Delivery
by Lena (language corrections by Shayne)
Chapter 3
"He has his hideout in the place called the Citadel. It's situated in the deserts, about a hundred miles north-west from Nyccos. It's an open secret where it is." Katze pressed a key on the keyboard and a map appeared on the screen. A city and a vast area around it. "Here," he pointed his finger at the tiny spot on the map and pressing another button enlarged the image. "In bird's eye view you really can't miss it, let alone from the ground."
The spot turned out to be an expansive, circular stronghold. Now Raoul understood why it was called the Citadel.
"So you're saying everyone knows where he lives and nobody does anything about it?" he asked.
Katze shrugged. "Typical. You think all those mobsters out there don't get caught because the cops can't get their bearings? He pays off half of the city authorities. Officially he's clean, there's no evidence against him."
A few hours after Daryl's call they sat in front of the huge terminal in Katze's room. It turned out the dealer had known the name Crimelord quite well. The few hours between afternoon and evening had been quite enough for him to find out even more.
"It seems that Guy was arrested on his orders," Katze continued. "His two men tried to get the brat on the street but the little bastard kicked their butts and ran off. When Daryl picked him up at the police station and they contacted the Crimelord later on, the man knew that Guy was under guard. Must have sent his minions for him again – to the jail, and they failed 'cause someone with more pull got there first."
"So, kidnapping his friends was plan B," Raoul guessed.
"So it seems." A key clicked quietly and the picture changed. A handsome dark haired man looked at them from the screen. "That's him. His real name is Luis Moreno but I guess that doesn't really matter. To the world he's known as the Crimelord and that's the name he calls himself. I also managed to get the data of some of his men. I sent them to Daryl – that's what we got in return. Guy recognized the two that attacked him. At least one of them was also involved in kidnapping the punk's friends." The next picture appeared on the screen. "Mane Gavriel. Age 28. One of the Crimelord's most trusted men. And here's something more interesting." Another click. "Marc Moreno. Age 22. Commonly called Junior."
Raoul frowned. "The Crimelord's son?"
"Yup. It seems that daddy is using Mane to introduce his kid to the business."
Raoul leaned forward in his chair and examined the picture more closely. Although the young man on the screen was fair-haired, his features bore his father's stamp. He lacked the Crimelord's nobility of face but it was evident his looks would only improve with age.
"So. Is this Crimelord really that dangerous?" Raoul asked.
"He is involved in all possible kinds of illegal business in Nyccos. Or so is it claimed. But his specialty is drugs. Not only does he produce and sell them, he also dabbles in R&D. His scientists invented half of the stuff that at the moment crams Nyccos market. Really nasty trade if you ask me."
The Blondie nodded. "And now we have to think of some way to get this guy out of our way."
"Well, like you said before, we can just ignore him and order Daryl to bring the punk to us right away."
"Which would mean wasting three human lives."
Katze left it without comment and just stared at Raoul with unmoving gaze. Shapely elite lips twisted in a minimal, mysterious smile.
"You know, Katze, I've been thinking about this a little. We actually don't have to waste those lives. I think I have an idea."
It was already half past midnight when Raoul joined Katze on the bedroom's balcony.
"So what do you think?" he asked, stopping beside the dealer.
Katze cast him a short glance over his shoulder and flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette.
"There's a strong chance that it won't work. Still, there's also a chance that it will, so I guess it's worth trying. But I could send out some of my men. I can't understand why do you want to do it yourself."
The Blondie half closed his eyes, giving his face a slightly exasperated look. "Please, Katze, don't make me explain those reasons again. I told you. Things became more complicated. I don't want to entrust something so important and so risky to someone else. I want to have control over matters."
Katze didn't look convinced.
"Yeah, right," he snorted. "Ya know what? I'm beginning to think you missed your calling. You should have been a merc instead of a biologist. You apparently love to involve yourself in all kinds of nasty business."
The Blondie smiled thoughtfully. "I admit it might be fun. To get away from work, from the city, to tag along with you a little. What's so wrong about it? Do you know, Katze, how many times in my life I've left Tanagura?
