James Axler - Shadow Box

Grant snarled. “Yeah, flyboy,” he growled, “we know what it is. Nature’s building blocks for making new barons.”

“Spot on, my friend, spot on.” Carnack laughed.

“So, what use is this DNA?” Kane asked.

Carnack adjusted the cushions beneath him and sidled a little closer, holding his hand up to mask his words from the dancing girl. “World’s going to hell in a handbasket, friend,” he told Kane conspiratorially. “The baronies are all blowing up, and I figure the whole game of marbles is up for grabs for those that want it. Strong people, leaders, like you and me. Am I right?”

Kane dipped his head in a slight nod. “Right. So what do I do with this baron DNA? Just add water?”

“If you want to make baron soup.” Carnack guffawed, slapping his thigh loudly. “You’re having a laugh, right? Just add water? What are you, a clown?”

“Then what use is this DNA to me?” Kane asked, his tone somber.

“Like I was saying,” Carnack told him, “the world’s changing and everything’s up for grabs. But you try setting yourself up as a baron, friend—people will lynch you from the nearest tree. They’ve been indoctrinated, see?” He tapped the side of his head. “In their heads. These ville-raised twits all think that the hybrid barons are their natural leaders—it’s like law of the jungle or something.”

“So,” Kane said, “if I had a baron of my own I could call the shots.”

“Exactly,” Carnack told him. “If your crew want to live like barons, you set up your puppet in the position of power and you pull his strings. Welcome to John-Kaneville.” He looked at Brigid and a smile crossed his lips. “Mind you, your friend there can pull my strings anytime, if you catch my drift.”

Brigid smiled tightly at him, narrowing her eyes and saying nothing.

“Suit yourself.” Carnack smiled back before turning to address Kane once more. “So, I’m talking a small fortune for the DNA. On top of that, you’ll need birthing pods. Now, I’ve got a lot of DNA but only one set of the pods. For them you pay the motherlode, and it’s a rental—there’s no buyout option. You get me?”

“And then what?” Grant asked. “DNA in the pods makes us a baron?”

The trader shrugged. “Well, that’s the catch. We’ve got the equipment, but we’ve yet to produce a real live hybrid.”

Brigid leaned forward, suddenly interested. “How are you operating it?”

“What’s that?” Carnack asked. “How do you mean? The thing’s set up with plenty of juice but, honest, all we’ve had come out so far is dead babies. Ugly nippers, too.”

“You have whitecoats operating this? Scientists?” Brigid urged.

“Some, but they’re still working out the kinks,” Carnack admitted.

“So, why would we go in with your organization on this?” Kane asked.

“It’ll work,” Carnack assured them. “Might take another ten goes to get it right, but it’ll work. And if you want to set up a barony, you’ll need a baron. That’s science right there, my friends. Once it works the price triples. Get in early and you nab a bargain, set yourselves up for life.”

Kane gestured to Brigid. “My colleague here is a scientist.”

“Geneticist,” Brigid said by way of clarification as the trader turned to admire her once more.

“What say you to a forty percent drop if she can get your tech working?” Kane suggested.

“Friend,” Tom said, smiling, “if she can get my tech working, I’ll bloody well marry ’er.”

“Forty percent discount will be sufficient.” Brigid smiled patronizingly. “When can I look at the birthing pod?”

Carnack’s eyes lost focus for a moment, and he looked at Velvet Coat, who stood beside the exit while he thought. “Now you’re asking,” he said. “Let me go work out some details. You wait here. I won’t be a minute.”

Carnack stood from the cushions and stepped past the dancing girl, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek before disappearing through a gap in the veils that hid the contours of the walls.

Kane sat still, watching as the man disappeared. He wanted to turn to address Brigid and Grant where they knelt behind him, but the armed guards were still in the room, along with the dancing girl and Velvet Coat. This was too easy. If they could get access to Carnack’s alleged birthing pod, they could assess whether this was a genuine threat and if it was, maybe destroy it then and there.

“Seems like a nice guy,” Grant muttered under his breath after a few moments, and he felt the eyes of Carnack’s men turn on him, watching warily.

“Just watch the pretty girl, Grant,” Kane suggested out of the side of his mouth, and they sat there in silence once more while the long-limbed beauty continued her sensual dance before them.

After a moment, the dark-haired woman leaned down and stretched her arm out to Kane. “You like what you see, yes?” she said, flashing dark eyes at him.

Kane smiled. “You’re very pretty,” he told her, his eyes flicking back to the curtains where the negotiator had disappeared.

“Would you like to dance?” the girl asked.

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” Kane admitted.

“Tom won’t mind,” she assured him, leaning in close. Kane felt her warm breath on his cheek as she whispered in his ear, “I’m just his little fancy. You can have me if you want me. Big, strong man like you.”

Kane looked at her, admiring the way that the silks clung to her curved figure like liquid. “I really don’t think that I should,” he told her quietly.

As he finished speaking, Tom Carnack stepped back into the room brandishing a scarred Kalashnikov AK-47 rifle.

“What’s going on?” Grant asked as the other guards in the room leveled their handguns at the Cerberus teammates.

“I’m sorry, Mr. John Kane,” Carnack explained, “but Señor Smarts there recognized you the second you walked in the door.”

Standing in the doorway holding a tiny revolver, a single-shot .25 with a pearl handle, Velvet Coat mock bowed as Kane looked at him. “I can sniff out a Magistrate at fifty paces, señor.”

“What…?” Kane blustered, pulling himself up from the floor. As he did so, the dancing girl swung one of her long legs over his rising shoulder and shoved him down to the cushions so that he was lying on his back. He lay there looking straight up her torso, her legs to either side of his head.

“You should have accepted that dance, Magistrate man,” she told him, shifting her palm to reveal a shining stiletto blade. “I would have killed you so beautifully you would have wept for me to continue.”

Lying beneath the dancing girl, Kane flicked his eyes to Tom Carnack. “You think we’re Magistrates?” he protested. “This is a joke, right? Little bonding exercise. No, I get it. It’s funny.” He tried to shift his weight and get the dancing girl off him but she crushed her thighs around either side of his head and gave him a warning look.

“You keep squirming, Magistrate man, and I’ll pluck your eyes out,” she told him, bringing her blade down toward his face.

Carnack took another step into the room and pointed the AK-47 at Kane’s groin. “Now, you have to appreciate that we outlanders have our own special way of dealing with Magistrate scum like you,” he snarled.

“Whoa, whoa,” Kane said. “Let’s all just take a step back and talk about this.”

“Yeah,” Brigid chipped in as she knelt on the cushions beside Grant, warily watching the two armed guards. “You’re making an awfully big mistake.” Unnoticed, her hand reached down and her fingers felt around the heel of her right boot.

“Know what?” Carnack said as his gaze took her in. “You, I might just let live. If you’re interested in a new position.”