On Hire
by Lena (language corrections by Shayne and Phaedra7veils)
Chapter 3
"Don't you have to go to work, really?" Katze asked as Raoul arranged the last bits of his attire in front of the huge mirror in the bedroom. In the elite fashion his suit was considered unofficial, still it was something much too sumptuous for anyone from Midas to wear.
"This is all within the business, I told you," the Blondie repeated almost light-heartedly, adjusting his cuff links. "And in any case, if someone needs me at the Center, they'll call."
Right, he was the boss after all, he could allow himself such freedom.
Katze was sitting on the chair's armrest, feeling a bit awkward waiting for the Blondie to get ready. He wasn't too happy with Raoul's idea. An elite of the highest rank playing detective, dragging himself to a suspicious net club in Midas. The Blondie would see some things there he should never see, that much Katze knew for sure. But Raoul had made himself very clear. WE are going there TOGETHER. He kept surprising Katze with almost everything he did.
Raoul cast one last glance at his reflection, then – clearly satisfied with the effect – turned and motioned at Katze with his chin.
"Well, shall we?"
The dealer rose reluctantly.
"Why do you want to do this, anyway?"
For a moment the biologist seemed uncertain of how to answer. He shrugged. "It's an important matter. I want to keep an eye on it myself." He nodded as if to assure himself of the truth of his words. "And besides," he smiled, "I was getting bored sitting in my office all the time. Why shouldn't I do it, after all?"
Katze didn't find a good answer for that.
Raoul moved to the door, beckoning him forward. "Let's go."
And Katze, willy nilly, followed him with one persistent thought in his head. The Blondie was looking for fun.
Riki stared at the message on the screen.
The Accelerator. He'd learned what it was from Katze a while ago. An illegal substance designed to speed up growth. It was used on cloned tissues – so that people who needed surgery didn't have to wait for their new limb or organ a year or so, but a few weeks at the most. But that was a more civilized and rather rare way to use it, as the Accelerator had a much wider application in the pet business. Why should one bother raising and feeding young pets until they reached the required age? Why should one wait for the money all that time and spend it when not necessary? The Accelerator was expensive but definitely cheaper than maintenance. And cheaper than equivalent legal substances.
The thought gave Riki a momentary shiver, but he quickly chased it away. What did he care what the stuff was used for? He had an errand to run and he was glad he was going to have a busy night. At least during those moments he felt like old times again.
Riki the Dark, he smirked under his breath. Riki the Dark who'd ended up as a Blondie's pet. Who could live in his own flat and sit at a computer because the Blondie indulged him. But Riki knew he would never forget those times when he had been treated like every other pet. Or worse. Forbidden to leave Eos, or even – at first – Iason's penthouse; not allowed to wear regular clothes, or even – at first – any clothes at all. Those had been times when the thought of using a computer, of any kind of autonomy, was just an unattainable dream.
Light steps behind him made him stir minutely.
"Something new?" Iason stopped next to him, slightly behind his chair.
"Yeah. I have a job tonight. Hope you don't mind."
"Katze sent it?"
"Yep."
"I see he is able to work after all."
Riki gave him a glance over his shoulder, not getting what the Blondie meant. With a corner of his mind he noticed that Iason was still in his housecoat, still hadn't changed into his official suit.
"Never mind, I'll tell you later," Iason smiled, answering his questioning look. "And as for now," he put his hand on the mongrel's shoulder, "I still have some time before I go. How about a quickie?"
Riki flinched, startled. "Aw, come on, you had me all night! I'm all sore!"
It was an automatic response, without any real thought to it. When it came to his... pet responsibilities, Riki made it a rule to oppose Iason, even if just verbally. Not that he wasn't sore, he was sore all right.
"Are you any more sore than usual?" Iason's voice was calm and composed, his hand slowly massaging Riki's shoulder.
"No. I'm exactly as sore as every fuckin' morning."
"Then your state is nothing abnormal. I don't see any obstacles to a little morning sex."
Ah, a trick. Again. Riki felt a flash of anger at himself. Wouldn't he ever learn? Iason was always playing those games of his and no matter how hard Riki tried, he always fell for them.