Katze only shrugged, unwilling to make guesses.
"Twice," Raoul said. "Twice in my thirty years of life."
Red brows rose on the dealer's forehead. "You mean it?"
"Oh yes. And I was never actually out of town. My life has been always so sickeningly static. I grew up here, got a couple degrees then went directly to work. When the Center had business with other cities, the delegations always came to Tanagura, never the other way around. When you are as important as I am," the corner of Raoul's lips rose derisively, "you don't need to trouble yourself to go anywhere, they all come to you. To be honest, Katze, I'm in desperate need of a change."
Katze stared at him for a moment. Yes, when you thought about it, it wasn't that surprising after all. He'd bet there were quite a few people in Tanagura, elite included, who hadn't left their hometown even once. The cities were like huge organisms, closed within their own boundaries and practically self-sufficient. You could live out your life there without feeling a need to go somewhere else. And although there was no technical problem with traveling by air, thousands of miles of arid deserts separating each urban area made almost complete isolation an easy prospect. People in certain professions traveled on business. Hardly anyone traveled for fun.
Katze let his lips curl in a little smile. "Will the city survive your absence?"
"I'm not Iason. They'll be perfectly all right without me. The question is will the city survive your absence."
"Assuming that we do this, I'm not moving an inch without a laptop. That should be enough for the city to live on," the dealer winked. "But," he turned to Raoul with emphasis, "assuming that we do this, I will not let you drag yourself through the deserts looking like that. Not with your appearance positively screaming 'elite'. Certainly not in those stupid clothes of yours. A week out there is not a onetime raid on Kano's labs."
Raoul had a profound desire to ask what was wrong with his clothes. In his private opinion everything was in perfect order. It was the whole non-elite world that dressed without taste and style. But he wasn't an idiot. Of course, he knew what was wrong. And he had to admit that Katze was right.
"So what are you suggesting?"
Katze twisted his lips in a crooked grin. "That if you really want to do it, we have to go shopping first."
Everything in the room – no matter what color it was – seemed dulled with grey. Furniture, cushions, walls, curtains, even the view outside the window. Guy wondered whether it was the dust hovering densely in the air or the passage of time that made every color fade to drab eventually.
Probably both.
They'd arrived at this deserted outpost near daybreak and even snatched a few hours of sleep. They got a small room, typical of cheap, desert motels. Although they were just a few miles outside the city – the vague lines of Nyccos were still visible on the horizon – he couldn't feel the urban atmosphere anymore. The deserts devoured almost all vestiges of civilization.
The room's accommodations were spartan: a table and two chairs, an ugly cabinet, two beds and an armchair that had apparently once been cushioned with magnificent green velour. Of the green now only a hint remained and the velour's opulence had long since been reduced to threadbare roughness.
Guy had sunk into the armchair some time ago and was now silently studying his guardian, who – for his part – was studying the laptop screen, minding his own business and paying Guy no attention what-so-ever. The silence was overwhelming. No that it was uneasy, Daryl didn't seem bothered at all, he had things to do. But Guy was—bored. Bored to death, and it wasn't even noon yet. He couldn't imagine the rest of the day. Maybe he wasn't a very talkative person, but he needed to talk sometimes.
"So, we're just going to sit here like this?" he broke the silence, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Doing nothing?"
Daryl raised his chestnut head from the screen with an impatient expression on his face.
"There's nothing you can do right now. We're following Katze's instructions. Now please, be quiet. I've got work to do."
With that the head was lowered again.
Instructions, right. Instructions that ultimately came down to 'slowly move towards the Citadel, wait, we'll try to think of something'. Not that Guy didn't have his own plans. Of course he had. He just still had no idea how to put them into effect. How to get rid of this stupid piece of metal on his neck. From what he knew, devices like that were pretty vicious. A laser knife was never a solution in such cases as the little nasty things tended to react very violently to any invasion. And in the night – at least last night – Daryl was smart enough to restrain him very carefully, so he couldn't use the opportunity and slice the guy's throat or at least steal the collar controller from him.
