A Motive with a Universal Adapter 01

"I'm only an aspiring student of pharmacology," Okami smiled, leaning forward again. "I find it very useful in my, um... side-line business."

So, he was a drug dealer as well as a club owner. That wasn't too surprising—the two markets probably have a pretty large overlap.

As embarrassing as it was having my dirty laundry hung out like that, it occurred to me that if Okami's side-line business was diverse enough, he might be the new source of Lucidrine I needed. I don't imagine there's much overlap between the market for party drugs and the market for tactical pharmaceuticals, but maybe he knows people who know people.

"They say nicotine helps," he added.

"Yeah, they say that about a lot of things. But it doesn't matter, I'm out of smokes."

"Allow me." From inside his jacket he withdrew a silver cigarette case, flipped it open and offered me my choice.

I looked over at Abby, but she just shrugged. If I was going to ask Okami about Lucidrine later, I decided I'd better play nice. I took a cigarette. As I was fishing in my pocket for my lighter, Okami snapped his fingers. The end of his thumb split open revealing a lighter protruding from the skin.

"Oh, that's cool!" Owl blurted, looking out from behind Abby's camera. "I never would have guessed that was cyber."

Okami regarded him with a frown as I leaned forward and rested my fingers on the back of his hand to puff at the dancing flame. Except for the mechanical thumb, his hand looked flawlessly real. The swell of his veins, the sparse hair that crept out from under his cuff and up this thumb, the perfectly manicured nails.

"The latest in RealSkynn technology from Japan," he explained. "People come to Chatsubo to show off, not to be shown up."

I found myself wondering what that skin would feel like inside of me, and what fun things might be built into Okami's other fingers.

He looked at me for a long moment after extinguishing the lighter. Just when I thought he must be waiting for a 'thank-you', he shook his head with a slight smile and turned back to Abby.

"Now, you were asking about Rook," he continued. "He first came to my attention about three months ago. One of my long-time regulars introduced us."

"Who was that?"

Okami paused, studied Abby for a moment, and glanced up at Owl and the camera before answering. "I'm sorry Ms. Rhoades, but there are confidences I won't betray. Rook's welcome has worn thin, but I have other patrons I'd prefer to keep."

"That's fair," Abby agreed. "Is this person who introduced you to Rook here tonight?"

It took a long moment for Okami to scan the crowd through the plate window behind us before concluding "No, I'm afraid not. Which honestly surprises me. If you'd like me to pass on a message, I'll gladly do so. But in the meantime, it looks like Rook's gang has invented a new thorn for my side, so if you'd like to distract him now..."

We turned around to see the Black Queens tossing cocktail garnishes at anyone who walked past their roped-off lounge. Monkeys in a cage.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Okami," Abby stood and offered her hand and Okami stood and accepted. Then she turned to me. "You ready, Ritz?"

"Yeah, let's get this over--"

"Ritz?" Okami perked up and a lightbulb illuminated his expression. "Short for 'Dennheritz'?"

"No!" I lied too quickly.

"Come now Ms. Dennheritz, the Kiroshi Optishield is too uncommon on this continent for it to be a coincidence."

"Wait, Agatha Dennheritz?" Abby interjected. "From the Adam Selene assassination?"

"You didn't know?" Owl just looked perplexed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I groaned. "Yes, I was Selene's bodyguard. Yes, he died on my watch. Yes, he was a raging asshole who made enemies faster than most people make decisions. Yes, he paid for my sculpt work so I'd blend in with his bimbos. No, I never slept with him. And yes, the whole world watched me standing there with my thumb up my ass while some bakebrain creased him on live TV. Can we please change the subject?"

Or at least let me shove someone's thumb up my ass, I added to myself.

"Uh, yeah," Abby agreed, taking a moment after my outburst. I could almost see the wheels in her head trying to work out how this new revelation would affect her story. "Let's, uh... let's go talk to Rook."

Okami escorted us to the elevator, but Abby couldn't just let it go and peppered me with all the usual questions.

"What were you looking at when--"

"Sniper in the building across the plaza."

"So, it wasn't the Luci--"

"No."

"Well didn't they--"

"Police couldn't find any evidence of the sniper. No trace on any TV footage either."

"Why didn't you--"

"I tried. Nobody wanted my side of the story. Incompetence made for better TV than excuses."

