THE MOTHER LODE BY ABRAXIS
Chapter 3 - GO ASK ALICE
For a moment Jenna found it hard to breath. She was flooded with relief and very grateful to whatever gods were smiling on her. The details of the escape were too complicated to hold together for very much longer without being discovered. She had almost despaired as weeks had passed without any success on Mr. G's part to find someone interested in her contract. That the first one to be so had proven to be an excellent candidate and had now accepted the position seemed beyond reality. But then this whole matter had been beyond reality, her reality, from the start. I had been just as strange as the book Dr. Fenton had chosen for their operation codes; just "curiouser and curiouser".
Now, the book had changed. He had changed it. Riddle, Barrol, whatever; the name would be different again very soon. They had designated him "The Key" since he would open the door to their new lives. The small taste of his reality, of him, that she had already experienced had given her a peek beyond that door. It wasn't a children's fantasy. It was pulp fiction, film noir; Mickey Spillane and Ramond Chandler; where the winners were those who managed to stay alive. Whatever else this man was, he was a survivor in that milieu. She prayed that she would be able to learn enough from him to insure that she and the others could manage to do the same.
She picked up the liquor bottles.
"Excellent. I have a skimmer."
She had memorized a map of the area, actually the whole city; not a difficult task with her particular quirk of memory. As she took the lead, she chose a more direct route to the location where her vehicle was parked rather than heading back toward the bar. Instead of walking beside her, as she had him, Riddle took a position several paces to the rear. When she looked over her shoulder at him, the smirky twist of his smile left no doubt as to why he had chosen to do that. He was taking sexual pleasure in the movement of her posterior as she walked.
She felt her face burning and snapped her head around to keep him from seeing her embarrassment. In an automatic response, her body stiffened and her stride became stilted, forced. A myriad of emotions assailed her. She would liked to have claimed righteous anger or indignation, at the least, but those two were very conspicuous in their absence. Recognizing her true reaction made her face burn even hotter.
Then he was beside her, his arm around her. She flinched away from his hand as it branded her waist. All this accomplished was to aid him in pressing her full torso against his equally searing side. Then, his rumbling purr caressed her ear.
"Relax. You got just about the nicest locomotion I've ever seen."
Oh, damn! He could read her so easily. But her embarrassment was drowned in the pleasure that his compliment gave her. Just as suddenly, reality forced itself upon her. This shouldn't be happening. She shouldn't be allowing this to happen. For him to be attracted to her, unexpected as it was, was an advantage in insuring his cooperation when the full extent of the operation was revealed to him. Its opposite, her reacting to him on other than a purely logical level, would be a massive complication. Her reply to him was more for her own ears than his.
"It's the shoes."
His smug chuckle did nothing to help her believe this. She continued walking, doing her best to appear uneffected. She grabbed on to the fact that he had qualified his judgement to try and control her reaction to it. He had said "just about". That meant he had seen better; that she was really nothing special. That was it; she was nothing special; just the one closest at hand; just something to occupy him until something better came along. With that thought, her stomach convulsed with an emotional pain that was almost physical. Her continuing inner turmoil was so violent that she was shocked when the dark metallic blue of her skimmer appeared a short distance away. She had no idea how she had managed to find it.
The skimmer was a two seater. Disengaging herself from Riddle's arm, she unlocked the passenger-side door. Placing the liquor bottles in the map box under the control board, she shifted the back of the seat forward expecting him to deposit Jeeter in the storage area behind the seats. Instead, after very carefully lowering the man from his shoulder, he slammed him roughly against the side of the vehicle. Jeeter reacted with a loud "oomph" and his eyes flew open.
"Jesus, Barrol. What was that for?"
"For faking it after you came to."
Holding Jeeter against the skimmer, one massive hand in the middle of his chest, Riddle patted him down with the other and removed a small dagger from one boot and a stun gun from the other. He handed them to Jenna and she placed them in the map box with the liquor.
"If you got anything else, Jeeter, you better hand it over. You aren't going to like what happens if you don't."
Jeeter was thoughtful for about half a second and then pointed to his waist.
"The belt buckle."
"Take it off, spring it and hand it to me."
Jeeter, taking great care not to make any sudden move, unclipped the face of his belt buckle, and pressed the center of a flower in its deeply carved decorative pattern with his middle finger. It depressed slightly. Holding it down, he pressed the center of another with his index finger. With a soft snick, a razor edged blade appeared along the entire length of the upper edge. When Riddle would have taken it, Jenna reached out for it instead. She checked both sides but the mechanism was hidden inside. She held it out to Jeeter.