But he was sure he'd eventually come up with something. And then he'd just leave his watchdog behind, go to the Citadel on his own and make the exchange. And that he would find his death at the end of this trip... well, was that something new?
His butt had started to go numb in this position, so he pulled up his knees and leaned over to one side. It helped only for a few minutes. Now not only his side was numb, but his legs as well. He straightened again, but that merely restored the old arrangements. He heaved an exasperated moan. Hell, he was really fed up with this sitting about! He glanced at his cell phone, discarded on the table, but the thought of playing its only game yet another time made him sick. The prospect of lying down on the bed didn't seem any better. He wasn't sleepy. And staring idly at the ceiling was worse than anything.
He got up abruptly and started to pace back and forth along the room.
"Can I go out?" he asked impatiently. "Just to the bar downstairs. To buy myself a drink."
But Daryl only shook his head, not tearing his gaze from the monitor. "Forget it."
"Hey, you know I won't escape!"
"I said no!" Sharper this time.
A frustrated growl found its way through Guy's throat, but was ignored.
"Do you at least have a game or sumthin'? Or a book?"
Dammit, he could have thought about it before, when they were still at his place. Take something with him for the last trip of his life. Yeah, right, the first thing you think of when you see death on the horizon is how to keep yourself busy while waiting for it to come.
Daryl finally granted him another glance.
"No, I don't have a game. Nor a book. Nor anything," he drawled through his teeth, clearly annoyed with Guy's restlessness. "What? Ya think I'm gonna baby-sit you here? I agreed to lose my time for you instead of doing things I had in plans. This alone is enough to make me angry. Not to mention that I have to spend this time with you. So shut your mouth already! Find yourself a spot in the room, preferably out of my sight, and try to behave as if you weren't here at all."
Guy stopped, suddenly baffled by the man's aggressive tone. No matter what he did, it made Daryl snap and growl at him. As if the very fact of Guy's existence was getting on his nerves.
"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked on impulse.
Daryl stirred, apparently knocked off track by the question.
"Huh?"
"You are very hostile. You seem to hate me. Why? What did I do to you?"
The guardian's features quickly regained their usual hard expression. "That's none of your business. But you're right. I do hate you. And I'll tell you something else. I was pleased as hell when I was assigned to this job. I'll be delighted to be the one to give you into Jupie's hands."
Daryl's fierce eyes were fixed on him sternly. Guy held this gaze for a short moment, then hung his head and sighed. And what was he supposed to say to something like that?
"How about Jupiter? Will she allow you to do it?" Katze asked, staring at his cigarette as he rolled it between his fingers.
Raoul's shoulders rose in a slight shrug. "She's not in a position to forbid me. She might nominally rule this city, but she can't close me up in here."
"Maybe. But she definitely won't like it. A Blondie dragging himself to very inappropriate places in exceedingly inappropriate company— I'm sure that's not the picture of you she'd like to cherish. After all, I'm an accomplice in crime, didn't she say that?"
For a while there was silence. Raoul thoughtfully contemplated the town before him. A slight frown knitted his brows together. Surprisingly dark brows for a Blondie – Katze not for the first time noticed.
"She allowed me to keep you here," the Blondie said finally. "I guess that means you're not completely doomed in her opinion." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't get it. I wish I knew how that artificial brain works. I still can't shake off that meeting."
Katze watched him out of the corner of his eye.
"And the punishment?" he forced the words through his lips with some effort. He wondered if it was wise to touch on this subject. But the question kept bothering him. "What are you going to do about it?"
Raoul turned to him, truly surprised.
"Give me a break, Katze. Of course I'm not going to punish you. I thought I made it clear. When there is no guilt, there's no reason for punishment. Besides – you?" he snorted as if the idea was beyond ridiculous to him. "I told you many times. I might punish a pet, but you're simply not... fit for those things."
"What if she asks you? What will you tell her? She might have left it to your discretion but she clearly suggested her will to you. Will you lie to her?"
The Blondie tilted his head. A little smile curled his lips. "You know, Katze, I'm beginning to think that you're asking for it. You just mentioned punishment for the second time in three days."