The Blondie reached for his arm and pulled him up. He shrugged the hand off, but rose anyway. Damn conditioning. It kicked in at all the right moments. Sometimes he thought all that was left of him were appearances. Insolent words, gloomy faces, all this hollow and completely futile. Maybe it would be better to abandon even that, he teased himself. But no, he knew he would never admit to Iason how broken he felt. Even if Iason knew it all the same.
And just to keep appearances, Riki grimaced unhappily at his master.
"Don't you ever get enough?"
"Apparently not. Let's go," the Blondie headed for the door, dragging him along.
"You're a pervert, you know that?"
A quiet, aristocratic chuckle.
"Sure I do. All of Tanagura is humming about it. I'd have to be deaf not to hear that."
Riki grumbled sulkily, but at the same time he felt the arousal already building up in his abdomen. He hated his treacherous body for giving in so easily. They moved through the living room of Riki's Apatia apartment and into the bedroom. Before the door could even close behind them, Iason gathered him into a tight embrace and locked their lips together. Riki wanted to struggle, wanted to show how much he hated this. Instead, he immediately melted into the kiss.
"So tell me," Raoul offered in a conversational voice. "Those tricks of yours. Where did you learn them?"
Katze needed a moment to comprehend what the Blondie had in mind. Ah yes, their yesterday's 'exercises' on the floor of Raoul's parlor. He cast a sidelong glance at the imperious man lounged in the passenger seat of his car. Was Raoul really interested?
"It's a very old technique," he said. "I guess you Blondies don't need anything like that. But kids from the slum have to know how to defend themselves."
"Kids from the slum? Don't tell me all mongrels can do such things."
"No, sure they don't," Katze smirked. "Most of them only know how to kick and punch. They need those skills to survive on the street. However, there are people in Ceres who can teach you more."
"So what made you learn more? Your black market work?"
"More or less. Many people in the black market use those lessons. They can be very helpful, believe me."
He glanced at the biologist again. He still felt a bit uneasy in his company. Hell if he didn't have a good reason. They'd actually spent a night together. In one bed, anyway. He remembered the strange feeling that had seized him when he woke up in the Blondie's embrace. It had been so long since someone had held him like that. When he had come round, Raoul was still asleep, the grip of his arms no less tight than in the night. So Katze just lay still, not sure if he would be allowed to leave the bed. And unwilling to wake the Blondie and put up with him again. He wasn't in a hurry anyway, he usually slept longer in the morning. He lay and had plenty of time to think, analyze the situation. And the strange thought that came into his mind was that he wasn't feeling that bad at all. Raoul's embrace didn't feel bad, the warmth of his body didn't feel bad. If it was all the Blondie wanted, let him have it. Katze didn't mind. Soon it would be over anyway, right?
"Raoul," he said suddenly, his mouth opening without his brain's permission. "How are you going to settle it? Formally, I mean."
"Settle what?" the Blondie was surprised.
"You know, me. Will Iason sign my furniture ID over to you? And what are you going to tell the others? That who am I to you? Computers can accept me as a furniture, people won't."
Raoul blinked a few times. "Your ID isn't the case yet. Iason gave me two months for the... trial period. But if it works then yes, I guess signing you over will be a good solution. I admit I haven't thought about it yet."
"And the people?"
Only now did Raoul look at him. His features hardened. "People don't have to know what you are to me. They won't ask if not given express permission."
"There will be gossip."
"So be it."
Katze squinted his eyes. "You wanna share Iason's fate?"
For a long time Raoul was silent, frozen in his seat, staring at the road. Finally, quietly, he spoke: "I guess I don't care." And then added more firmly, "I'm not doing anything wrong."
"You do sound like Iason, you know," Katze murmured.
The Blondie didn't grace him with an answer. They were silent for the rest of the trip. It wasn't far anyway. Five minutes later Katze parked the car in front of an inconspicuous looking entrance.
"You sure you don't want to wait in the car?" he asked, and seeing the look the Blondie gave him sighed with resignation. They got out of the vehicle.
The double doors were thick and rather shabby. There were two tiny steps down in front of them and a signboard above. Medium-sized neon letters formed two words: 'Virtual Ecstasy'. The neon wasn't glowing at the moment, so the sign didn't stand out.
