Progeny (The Progenitor Trilogy, Book Three) (84 page)

              ‘We need to find Haines, and quickly,’ said Steven.  ‘I think we all know that this is going to be little more than a show trial.  I don’t know how long he’ll have afterwards until they execute him.  Let’s go.’

              ‘I’m still not sure that this is a good idea,’ said Anna.  ‘We’re about to walk into a club owned by a man that you pulled a gun on and shot two of his men.’

              ‘It wasn’t exactly the way I planned it, but they would have killed us if I hadn’t acted,’ said Steven.  ‘Besides, I did my homework before I walked into that bar.  Molinelli is a coward at heart and gets others to do his dirty work for him.  If he knows that they can’t protect him, he won’t move against us.  He won’t want trouble, particularly if the club is full of people.  It’s bad for business and will attract the authorities.  All the same, we’ll need to watch our back in case he’s stupid enough to try anything.  Are you both armed?’

              ‘Yep,’ said Isaacs and patted the lump under his jacket that was a heavy laser pistol.  Anna was likewise armed.  ‘How are we going to get inside?’

              ‘Molinelli should have told his security staff to expect us and let us through without question.  Hopefully we won’t need these anyway, but it’s good to have insurance.  You ready?’

              ‘Ready as we’ll ever be, I suppose,’ said Anna.

              ‘Okay, good.  Let’s move,’ said Steven and opened the door of the truck.

              They had parked across the street from Molinelli’s club, Dimension.  Brightly coloured holos across the front of the establishment bathed the darkening street in flickering, multicoloured light.  Two doormen stood at the entrance, their oversized physiques betraying the effects of drug or gene enhancements.  Steven, Isaacs and Anna walked calmly across the street . The doormen watched them approach. Steven went up to the larger of the two and smiled warmly.

              ‘Good evening.  We’re on the guest list for tonight.  Mr Molinelli is expecting us.’

              ‘Name?’ growled the doorman.

              ‘Van Horne.  Party of three.’

              The doorman consulted a small datapad for a moment.

              ‘Okay, you can head inside.  Have a good evening, sir,’ said the doorman gruffly and pushed the door open with a meaty hand.

              With that, they walked into Dimension unmolested and unsearched.  The interior of the club was pretty empty.  It was still a little early and only a dozen or so patrons had yet arrived.  They were mostly hanging around near the brightly lit bar.  Light and holo displays floated above a large dance floor that, as yet, was empty of people, although music thudded out from the sound system all the same.  Isaacs cast his eye around the room.  Most of the other patrons looked stylishly attired, the men lean and handsome and the women hanging off their arms similarly good looking and obviously wealthy.  Despite having changed into something smarter than his usual clothes, Isaacs felt under dressed.  This wasn’t his sort of place at all and more to the point, these people seemed to be behaving in a manner that suggested that they were oblivious to what was going on in the city outside.  How could they talk and laugh and look so carefree?  Didn’t it occur to them how precarious their existence was, or were they just getting out of their skulls to blot out what was happening all around them?

              ‘What are you waiting for?  Head to the bar and get a drink,’ said Steven.  ‘Act natural.’

              ‘Yeah Cal, you don’t usually need prompting,’ said Anna.  ‘Don’t go getting drunk mind you, we need to stay sharp.’

              Isaacs eyed the gleaming bar and the smug looking bar tender who was currently mixing cocktails for a group of giggling young women and groaned inwardly.

              ‘Given the likely price of the drinks in here, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue,’ Isaacs said and went to order.

              A few minutes later, clutching a too-cold bottle of overpriced beer with an ironic name, Isaacs stood with his back to the bar and looked around the club.

              ‘You alright?’ said Anna.

              ‘Just suffering from a sharp, stabbing pain in the wallet, that’s all,’ Isaacs replied grimly and cast an accusing glance at her luridly coloured cocktail.  ‘Fucking typical.  Any sign of this Sigurdson guy?’

              ‘None so far.  Still, it’s early.  He doesn’t usually turn up until later on, apparently.’

              ‘So, we watch and wait.’

              ‘That’s the plan.  Try to act natural.  Pretend that you’re having a good time.’

              ‘In this place?  I’m not that good an actor,’ Isaacs replied.  Anna saw his expression and laughed.