"Please show me how to withdraw it."
Jeeter looked to Riddle for permission. Receiving a nod, he took the buckle and, holding it so that Jenna could see clearly, pushed the first flower center and held it while he placed the edge of the blade against his heavy leather belt and pushed it back into the buckle. Jenna saw a slight twitch in the second flower center as the blade locked into place. He held it out and again Jenna took it. She sprung and withdrew it several times, using the platform of one shoe to reset it, then addressed Jeeter again.
"I would like to acquire some of these, Mr. Jeeter. The craftsmanship is excellent. Where did you purchase it?"
As Jeeter replied, Jenna knew he was attempting to use her interest to give himself a better chance of surviving the coming interrogation. But, there had been a brief shine of pride in his eyes at her appreciation of the weapon.
"I made it. It's kinda ... a hobby. Made one for a lady friend that was one of those hair things ... you know .... to hold it up on top. I could make you one like that ....... or ......... look, I can figure out how to put a blade in just about anything ....... you just tell me what you want ..... Be real happy to do that ......"
Jeeter's voice trailed off and he was looking frightened again. Jenna added the buckle to the map box and then stepped around and unlocked the driver-side door while Riddle allowed Jeeter to crawl behind the seats on his own power. Her mind was busy digesting what she had just learned about the small man. After Riddle had settled himself in the other seat, instead of immediately starting the skimmer, she turned and addressed Jeeter again.
"Mr. Jeeter, with a talent like that, why aren't you employed as a legitimate craftsman?"
When Jeeter just stared at her open mouthed, Riddle prodded him.
"She really doesn't know. Tell her."
Jeeter shook his head in disbelief but proceeded to explain.
"It's the Guild. You gota have schooling, the official kind. My folks, rest their souls, didn't hold with anything official. Lot'sa us down here like that. Duck the census takers. Have their babies at home so it don't get reported and the social workers start bugging you. Don't take no dole, no matter how hungry you get. Herb woman insteada a doctor. All kinda stuff like that to keep off the computers."
Riddle fixed Jeeter with a hard stare. Jenna marveled at how he could accomplish that so well through those impenetrable lenses. It had been the same for her in the bar. You just knew when he was staring holes through you.
"Tell her the rest of it. The Guild doesn't take anyone with a police record either. Not even a juvie one."
Jenna watched with amusement as Jeeter actually bristled at Riddle.
"I ain't got no record! Ain't no clubber alive fast enough to catch the Jeeter!"
Riddle scowled threateningly but Jenna could see the twitch of his jaw muscle as he suppressed a grin. Then his face became a cold mask and he turned his attention to her. There was anger and disgust in his voice and it was all aimed at her.
"Let's go where we're going and get this over with."
How interesting. Mr. Riddle wasn't as cold blooded as he wanted to seem. He found developing any level of rapport with someone they would most likely have to torture and kill distressing. She placed a gentle hand on his thigh for a brief moment to request his patience before turning back to Jeeter. His total non-existence in the official records intrigued her. It reinforced her thoughts concerning a possible non-violent solution to their current situation. She had found much to like in the little man.
"Mr. Jeeter, if it were possible for you to become a legitimate craftsman but to have that chance you would have to leave this planet tonight, you would have to give up everything you have, everyone one you know and you could never return, would you do it?"
Jeeter was silent for several minutes. Jenna waited patiently. This wasn't something that should be rushed. When he finally spoke, he demonstrated the intelligence Jenna had suspected. He also demonstrated a knowledge of what was going on that she hadn't.
"A contract like Barrol's?"
"Similar. You will serve as a weapons maker and what ever other duties for which your talents may be suitable. In return I will provide passage off planet, a new identity and any training, monies and references necessary for you to begin a new life."
"And I turn G to you to get it?"
"Yes."
"Done."
Jeeter immediately began to do a core dump.
"Like I said, I was to watch you, follow you until I was sure how the meet was going; if Barrol was gonna take the contract or not. That's all I'm supposed to know. But G, he talks to himself, like when he's try to figure things out. And me, to him I'm kinda like a piece'a furniture, you know, so I hear a lota stuff he don't know I'm hearing. He's had you followed before. Knows where you live. Said something about it being a fancy estate. Talked about a husband paying big credits to keep a woman as fine as you. Got that right, he did, the slime."