"That's dingy," Raoul said, his lip curling as he eyed the entrance skeptically.
"I told you it's not a place for a Blondie." With that Katze moved towards the doors. "Keep behind me, alright?"
"Why?"
"You'll see." And after a second thought he added, "Please."
"Very well," the Blondie agreed.
They walked down the steps and entered the club. Inside, there were a few more steps to descend. The basement was dark, gray with cigarette smoke and reeking of cheap alcohol. The only light in the room came from little windows situated under the ceiling. There were four rows of computers, only five or six of the units occupied at the moment.
"That's what it is? Some net café?" Raoul whispered into his ear.
"Yeah, but not just that. Wait and see."
Katze moved to the owner who was slumped behind a high counter, playing some computer game. There was a battle theme coming from the speakers. The man was in his early forties and strikingly ugly – with a big belly and three days' stubble. Katze knew his nickname was Hunk.
"Yeah?" the man grunted, casting only a casual, brief glance in their direction without breaking the game. However when the glance met the Blondie, it stopped abruptly, glued to the unexpected guest. The man's eyes widened, hands froze on the keyboard. And at the same moment the speakers emitted a loud explosion.
"Fuck!" Hunk stirred back to life and angrily punched the pause button. "Fuck it! I was so far already. What is it?"
The last words were spat out in a single breath, but Katze understood they were however addressed to them. He cleared his throat.
"We want to hire a computer."
"Sure. Take any," the man waved his hand. "You pay afterwards." And after a momentary thought, he cocked his head distrustfully. "You sure a Blondie wants a computer here? Ain't he got one at his flop in Eos?"
"Yeah. How about that?" Katze leaned over the counter and lowered his voice to a barely audible level. "Red badger in the dungeon is waiting for his duck."
The change in Hunk's demeanor was stunning. He straightened his back and even pulled his stomach in a bit. His face assumed an expression of full vigilance.
"And what's the duck got to offer?" he asked.
"Virtual ecstasy."
Raoul watched this exchange with a slightly opened mouth. He stirred when the owner moved his gaze back to him and pointed at him with his chin.
"What about him?"
"He's with me," Katze said. "He won't be any trouble."
"Like hell he won't," Hunk grumbled, but nevertheless got up and motioned at them. "Come with me."
Katze followed him silently and heard that Raoul tagged along as well. They moved to a room in the back. The man approached a wooden cabinet by the wall and turned a tiny, kitschy figurine of a ballet dancer sitting on one of the shelves. The cabinet moved aside, revealing a narrow staircase leading down. He cast one searching glance behind and waved his hand at them again. Primitive, Katze thought. His own suite in Midas was better hidden.
"You should have called to make an appointment first," Hunk grumbled as they descended. "I don't usually hire the place out when someone just walks in off the street."
"I didn't have time. We're in a hurry."
"Oh yeah? And what if someone was down there at the moment?"
"But there isn't anyone, right?"
"Smartass."
What Katze had managed to find out when running his inquiry about the club, was that Virtual Ecstasy wasn't simply a net café. Since it was obvious that no self-respecting hacker would use his home terminal to hack, there was always a need for a place where hackers could do their work. They needed a place where they would be provided with unconditional discretion, where they could be sure no one would disturb them. And most of all, they needed first-class equipment. In Midas there were a few places that specialized in hiring terminals out to hackers. Virtual Ecstasy was one of them. Hunk was the owner of one of the most powerful terminals in Midas. He kept it in his cellar, right under the official part of the club. Of course it was strictly confidential and known only in certain circles. It wasn't enough to say 'I want to do some hacking' to be let in on the existence of this place. The hackers' world very reasonably protected itself from the outside and never fully trusted itself on the inside. One had to do a good deal of hacking to enter a hacker chat room, and even more hacking to get the admission password to this place. Katze didn't know the world of Midas hackers too well. He was considered the outside – known as the one who hung around with Blondies, and thus could not be trusted. But it was easy to enter the chat room under a false identity and find out what he wanted. So, here he was. And there was the Blondie dragging in his wake.
Hunk let them into the room. A huge terminal and a worn out sofa were its only furnishings. Katze assessed the terminal with his gaze. It looked imposing, indeed. What it could do was another matter.
