Sucker Punch (4 page)

Hard to feel it was suddenly safer when this meeting might involve an ‘it' bent on causing widespread pain and destruction. She'd seen its work and was not eager for this possible confrontation.

There was another goon and another set of escalators. One that went up and one that went down. Vi followed, with her eyes, the one twisting up toward another floor. Straight ahead, a bank of seriously high windows appeared to look out over the city. Only it was NON the way it used to be, not the way it was now. The down escalator was equally elegant, a definite upgrade from the one outside.

The goon grunted and jerked his chin toward the down escalator. Like the one outside, this activated at pressure from her foot. The slow spiral down gave glimpses of the artificially generated views. It made the high ceiling appear higher and the room bright and light. At the bottom, the view through the transparent floor was the real deal. She'd have probably hesitated before stepping out, but the escalator slid her smoothly onto what seemed like nothing. The effect was that good. And it was that clean.

She looked past the floor, hoping it would help with her sudden vertigo. Afoniki's block had been shifted over the old Metairie cemetery, she realized, after studying it for several moments. It had been some kind of racetrack prior to becoming a city of the dead. From this angle, the track made an elegant curve through the dead space. Pieces of old freeway poked up out of the green spaces here and there, and she could see the skeletons of old buildings, heavily coated with moss, though all of it showed signs of fresh scarring from WTF. From this place, she could better see the standing water glinting where it had not glinted before WTF. From a distance, it was pretty. Until she remembered what it was like down in the goo.

The low hanging clouds shifted, giving her a glimpse of what might have been the old airport. Had its floating version shifted, too? She hadn't been over that direction to see. It shouldn't matter. Logically one knew that floating locations floated. Moved. But…New Orleans had always been
this
thing and now it wasn't. It had been shuffled like a deck of cards, and no one knew if it could be put right, even if her mental metaphor was so wrong it was embarrassing. Two wrongs still didn't make it right, as her Great Grand Paw Paw liked to say.

She spotted a lean, elegant figure gazing, well, she wasn't sure if he was looking at the fake or the real reality, over by one of the windows. He did look a bit posed, which made her lips twitch. Vi couldn't deny that the sight of him made her pulse twitch a little. Snakes could be pretty, as long as one didn't forget that they could also be lethal. She could never decide if Afoniki flirted with her because she was a girl and it bugged her many relatives or—well, the why didn't matter. They were as opposite as—north and south poles weren't opposite enough, even for someone really bad with metaphors. More like the equator and whichever pole was the coldest. Was that a metaphor? She wasn't sure. She was sure she had a headache that was getting worse.

Vi knew she was trying to keep her thoughts light so she wouldn't panic. Were they walking into some crazy nanite battle? Would it all be fought out of sight? Was it dangerous to them? Could it be contained or would there be collateral damage? She should have asked more questions. She knew that now. Maybe. She might not like the answers. She'd known that at some level, so had been afraid to ask. It had seemed straightforward heading over here, but now it felt a bit like falling into a maze. One as murky and dangerous as what they'd faced on the surface. Only without the wind, rain and green ooze. So better, without actually being better.

Afoniki turned to face them, as if he'd just become aware of their presence, which she knew he hadn't. They'd never have been admitted without his permission.

“Detective Violet Baker.” A dramatic pause. “This is an unexpected…pleasure.”

The hint of surprise was as fake as his smile. Did the dude ever have a normal human reaction? Of course, them coming here was unexpected. They usually “met” at HQ in an interview room. Which brought her circling back to wrong and would-things-ever-be-right-again?

Afoniki's gaze flicked Joe's direction and real interest gleamed in the dark depths. It was true that Captain Uncle hadn't let Joe play good cop in interrogation yet, which was a pity because he really was a good good cop. He was also a bit distracting, which would have been helpful. Funny how hard it was for Orleanians to get used to purple skin when they had no problem with purple everything else.

“A partner who matches your eyes. How charming,” Afoniki murmured. “He must be a huge hit at Mardi Gras.”

This annoyed her, even though it had been her first thought at their initial meeting.

