The Noise Revealed (31 page)

"You're taking a heck of a chance coming here, aren't you?" said a high pitched, nasally voice which at the same time managed to sound gravelly, as if the speaker was forever on the verge of a coughing fit.

"Life's one big risk, Billy," Leyton replied, "you know that."

"Had some hard-assed woman leaning on me a while back, government type, wanting to know everything about you. I'm supposed to call a certain number if I ever see you again."

"Nice to know I'm so popular."

"I won't be calling, of course. Lost the number."

"Shame."

As the barman presented Leyton with his beer, the former eyegee ordered a double Rellian brandy.

"Ah," said Billy, sniffing the golden brown liquid appreciatively before lifting the glass in salute. "I'm touched that you remembered."

"How could I forget? You're the only bastard I know who can drink the stuff without your eyes watering."

"Helps soothe my throat." Billy said. He watched until the barman was busy serving someone else. "Now, what can I do you for?"

"Information; anything you've heard about the Byrzaens, ULAW, that sort of thing."

"Ha! Are you sure you want
anything
? 'Cos that'll take a week, what with all the crazy talk flying around at the moment."

"Thanks, but I've heard more than enough of that already. Cut the wildest stuff and what are we left with?"

"Not much. Perhaps if you told me exactly what you're after?"

Leyton paused, wondering how much to trust Billy with. Eventually, he said, "Let's just say that any hint, rumour or speculation about the Byrzaens being around prior to New Paris would be particularly welcome."

"Ah, really? Interesting." He looked at Leyton, as if waiting for him to say more. Leyton didn't. So Billy continued, "Okay, yeah, I have heard the odd rumour. Come and find me tomorrow afternoon, at Jacey's. I'll see what I can dig up."

"Thank you." Leyton picked up his beer and went to step away from the bar.

"Ehm, aren't we forgetting something? I mean, I know it's been a while since we last saw each other, but I do still have overheads to meet."

Leyton glanced around at the stocky man's 'office.' "Yeah, I can see that." He smiled. "Don't worry, Billy, you'll get paid." With that, he headed back to the card game.

Two of the men Kethi was playing against seemed to be taking their losses with good grace. In fact, one of them, a portly fellow who was sweating profusely, chuckled at each disastrous hand, as if he considered it an honour to be beaten by such a young and lovely woman. The third opponent, however, the skinny runt sitting directly opposite Kethi, seemed less impressed. He had a face like thunder.

By the time Leyton worked his way to a vantage point where he could see what was going on, the other two players had folded, leaving just Kethi and the skinny runt in the game. The latter watched Kethi like a hawk, as if convinced she wasn't playing fair and determined to catch her out. Leyton began to appreciate her choice of top: no sleeves, which eliminated one obvious method of cheating. He recalled the length of time she'd spent scouring the net when they landed; had she researched Flappers at the same time? Had she noted they habitually had card games on the go? Had she
planned
this and dressed accordingly? He suppressed a wry smile. The young lady continued to surprise him.

The pile of money in the centre of the table grew steadily, as the two players raised each other again and again. The betting rose steadily until Skinny Runt had committed all his remaining funds to the central heap. The two opponents locked gazes. Then, with a defiant glare at Kethi, he placed his cards face upwards on the table: three jacks and a pair of sixes; a full house. Appreciative murmurs arose from several of the watchers.

After only a slight pause, Kethi smiled and did likewise, to reveal a nine, a six... and then three more nines. Guffaws and exclamations went round the throng. "Four of a kind! Well I'll be," a man close to Leyton said, shaking his head. "Hell of a game," another muttered.

Joss took the opportunity presented by the crowd shifting and relaxing to work her way across to Leyton's side. "Don't like the look of that thin bloke," she murmured.

Leyton could only agree.

"Thank you, gentlemen, it's been a pleasure," Kethi said, nodding to each of her three opponents in turn. As she reached forward to haul in her winnings, somebody started clapping and a smattering of applause arose from all sides. She paused and smiled, acknowledging their appreciation, then returned to gathering the money.

