Jay Posey - Three

Tyke let out something halfway between a giggle and a snort. A thin thread of phlegm flipped itself over his bottom lip and dangled there a moment before he wiped it away. Jantz lowered his head and stared at the table. Then slowly slid his eyes back up to Cass’s cleavage.

“My understanding is that you’ve received the half up front?”

“That’s right, and you can check the case if you want,” he said, as he swiped a fingertip across a chrome strip. A mechanism hissed and the case unsealed itself. “It’s all there, forty-five hundred, cut in stacks. We went ahead and cut ’em in stacks for you so, you know, so when you, you know, when you sell ’em off or whatever, they’re easier for you to move, for when you sell ’em. That’s a little extra service we wanted to provide to you on account of Mr McGann. For when you sell ’em.”

“Well, I appreciate that Tyke. I’m sure Mr McGann will too.”

“And you’ve got the money, right? In Hard?”

“Of course.” She slung the pack onto the table. “Case is mine to take?”

“Sure, that’s fine. Sorry to make you lug it all the way down here, that much Hard. But you know, this was kind of a hurry up kind of thing, and we don’t usually work in this kind of, you know, arrangement, and so we’re sorry, we would’ve rather done it some other way that was better for your brother, you know and you, but this was all we could work out to handle, you know, on such short notice, with that much, you know, that much q.”

“It’s really not a problem, Tyke. I know it’s a lot of pressure on you guys.”

A momentary cube of light flashed at the eastern entrance of hangar, someone entering quickly. Once the door clanged shut again, it was impossible to see who it was approaching, with the light from the tubelighting in her face.

“Don’t worry that’s just our moneyman. Like an accountant, you know, just to make sure we’re all on the square and everything. He’s with us, don’t worry, he’s one of ours. He’s our moneyman.”

A prickle of electricity raced along Cass’s spine. That made seven. No matter how well things were going, seven to one was bad odds.

“I’m not sure what kind of trouble I could’ve caused you, ma’am,” Three answered. “Just rolled into town yesterday, and haven’t done anything untoward to anyone since I got here.”

The Bonefolder sipped her beverage again, a dainty procedure borne of long years of practice and some kind of homage to traditions long dead. She replaced her cup on the table, adjusted it slightly so the handle was pointing exactly ninety-degrees to her right.

“This may be true. But we fear the offense came before you ‘rolled into town’, as you so eloquently put it.”

Three could feel the tension pouring off jCharles. Without a doubt, he was already running through the scenarios of who to drop first when it all went down.

“Ma’am, I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’ve had a long few weeks. If I’ve done you some wrong, you’re gonna have to come right out and tell me.”

She looked at him with disappointment, clearly affronted by his crass disregard for her preferred manner of speech. The Bonefolder took another sip of her beverage. Three already recognized the routine. Same quantity in every sip. Raise the cup. Sip. Pause. A long blink. Lower the cup. Adjust. Handle ninety-degrees to the right.

“A few days ago, Mr Walker, several of our business associates went looking to procure certain commodities that are at times in demand here within Greenstone. Four associates departed. Only one of those associates returned, Mr Walker, and he was notably less well than he had been when he first departed. His ankle snapped cleanly in two. Jaw dislocated. Only partial memories of the events which led to the unfortunate state in which we found him.”

The image flashed through Three’s mind immediately. The slavers. He’d told Cass he might not have killed all of them. Apparently he was right. Small comfort.

“It seems he spent the night in a culvert, wedged inside a drain pipe, Mr Walker, after having crawled there on his elbows, he says. Apparently, he had the less than desirable experience of observing the Weir as they savaged the corpses of his companions and then dragged them away. We fear he has been somewhat changed.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry for your loss, but I gave those men the only thing I had to offer ’em. I didn’t know they were yours.”

“Would it have mattered if you had, Mr Walker?”

“No ma’am, I reckon not.”

“As we suspected,” she replied. She pressed her lips together so that they disappeared into a perfectly flat, horizontal line. Cup up. Sip. Pause. Blink. Cup down. Adjust. “Under normal circumstances, we fear we would have no choice but to make an example of you. Greenstone is a challenging place for a woman of any standing, let alone for one of our particular age, you see.”

Close to go time. Three casually surveyed the bartender. He was cleaning a glass, but watching intently. The Big One stood statue-still behind Bonefolder, hands behind his back. The rest arrayed in a half-circle that nearly enclosed Three and jCharles. Four to one. And the Bonefolder. Three didn’t know how she’d earned that name, and he didn’t want to find out.

“So what’s the procedure here? I assume you want some kind of restitution, else I’d be swinging from a post already.”

“Oh, isn’t it a sharp one?” she said. “We understand you desire use of our train that you may travel to Morningside. Is this accurate?”

“It is.”

“It is to your great fortune, then, that we have need of a courier for just that very destination. A messenger.”

“So I hop on your train, deliver your message, and we’re square?”

“We require a message be delivered to the governor of that province. A man by name of Underdown.”

Under the table, jCharles spread his fingers wide, stretching them, then relaxed them into his lap. He bowed his head slightly, let his eyelids droop. Ready. On Three’s move, Twitch would unleash.

“And the message?”

“The message is his death. After we receive confirmation, we will allow your woman and child to join you.”

An icy shock went through Three, and he saw jCharles’ eyelids flutter. How did she know about Cass and Wren?

Three forced himself still. Calm. Cool. Controlled.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid that doesn’t work.”

“Mr Walker, by now we have your woman and child in our custody. Your decisions are reduced only to this: deliver our message to Governor Underdown of Morningside, or die. We do not care, but recompense must be made. Your death plus the woman and the boy are calculated a fair exchange. The sum is equal to the cost of the zeroing of Underdown. This is business. What is your decision?”

The electric feeling didn’t subside as the man approached from the hazy darkness. There was a shift in the crowd, as well. Cass felt the ring tighten ever so subtly.

“Our moneyman,” Tyke continued. “Just taking care of the money, and we should all be on our way, just like that. I hope you’ll tell your brother what good business partners we are, how well we held up our deal, and how eager we are to serve. We’re fans of his, we read all his stuff, me and Jantz.”

The man finally reached the perimeter of the lights, and Cass recognized him instantly. The limping man from before. But more than that, she saw it now, all of it. The man she’d seen in the Samurai McGann. The one with the familiar eyes. She’d seen him even before that, out in the open. He’d been wearing a mask over his mouth then, when Three had broken his leg and knocked him to the ground like a dead man. Not dead after all.