              Over the course of the next hour, the club started to fill up.  They crowded the bar and began to gather on the dance floor beneath the flashing holos that moved in time to the thudding music.  The more Steven watched, the more he pondered the people here.  Were they aware of what was going on on this moon?  He imagined that on some level they must be, even if they were choosing to ignore it.  Perhaps this place provided an escape for them.  He had heard that as the Soviets closed in on Berlin at the end of the Second World War, people had still drunk and danced even as the shells from the Red Army had started to fall on the city.  Perhaps this was more of the same process of denial and release. 

              He leaned over to Anna.

              ‘The other day in the bar.  What was that all about?’

              She looked at him puzzled.  ‘What do you mean?’

              ‘You called yourself Anna Isaacs, rather than Favreaux.  I haven’t heard you use that name in a while.’

              ‘No well... for a time it wasn’t really me.  I didn’t feel like that was the right name for me.  You shut me out, I left and...’

              ‘Yeah, I know.’ He paused.  ‘What about now?’

              ‘Now?’

              ‘Yeah.’

              ‘Things are little different now with you and me.  There is a “you and me”, for a start.  These past few weeks: I see the old Cal I knew before, the man I fell for.  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him and it’s good to have him back.  I want to stay with him.  I like being Mrs Isaacs again, I think.’  She moved in and kissed him.  ‘Assuming we get out of this in one piece of course,’ she added. 

Isaacs grinned at her.

‘Well now I’ve my girl back, I’d better make sure of that, hadn’t I?’ he said and made to move in for another kiss.

‘Yeah?  Well keep your mind on the job then,’ said Anna and gently pushed him away.  ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.  Meanwhile, we need to find this contact, and Steven is giving us a
look
.’

Scanning the crowd without making it too obvious was difficult.  There was too much gloom and strobing light, the gyrating bodies on the dance floor mixing with the ghostly apparitions of holo-projections both above and among the revellers. Isaacs leaned over to Steven.

              ‘Any sign of our contact?’ he yelled over the noise.

              ‘Not yet,’ Steven replied. ‘Molinelli hasn’t arrived yet either, like he promised.  He’s going to introduce us, remember?’

              ‘Yeah... wait, is that him in the crowd over there?’ said Isaacs and pointed with a hand that still held a drink.  Sure enough, Molinelli’s rotund form could be seen waddling through the throng, providing a stark contrast to the lithe figures that parted to let him through.  He wore a scowl on his pudgy face, and his forehead was already beaded with sweat.  He spotted them and ambled towards them, pausing at the bar to take the drink the barman had waiting for him.

              ‘Alright, our guy has arrived.  I haven’t said anything to him, like you asked, so as not to spook him.  You wanna come over? I’ll introduce you to each other.’  Molinelli looked obviously nervous, despite the handful of security staff stationed around the club.  He had seen what Steven could do and knew that they would be unable to help him if Steven turned on him.  ‘Listen, let’s keep it civil, okay?’ Molinelli added, with a pleading look on his face.  ‘I’ve got a business to run here, and I’ve done what you asked.’

              ‘That you have,’ said Steven. ‘Besides, the last thing I want to do is attract attention.’

              ‘Good, good,’ said Molinelli, nodding and mopping his brow.  ‘Come on, this way.  He’s in one of the booths.’

              Molinelli led them around the central dance floor towards the back of the club.  There was a broad raised area here, and another bar, to the left of which was a row of booths with padded seating and tables.  Two of them were occupied by laughing groups of drinkers.  A third was occupied by a stocky man with short, white blonde hair and two attractive girls rather younger than him.  They were both laughing at some joke that the man had made.  One had her perfectly manicured hand on his leg.  Isaacs saw the man look up at Molinelli in recognition as they approached. It was Sigurdson.

              ‘Martin!  How’s it going, my friend?’ said Molinelli, shooting the man a broad grin.

              ‘Vito, hey!’ said Sigurdson, throwing his arms wide.  ‘Good to see you again.’

              ‘Having fun tonight?’ said Molinelli, nodding at the two girls.

              ‘Always good here, man,’ said Sigurdson.  ‘This place of yours... listen, why don’t you join us?’ he added pointing to a seat next to the girl sat opposite him.  ‘Room for one more.’

              Vito laughed.  ‘Maybe in a while.  Listen, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.  Martin, this is Steven.  He has business to discuss.’

              ‘Okay, sure,’ said Sigurdson and nodded a little drunkenly.