He moved toward them, but didn't make the mistake of holding out his hand. They were hand
cuffing,
not handshaking
acquaintances. It was a nice bonus, not being on handshaking terms, if he was currently playing host to an evil something or other that liked to switch bodies through physical contact. Which just showed it was possible to find the good even in a bad situation.

“This is—” she stopped and sent Joe a wide-eyed look.

“I am Dzholh Ban!drn,” he said. It still sounded like her cat coughing up a hairball, not helped by the almost imperceptible bow he offered with the words. “Intergalactic Law Enforcement Exchange Program.”

In the past six months, she'd noticed that the depth of the bow reflected Joe's notions of someone's importance. He'd for sure nailed it this time.

“That's quite the view you've got.” She touched an elbow to a tall, semitransparent cabinet and studied the view again. One wasn't supposed to fear heights in a floating city, but one feared them less when one couldn't see exactly how far one would fall if something malfunctioned. “Is it better or worse?”

“It is…different.”

Yeah, he'd spent way too much time with lawyers.

“Change can be satisfactory.”

Afoniki cast Joe a doubtful look.

“Except when it's not,” Vi said, possibly a bit too emphatically.

A real smile spread across Afoniki's face. Who'd have thought they'd find common ground in the aftermath of a big old storm? Vi noted the smile failed to spread to his eyes, which were so cold, she lacked a metaphor for how much. One brow rose over one cold eye, and he indicated the sumptuous seating with a touch of hesitation. As if he weren't sure how long they planned to stay, but he did have company manners. For now. Vi didn't kid herself that their “welcome” mat could easily be pulled out from under them. Which brought her mind back to the floor. She eased over to the couch, trying not to look eager or relieved, and sank down. It was as comfortable as it looked, which was sad, because she still didn't feel comfortable. What if he had a button that would drop all of it, or the section she sat on, into the goo of NOO below?

If she hadn't seen the evil something or other's handiwork, her imagination might not be running quite so wild. But she had. She glanced around, as if studying the fixtures. He had a good decorator. Even the furniture had a lightness to it that went against the vid portrayals of bad guys homes as dark and sinister dens of iniquity.

“I love what you've done with the place,” she said.
Most of it.

“My designer was most…satisfactory.”

Vi was pretty sure that was a
double entendre.
Not everyone looked beneath his surface—or cared to look. Lots of money and good looks were all that mattered. Vi, well, she always felt a bit dirty after spending time with him. This time she'd arrived dirty, so she was ahead of the game.

“Can I offer you something? A beverage? Food?” His gaze lingered on her face. “A bed?” Joe must have tensed or something because he added, “For sleeping, of course. You look exhausted.” His gaze shifted to Joe. “You as well, naturally.” His gaze flicked between them, both piercing and unsettling.

Vi looked at Joe and danged if he didn't look tired. She had to give Lurch chops for knowing how to set the stage.

“Thank you, but no, thank you.” She wasn't sure how to start a non-hostile, non-interrogation. “I'm fine. We're fine. Thank you.”

He shifted from one foot to the other, his hands sliding into the pockets of his perfectly fitted slacks. He didn't say that they needed to get to the point, but his lips lost their pseudo-friendly curve. Vi hesitated, but this wasn't a power struggle, at least not yet. Afoniki hadn't killed Jimbo, and the meth lab was probably sleeping with the fishes. If a meth lab could sleep. Would the fish be high? She firmly reined in her thoughts. This was not the moment to lose the plot.

“In a rare turn of events, we aren't here to talk about legalities.” Or lack thereof. She gave an amused shake. “Feels really odd.”

“Indeed.” His other brow rose to the same height as the first. He crossed to a chair that faced her, flicking a brief curious glance at the still-standing Joe. He didn't seem too worried about power positions, though, since he sank into it, stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles, his hands once more finding their way into his pockets. Was that where he kept the buttons that would drop them into the river?

“And what does bring you—so happily—into my presence?”

“We've just come from the FEMA MEC.”

“Really?” He looked mildly interested. “I hope you didn't eat anything there. I've heard stories.” He gave an artistic shudder. “One can only hope they are wild rumors.”