A hand shot out, gripping her wrist before she could finish doing so. "Hang on a minute," said Thunder face. "You're not taking that. You cheated. No idea how you did it, but no one's that good."

The room had fallen deathly quiet.

"Take your hand off me." Kethi matched the man glare for glare.

"Come on, now," said the portly player who had risen and was standing beside his seat. "What do you think she was doing, hiding cards up her sleeves? The lady beat us fair and square."

"That's it," said Skinny Runt, his eyes darting between Kethi and the man. "The two of you are in this together, you bastards, cheating honest folks like me out of our money."

The fat man spluttered with laughter, his face reddening. "Don't be so ridiculous!"

"Calm down," someone else advised. This sparked a babble of comment: "Didn't see no cheating... just doesn't like being beaten by a woman... bad loser... she did have all the best hands, though..."

The atmosphere was turning nasty; people were shifting their feet as if ready to get involved. This was heading towards a brawl with the sort of inevitability Leyton had seen all too often before.

"How are you with your fists?" he murmured to Joss beside him.

"Fair to middling. I'm a real demon with my knees and elbows, though."

"Good, because I've a feeling we might be needing all of them."

He glanced quickly in the direction of the bar, but the stool Billy had occupied was now empty, the little man having sensed what was coming and scarpered.

Without warning, Kethi moved, lifting her free hand in the blink of an eye and smashing her balled fist down on the back of Skinny Runt's wrist with an audible
thud
. "I said let go."

He did, with a shriek of pain and a jerk of his injured arm, which he sat nursing, shock evident on his face.

Kethi stood up, leaving the money where it sat between them. She leaned forward, her hands pressed flat against the table, face flushed with fury, although her voice remained ice calm and steady. "I didn't cheat. I didn't need to and wouldn't know how if I'd wanted to."

Skinny Runt shrank away, visibly cowed, but he wasn't about to give up just yet. "Well you would say that wouldn't you?" he flung back, petulantly.

"I am now going to collect my winnings. If you try to stop me again, I'll break your hand. If you have a problem with this, I'll be happy to accompany you outside and whip your ass in a fight as thoroughly as I just did at cards." She raked in the money. There was a lot of it. Only the man's eyes offered further defiance. The watching crowd seemed to release a collective breath and the tension ebbed away as people relaxed.

Leyton had to admit he was impressed. There was no way he could have defused that situation and avoided a fight breaking out, yet Kethi had managed to do so in a matter of seconds. Winnings gathered, she strode up to the bar. Every eye in the place was on her. She took a couple of notes and slammed them down in front of a wide-eyed barman.

She then turned to address the room. "I've just put a hundred credits behind the bar. Drinks are on me until it runs out!"

So saying, Kethi slipped away just before the inevitable stampede and headed for the nearest door.

Leyton and Joss followed, joining her outside.

Kethi handed the money across to Leyton. "Billy's fee."

He took it without comment.

"That went well," Joss said as they walked back towards the port. "I don't think anyone noticed us at all, do you?"

Chapter Nineteen

Jacey's was a little more upmarket than Flappers, the ambience more sophisticated, with an interior that was all glass shelving and sweeping ferns in alcoves, dramatic arrangement and subtle uplighting. The floor was a harlequin mosaic of black and white tiles, while gentle muzak played in the background and cocktails were the order of the day.

There was no sign of Billy. Leyton strolled up to the bar and claimed one of the chrome pedestal stools that fronted it. The barman - slicked down black hair, black trousers with creases sharp enough to shave by, bright white shirt and black dickey-bow tie - stared at him a little oddly.

"Are you Leyton?"

He tried not to show his surprise or the jolt of fear that coursed through him. "Depends who's asking."

"Billy left this for you." The man held out a wric, one of the cheap and disposable knock-offs that kids on street corners tried to foist onto the unwary.

Leyton stared for a fraction of a second and then took it. The small display screen showed a photo. Of him, in profile, snapped at Flappers the previous evening, presumably as Billy was leaving. So this was how the barman recognised him.

Leyton thumbed the image away. A message appeared in its place - stark white lettering against a plain black background.