              ‘Listen Martin, he just needs a few minutes of your time so, ladies, if you wouldn’t mind going to powder your noses for a few minutes?  When you come back, I’ll have some champagne on ice waiting for you, alright?’ said Molinelli and gave a reassuring wink.

              The girls squeezed their way out of the booth and tottered away to the toilets on their high heels.  Sigurdson watched them leave, wistfully. 

              ‘Eighteen, man.  Fuck!  I feel young again,’ he said and laughed at his own joke, then stuck out a hand.  ‘So Steven, you wanna talk?’

              Steven shook the proffered hand.

              ‘Sure I do,’ he replied, then turned to Isaacs and Anna as Molinelli took a seat in the booth.  Keeping his voice low enough so that Molinelli and Sigurdson would be unable to hear him over the music, he said ‘Okay, you two stand watch.  Spread out and watch for any funny stuff going down.  I don’t trust Molinelli one bit.  I don’t think he is that stupid, but I don’t want to take any chances, okay?’

              Anna and Isaacs nodded and moved to position themselves to either side of the booth:  far enough away that their presence as bodyguards wasn’t too obvious, but close enough so that they could both keep an eye on Steven as well as the rest of the club.  Isaacs saw Steven sit down with the gangster and the crooked quartermaster and felt the weight of the pistol pressing against his chest as the music continued to blare.

              Steven sat down across from Sigurdson and got straight to the point.

              ‘Okay, Staff Sergeant Martin Sigurdson.  I’m going to be blunt: we know what you’re up to.’

              ‘What the fuck?  We? Who is “we”?’ sneered Sigurdson.  ‘Vito?’  Molinelli remained silent.

              ‘My name is Steven Harris. I’m an agent working for Commonwealth Intelligence, Special Operations Command.  Mr Molinelli here has been helping me with my enquiries.  You’ve been siphoning off supplies from the military for years and selling them on the black market, haven’t you?’

              ‘Yeah, so?  In case you hadn’t figured it out, pal,  this ain’t the Commonwealth anymore.  You ain’t got no jurisdiction here, so fuck off!’

              ‘That may be so,’ said Steven.  ‘But unless you co-operate and tell me everything I need to know, you aren’t going to have an awful lot left to entertain those two delightful young ladies with later.  Look under the table.’

              Gingerly, Sigurdson angled his head so that he could see beneath the table top.  The sight of a heavy laser pistol pointed directly at his balls greeted him.  Molinelli also visibly blanched.

              ‘Hey, you said no trouble...’

              ‘And there won’t be any, if Staff Sergeant Sigurdson plays along,’ said Steven.  ‘Will there, Staff Sergeant?’  He grinned coldly at Sigurdson, who shook his head weakly.  ‘Now, I’m willing to overlook your misdemeanours and allow you to remain in possession of your manhood if you’re willing to provide the information that I’m after.’

              ‘Sure,’ said Sigurdson, nodding nervously.  ‘Okay, what do you want?’

              ‘Vito tells me that as Quarter Master, you’re in a pretty good position to know what’s going on around here with regard to deployments and so forth.  I’m looking for high profile prisoners held by the new regime.  Where might I find them?’

              ‘I dunno man, I mean things are little messed up around here right now.’

              ‘Messed up?  Messed up how?’ pressed Steven.  ‘More messed up than having your bollocks fried by a laser pistol?’

              ‘Oh fuck...’ said Sigurdson.  ‘I dunno if I can... Look, some pretty fucked up shit is going down around here.  If I tell you... if they find out...  They’ll fucking disappear me, man.  They’ll fucking well turn me into one of them...’

              ‘Start at the top,’ Steven ordered.

              Isaacs’ eyes roamed the crowd, letting his gaze slide over the drinking, dancing, flirting, kissing figures.  He watched them gyrate to the music, laugh at one another’s drunken jokes, flirt and touch one another in a sea of moving figures, scantily clad female bodies and sharply dressed males.  He noticed that there was a propensity for the older men to be accompanied by much younger female partners, though there were a few groups of women dancing together and men clutching drinks hanging around the periphery of the dance floor like hyenas eyeing a pack of gazelles.  The club’s security staff looked on, bored, as if the outbreak of a drunken brawl would enliven their day no end.  It was then that he first caught a glimpse of her: Anita.