Vi grinned. “We have the same food at HQ. Sadly, not rumors.”

“I have never doubted your courage, Detective.”

Vi had, but she didn't say so. She tried to think of something to continue the nonrelevant conversation, but couldn't. Luckily Joe picked up the slack, though chatting wasn't his forte either, so he just went with the plan.

“Some surface dwellers, what you call dirt siders, were evacuated there after the storm and one of them died last night. There are concerns about possible contamination risks for anyone who came into contact with him.”

Afoniki was a cool customer. His face didn't change. He didn't even blink. He didn't ask either, but then he'd probably learned how not to blink or ask back in kindergarten.

“Indeed? How unfortunate.” He didn't say it wasn't his problem, but she felt it quivering in the air between them.

“It seemed a bit far-fetched,” she said, adopting her I-didn't-want-to-but-have-to mien, “but someone said you were there yesterday evening?”

“Indeed?”

He didn't say he hadn't been there, so she added, “We are required to warn anyone who had contact with the vic. Regs.” Since no one had read all the regs, it was easy to trot them out as an excuse for just about anything. Had it been long enough yet? Vi wanted to look at her tech, needed to know the time, but didn't dare look away from the bad guy. And whatever might be lurking inside him. A pulse throbbed painfully behind one eye, possibly keeping time with Joe's countdown.

“Regs,” he echoed, his tone was smooth but just a hint of a crease formed between his brows.

“We can scan you for contaminants or you can see your own doctor, but I wouldn't wait too long. Our vic went down pretty fast.”

“Isn't it fortunate that I was nowhere near the MEC?”

She thought about asking him if he was sure, but it's not like it was something you'd be unsure about.

“Well, they say everyone has a double.”

He did not seem enamored of the idea of a double. Which made her wonder if he really did have one. And if he did, what he'd do about it. She could see where one might come in handy for a bad guy, as long as it didn't get around he had one. Which it just may have. She pretended to check her tech. “So, just to be clear, you don't know a dirt sider, name of Jimbo?”

This question verged into interrogation range, because she'd bet money he did know Jimbo and would bet even more money he'd never admit it. On the tail of the question, tension seeped in, stealing some of the brightness from the room. She really wished she'd asked Joe what to expect when…whatever was going to happen happened.

“Jim…bo?”

“Dirt sider,” Vi said, trying for light and adding a shrug, just in case she missed the mark.

“Indeed.” He shifted, uncrossing, then crossing his legs the other direction. “I thought the surface had been evacuated prior to the storm?”

Deflect a question with a question. It was his SOP. But it would know that, if it was lurking in there. If it was in there, it would know that she knew Jimbo hadn't been evacuated.

“We did try. The storm got worse faster than expected, and we got separated from him. I was surprised he made it off the surface, actually.”

“Dirt siders are resilient.”

“They are,” Vi agreed, “until they aren't and die.”

He shrugged. “Everyone dies. Eventually.”

Was this a veiled threat? The fact that it was true didn't make it not a threat. Something dark passed in the sky underneath them. Vi blinked, but Afoniki stiffened. His attention shifting from her long enough she risked a glance at Joe. Was that…?

He nodded to her silent question. Did that mean the MITSC had talked to the uniforms or were they following her and Joe? Had they had time to tag them? Had they needed time? Lurch had taken them off grid, but they were the MITSC. According to legend, they'd always had better tech than anyone else. She loosed an internal curse. She'd hoped to avoid having the MITSC and Joe's evil something or other in the same space they were.

Afoniki's gaze found her again, something more than speculation in his somehow empty gaze.

“Well, if you weren't at the MEC, then we'd better get moving.” It was already too late. The boys in drab were probably parking next to them right now. But that didn't lessen her flight or—no, it was pretty much a flight instinct. No fight in there at all. And what would ‘it' do if the MITSC shouldered their way in? In a tech versus tech battle, Vi felt like she had “collateral damage” tattooed on her forehead. Unfortunately “serve and protect” was imprinted on her DNA, and the mandate included clueless men in drab, even if they had stolen her body and body of evidence.