Katze winced with distaste. "Of course I don't, I just... ah!" he jumped up as a big elite hand suddenly landed on his buttocks. "Hey!"
The fag slipped from between his fingers and floated down, flipping in the air. Raoul covered his mouth with the back of his hand and gave out a quiet, choked chuckle.
"Here. If she asks, I'll tell her I spanked you. I won't lie. Happy?"
Katze sent him a dark look, struggling to erase the shock from his face. The blonde bastard just grinned at him.
"Now, I guess we can consider the matter closed." Raoul pushed away from the ledge and turned, his hand fleetingly brushing the dealer's shoulder as he did so. "I'm going to bed. Join me soon, will you?"
Katze nodded silently. When the Blondie disappeared inside, he leaned his weight against the ledge and looked down, unsure what he expected to find there. He found a typical picture of night life in Tanagura. Darkness intertwined with lights. Lights in the windows, lights floating back and forth along the streets. He sighed with sudden melancholy. Right. He was not fit for punishment. But as a fuck toy he was perfect.
He inhaled the smoke with delight and blew it through the open window, watching for a moment as it dissipated on the hot air. At least Daryl didn't forbid him his cigs. What luck.
The latest spot he'd located his obstructive person was the window sill. Apart from the luxury of smoking he could also enjoy the view from here. Not that there was much to watch. Steppes, steppes, steppes. Deserted steppes. For a few hours not even a single car stopped by the inn. People really hated to leave the city. No surprise though. Outside its cities, Amoi was a wasteland, a desert. The only thing one could find here was stagnation and lost time.
After a few hours of admiring the fascinating pictures outside Guy was again beginning to lose it. He was sick of pretending that he didn't exist. His mouth was dry. He really needed to say something. He glanced at Daryl, who was still sitting at his laptop. Damn, how much time could one person spend at the computer without getting up even once?
"Watcha doing anyway?" he spoke before he managed to stop himself.
Daryl looked up and blinked, his eyes probably tired from staring at the screen.
"Business," he grunted reluctantly, but without as much hatred as before. "If I can't take care of matters in person, there are still some things I can do through the net."
With that he returned to what he was doing. Guy congratulated himself he'd managed to get that much out of the man. Maybe the ever-so-cool guy was fed up with poring over the screen as well. He was, however, determined not to speak up again. One little success sufficed, ne?
He turned his head back to the window. Steppes, steppes, steppes. Their landlord was sitting on the bench on the yard, doing nothing. One black bird hurried somewhere in the sky... and disappeared a moment later. Five minutes passed. And nothing changed.
"So, you're working for Katze, right?" he bit his tongue, but it was too late.
"Hn."
He leaned his head against the wall and took a long drag on his cigarette. Katze. A name from his past. Its very mention brought memories. Sweet memories of his time with Riki, bitter memories of his time without him, tormenting memories of what happened later...
"Ya know, I once knew a guy who worked for him," he resigned himself to speaking. Daryl didn't want him to talk, Daryl's problem. He couldn't forbid him to open his mouth, right? "Well, I knew quite a few of them but one was really close. To me, I mean. Although I guess he was also close to him. Very much into that business. He thought that working in the market would be his ticket out of Ceres. Well, it was in a sense. He did leave Ceres. But where he went was even worse. He lost his pride and honor, and freedom. He became a worse trash he'd ever been in the slum." He swallowed as the words he was about to say still burnt like hell. "He became a Blondie's pet."
He never saw it coming. One moment he was sitting on the window sill watching the sky, in the next his back was pinned to the wall... throbbing painfully from being slammed into it. He hardly registered a moment in between, when a strong hand grabbed him, pulled down to the floor and threw hard against the wall.
Daryl's eyes, narrowed to the thin slits, flashed over him dangerously.
"Don't. You. Ever. Dare. Talk like this about Riki."
Guy inhaled sharply, frightened and shocked by the unexpected. But those feelings were almost immediately replaced by all-encompassing surprise. He stared at Daryl wide-eyed.
"You knew Riki?"
The jaw on the handsome face contracted. The lips tightened.
"Of course I knew him, moron."
