a number we can reach you? Boss will want a sit-down after I talk to him.”
“Nope,” Morty said. “You leave a message with Stanz, the hot dog vendor. He’s an old comrade of ours. I’ll check in with him later and see where you’d like to meet. Dinner at an expensive joint, reasonably public, would do nicely.”
Morty turned and walked back into the bushes. Xiomber was kinda crab-walking, to keep an eye on the Grace, but they made it to cover.
There was a little creek tucked in down there. Morty led his partner to it and skittered along the shore as fast as his stubby legs would allow.
When they emerged from the park ten minutes later, that sedan was gone, so Morty picked a side street with some traffic and headed north, Xiomber walking about forty meters behind so they didn’t appear to be together, to a watcher looking for a pair of Yuudixtl males.
They settled into the pastry shop for turnovers and more coffee. Better, but still not tea.
“Think they’ll go for it?” Xiomber asked around a mouthful of blueberry jam threatening to run down his front.
“Hope so,” Morty replied. “They really are our last chance. After that, we either have to go straight, or go to the cops.”