SHE REALLY WANTED THE BOY
1563 4D
The wrought steel doors opened. A dark, coiffed head, its rows of nasal holes punctuating the low ridge between two huge and beautiful eyes, appeared first; then came a slim athletic body in a coverall that flowed and clung. “Parthren,” Arlen said.
“Your young man is lovely,” she said softly, letting the doors close themselves. “Would you like to lend him out?”
“Perhaps sometime.” Arlen smiled. Parthren always spoke so directly.
“After he is your cat, you mean. By then I don’t think I’ll like him.” Parthren smiled back. “But he’s so sweet now. I’m sure even Indrio would like to borrow a boy like him. On her lucid days — that is, if she still has any.”
“Your rudeness charms me as much as your nasal powers impress me,” Arlen said without inflection. Why did she mention Indrio? This damned woman always knew where to poke her needles. He would have to see later what this jab meant. “But I have work for you. That is why I sent you the Ball.”
“It was a grand gift,” Parthren said, “and I know that my thanks to you should take the form of… what?” She walked over to the curtained box on the wall and lifted the cloth. “Hello? Tariall? Any news?”
“I turned him off for a while,” Arlen said. “As for your thanks, I need to find Engel Luce, down in Sobi where you like to spend time. Here.” He held out a neatly-folded coverall bearing faded blood spatters.
Parthren looked at it without moving. “I have news for you that will make Engel Luce much less interesting. It comes at a price: four thousand pieces.”
Arlen turned away, concealing his surprise. Four thousand! What could she know? Very deliberately, he put the coverall on a low table. In a flat tone he said, “I’ve never paid anyone four thousand for anything.”
“For this, you will consider it a bargain. Two thousand now, for the overview, and the rest for the details I have.”
“I know other ways to get information from people.” Arlen threw a menacing tone into his voice. Parthren pushed him. Push her back.
“This information is only useful if it remains unshared,” Parthren said smoothly, with a smile. “I have made all appropriate arrangements.”
So she had a disclosure trigger. That made things difficult; if he tried to wring it from her, her precoded signals back to her cohorts would release the information to others. More than likely, her disclosure would provide other intimate data concerning him.
Now he read her first words to him clearly. “Five days with that young man of mine you seem to like, starting tonight — and five hundred now. The rest to be discussed after I hear the first part.”
She hesitated. Arlen could see the greed in her slightly-widened eyes. “Ten days, and eight hundred,” she said. So she really wanted the boy. Even more than he did.
“Ten and four,” he countered. She nodded rapidly. “Here is his indenture.” Arlen produced a datacard. “I’m marking an addendum — so.” He pressed a finger against a corner of the card, and handed it to her. “You have him for ten days, starting tonight. The four hundred you will see in your account. I expect him back in good condition, with no reconstructions necessary. Not like Duren.”
“She was uncooperative. Why do you still blame me?”
“Never mind. The terms are clear. Now, what do you have for me?” Arlen motioned Parthren to a soft blue chair, and sat himself in a similar chair beside Trenzil.
Parthren looked down at her long hands. “An insurgency,” she began.
“I hear these stories every few days,” Arlen interrupted, “and I don’t like wasting my time with them.”
“I know that. But look at this.” She skimmed a datasheet to Arlen. Catching it, he scanned a picture of a mound of smashed beam-rifle boxes. “This stuff appeared one night down below Sobi. Check the rest of the images.”
Arlen thumbed through picture after picture of boxes bearing serial numbers and model numbers for light weapons well-suited for City fighting. Enough for an army. He tucked the datacard away in a pocket. “All right. What else?”
“Four stoneshapers are missing from the industrial maintenance plant in Salvo Zone. No one has any leads.”
Arlen pondered. Someone intended restructure of tunnels, making new ones, blocking old ones. “And?”
“The van traffic in Sobi has changed, built up. I smell countryside on some of the vans, I pick up explosives on others, and I smell fear. Even in the middle of Festival. I’ll be going back to find more specifics. That’ll cover the rest of our deal.”
“This is all you have now? No names, places, dates, times? This isn’t worth all I’ve—“
“Wait. I’ve asked around. Everything is in Sobi — the other areas are clear. And the buildup has been very quick. Ten days ago, nothing. Now, an army.” She waved a hand at the pictures. “Whatever happens will be very soon, any time in the next day or two.”
Arlen paused. He recalled the recent firefight at the City ore terminal: a vicious clash, and a complete loss for the militia. He had lost about twenty of his own with them. The rebels protected their materiel very well. He said, “If in the next day you can get me exclusive details, as I said — names, places, dates, times, numbers and plans — I’ll double your two thousand. Otherwise I’ll prorate your information down from there. Clear enough, my lady?”
“You make it plain enough,” Parthren said stiffly. “I assume you would just as soon postpone your questions about Engel Luce?”
“I still have the same interest in him. But the other matter comes first. Get me what information you can, and quickly. And don’t let your sweet ten days with my young man interfere with your work on this.” Arlen noted with satisfaction the pursing of her lips into a blossom of disappointment. Without a word she turned and tugged the doors, slipping between them and out before they began to close again.