The mongrel blinked, but came to his senses quickly. Right. It wasn't that surprising. Riki had worked for Katze after all, these two could very well know each other. He should have thought about it earlier. There was a strong chance they would know. However, Daryl's next words knocked him off track again.
"I knew him, and you know what? You have no fuckin' idea what he was like during his time in Eos. You have no right to judge him, scum."
The man shook Guy's arms, shoving him against the wall once more, then pushed himself away abruptly. His face was twisted with disgust, as if touching Guy made him sick. The mongrel frowned at him, not understanding.
"How can you know that?"
"Oh, I do know that," a broken chuckle escaped Daryl's throat. "I knew Riki for all that time. Since the moment he left Ceres, until he died. Damn, he was one of my closest friends. And you killed him," he turned an accusing glance at Guy.
That's why! – a short detached thought flashed in the mongrel's mind.
"But... how?" he stuttered. "I mean... no one could've known him then. He was trapped in that Blondie's house. No one would have even seen him except for the Blondie."
A corner of Daryl's lips rose derisively. "Is that so?"
The man turned away and headed back towards his laptop, leaving Guy stunned, plastered against the wall. He stared at Daryl's back, thoughts raging in his head. No one except for the Blondie. Or another pet. Or... finally he understood what bothered him in Daryl's way of speaking since the very beginning. A very slight, almost nonexistent, hint of Ceres accent.
"You were Iason Mink's furniture?"
Daryl sat down in his previous place. His face was cold and inflexible again. He shot Guy a glance.
"Does that make me trash in your eyes?"
Did it? One revelation followed another in Guy's mind, as one discovery connected to the others. The guy he was looking at was a former furniture. That meant he was castrated. He'd allowed the elites to have him cut like an animal. He'd been licking those elites' boots no less than any of the pets.
Daryl raised his head at him as if he'd heard his thoughts.
"You may think whatever you wish, I don't give a damn. The thing is, you're here in my power now, not the other way around. Don't you ever forget it."
Guy stared at his guardian for a long time, speechless, unable to move from his place. What did he think? Damn, if he could tell. He knew he could and should feel contempt. If there was something he despised more than pets, it was furniture. But looking at the tough, menacing man before him, he could by no means associate him with the picture of a meek, humble boy in a slave's skinsuit.
They stopped before a huge shop window. A big red signboard above screamed at them that they were about to enter 'Midas Fashion'. Raoul glanced at a dummy standing in front of him in the exhibition and the dummy looked back at him with equal skepticism in its plastic eyes. The dummy wore jeans and a leather jacket. Katze suppressed the smile that fought its way to his lips.
"Well, let's go inside," he prompted the Blondie, waving his arm. He stepped through the door, hearing the biologist's quiet steps behind him.
The shop assistant, a little, old, slant-eyed man looked up at them from his place behind the counter and in one instant he was positively beaming.
"Mr. Katze! Hello! How nice to see you!" He rushed to greet them, bending his body in half before he even stopped before them. "I'm so honored you decided to visit my humble shop personally after such a long time. Everything is in perfect order. I haven't prepared the account books as I didn't expect your visit, but I'll do it in no time. If you could wait just a moment..."
Raoul watched the babbling dwarf, realizing with a certain amount of chagrin that the one who'd inspired such enthusiasm was Katze. The man seemed to have completely missed him – a Blondie!
Katze let the clerk grovel for a while, staring at his bent back, then spoke in a warm, but slightly condescending tone.
"Hello Ming. I'm not here for an inspection this time. My friend and I wish to acquire some new clothing. So maybe you'll stop bowing already and serve us."
The assistant looked up and turned his gaze to Raoul at last. Instantly his eyes grew to the size of saucers and he drew in his breath loudly. Ah, the Blondie thought wryly, now he noticed.
"But of course, sirs, of course," Ming minced back to his previous place. "Immediately." He halted behind the counter and craned his neck, assuming a professional expression. "How can I help you?"
Katze stepped up to him slowly. Raoul followed.