Hunk turned to them. "You know the rules?"
"More or less."
"You pay in cash after you finish. One hour costs 500 credits. You have as much time as you want. You can install anything you need – hardware and software, but when you leave, you remove all your stuff. I want the terminal just like it was at the beginning. I ask no questions, I don't wanna know anything. Got it?"
That was clever, Katze assessed. That was safer for both sides.
"500 credits?" Raoul spoke unexpectedly. "You put great value on your wares."
"I have to earn to keep this stuff here up to date," Hunk nodded at the terminal. "Plus, it's a price for the risk. Don't tell me you don't have the money, Blondie."
"Actually, we're not here to hack," Katze said. It was a good moment to start the inquiry – the guy had already shown them the place and admitted running it, there was no way for him to back down now. "We wanted to ask you some questions."
Hunk turned to him abruptly, his ugly face immediately tensed. "Whaddaya mean?"
"We need to know who hired this place six nights ago."
Little eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"That's none of your business. We're not a threat. We ask, you answer, we go, and all is forgotten. All we need is to know everything you can tell us about this man."
"Go to hell. They pay me for my silence and for not asking questions. Even if I knew who he was, I wouldn't tell you."
"We can pay you as well," Raoul said. "Just name the price."
"Forget it. It's my rep on the line. Can't put a price on that." Hunk was suddenly beaming with pride in his business. "Man, I don't even remember what I was doing six nights ago, let alone some guy I've never seen before."
"So, he wasn't one of your regular clients, right?" Katze picked up. "That's good for a start."
"Fuck off! I told you I ain't talking!" The man was getting positively pissed off. His face turned a bright shade of red. "Just get outta here and leave me alone!"
"We also have other means of persuasion," Raoul said calmly. "We might call the police. If they come, Virtual Ecstasy will be no more."
For a moment Hunk tensed, but then he laughed with contempt. "And why do you think this joint still exists? You think it would be here if I didn't pay the cops off? Go on, call. I'll even bring you the phone."
Raoul was silent. Of course, even if the guy was bluffing, no one wanted the police here. They would snatch their only witness from under their very noses, not to mention they could become very curious about Raoul and Katze's presence in this place. Especially taking into account Raoul's latest problems in the Center. Oh no, the police was the last thing they needed. Hunk apparently guessed Raoul's reasoning, because he laughed again.
"You see? There's nothing you can do to me."
Katze sighed. Some citizens of Midas were reasonable people and had respect for their betters. On seeing a Blondie who wasn't well disposed towards them, they softened right away or showed a clean pair of heels. But there were also those who lacked reason, or maybe just – blissfully ignorant – weren't aware what the effects of elite's anger could be.
From the first moment Katze had seen Hunk, he'd known that the guy belonged to the second category. Without much anger, he grabbed the fat man, turned him around and pushed him against the wall, twisting one pudgy hand behind the corpulent back. The guy screamed and wriggled to get free, but Katze managed to hold him, pressing on his wrist and wringing another cry from the flabby throat.
There was hardly anyone who lacked reason in the face of pain – years spent in the black market had taught Katze that.
"Listen up," he told the man. "We're gonna get it out of you one way or the other. We can do it the hard way, like this," he bent the plump palm at an unnatural angle. The man gasped and thrashed, but to no avail. "Or we can do it the easy way. Personally, I don't see a reason to get hurt over a guy you don't even know. We can promise he'll never find out it was you who gave him away."
"I'd advise you to listen to him." Raoul added from his place. "He knows some nasty tricks. He can make you hurt like hell with a mere touch. When he knocked me down yesterday, I thought I'd cough up my lungs."
Katze cast a curious glance in the Blondie's direction. Raoul was leaning against the dirty wall, hands folded on his chest. A small smile played over his lips. Hunk's eye – the one Katze could see – widened as the guy stared at the biologist. He giggled somewhat hysterically.
"Right. Like I'm gonna believe it."
"You better. 'Cause when it doesn't work with me, he'll take over," Katze nodded at Raoul. "He praises me here, but he's much better. Did you know that the Blondies can crush your bones barehanded?"
The man shivered thoroughly. Thick drops of sweat appeared on his temple.