Jenna couldn't keep her eyes from widening at this. Dr. Fenton had given her the code name "Alice" and she certainly seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole. First Riddle, then the bartender, then more Riddle - a lot more Riddle - and now Jeeter's comments. Restyling her hair, a little lipstick and eye shadow, changing her clothes and wearing contacts instead of her glasses; those things couldn't have made that much difference. She was still the same too tall, too strong, too intelligent, too capable, too independent, too dominant, too everything unfeminine that she had always been.
Or was she? What was causing her extreme physical and emotional reactions to Riddle, a man she had just met? Even Carl, to whom she had been engaged for three years and fully intended to marry until he suddenly eloped with Nora, had never had such a profound effect on her. But there was more. Since her first tentative venture into this wildly eclectic, overly energetic, very disordered and somewhat sinister environment in search of the necessary black-market goods and services, she had experienced a sense of calm surety and easy confidence that she had never experienced in the precisely designed, logically ordered, ultimately secure world that was supposed to be her own. All of this was touching her on the deepest, most basic levels of her self-identity and she was finding that very confusing. She was dragged away from these disturbing thoughts as Jeeter continued.
"But that ain't all. He's planning trouble for Barrol, too. G figures that he's got bounty on him somewhere. Didn't care about it long as Barrol was earning him big commissions but he goes off planet be no more commissions. G figures on two payoffs in one bag if you two agree on that contract."
Jenna knew what had to be done concerning Mr. G. While he was no threat to her or the others at the moment, as soon as their pictures were printed in every newspaper on the planet he would surely recognize her. Also, he was an immediate threat to Mr. Riddle. However, she was curious to learn what Jeeter's opinion might be.
"Now that you are in that bag with us, Mr. Jeeter, what do you suggest we do?"
He didn't hesitate.
"I can go tell him the meet didn't happen, buy us a few days maybe. Or I can take Barrol in with me. Take care'a it proper like."
Jenna started the engine of the skimmer and snapped on her safety harness.
"I believe that 'proper like' is best. Where should I land when we arrive at Mr. G's?"
"The dance club down the street will be rockin'. The only cameras he'll be really watching are the alley ones. Just go in like a ground car."
Just as Jeeter finished speaking, the skimmer's security screen lit up. There were three red blips, all at ground level, forming a rough triangle around the skimmer's location. With her heart in her throat, she increased the zone range. Six more red blips appeared, all to the east of the original three. Mr. G's was to the west. Jenna hopped the skimmer.
Chapter 3 - GO ASK ALICE
For a moment Jenna found it hard to breath. She was flooded with relief and very grateful to whatever gods were smiling on her. The details of the escape were too complicated to hold together for very much longer without being discovered. She had almost despaired as weeks had passed without any success on Mr. G's part to find someone interested in her contract. That the first one to be so had proven to be an excellent candidate and had now accepted the position seemed beyond reality. But then this whole matter had been beyond reality, her reality, from the start. I had been just as strange as the book Dr. Fenton had chosen for their operation codes; just "curiouser and curiouser".
Now, the book had changed. He had changed it. Riddle, Barrol, whatever; the name would be different again very soon. They had designated him "The Key" since he would open the door to their new lives. The small taste of his reality, of him, that she had already experienced had given her a peek beyond that door. It wasn't a children's fantasy. It was pulp fiction, film noir; Mickey Spillane and Ramond Chandler; where the winners were those who managed to stay alive. Whatever else this man was, he was a survivor in that milieu. She prayed that she would be able to learn enough from him to insure that she and the others could manage to do the same.
She picked up the liquor bottles.
"Excellent. I have a skimmer."
She had memorized a map of the area, actually the whole city; not a difficult task with her particular quirk of memory. As she took the lead, she chose a more direct route to the location where her vehicle was parked rather than heading back toward the bar. Instead of walking beside her, as she had him, Riddle took a position several paces to the rear. When she looked over her shoulder at him, the smirky twist of his smile left no doubt as to why he had chosen to do that. He was taking sexual pleasure in the movement of her posterior as she walked.
She felt her face burning and snapped her head around to keep him from seeing her embarrassment. In an automatic response, her body stiffened and her stride became stilted, forced. A myriad of emotions assailed her. She would liked to have claimed righteous anger or indignation, at the least, but those two were very conspicuous in their absence. Recognizing her true reaction made her face burn even hotter.
Then he was beside her, his arm around her. She flinched away from his hand as it branded her waist. All this accomplished was to aid him in pressing her full torso against his equally searing side. Then, his rumbling purr caressed her ear.
"Relax. You got just about the nicest locomotion I've ever seen."
