J. Robb - Fantasy in Death

“If you do, let me know.” She pulled out a card. “I might be able to get you some attention, and arrange for some freebies.”

“Hey, that’d be total. I heard a lot about Bart’s collection. I relate there, too.”

“I’ll say. My boy likes weapons, especially the phallic ones,” Peabody added with a wink. “We’ve got our game room loaded with them. We’re always on the lookout for something really tight. I like to find them and surprise him.”

“They’ve got a terrific weapons display up a level.”

“Yeah, we’re heading up there.”

“Ask for Razor, show him my card. I don’t know a lot about weapon collecting, but he knows everything. If it exists, in any form, he can find it, get it, sell it.”

“Frosty. Razor.” McNab glanced at the poster again. “I sure hope they get whoever did it.”

“We all do.”

As they left the booth, Peabody unzipped a pocket for her beeping ’link. After a glance at the display, she switched to privacy mode. “Hi, Mom!”

“Cute,” Eve said. “I’m-what the hell do you have on your face? And your hair’s all screwy.”

“Undercover, remember?” Peabody muttered. “I’m blending.”

“Where? At the Geek Skank Parade?”

Peabody narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about geek skanks? And who’s here because they do know?”

“Point taken, so never mind. I’m on my way back to Central.

Report, Detective Skank.”

“Ha-ha-ha.” Peabody sniffed. “We haven’t been here long, so we’re still feeling our way. But we just had a nice talk with one of the reps at the U-Play booth. They’ve got it draped in black, got a big picture of Bart-and they’re running a discount on for-sale merchandise due to death. Business is brisk.”

“Death sale? Interesting. I wonder whose brainchild that was.”

“We’re heading up to Weapons now. The rep gave us a contact.”

“Good. Let me know if you get a hit. How many times have you stopped to play games?”

“Not once. I swear.”

“Well, play something, for Christ’s sake. You’re supposed to be players. You can’t blend by skank alone.”

“You know, I’m starting to take the skank as a compliment. Game play’s on the slate.”

“And get back here asap. Feeney’s bitching about losing his boy.”

“We’re-” Peabody blew out a breath as Eve broke transmission. “Do I look like a skanky geek or a geeky skank?”

“If those are my only two choices, I abstain. I think you look like my one and only She-body, supreme.”

“That’s a really good answer.” She grabbed his hand, and continued to the third level. “Anyway, we’re supposed to get a hit, play games, and get back asap.”

But McNab didn’t respond. He stood, dazzled, circling slowly.

Blasters, battle-axes, peacemakers, swords, sabers, lightning discs, and more and more. Some shined, some glowed, some shimmered at the edges-and many did so behind security glass and lock.

Peabody snapped her fingers under his nose.

He blinked, grinned. “Just staying in character.”

“You’re a character all right. What is it about things that maim, hack, and kill?”

“I like things that blast better.” He made a credible blasting noise and grinned again. “But today, I’m all about the sword. Let’s find Razor.”

It took nearly an hour, but Peabody didn’t have the heart to rush him. Plus, he unquestionably looked like a geek mesmerized by weapons, which was part of the point. He talked the talk with any number of attendees, collectors, reps-and got points for remembering he was supposed to be a sword guy rather than a blaster guy.

She left him long enough to go to Vending for a couple of fizzies. When she came back he stood holding a mean three-bladed weapon that sizzled with zagging red lights as he turned it.

“Hey, baby, check it out! Master’s tri-sword from Edge of Doom. It’s one of the originals used in the vid.”

“I thought you had that already?”

“No, no, you’re thinking of the trident from Poseidon’s Rage.”

“Okay.” She handed him the fizzy.

“This is my Dee-Light,” he said with a wink at the short, stocky man with a gleaming head adorned with tattoos. “This is Razor.”

“Right. The rep downstairs said you were the man.”

“Weapons rule, and I rule the weapons.” He gestured toward the trisword in a way that made the snake tattoo from his knuckles to elbow seem to slither. “Only four of those in existence, and only two still on the market. Plenty of replicas, sure, but this is the real deal. You get a certificate of authenticity with it.”

“It’s way tight.” McNab moved into a warrior stance. “Way,” he said again. “I’m going to keep it in reserve. What I’m really after is a single blade. Zapper broadsword. The real, real deal.” He set the tri-sword down. “I’m licensed. I’m building a collection of blades, different levels, you get? Toys, props, and reals. I’m zeroed on reals today.”

“I get, but you’re still talking prop or toy with the zapper sword. I can get the Doom model, the Gezzo, Lord Wolf-like that, but the vid prop-and that’ll run ya. Or I can get you a deal on a repro. But there ain’t no real.”

“Underground says different.”

“Underground?” Razor snorted out a derisive laugh that made his silver nose ring shimmer. “You gotta wade through ten feet of bullshit just to see the underground.”

“The word I got is it’s a weapon featured in a new game, and they made reals so they could create the program.” He leaned a little closer. “I’ve got this friend of a friend thing, who worked in R &D at U-Play. Something hot’s coming, and this weapon features.”

Razor’s eyes tracked right and left. “Something hot’s coming,” he agreed. “I got friends of friends, too, and might be there’ll be a new line of weapons coming, too. But if there was a zapper sword, a real, I’d be the first. You can ask anybody in the game who knows what there is to know. They’ll say Razor.”

McNab pursed his lips, shoved a hand in one of his many pockets. “I don’t know why they’d string me on this. What’s hot is supposed to be, you know, fantastic.”

Razor held a hand up, lowered it. “Keep it down-low. Yeah, I got that word. But weapons are my thing, and there’s no word on what you’re talking about. Plenty of props, toys, models of that kind of thing, but no reals. It’s fantasy, man.”

McNab adjusted his face toward the dubious and disappointed. “How close are the models and props to reals?”

“I’ll show you one so close you’d swear you could slice your opponent in two, and leave the two pieces smoking.”

They spent another twenty minutes testing and discussing different swords. While all of them looked lethal, none of them could have caused more than a minor scratch, if that.

McNab ended up buying a toy replica of the three-bladed sword. “For my nephew,” he claimed. “He’ll get a charge. Listen, if you hear anything about what we were talking about before?” He scribbled down an e-mail contact. “Let me know.”

“Will do, but you’re chasing an urban legend, friend.”

“Or the wild goose,” McNab said to Peabody as they merged back into the crowd. “My gut says if anybody knows about this weapon, Razor knows.”

“My gut’s with yours. He figured you had the want and the means. If he could’ve brokered a sale, he’d’ve jumped. And if he knew about it, I think he’d have let it show. Ego, rep on the line. If it’s out there, it hasn’t hit the grapevine or the underground.”

“Maybe it’s military, top secret.”

“Think about it. Why would the military need swords? Any kind?”