"Fuck off!" he spat. His voice was weaker, though, faltering. Katze sensed his chance.
"I'll ask you one more time," he spoke evenly. "Try to recall the guy who rented this place six nights ago. Everything you know and noticed about him."
"I don't know anyth—" the voice got thick with pain as Katze pressed again. "Hey! Stop it! Alright, alright! I remember!"
Katze smiled contentedly and met Raoul's satisfied gaze. Hunk, as it turned out, was very reasonable in the face of pain. He loosened his grip, but didn't let the man go.
"Tell us."
"He had short green hair, tall, slim, about thirty, maybe a little younger. I have no idea what his name was. He didn't introduce himself."
"That's not enough. There are lots of guys like that. Try something better."
"But there's nothing!" Another press, just slight, but it was enough to make the guy scream. "Wait... ah!... wait, I know! He had a tattoo on his hand. Yeah! A tattoo on his right hand!"
"What tattoo?"
"I have no idea! For Jupiter's sake, stop it! I tell ya I don't know. The guy was wearing a jacket. Just saw it... ah... just for a blink, when he raised his hand... on his forearm. Something... longish, some zigzag. I dunno, I swear!"
Katze stepped back, releasing the man, as he realized that he wasn't lying. Hunk turned around and leaned heavily against the wall, panting and massaging his sore hand.
"Damn you!" he muttered.
"Anything else?" Raoul asked. "Maybe you know how he found your place. Was he alone? Was he maybe an elite? Did he say something – mention any names, anything?"
"Yeah, like hell elite," the man jeered. "It's just a perfect place for elite to drop in sometimes. Fuck no, he wasn't elite. Just an average citizen. Alone. And no, he didn't say anything special, just kept his mouth shut like most people. And all the better, I hate knowing stuff I don't need to know."
It could have been a lie, but Katze didn't think so. Once broken, they didn't lie again. That was another thing he had learned during his years in the black market.
"Very well then," he said. "We would like to use the terminal now. Just for an hour. We'll pay, of course, right?" he looked questioningly at the Blondie.
"Of course we will," Raoul assured. "Double price. For the additional effort of providing us with the information."
The man was still cradling his hand, but at the mention of money his face softened a bit. Raoul pushed off the wall and moved to the sofa. He brushed off the dust and sat down carefully, crossing his legs, while Katze switched the computer on.
"But since it will take some time," the Blondie spoke in an aristocratic voice, "could you please bring us some tea? For tea we'll naturally pay as well."
Hunk gave him a dark look and grumbling something under his breath went upstairs, leaving them alone.
"You want to check if the guy left any traces here?" Raoul guessed. Katze just nodded in answer, waiting for the terminal to be ready to work.
Five minutes later Hunk was back with their tea, surprising them that he'd taken the order seriously. He took the money and, swearing at them just loud enough for them to hear it, left for good. Katze glanced up as the door closed behind him then turned back to the computer.
"Well? Did you have fun?" he asked on impulse.
"Actually—" Raoul's voice paused for a second, uncertain and as if surprised. "Actually, I haven't had so much fun since I was a kid."
The dealer smirked, looking at the regular rows of log lists running quickly down the screen. "You would make a good bully, you know? With a little training, that is."
"Well," this time the Blondie's voice sounded slightly indignant, "thanks a lot."
Raoul stopped at the threshold of Katze's room and took in the picture. Gray clouds of cigarette smoke hovered over the terminal and the dealer's red head. A steaming cup of tea or coffee sat on the computer panel at some distance from the keyboard. Definitely coffee, not tea, Raoul decided. Strangely, this sight, this thought made him smile. He approached the terminal and leaned against the board.
"Anything?"
"Not yet, I've just started. Took a few minutes of rest."
"It's good to know you rest sometimes."
Raoul himself had indulged in a bath. He felt filthy after an hour spent in that place.
"But it won't be easy," Katze observed.
"So you've said."
Katze had told him that already in the car. There were very few traces left in the terminal, just some logs in the registers, mainly about the programs that had been used – installed and uninstalled. All this worthless – it could hardly be helpful in their quest. It didn't look good, actually, since all they had was the guy's basic appearance. And the tattoo. It was hard to find someone through the net with nothing but his description.