"Yeah, okay. I can see that." Abby's brow furrowed as the elevator doors opened and the tangible waves of music washed over us.

Okami led us through the club like a shark parting a school of fish and the three of us followed in his wake. Outside the Black Queens' lounge, he stopped us with a gesture and shared a quiet word with the bouncer who was watching the rope that separated the boosters from the rest of the club.

"We're gonna fix this, Ritz." Abby yelled quietly into my ear over the din of the music while we waited. "I'm gonna get you back in the studio for another interview and we're gonna get your side of the story out there."

That's honestly what I had been hoping for since I first agreed to her interview on the street outside Talsorian's. It's what I'd been hoping for ever since one of Selene's many enemies finally got lucky and got past me. A chance to tell my side of the story—a chance to live down the 'Beauty Queen Bodyguard' jokes and op-eds and interrogations.

Owl grinned at me and gave me a thumbs up. You chat about a lot of things on the night shift of a dead-end job, and he knew I'd just gotten my birthday wish.

I'd been hoping for this chance for over a year, and now that it was here, all I could do was stare at Okami's firm ass in those tailored slacks and give Abby a vague nod of acknowledgment.

"Once I start the interview, find an angle where you can keep both Rook and me in the frame," Abby instructed Owl while I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself focused. "Move if you have to, and don't be shy about pushing people out of your way. I don't want to miss a question or a reaction."

"Okay, cool," Owl agreed.

Okami beckoned us forward, leading us into the lounge as his bouncer unhooked the rope barrier and stood aside to let us pass. Inside the lounge, all eyes turned to us. The bouncer hooked the rope back and pulled a heavy curtain across the entrance, screening us off from the rest of the club, muffling the music.

"Hey, Okami! Long time no see," Rook called from his seat between two strung-out joy-girls. One of them didn't seem to be aware that her top had slipped off her shoulder exposing a bare breast. The other was idly licking on a phallic air-hypo injector. Rook had his feet up on the table with an arm around each of them. His eyes were glazed over in a way that suggested he'd recently partaken of whatever drug the air-hypo was loaded with. "You been avoiding me, Choomba?"

"Always a pleasure to have your patronage, Mr. Rook," Okami replied, avoiding the question. "I'm sorry to disturb your evening, but some news has just reached me and I thought I should bring it to your immediate attention."

I could have reached for my pistol. I could have put two rounds in Rook's chest and caught it all on the mini-cam before anyone could react. I might have even gotten a shot or two at his cronies. But I'd been so distracted staring at Okami's ass that I forgot to jack in the interface cable. I'd need at least half a second after I drew to manually switch off the safety and pull the trigger.

"No problem, Okami my man. No problemo... Hey who're the trogs?" he scowled, acknowledging Abby, Owl, and me for the first time.

"This is Ms. Abby Rhoades from Network 54 News," Okami gestured. "Her cameraman, and her security."

"Reporters?" Rook turned to the girl with her tit out. "Am I famous?"

His gang started to crowd around. Our presence promised a moment of distraction from their night of sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. Whatever was about to happen, they didn't want to miss out.

The guy in the black concert T-shirt wore a pair of semi-automatics in a shoulder rig. The guy in the denim vest wore a revolver low on his thigh, cowboy style. The guy in the biker jacket had a bulge under his arm and the guy in the untucked button-down shirt wore a submachine slung over his shoulder like a purse.

If I took my shot at Rook, they'd have gunned me down too. I could have lived with that, but they would have killed Abby and Owl and probably innocent bystanders with us.

I waited.

"She has some important information that I think you should hear. She'd also like to ask you a few questions if you can spare a moment."

"Yeah man, sure sure sure." He pulled his feet off the table and leaned forward prompting the girl to roll her eyes and pull her fallen shoulder strap back into place with a huff. Rook gestured to the seat across from him. "Whadaya wanna know Abby? I'm like... an open book or something, right?"

Okami stepped back and Abby took the offered chair. I took the one next to her.

When the shotgun deployed from my thigh this time, I let it be. The crosshairs hovered over Rook's chest, but that would mean shooting up through the heavy table. I stretched out my leg a few centimeters until the crosshairs dropped onto the litter of glasses and ampules scattered right in front of him. Both barrels were pointed at his midriff under the table.

All it would have taken was a thought. With a thought, I could have sent a pair of ten-gauge slugs ripping through his gut at hypersonic velocity. And then a moment later I'd be dead and so would Abby and Owl.