"We are looking for something for this gentleman here," the redhead announced, pointing at Raoul with his glance. "Something..." his gaze licked the Blondie from head to toe with slightly exaggerated disapproval, "usual."
The assistant's eyes became even wider.
"Something a typical guy from Midas would wear on an everyday basis," Katze added firmly turning to the clerk again. "Two pairs of jeans, a couple of shirts, a jacket or two. Show us what you've got."
"Already!" Ming gave him a hasty bow and was just about to start to the shelves, when he stopped in his tracks and looked questioningly at Raoul. "What size do you wear, sir?"
The Blondie shrugged, pursing his lips. "How should I know? I don't usually buy clothes off the rack."
For a moment the clerk looked as if he was about to panic, but got a grip quickly and measured Raoul with a short expert glance.
"Okay, I think I can handle that."
With that he finally turned his attention to the shelves full of colorful clothes.
Raoul used the moment to lean towards Katze and whisper into his ear.
"Explain me something, smart ass. It's commonly claimed that without a citizen's ID no shop will serve you. Meanwhile they welcome you here as if you were some king. How come?"
Katze gave him a sidelong glance. "You don't expect someone to practically lead the black market and not have business in places like this."
"Come on, Katze, they are selling clothes!"
"So? Mongrels need to dress too, right?"
Raoul blinked, taken aback by the obviousness of this statement.
"There are quite a few shops in Midas that do business in the black market," the redhead continued. "In those shops not only do they serve me, they handle me with kid gloves."
Their whispered dialogue was interrupted by Ming, who came back to them, carrying the demanded clothing.
"Here you are, gentlemen. The best... I mean the most usual stuff I have." He placed the two piles of garments on the counter. One – a few pairs of jeans pants, the other – several shirts of various cut and color, but definitely—very usual.
Raoul eyed something that in his opinion looked like rags, feeling his upper lip curl with distaste. His aristocratic soul screamed in protest. He was known in the elite world for his good taste. He was known as the one who always followed the newest fashion. Now he was supposed to wear these? These!?
"Well," Katze said in a contented voice. "I think first we'll have to try them on."
Raoul stifled an inner shiver of disgust and decided to yield to the greater need.
Ten minutes later found him standing in front of a huge mirror in the fitting room. He stared at the blonde guy before him with astonishment. The guy had his face and hair but Raoul couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at a complete stranger. It was as if some invisible force deprived him of all his Blondie dignity. Even his expression seemed to have suffered, although he tried to pull his face into his usual slightly contemptuous pout. The elegant aristocrat had vanished, replaced by an ordinary man, one of many who crammed the streets every day. Of course he was aware that it was probably just his imagination. It wasn't his clothes that made him an elite, right? Still, he felt extremely awkward. Not to mention that the fabric of those damn pants was unbearably stiff and pinched his crotch. It didn't even stretch well. He didn't understand how people could wear those things and claim they were comfortable.
A quiet knock at the wooden two-winged door interrupted his thoughts.
"Raoul? May I?"
Raoul winced painfully at his alter-ego in the mirror and told himself he had to be strong.
"Sure, come ahead."
The door squeaked old-fashionably and Katze entered. The redhead took a step inside... and stopped. Turning to him, Raoul noticed that the narrow eyes were for once not so narrow at all.
"Holy shit..." the dealer murmured.
"I look terrible," Raoul guessed.
"No, actually, you look good." A short pause. A quiet grunt. "Really good."
Studying the Blondie, Katze had to admit – the picture was astounding. Completely different from any image of the man he'd ever entertained. Finally Raoul looked... human. And a very handsome human, too. Gone was the freak in the outlandish, overblown suit with those ridiculous spike epaulets.
The simple green T-shirt fit surprisingly well, revealing the Blondie's well-formed chest and arms, and enhancing the green of his eyes. And the jeans... the jeans fit better than well, Katze decided, studying Raoul's backside. He took a breath and forced himself to tear his gaze away.
"Here," he said, reaching out to the Blondie to hand him two more items he'd brought along. "Try one of them."
Raoul eyed the two jackets with the same distaste as before, but finally picked one without comment and reluctantly slipped it over his shoulders.