Katze continued his work, undisturbed by the Blondie's presence. Raoul stayed in place, unwilling to leave for some reason. He watched Katze for a while as the dealer's fingers flew deftly over the keyboard. He watched the funny way Katze bit the cigarette filter and the little frown on his face when those narrow amber eyes were thoughtfully focused on the screen. Finally he forced his gaze away. It wasn't good – staring like that.
He wrapped his arms around himself and crossed his ankles.
"I was just thinking," he spoke after some time. "It's good that I haven't told anyone in the Center that we are investigating the matter."
"Why?" came the casual question, not too much attention in it.
"Because it must have been someone from there. Or at least someone with a mole planted inside."
"Huh?" The hands stopped. Katze glanced at him.
"Just think about it. They broke in deliberately – only one terminal was hacked. It seems they were looking for very particular data, they didn't touch anything else. And who else would know about it? Only people from the Center or in some way connected. People who know the Center's projects."
"Quite right," Katze murmured. "I haven't thought about it."
"Well, I have. And now I have my own check to run. Perhaps it will go easier."
The dealer bit the filter of his cigarette, considering it for a moment.
"But you heard the guy. Our hacker wasn't an elite. What about it?"
Raoul shrugged. "A good disguise? Elites are human after all, they don't have their origins written on their foreheads."
Katze gave him a minimal, strangely knowing smile and returned to his work without another word. After a while, Raoul reluctantly pushed himself away from the desk and left him alone.
Tanagura, 21:30
An oval reptile head with yellow slanting eyes rested comfortably on the man's shoulder. The snake made very disturbing movements every time its owner shrugged or moved his hand.
Sweet little thing, Riki thought spitefully, staring into the snake's unblinking eyes, and the snake stared back at him. He remembered Katze's message saying that the man had introduced himself as Viper. Now Riki knew why.
"Show me the stuff," the man spoke, making the mongrel tear his gaze away from the animal.
"Show me the money," Riki countered automatically.
Two tiny suitcases landed simultaneously on a little table between them. They pushed them towards each other over the table top, eyeing one another carefully. The suitcase with the money was small, too small, Riki didn't like its smallness.
The meeting took place in an empty warehouse at the docks, near the spaceport. It was one of Katze's regular meeting spots. Formally the place belonged to the port grounds, surrounded by a solid fence that effectively away kept any unwelcome onlookers.
The room was dimly lit, empty except for the square table in the middle. Two huge guys stood like a wall behind Viper, their arms crossed on broad chests in an 'I'm-the-toughest' posture. Riki was aware of the heavy presence of his own bodyguards behind his back.
He busied himself with counting the money, while the man produced a little plastic kit from under the table and placed it next to the suitcase with the Accelerator. He opened both cases and started to bustle about them. Some time passed in silence.
"All right, the stuff is clean," Viper stated finally.
"I told you. We don't sell crap," Riki murmured.
But the money wasn't enough, he decided after a few more minutes, having counted the banknotes once and again. He wasn't very surprised. He'd suspected it since the moment he saw the valise.
"Where's the rest?" he asked.
"What rest?" the man raised his head over the case lid and stared at him, eyebrows high on his forehead.
"It's only half. Where's the rest of money?" Riki said in a sharp voice. He heard a momentary rustle behind his back as the two bulks of his bodyguards switched into readiness mode. The dealer's sidekicks tensed immediately in response. Riki waved his hand, not turning around, giving his men a sign to wait.
Unexpectedly, Viper's face pulled into a smile.
"Tell me, Riki the Dark, I've heard that you are a pet."
Riki frowned. He didn't like that tone in the man's voice. He didn't like the expression on his face. And most of all he didn't like the words.
"It's none of your business who I am. Where's the rest of money?"
"And you know what I heard about pets?" the man continued with that infuriating smile. The snake on his shoulder seemed contented as well. "That they are awfully stupid. Like they can't count and read. You sure you counted correctly? Better try again."
Riki braced himself not to burst in anger right away and forced his voice into calmness. "Listen man, don't fool around with me here. I want the rest of my goddamned money, or this little rendezvous is over."