To stop myself from thinking that thought, I let my mind drift back to the feel of Okami's skin beneath my fingers. I let myself daydream about that skin caressing the inside of my meat thigh.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Rook," Abby started. "Or should I call you Mr. Nero?"

"What... What do you mean?" Rook asked with too much smile and a glance back at his cronies.

"I'm reporting on the shooting earlier today at Talsorian's up in Northside. I understand you were the only witness. You gave the police the name 'L. Nero'."

She slid the printout across the table so everyone could see Rook's face clearly.

"That's gonna be on TV?" Rook's attitude shifted from wary to jubilant without a clutch. "Yeah, that's awesome. The world needs to know about that shit."

"So, you are 'L. Nero'?" Abby persisted.

"Yeah, yeah. I gave the cops a fake name. So what? I value my privacy. How'd you find me anyway?"

"The tag on the back of your jacket. The Black Queens have a reputation in the Zone as hardcore boosters. A lot of people are afraid of you. Everyone knows to watch out for the 'B and Crown.' When we asked around, they told us to stay away from The Bradbury because it's Black Queens' turf." Abby was really laying on the flattery and the gang was eating it up. "Kurabu told us we could find you here."

"That guy talks too much," Rook scowled. But the rest of them were all smiles, puffed chests, and fist pumps. The girls clung closer to their chosen outputs now that their street cred was confirmed.

"You told the police it was an armed robbery and you gave them a description of two men you saw fleeing the scene, right?" Abby continued.

"That's right. A couple of dorphers knocked the place over for the til."

"Well, new evidence has come to light that suggests the robbery was just a cover. It was actually a hit on one of the customers."

Rook did his best to hide his surprise and act casual. "Oh yeah?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his legs. He put his arm around one of the girls next to him, then the other, then uncrossed his legs. "Well, then it was probably done by a professional. You know, one of those highly trained, top-euro hitmen. The kind of guy who covers his tracks and the police can never find, even if he's right under their nose," he suggested.

"Did either of those dorphers you saw strike you as that kind of professional?" Abby asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Rooked laughed at the idea and looked away. "No, no I guess not. This guy had more class than that."

"What makes you say that?"

"I dunno," Rook managed to look back at Abby and then up to the camera. "It just has that kind of vibe to it, y'know? Like he took the time to eliminate any witnesses. Nobody saw him go in or leave. He probably switched cabs a bunch of times so he wouldn't be followed. I'm just, y'know, speculating here.

"And I bet once this story hits the airwaves, and people hear about what a chill-ass ghost this dude is, I bet the jobs come rolling in. I bet you make this guy's career Abby Rhoades." He pointed to her with a wink, then picked up a glass from the table and drained it.

It was a struggle to hold back. A shotgun to the gut was too good for him. I wanted to reach across the table and strangle him with my bare hands. I wanted to climb on top of him and choke the life out of him while grinding on his crotch. I wanted to watch him die while I came.

Fortunately, no one was paying me any attention.

"Okay, is there anything else you can tell us?" Abby persisted, "Something that maybe didn't seem important at the time? Something that would explain why someone hired Arasaka troops to attack The Bradbury about an hour and a half ago?"

The room went quiet when she sprang the trap.

"What!? That's bullshit." Rook scoffed. The whole gang looked skeptical. "Arasaka don't slum it in the CeeZee."

"You should see this then." Abby pulled her handy-cam from her bag, set it on the table, and tilted the screen up so Rook and the others could watch. She pressed play.

The light from the screen danced across their faces as the scream of the AV's turbine played from the speaker. Over the drone, Owl's voice counted off the number of dismounting troops. As Rook and his gang leaned in closer, I could hear the buzz of the autocannon chewing up the building's facade. Their expressions had faded from incredulous to shocked when Abby cut the playback.

The muffled music from the other side of the curtain was the only sound in the room.

"Rook, listen to me," Abby leaned forward. "Kurabu is dead. Dicer is dead. I didn't catch his name, but that guy with all the MetalGear and the old-timey rifle is dead. Someone has sent Arasaka to eliminate your whole gang because of what you saw at Talsorian's today."

Rook looked shell-shocked. He glanced up at Owl. "Turn the camera off," he muttered.

"Why would someone hire Arasaka to attack the Black Queens?" Abby repeated.