Even better, an annoying voice murmured approvingly in Katze's mind. The suede, light-brown jacket narrowed at the waist then widened slightly as it reached mid-thigh. Damn gorgeous, the voice added and Katze silenced it angrily.
After another five minutes, back in his 'usual' elite attire and clearly relieved, Raoul placed the selected items on the counter before Ming. The little man looked at him fearfully.
"Will that be all, sir?"
"Yes," the Blondie answered stiffly.
Standing next to him, Katze slid his gaze over a line of T-shirts hanging under the ceiling above Ming's head. They formed a series – all black, with colorful imprints in front. The imprints were bold, to say the least, the drawings occasionally obscene. Katze's gaze stopped abruptly as it came across one of them. It was fairly uncomplicated, design-wise. No drawings, just a few words of inscription. The slogan, however, was written in bright orange letters that stood out on the black fabric. Momentarily a wicked idea flashed in the dealer's mind and made him snigger inside.
"Wait a minute," he offered, while Ming had already started packing their purchases into the carrier bags. "There will be one more thing."
The assistant and the Blondie looked at him, surprised.
"Ah?" they asked.
"Yes." Katze nodded and pointed at the shirt. The assistant and the Blondie's eyes followed the direction he was showing. And turned back to him immediately. Now Ming looked really panicked, while Raoul gave Katze a withering glare.
"You can't be serious, Katze."
The inscription on the T-shirt said: 'Fuck the system'.
The dealer shrugged. "Why not? A little spice for your new image. What's wrong with that?"
Raoul's gaze suggested that Katze knew perfectly well what was wrong.
"I'm not going to pay for that," the Blondie's lowered voice was almost hissing.
"Then I will. Consider it a gift." And after studying Raoul's gloomy face for a moment, he added: "Hey, I can't force you to wear it, right? You can as well ignore it. So what's the problem?" He turned to Ming. "This one is on me, okay?"
The little man nodded hastily and reached for the profane shirt, retrieving it with the aid of a hooked rod. Raoul turned his head away, showing his deep disapproval, but eventually letting it go without comment.
At last everything was packed and paid, and they left the shop, carrying two big bags of clothes. Raoul stopped as the glass door slid closed behind them and gave Katze a questioning glance.
"So what now?" he asked.
Katze turned to him and grinned into his face. "Now, my Blondie, we're going to buy you shoes."
Raoul winced painfully. Katze desperately tried not to grin more. He moved down the street, waving at the biologist to follow.
The world outside the window had disappeared into darkness a few hours ago. The ceiling above was much more interesting. At least it offered a complicated system of cracks to study. Daryl was talking to someone on the comm. The volume was turned down and from his place on the bed Guy couldn't hear what the caller was saying, but judging by the voice it was Katze.
Daryl's part was limited to monosylabes. 'Yes.' 'Right.' 'Copy that.' Soon the talk was over. The furniture pressed the button and looked at Guy over the laptop lid.
"Good news," he offered dryly. "Katze has a plan of sorts. He's leaving Tanagura tonight, and if anyone can make it work, he will."
Guy raised his head from the mattress. Was the talk-to-me-and-I'll-kill-ya guy actually deigning to converse with him?
"What plan?" he asked.
"You don't need to know. Our instructions haven't changed for now. We're slowly moving towards the Citadel. They're doing the footwork, we're waiting till the right moment."
They? Guy raised his brows, intrigued, but decided not to ask more questions. Quickly begun, and just as quickly ended, he recapped the exchange in his mind. Well, at least it gave him a chance to say two words.
He let his head fall back again and returned to watching the ceiling. Great, Guy, the best thing you can do right now. Maybe you'll be given an opportunity to say... how much... ten more words before they finish you off. Whoever 'they' will be.
He clasped his hands on his stomach, following the widest crack with his gaze for perhaps the hundredth time. His thoughts once again turned towards the lost times and people. Well, at least now he had something really absorbing to think of.
The laptop lid snapped closed and Daryl rose to his feet. He started to bustle around the room, apparently preparing to sleep. Involuntarily, Guy watched him out of the corner of his eye.