"And you know what else I heard? That they are cowards. They always do what they are told, 'cause they are scared shitless that they'll be punished. And I'll tell you what, little pet," suddenly there was a gun in the man's hand. Aiming straight at Riki's head. The smile was gone. Viper rose, towering over him. "Do as I say or I'll shoot you right in your pretty head."
What the hell— Riki cursed inwardly. There was a rustle behind him and he saw Viper's bodyguards pull out their guns as well and aim at his men. Damn you Katze, you said it would be an easy job.
"Put the guns down!" Viper shouted, casting a quick glance over Riki's shoulder at the place where his bodyguards stood. Nothing. No sound came from that direction. Riki felt his lips twist in a smile. Good, guys, never give up that easily. Viper's gaze jumped back and forth from him to his men. "I said put them down or I'll blow his..."
The words ended on a gasp of pain as the mongrel grabbed Viper's armed wrist, seizing the moment when the man's eyes left him. He twisted it, wrenching the gun from the dealer's hand, and threw him face down on the table top between the suitcases. He dug his elbow into the snake's body coiled around Viper's neck and pressed the muzzle to his temple.
Only then did he look up. His men still pointed their guns at the bodyguards opposite them, who still aimed right back. No shooting luckily, never had time to react, right? Riki was vaguely aware that all this must have happened in a blink of an eye. He knew how fast he could be sometimes.
"Ever seen a pet who can do this?" he hissed, lowering his head over Viper's ear. The man wriggled and Riki pressed harder on his wrist. "Stay still!" The dealer whimpered in pain and went limp under him. Riki grinned, satisfied. "Well, it looks like it's your men who need to put their guns down. Tell them."
The man shivered angrily. He was defiantly silent, gritting his teeth. Riki prompted him, driving the muzzle deeper into his temple.
"Tell them!"
Viper groaned.
"You heard him, guys. Put the guns down."
One of the bodyguards looked at his boss hesitantly and rather vacantly. "You okay, Viper?"
"Just fuckin' do it!"
Slowly, the two big men bent over and placed their guns on the ground. Riki's grin widened.
"Now that's more like it. So here's how it's gonna be. Either you find the rest of the money now, or I'm taking the stuff and the transaction is cancelled. The choice is yours."
For a moment Viper looked as if he wanted to balk again. But then he sighed.
"Axel, go to the car and bring the money."
The same bodyguard who had spoken before, gave his boss another vacant look and, after an instant, nodded and went out. He was back a minute later, carrying a suitcase that looked exactly like the one on the table. It was minute in his huge hand.
"Put it on the floor over there," Riki nodded at the place next to the table. Axel complied meekly, then quickly backed away, returning to where he had stood before.
"Fred, check it. It should be the half of the amount."
Fred, the smaller of Riki's men, approached the valise, knelt over it and lifted the lid. Riki turned his attention back to Viper.
"Wanted to screw me over, huh? Figured that a pet would be too stupid or too soft to deal with the situation. And in case if that didn't work you still had your gun, right? Right?!" he jerked the man violently, giving his anger free rein. "Well, tough shit! It's real stupid to underestimate someone like that."
He was angry, oh, he was angry alright, but at the same time he was excited. It felt good to be given an opportunity to say that. It felt wonderful to be able to vent the rage that had seethed in him for so long, to prove that he was still worth something.
Five minutes later, just as Riki's muscles started to go numb from hovering over the man in this awkward position, Fred closed the suitcase and nodded.
"It's all there, boss."
"Good, keep it with you." Riki prodded Viper one last time and moved away quickly, releasing him, but still aiming at his head. The dealer straightened cautiously and reached for his wrist, wincing painfully. The mongrel noticed that little grimace with vicious satisfaction.
"Now, sit in your chair," he commanded. He waited for the man to follow the order. "You can close the suitcase. The stuff is yours. You're lucky, you know. I should take the money and the Accelerator. As an extra for cheating and insulting me. But I'm an honest guy."
"Damn you," Viper muttered sulkily as Riki approached the table and took the valise with the money. "I really heard that pets are stupid."
"Because they mostly are," the mongrel winked at him and retreated towards the entrance. His bodyguards moved behind him. He stopped by the door and let them through first but heard them stop just outside and wait for him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. My master is waiting for me at home. So long, losers!"