"Turn it off!" Rook yelled. Abby nodded to Owl and he unplugged the smart cable from his processor, lowered the camera, and held it to his chest.

"He was just some gonk who ran out on a gambling debt," Rook confessed. "That's what he said. His bookie just wanted us to make an example of him."

"Who was the bookie? Who hired you, Rook?"

"I don't know." Rook looked up. He was getting agitated now, sweating. There was panic rising in his voice. "I swear, I don't know... He set it up with the bookie and had me do the job... He said I was ready. He said I was a natural and there was nothing more he could teach me."

"Who said you were ready?" Abby pressed him. "What did he tell you? How did he deal with his clients? By phone? In person? Think carefully."

But it was too late. Rook was in a full-on panic now, and the rest of the gang wasn't too far behind.

"This is your fault!" He pointed at Abby with a chrome finger. "I had everything under control until you showed up. You led Arasaka to us!"

An angry chorus affirmed Rook's accusation as the girls tried to distance themselves from the agitated gang. Abby tried to talk Rook down, but he was too drunk, high, scared, or humiliated to listen.

"Blaming me won't sol--"

"This is YOUR fault!" Rook cut her off. His forearm sprang open and a concealed submachine gun popped out from behind his wrist.

Instinctively I fired both barrels of my thigh-gun under the table, blowing out the knee of my pants, sending an unexpected shudder of ecstasy up my spine. The thundering report accompanied the staccato popping of Rook's weapon as my slugs tore through his gut and he swung his arm wildly across the room.

The rest of the Black Queens reached for their own weapons.

Flinging myself sideways, I felt the sting of lead on my cheek and across the Optishield as I knocked Abby to the floor. I yanked my Avenger free from its holster, but with Abby flailing underneath me, overturned chairs, and a chaos of trampling feet I couldn't zero a target with enough confidence to pull the trigger.

There was light and music and more automatic weapon fire. Bodies fell. Joy-girls screamed. A pungent cordite haze filled the lounge.

And then it was quiet.

I looked up from the floor to see Carl, the behemoth bouncer, standing in the open curtain with my Ronin jacked into his neural processor. It looked like a toy in his hands. He was flanked by another pair of bouncers armed with heavy, twelve-millimeter Uzis.

Rook lay sprawled across the table, broken glasses and their dregs mingled with a spreading pool of blood and melting ice cubes. The rest of the Black Queens were slumped across chairs or benches or the floor, weapons clutched or dropped nearby, each bleeding from their own wounds, none of them moving—or likely to ever again.

I had my vengeance.

Whether it was my bullet that actually ended Rook's life or not, he was dead because of me. Joe could rest in peace.

But I couldn't. Somehow I still had to go on living.

Before I could give it too much thought Okami's voice cut through the quiet club over the band's speakers. I looked out to see him standing up on the stage.

"I'm sorry there was a disturbance, folks, but it's all over now. Just sit down and have a good time. Enjoy yourselves. All right, Sam." He handed the microphone back to the frontman.

There was a squeal of feedback followed by a drum count and a heavy power chord as the music started back up again. The bouncers pulled the curtains closed concealing the carnage in the private lounge and muffling the chrome-rock beat.

Owl sat against the far wall. He had Abby's camera in his lap and he was trying to fit a broken shard of glass back into the lens with one hand. His own cyber-arm hung limply at his side, the built-in screen shattered.

"Are you ok?" Abby knelt next to him.

"I broke your camera," he admitted without looking up at her.

"That's ok... Hey, it's ok." She laid her hands on top of his to stop his tinkering and he finally turned his head to face her.

"I'll tell you a secret. The big camera is just for show," Abby confided with a wink, tapping her temple. "I get the important shots with my optic."

"Oh... Okay, cool," Owl nodded with a smile.

So, Abby had a cyber-optic as well as an audio implant. It was a safe bet the girl was recording even when her camera was off. I wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

"Come on soldier, on your feet," I reached down a hand to Owl and hauled him off the floor. "Looks like your arm got fragged there."

"Yeah, I guess." When he tried to move his arm it popped and sparked so he didn't try again. He had some minor cuts, maybe bullet grazes or nicks from glass shrapnel, but otherwise it looked like the camera and his cyber-arm had taken the worst of it.

Just then, the curtain swished open and Okami stepped in looking fresh and pressed—a stark contrast to the massacre that he stepped carefully through.