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Billy, who had found that the more pessimistic one was, the more prophetic they appeared, was correct. He absolutely hated the idea. He had to allow that it was not necessarily a bad idea, it was merely an idea engendering some risk to himself and his operations.
“I’ve been a hustler my whole life, Lucy, and this hustle needs work.” Billy held up a hand to forestall her objections, “I get it. The best way to draw out the bastard is to offer up a sacrificial lamb, but why it has to be one of my lambs, I’m not so sure about.”
“People know you and Roland are friendly, this means your people will have better access to him. They also know the shift in Big Woo leadership has you guys pulling in lots of new talent. It seems like a really easy play to have one of your guys take one of these shitty bounties and then have him claw his way toward the client.”
“It ain’t that easy at all, lady,” Billy was not backing down, “It needs to be someone we trust, also someone fairly new to the operation if the ruse is going to be believable. Those two things are pretty much mutually exclusive these days.”
“You don’t have any fresh meat that you trust?”
“I have a couple new guys who I think are solid, but trusting them with this will be a big risk.,” he paused and frowned, “I just don’t like it.”
Roland stepped into the conversation, “Willing hunters are going to dry up when the grievance hits, so this guy will be desperate. Who do you have that you do trust?”
“I got a hardcase from Venus on-site who has been handling some protection gigs and scouting for the truckers. He was a separatist, by the way,” his gaze went to Roland, “that going to be an issue?”
Roland spoke without thinking, “Nah. It was a long time ago.” A second later a wave of bad memories and buried rage washed over him like a flash flood. It had been thirty years since Roland had lost most of his body to a separatist trap. Those injuries had started a series of events leading to his subsequent transformation and enslavement. Roland was far too concrete a thinker to actually blame the separatists for what his own military had done to him and put him through.
But still, if not for them...
He put it out of his mind. Unless this person was well into his fifties or sixties, there was no way the guy had anything to do with the Secession War. If he was here working for McGinty, it meant he was probably as done with that conflict as Roland was. He put it out of his mind, “He got a card?”
“Yeah, he’s registered with the Venusian Lodge, but he hasn’t taken a job in a long time. I think he lost his taste for hunting people.”
“How much do you trust him?” Lucia sounded concerned. Everyone understood the risks, but the nature of Lucia’s augmentations made anxiety and panic her constant companions. It came out in her voice, “Will he help a guy like Roland? I mean, they were on opposite sides.”
McGinty shook his head, “He ain’t old enough to have been in the fighting, and it's not like anybody knows Roland was there, right?”
“Not to mention,” Roland added, “I looked a lot different then.” Which is to say he had arms and legs and wasn’t a giant cyborg yet.
“But he can be counted on?” Lucia asked.
Billy threw up his hands, “I mean, I guess? This is your plan, right? I get a good feeling about him, sure. He seems legit. But he’s only been around for like, two months, so I don’t have much to base it on.”
“Okay,” Roland growled, “So we have this guy take one of these bullshit bounties. Then he will bring up the grievances currently being processed as a reason to either meet with or get more info from the client.”
“Citing his ties to me and Big Woo as an avenue for actually getting you, right?” Billy was trying to follow the thread himself.
“Right,” Roland nodded, “He is going to imply rather unsubtly that because of you, he can get to me in ways others can’t.”
Lucia smiled and picked it up from there, “Then he is going to draw the client out by requesting intel or assistance that has to be rendered in person...” she paused, frowning at all the ways it could go wrong, “... or at least in such a way as to reveal who it is anyway.”
“Like what?” The lack of detail was giving Billy pause, “What could he possibly ask for that would draw the guy out?”
“A cash advance is the simplest answer,” Roland said. “Buying off you Big Woo types always means hard creds and person-to-person contact. He’ll tell the guy he has to bribe one of your top guys or something, and that he needs hard creds to do it.”
Billy wasn’t buying it, “You think this guy is really going to come down here to drop off a payoff?”
Roland shook his head, “Probably not, but he’ll send a courier, and the courier will know how to contact him. Or the courier will know someone who knows how to contact him. Either way, I’ll start clawing my way up to the bastard.”
“This is a stupid idea, Roland.”
“Got a better one?”
Billy snorted, “Yeah. Start killing these assholes wholesale and send a message straight up to the fucker. Sooner or later, the Hunters are going to turn on him too. They don’t like being set up to die.”
Lucia took the opportunity to get Billy back on track, “It may come to that, Billy. That’s why we are working with the Lodge on this as we speak. But I don’t want to miss a chance of getting him ourselves, and I’d prefer for Roland to not have to kill half the bounty hunters and assassins in the solar system first.” She smiled, “besides, I’m not exactly thrilled with the thought of constantly getting attacked. It’s all fun and games for this one,” she jerked a thumb in Roland’s direction, “But I’m not so durable. I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire while he stomps a mud hole into a bunch of rookie hunters.”
“Right,” the redhead agreed, “There is that. Okay. Let’s bring him in for a chat, shall we?”