"Exactly how long did you know Riki?" Again the words escaped him before he managed to bite them back, but he didn't care anymore. Damn, he wasn't going to be all uptight because some eunuch didn't want him to speak.
The bustling stopped. Daryl looked at him from above. Strangely, he didn't seem angered by the question. Guy allowed himself to look openly at him.
"I was in Iason's household when he brought Riki along. I was there the entire time Riki first spent in Eos. Then Iason set him free. And replaced me with another furniture. At the same time, more or less. I started working for Katze right away. Riki returned to Ceres. We didn't see each other for a year. But then he came back to Iason. And almost immediately started working in the market as well. Since that moment, till the end, we met quite often. We even worked together sometimes."
"So that's true, Iason really let him work in the market."
"Yep." Daryl sat down on his bed, crumpling a heap of night wear on his lap, as if expecting Guy to say something more. He wasn't mistaken.
"So, you were around him for all that time. All that time I was raking my brains as to what was happening to him you were there with him."
"Yeah," came the laconic answer.
Guy closed his eyes and breathed, overwhelmed by yet another revelation this day. Now all the knowledge he lacked so much for so long sat just a few feet away from him in the shape of a very handsome, honey-haired... mongrel. The mongrel that was probably the only person in the world who could tell him things he wanted to know.
Suddenly Guy remembered his plans from earlier that day and discovered that he wasn't so sure of them anymore. Suddenly escaping Daryl didn't seem so urgent. After all, didn't the furniture say that Katze had a plan? Didn't cooperation always turn out better than going at cross-purposes? Suddenly another idea seemed much more tempting than flight.
Tanagura, 18:00
The van pulled to a stop and with a quiet puff the trunk opened. Reo and Kyaru rushed to it immediately, carrying a few bags of Katze and Raoul's luggage.
"A trip in an old style," the dealer murmured under his breath.
He saw the man next to him cast a curious glance in his direction and answered his look. Raoul. Katze felt breathtakingly surprised every time his gaze touched the Blondie. Raoul was dressed in the same shirt-pants-and-coat set he'd tried on in the shop this morning. Only now the outfit was completed by a pair of swanky supple sneakers. Katze stifled the urge to look down and see them stick out from under the jeans legs as he knew he would start smirking again. Instead, he looked into those green eyes and smiled for no reason.
Only Raoul's hair remained unchanged, as the Blondie 'flatly refused' to do anything about it. No, he would not dye it and most definitely he wouldn't cut it – just forget it. He didn't want to wear a wig either.
Well, it didn't make that much difference after all. The main reason for the change of clothes was not to hide the fact that Raoul was a Blondie. It was to not expose him to ridicule in the deserts. It was to make him feel comfortable outside his luxurious glasshouse. People living in the deserts didn't give a damn about elites. They might be a little surprised or even nervous on seeing one of them – if they recognized him as such in the first place – but that was all. But Katze doubted that a guy dragging his ass through the wastes, dressed like an ordinary person would be taken for an elite. Even if this guy was big and had long blonde hair. It simply didn't fit the image. Besides, surprisingly, in his new outfit Raoul didn't look so huge at all.
Finally the last bag landed with a thump in the car and Reo closed the trunk. The boys stood stiffly next to each other, daring questioning glances at their master. Raoul just nodded in acknowledgement. He didn't bother to say goodbye. He gave them a quick order to take good care of the household and sent them away.
After they disappeared in the elevator, he looked at Katze and took a deep breath.
"So that's it."
"Yep. But mind me, Raoul, don't treat this as fun. What we're trying to do is in no way for your amusement. And it won't be easy."
To Katze's surprise, Raoul didn't look like he needed this reminder. He was serious.
"I know. Believe me, Katze, I'm well aware of the situation." But then a minimal smile appeared on his lips. "That doesn't mean that we can't have some fun if the opportunity presents itself."
Katze wondered briefly what fun they could possibly find in the middle of nowhere, but decided there was no point in discussing it now.
"Let's go then," he offered.
"Yes, let's go."
They got into the car and pulled out of the lot.