Oh, damn! He could read her so easily. But her embarrassment was drowned in the pleasure that his compliment gave her. Just as suddenly, reality forced itself upon her. This shouldn't be happening. She shouldn't be allowing this to happen. For him to be attracted to her, unexpected as it was, was an advantage in insuring his cooperation when the full extent of the operation was revealed to him. Its opposite, her reacting to him on other than a purely logical level, would be a massive complication. Her reply to him was more for her own ears than his.
"It's the shoes."
His smug chuckle did nothing to help her believe this. She continued walking, doing her best to appear uneffected. She grabbed on to the fact that he had qualified his judgement to try and control her reaction to it. He had said "just about". That meant he had seen better; that she was really nothing special. That was it; she was nothing special; just the one closest at hand; just something to occupy him until something better came along. With that thought, her stomach convulsed with an emotional pain that was almost physical. Her continuing inner turmoil was so violent that she was shocked when the dark metallic blue of her skimmer appeared a short distance away. She had no idea how she had managed to find it.
The skimmer was a two seater. Disengaging herself from Riddle's arm, she unlocked the passenger-side door. Placing the liquor bottles in the map box under the control board, she shifted the back of the seat forward expecting him to deposit Jeeter in the storage area behind the seats. Instead, after very carefully lowering the man from his shoulder, he slammed him roughly against the side of the vehicle. Jeeter reacted with a loud "oomph" and his eyes flew open.
"Jesus, Barrol. What was that for?"
"For faking it after you came to."
Holding Jeeter against the skimmer, one massive hand in the middle of his chest, Riddle patted him down with the other and removed a small dagger from one boot and a stun gun from the other. He handed them to Jenna and she placed them in the map box with the liquor.
"If you got anything else, Jeeter, you better hand it over. You aren't going to like what happens if you don't."
Jeeter was thoughtful for about half a second and then pointed to his waist.
"The belt buckle."
"Take it off, spring it and hand it to me."
Jeeter, taking great care not to make any sudden move, unclipped the face of his belt buckle, and pressed the center of a flower in its deeply carved decorative pattern with his middle finger. It depressed slightly. Holding it down, he pressed the center of another with his index finger. With a soft snick, a razor edged blade appeared along the entire length of the upper edge. When Riddle would have taken it, Jenna reached out for it instead. She checked both sides but the mechanism was hidden inside. She held it out to Jeeter.
"Please show me how to withdraw it."
Jeeter looked to Riddle for permission. Receiving a nod, he took the buckle and, holding it so that Jenna could see clearly, pushed the first flower center and held it while he placed the edge of the blade against his heavy leather belt and pushed it back into the buckle. Jenna saw a slight twitch in the second flower center as the blade locked into place. He held it out and again Jenna took it. She sprung and withdrew it several times, using the platform of one shoe to reset it, then addressed Jeeter again.
"I would like to acquire some of these, Mr. Jeeter. The craftsmanship is excellent. Where did you purchase it?"
As Jeeter replied, Jenna knew he was attempting to use her interest to give himself a better chance of surviving the coming interrogation. But, there had been a brief shine of pride in his eyes at her appreciation of the weapon.
"I made it. It's kinda ... a hobby. Made one for a lady friend that was one of those hair things ... you know .... to hold it up on top. I could make you one like that ....... or ......... look, I can figure out how to put a blade in just about anything ....... you just tell me what you want ..... Be real happy to do that ......"
Jeeter's voice trailed off and he was looking frightened again. Jenna added the buckle to the map box and then stepped around and unlocked the driver-side door while Riddle allowed Jeeter to crawl behind the seats on his own power. Her mind was busy digesting what she had just learned about the small man. After Riddle had settled himself in the other seat, instead of immediately starting the skimmer, she turned and addressed Jeeter again.
"Mr. Jeeter, with a talent like that, why aren't you employed as a legitimate craftsman?"
When Jeeter just stared at her open mouthed, Riddle prodded him.
"She really doesn't know. Tell her."
Jeeter shook his head in disbelief but proceeded to explain.
"It's the Guild. You gota have schooling, the official kind. My folks, rest their souls, didn't hold with anything official. Lot'sa us down here like that. Duck the census takers. Have their babies at home so it don't get reported and the social workers start bugging you. Don't take no dole, no matter how hungry you get. Herb woman insteada a doctor. All kinda stuff like that to keep off the computers."
Riddle fixed Jeeter with a hard stare. Jenna marveled at how he could accomplish that so well through those impenetrable lenses. It had been the same for her in the bar. You just knew when he was staring holes through you.
"Tell her the rest of it. The Guild doesn't take anyone with a police record either. Not even a juvie one."