Billy made a short call, and a few minutes later they were joined by a small thin man of medium height with dark hair and eyes. His skin was deep brown, and he moved and walked with a cautious tightness speaking to a history of surviving hard places. Roland had seen the look many times. People who grew up in war zones, or lawless colonies run by criminals and tin-pot dictators got that look before they reached adulthood. If they reached adulthood. The brown eyes darted to each of them, analyzing and probing. Roland could see the man cataloging escape routes, probable armaments, opportunities and liabilities with just a few furtive twitches of his pupils. Roland’s was a very experienced eye, and he noted that this man had the aspect of a survivor, but not necessarily the feel of a soldier. This was a runner, a thief, a pragmatist. In tough situations Roland was inclined to dig his heels in and fight. He preferred to see the enemy coming and deal with it. That had been his way even before his conversion. But he remembered the people who developed the look he saw in the young man. He recognized that type of intensity. On campaigns ranging over a dozen worlds he had seen them. They made terrifying guerrilla soldiers and powerful intelligence assets.
The thin man’s gaze landed on Roland and stayed there. Roland knew why. Here was something the man did not have a reference for. Roland presented a new variable. It bothered the dark-skinned man to not know what to do, and Roland was fine with that.
Billy broke the spell with introductions, “Everybody, this is Manuel Richardson. He joined the operation shortly after Marko had his little misadventure.” When Billy said ‘misadventure,’ Roland smirked. ‘Misadventure,’ in this case meant Roland shoving Marko’s face bones through his brain and out the back of his skull.
Lucia cocked an incredulous eyebrow, “You and I have very different ideas as to what constitutes 'misadventure,' Billy. I once took a wrong turn in uptown and got a ticket for going the wrong way in a one-way lane. That was a 'misadventure.’ What happened to Marko really should have a different label.”
“Manuel,” Billy ignored her, “This is Lucia and her pet psycho, Roland. Believe it or not, she’s the scary one.”
Manuel nodded politely and addressed Roland first, “Are you the ‘misadventure?’”
“Among other things, yes.”
Manuel turned to Lucia and smiled with real warmth, “Then I presume that you are what precedes ‘misadventure,’ then?”
“Among other things, yes,” she matched his smile.
“Then I concur with Billy. You are the scary one.”
Billy laughed, “Told you he was smart.”
Manuel presented his hand to Lucia, and she shook it firmly. Then he offered the same to Roland. When the giant paw was outstretched, Manuel frowned and did his level best to grasp it manfully. Roland accepted the gesture in the spirit it was offered and shook politely.
“Manuel,” Billy began, “We brought you into this meeting to ask if you would be willing to participate in a little sting operation for us. Somebody keeps sending low-rent hunters after ‘misadventure’ here and we would like to know who and why.”
“Ahhh,” Manuel nodded, “And since I am still registered, you would like me to see if I can draw the client out?”
“Yes,” Lucia said. “We will fabricate some excuse for you to contact the client directly and hopefully find a thread we can pull on to lead us back to him.”
“It should be money, then,” Manuel said quickly. “I am not so rich, and I will need an advance of some kind to go after so illustrious a quarry as the famous Tank Tankowicz.”
Roland shook his head and Billy snorted, “So you did recognize him, huh?”
Manuel smiled, “How many giant bald fixers named Roland are there in the region?”
“Right,” Billy agreed, “So will you do it?”
“Rates?” Manuel said without hesitation.
Lucia answered, “Whatever the bounty is on Roland, we will pay you if you get us to the client. Roland suppressed a wince. His finances were in excellent shape these days, but they were not infinite.
“What would stop me from just trying to collect on the bounty then?”
“Nothing,” Roland grunted. “Nothing at all.”
Manuel gave him an appraising look, “Nothing except the very real possibility of suffering a 'misadventure’ of my own?”
“I don’t believe in telling people how to live,” Roland shrugged, “Or how to die.”
“How magnanimous,” Manuel smiled. “I’ll take the job if the bounty or the pay is more than fifty-k. I’ll get the client to come out of hiding, or at least expose himself in a manner we can exploit.”
“Done,” Lucia said quickly.
“Good,” Billy said. “Let’s go see if the boards have any bounties for our big ol’ teddy bear.”
“The aboves or the belows?” Manuel asked.
“So far they’ve all been belows,” Roland answered. There was a confused look on Lucia’s face so he explained, “The 'above’ boards are for legitimate bounties like debts, criminals, military stuff. Hunts that can be exercised without legal issues.”
Lucia’s face cleared, “Ah. I get it. The ‘below’ boards are for bounties on people who can’t be hunted without running afoul of law enforcement? Like if you want a witness killed or something?”
“Exactly,” said McGinty. “Roland doesn’t have warrants anywhere or owe anyone any money, so hunting him means doing so outside of legal channels. Manny here is a complete scoundrel, so he won’t sweat that sort of thing.”
