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He opened the box and pulled the cable out. “It’s a fiber-optic data cable.”
“What’s it for?”
He peered at one end. “Nothing.”
“What?”
He held both ends of the cable up. “These aren’t connectors. They’re caps. This cable can’t be used for anything. Not without connectors, anyway.”
“So what’s the point? It’s just a useless cable?”
“No idea,” he said. He coiled it up and put it back in the box. “Is it related to the murders?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, I’ll take it to the lab right now. I’ll get you some answers tonight.”
I pulled out my Harpreet Gizmo. “Two thousand slugs?”
“What?” He gave me a look like I’d pissed on his mother’s grave. “No. Nothing. The price is nothing. Jesus.”
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“You’re in trouble. I’m helping you because you’re my friend.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of what to say.
He whipped his Gizmo from the shelf. “I assume you’re using an alias. Give me its ID.”
I shared my new contact info with him. He nodded curtly when his Gizmo received it. “Okay, ‘Harpreet,’ I’ll call you when I have something.”
I’d never seen him so annoyed. “Svoboda, I—”
“Forget it. It’s cool.” He forced a smile. “I just thought that would be assumed, is all. You need somewhere to stay?”
“Uh, no. I’ve got a hideout set up.”
“Of course you do. Lock up when you leave.” He left a little faster than necessary.
Well, shit. I didn’t have time for male ego or whatever the hell that was about. I had to hurry off to my next scheme.
—
“All right, Lefty,” I mumbled to myself. “Let’s see how well connected you are….”
Evening is the Arcade District’s busiest time of day. It’s when the richfucks come out to play. Freshly fed and liquored up, they hit the shops, casinos, brothels, and theaters. (If you haven’t seen lunar acrobats in action, you don’t know what you’re missing. Hell of a show.)
It was perfect. People everywhere. Just what I needed.
Arcade Square (which is a circle) sat in the center of Aldrin Ground, right in the middle of everything. It was only a collection of benches and a few potted trees—the sort of thing you see in every town square on Earth, but an incredible luxury here.
I glanced around and didn’t see Lefty anywhere. Very helpful of him to have a sling on. It made him easy to spot. Someday when I died and went to hell I’d thank Irina for slashing him.
Drunks and revelers crisscrossed the square. Tourists packed the benches and chatted or took pictures of one another. I pulled out my Gizmo and turned it on.
And when I say “my Gizmo” I mean my real Gizmo. It powered up and showed the familiar wallpaper—a picture of a Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppy. What? I like puppies.
I discreetly placed the Gizmo on the ground and kicked it under a nearby bench.