Feeling high on adrenaline and a well-executed job, he even bowed dramatically before leaving. They quickly got on their bikes and sped away from the place, but of course no one tried to chase them.
Later on, as they were riding along Tanagura and then Midas streets, and Riki felt the rush of air through his hair, he felt like screaming or laughing at the top of his lungs. He hadn't felt like that for four years. It was like being alive again.
"Why is sex so special?" Iason echoed Raoul's question and chuckled sensually. "I'm afraid anything I say won't be a good explanation."
"I mean, if you need physical release so much, you can always handle yourself," Raoul pointed out. "Alone, without breaking the rules and disgracing yourself in front of another. Nobody will ever find out. And the pleasure is the same, right?"
Iason chuckled again and under his gaze Raoul suddenly felt uneasy. As if his friend could see right through him, to all his secrets.
"No, it isn't the same," Iason spoke. "When you touch yourself it's nothing compared to the pleasure you can receive from sharing the experience with somebody else. From holding him, feeling his body pressed to yours, feeling his warmth, his scent, knowing that he is... a living being that you care for. But how can I explain care to you, Raoul?"
Raoul remembered how those words had hurt him deep inside. Even now it hurt to recall them. Iason thought Raoul couldn't feel. For some reason it seemed unfair. Raoul could feel, wanted to feel, although he couldn't specify it in any way. Until just a few days ago he'd had no idea how or what he wanted to feel – and to whom. And even now, when he was holding Katze in his embrace, it was – maybe more clear, somehow closer to him – but still hard to understand.
Yesterday, till the last moment, he hadn't known what the evening would bring. He'd decided to act on his emotions and see what comes out. He was firm about one thing though – not to engage in direct sexual activity. And then, when he had Katze lying next to him, he'd calmed down. It was enough, he didn't need more. He didn't need sex at all.
Tonight... tonight he was holding the mongrel again. And it still was good. He had never expected that merely holding someone would feel so incredibly good. Iason was right about the warmth of another's body, about the smoothness... actually it would have been better if Katze didn't have his pajama top on... about the touch. Raoul wanted to feel the touch of skin to skin, not skin to fabric.
And of course he didn't want sex, but there were those thoughts, those memories of his and Iason's talks.
"It's like being one with another person. Somebody who is dear to you, somebody whom you want as close as possible. This is the only way you can feel it."
Raoul tightened his arms around Katze for a try.
"Hey, you're choking me," the dealer's complaining voice brought him back to prosaic reality.
"Sorry," Raoul muttered and forced his hands to unclench a bit. Tonight Katze was clearly more relaxed next to him and he liked it.
"And the grip is completely different," Iason in his mind continued his lecture. "Hand, mouth, anus, it all feels different and I can assure you that a hand, especially your own hand, is the least stimulating of all these," saying this Iason smiled knowingly. Raoul shivered. Did he know? No, of course not. How could he know? And a moment later the smile disappeared without any further could-be hints. "When you enter another's body it's so much tighter, encircling you all around, so silky, so delightfully hot. And a mouth... oh, they can do such incredible things with their mouths."
Raoul shut his eyes tightly, trying to dispel Iason's image from his mind. His heart was beating too fast, he needed to calm down. He hastily started to memorize his tomorrow's to-do list to turn his thoughts to the safer grounds and luckily, after a minute or so, the pounding slowed.
What Raoul was terribly ashamed of and what he avoided admitting even to himself, was that he, indeed, had tried to pleasure himself a few times. He wanted to know what an orgasm felt like. Wanted to find out if it was really as pleasant as was claimed.
It was pleasant, all right, he liked it and that's why he was tempted to do it a few more times after he'd initially tasted it. But it wasn't anything to be crazy about. It wasn't anything one couldn't refrain from doing. Or at least – from doing every night. Especially since every time afterwards he felt so guilty that at least for a few days the very thought of masturbating made him sick.
But now, as he remembered Iason's words, there was a new thought in his head. So much tighter, encircling you all around, so silky, so delightfully hot... and only a few inches away from you. The thought was revolting, yet at the same time so alluring that he gasped for air and gritted his teeth.
But he didn't need to try it at all, right? He was perfectly happy with what he already had. Somehow it was harder to convince himself of that tonight.