Jenna watched with amusement as Jeeter actually bristled at Riddle.
"I ain't got no record! Ain't no clubber alive fast enough to catch the Jeeter!"
Riddle scowled threateningly but Jenna could see the twitch of his jaw muscle as he suppressed a grin. Then his face became a cold mask and he turned his attention to her. There was anger and disgust in his voice and it was all aimed at her.
"Let's go where we're going and get this over with."
How interesting. Mr. Riddle wasn't as cold blooded as he wanted to seem. He found developing any level of rapport with someone they would most likely have to torture and kill distressing. She placed a gentle hand on his thigh for a brief moment to request his patience before turning back to Jeeter. His total non-existence in the official records intrigued her. It reinforced her thoughts concerning a possible non-violent solution to their current situation. She had found much to like in the little man.
"Mr. Jeeter, if it were possible for you to become a legitimate craftsman but to have that chance you would have to leave this planet tonight, you would have to give up everything you have, everyone one you know and you could never return, would you do it?"
Jeeter was silent for several minutes. Jenna waited patiently. This wasn't something that should be rushed. When he finally spoke, he demonstrated the intelligence Jenna had suspected. He also demonstrated a knowledge of what was going on that she hadn't.
"A contract like Barrol's?"
"Similar. You will serve as a weapons maker and what ever other duties for which your talents may be suitable. In return I will provide passage off planet, a new identity and any training, monies and references necessary for you to begin a new life."
"And I turn G to you to get it?"
"Yes."
"Done."
Jeeter immediately began to do a core dump.
"Like I said, I was to watch you, follow you until I was sure how the meet was going; if Barrol was gonna take the contract or not. That's all I'm supposed to know. But G, he talks to himself, like when he's try to figure things out. And me, to him I'm kinda like a piece'a furniture, you know, so I hear a lota stuff he don't know I'm hearing. He's had you followed before. Knows where you live. Said something about it being a fancy estate. Talked about a husband paying big credits to keep a woman as fine as you. Got that right, he did, the slime."
Jenna couldn't keep her eyes from widening at this. Dr. Fenton had given her the code name "Alice" and she certainly seemed to have fallen down the rabbit hole. First Riddle, then the bartender, then more Riddle - a lot more Riddle - and now Jeeter's comments. Restyling her hair, a little lipstick and eye shadow, changing her clothes and wearing contacts instead of her glasses; those things couldn't have made that much difference. She was still the same too tall, too strong, too intelligent, too capable, too independent, too dominant, too everything unfeminine that she had always been.
Or was she? What was causing her extreme physical and emotional reactions to Riddle, a man she had just met? Even Carl, to whom she had been engaged for three years and fully intended to marry until he suddenly eloped with Nora, had never had such a profound effect on her. But there was more. Since her first tentative venture into this wildly eclectic, overly energetic, very disordered and somewhat sinister environment in search of the necessary black-market goods and services, she had experienced a sense of calm surety and easy confidence that she had never experienced in the precisely designed, logically ordered, ultimately secure world that was supposed to be her own. All of this was touching her on the deepest, most basic levels of her self-identity and she was finding that very confusing. She was dragged away from these disturbing thoughts as Jeeter continued.
"But that ain't all. He's planning trouble for Barrol, too. G figures that he's got bounty on him somewhere. Didn't care about it long as Barrol was earning him big commissions but he goes off planet be no more commissions. G figures on two payoffs in one bag if you two agree on that contract."
Jenna knew what had to be done concerning Mr. G. While he was no threat to her or the others at the moment, as soon as their pictures were printed in every newspaper on the planet he would surely recognize her. Also, he was an immediate threat to Mr. Riddle. However, she was curious to learn what Jeeter's opinion might be.
"Now that you are in that bag with us, Mr. Jeeter, what do you suggest we do?"
He didn't hesitate.
"I can go tell him the meet didn't happen, buy us a few days maybe. Or I can take Barrol in with me. Take care'a it proper like."
Jenna started the engine of the skimmer and snapped on her safety harness.
"I believe that 'proper like' is best. Where should I land when we arrive at Mr. G's?"
"The dance club down the street will be rockin'. The only cameras he'll be really watching are the alley ones. Just go in like a ground car."
Just as Jeeter finished speaking, the skimmer's security screen lit up. There were three red blips, all at ground level, forming a rough triangle around the skimmer's location. With her heart in her throat, she increased the zone range. Six more red blips appeared, all to the east of the original three. Mr. G's was to the west. Jenna hopped the skimmer.