Give money to barman

He smiled. Trust Billy to get the important part of the proceedings out of the way first. Leyton reached into his jacket and withdrew a slender opaque shrink-wrapped parcel. It contained most of the winnings from the previous evening. Most, but not all. He intended to use the balance to buy something for Kethi on the way back to the shuttle. It felt a little strange to be handling real money rather than credit; stranger still to be contemplating buying a gift for somebody.

He handed the package over to the barman, who then moved away, leaving him to thumb the wric to the next screen. As he saw the message revealed, he froze. Two lines, four words, a message and a warning:

Virtuality

Get out now!

Leyton eased himself off his perch, nodded to the barman and strolled out of the bar, a study in nonchalance. He didn't hurry until he was in the street, where so many people were always in a rush to be places and he became just one more.

The wric he tossed into a disposal chute at the first opportunity. He then called Kethi. "On my way. Tell Joss to be ready." He closed the connection as soon as the words were out. It was a risk, that call, but a small one.

Billy's message had been long on import, short on detail. He trusted the little man's judgement but there was no way of knowing exactly how much trouble they were in or how much time they had. Clearly something had aroused suspicion - whether Kethi's little performance last night, her snooping on the net, plain bad luck, or Billy playing both ends of the situation and giving them away, Leyton couldn't be certain. It didn't matter. They had to be gone from this world as soon as possible.

Walking to the port would take him about twenty minutes, fifteen if he pushed it, but that might be too late. He decided to take a further risk and hail a cab - distinctive in their black and purple livery - and flagged one down almost immediately. The journey now took him only four minutes, despite city traffic. He kept an eye on the cabbie throughout, looking for signs of tension in the man's neck and shoulders, wary for any extraneous movements, but the brief ride passed without incident.

While sitting in the back of the cab, Leyton reflected on the fact that Billy's actual message had comprised of a single word: 'Virtuality.' Hell of an expensive word, in this instance. He could only hope it proved to be the key Kethi was looking for.

The cab's old but well upholstered seats had a whiff of fresh polish and detergent. Before he could spend too much time in unpleasant conjecture about what might have been on them recently that required such rigorous cleaning, they arrived at the port. Almost before the cab came to a halt he was climbing out, paying the fare, and hurrying to where the shuttle was berthed.

He breezed through customs, security failing to give him a second glance. Nothing struck him as obviously out of place as he strode through the port's various reception areas; everybody seemed as relaxed or preoccupied as they generally were, while there was no profusion of individuals loitering with suspicious lack of purpose. Although he didn't relax, Leyton did dare to hope that the danger might not be as pressing as he'd feared. Which was when he caught sight of the two dark-suited figures huddled around a desk at the far end of the vast terminal building, talking earnestly with one of the service staff. All right, they may have been asking for directions to the nearest loo or fast food dispenser, or have business relating to any of the other vessels currently landed, but Leyton wasn't about to bank on it. He moved past them quickly, making sure to keep people, kiosks, and every available object between him and the two suits.

Leyton didn't run - nothing was more likely to draw attention - but his gait was barely slower. Fortunately he was fully alert, or he might not have seen the man who lunged at him until it was too late. As it was, he caught a blur of movement in the corner of his eye and was able to begin his twist and turn before the half-seen form cannoned into his left side. Leyton's swivel effectively side-stepped the bone-jarring body-to-body impact the assailant had intended and instead turned the man's impetus against him. Only the left arm caught the former eyegee as he rolled out of the way, and he was able to get both hands on the man's back, shoving him forcefully while tripping him with his right leg, so that the would-be attacker hit the ground hard.

This seemed like a good time to run. Leyton sprinted for all he was worth. Shouts from behind, more than one voice, probably demanding he stop. Fat chance. They should have saved their breath for the chase. Would they risk shooting? There were people around, but not many, not enough to rely on for protection. A lumbering automated luggage transporter offered temporary cover. It hummed along like some giant segmented caterpillar, laden with cases and baggage, presumably fresh off a commercial flight. The thing was coming diagonally towards Leyton. He jinked his run, nearly colliding with a startled elderly couple as he zigged left and zagged right, now running with the transporter between him and those chasing.