Manny smiled, “But I may need a sizable cash advance to do it,” his raised eyebrows feigned a sincerity his words did not express, “hard creds only, I presume? I will be operating on the below boards after all. Everything must be untraceable, right?”
“This plan is starting to suck less than I originally thought,” Billy conceded.
"The weak link," Manny winked at Lucia, “is undeniably, myself. You are all putting a lot of trust in me, considering how poorly we know each other.”
It was a test, Roland knew. Manuel was investigating to see if they were really trusting him or if they were setting him up. Roland approved of the caution and responded, “Billy vouched for you. Said you were reliable.”
“Did he?” Manny looked over at Billy with a raised eyebrow, “I did not think we knew each other so well, Billy.”
“What can I say? I am an excellent judge of character. I trusted that big goon, didn’t I?” he threw a brusque gesture Roland’s way. “Look how that turned out.”
“I guess I’ll just have to try to be worthy of your high esteem, then Billy,” Manuel said, words dripping with sarcasm.
Billy nodded back, “Please do. Or you can double cross us and find out what happens to people who piss off Lucy and her pet psycho. We still can’t use Marko’s panic room yet. We haven’t found all the pieces of brain and skull and the stink is horrendous.”
Manuel raised his eyebrow again, and Roland realized this was a tic the man probably could not help. Billy went on painting the picture of what Roland was capable of, “Tore an eight-inch thick vault door off the hinges, ate a plasma bolt, then punched the fat fuck so hard his head exploded.”
This was not entirely true. Marko had never gotten a shot off with his plasma caster. Roland hoped he never had to try to absorb plasma fire as he didn't know if his armor was up for something like that. But the rest was a fairly accurate assessment of what had happened.
“I get it, Billy,” Manuel waved him off of divulging further details, “Roland is scary and pissing him off is a bad idea. I’ve been in this town less than four months and I already figured that out,” he gave Roland a measured look. “Everybody knows it.”
“Glad to see my reputation precedes me,” Roland replied evenly. He and Manny were very different creatures, but they had been forged in many of the same fires. Roland could respect that.
“I’ll get your guy, don’t worry. It’d be best if I proceeded alone from here, though. Billy, you should probably fabricate a falling-out between us to make it more believable that I’d go after Roland half-cocked.”
“Nice touch, yeah,” Billy smirked, “good idea. Lucy, Roland, go on and leave. Manny and I will stay here and choreograph a big ol’ shouting match and he’ll storm out.”
“Then, now unemployed, I shall be forced to return to my lodge to take a job. If there is one up for Roland, I’ll sign on for it.”
“Good,” Lucia said as she stood, “Do it fast, though. I don’t want the grievance to go out until after you have the job. I’ll tell Steve and Mindy to stall for another hour or two.”
“Perfect,” Billy agreed. “Now get out of here and look grouchy while you do it,” he looked at the cyborg. “That means your regular face, Roland.”
“Eat a dick, McGinty,” Roland responded affably.
“There’s the face we need,” Lucia laughed at Roland’s scowl.
The two then left, Lucia stalking with stiff gait and her face locked in a vicious snarl. Roland looked like he always looked, which is to say like someone had pissed in his oatmeal that morning.
About thirty minutes later, Manuel Richardson left Billy’s office with a torrent of shouted expletives and a furious slam of the door terminal. Billy shouted after him, and the two screamed at each other in a very public and dramatic fashion while Manuel stormed out. More than one set of prying eyes and ears took note of this, and one of those skulked off to a quiet corner of the compound to make a surreptitious comm call. The prying eyes and ears in question belonged to a lowly runner, a delivery boy prone to dipping into the narcotic contents of his packages. Deep in the thrall of his growing addiction, the need for blaze now drove him to sell interesting tidbits of information to whoever had a few extra creds to drop on them. Bloodshot eyes flicked nervously at his screen. Whatever had gone on in the office had to be important, and the runner knew somebody would be willing to pay for that information. With his call completed, the trembling informant then checked his bank balance to ensure his dirt had been paid for. When the numbers appeared on his tiny screen, he smiled the sad, elated smile of a junkie who was about to get high. Then he hurried off in the direction of the closest vape den.
The courier, a man called Milton, did not know his transgression had not gone unnoticed. Like most addicts when a fix was within his grasp, Milton forgot about everything else around him. He did not encrypt his call because he could not afford a quality comm, and he did not wait for a safe period of time to elapse before making it because he had a serious jones going. Milton needed a blaze fix, and he needed it now. The gaunt addict was blithely unaware that he had just been conned, and he remained unaware that his indiscretion would cost him his life. But he knew he was going to get high, and this was all he cared about.
Billy McGinty had run this hustle a hundred times a hundred different ways. The only reliable thing in his business was the unreliability of addicts, so Billy had learned to use it to his advantage. When he sat back down to his desk, it was with a smug grin on his lean face. He pulled up his terminal and requested all the signal logs for the previous ten minutes, and in short order found the call just made by the not-so-bright informant.
“Alas, poor Milton,” Billy whispered with a sad smile, “We hardly knew ye.”