Kai looked up as he finished his notes and looked for Tads. Not seeing her, he wandered down to the trailer which was parked up by the side of the house. He called out to her, and after a few moments she appeared at the back door of the trailer, a stick of chalk in one hand and a feather in the other.
"What?" She sounded distracted, rather than curt – he'd obviously disturbed her in the middle of some process that she was trying to hold in her mind.
"I just wanted to check when you would be free to go talismongering with the others – trying to get some days planned."
"Oh. Well, if you want to go, then just give me notice. Otherwise, I don't really have any free time – I think this is going to chew up all the time we have here, and probably more…"
"Really? Oh, well…. I..um. I guess you carry on doing what you're doing then. If it's stuff you need to get done." Tads nodded at him, then disappeared back into the trailer and returned to her research. After a moment, Kai realised that was all he was going to get out of her, and made some notes in his diary. Tads, it appeared, was quite happy to self-task for as long as they were in town, but was available if required and given notice. Check.
Wandering back into the house he found the team had all returned to their training activities, and Aswon was waiting for him with his selection of throwing knives and a big grin. He shrugged and stood against the backstop, fiddling with his organiser and ignored the thudding of knives as they landed millimetres from his legs and body. After a few minutes of typing in data, he was disturbed by a message from Sasha, wanting to know how the trailer was getting up to her – Kai in turn arranged for a heavy lift tow truck to come and collect it, adding the fee to their overall bill – it seemed worth it to avoid losing an entire afternoon to the back and forth of getting the delivery sorted themselves and risking the truck being pulled again. He sent a message to Tads to let her know she'd be moving soon, then got back to reading and his own training, ignoring the quivering of the knives as they reverberated next to his body from the force of the impact.
Later that afternoon the tow truck arrived and hooked up to the trailer. It was a large vehicle, one of the heavy duty units used when coaches or heavy goods vehicles broke down, and managed the trailer easily given the light loading. Tads climbed up into the cab, still holding her stick of chalk in her right hand, and introduced herself to the driver. He turned out to be the guy who would be working on the trailer, a youngish man called Levi, with typical Turkish complexion and long hair held back with a bandanna. He was grimy, and his clothes appeared to be ripped and ill kempt, and he had a slovenly appearance overall – but he appeared to be quite competent mechanically. During the journey up to the garage, he explained what he needed to do in the trailer, and Tads explained what she was doing in turn, at least in general terms, and how much notice she would need. He appeared uncomfortable with the idea of magic, and a little nervous about the whole thing.
Back at the house the team continued to train, spread out around the house; each working in their own space. Occasional checks of the CCTV system showed little passing traffic and nobody appearing to pay them any attention, and there was little noise or interaction with the neighbours on the other floors. The afternoon turned into evening, and just as they were settling down together for an evening meal, a tired and somewhat grumpy-looking Tads turned up, having ridden down through the late evening traffic on one of the motorbikes. From her description, the lighter traffic in the evening was if anything worse to ride through than the heavy press of the traffic jams – it meant they had more time to accelerate and cut each other up…
The next day continued as before – practice, training and maintenance, research and development on techniques and work around the house and in Tads' case in the trailer. As the light faded, Shimazu stuck his head through Hunter's door.
"Hunter? Can you help me with something?"
"I can try, what's up?" He looked with interest as Shimazu held up a large collection of notes, printed on actual paper rather than stored on a tablet.
"I need to find somewhere to keep these, somewhere really safe. So I'm thinking of digging a big hole and burying it. But that means I need to find something to put it in, which will keep it safe. I'm not sure what that is, though…"
"Why do you want to bury it? Don't you need it?" Hunter looked confused.
"Um. It's kind of weird. Ok – making this book, I've poured a lot of knowledge into it, and a lot of concentration. It's helped me gain an insight into my art, and my relationship with the world. In a way it's become a part of me. Enough that it's tied to my Ki, and is an essential part…" Shimazu saw the look of confusion and scepticism forming on Hunter's face as he tried to describe how the treatise on swordsmanship had actually become tied and attuned to his magical aura. He broke off and tried a new tack. "Look, I've made the book magical, and it gives me power – but it's also got the equivalent of a magical homing beacon in it, like those trackers the guys in the garage tried to plant on the truck."
"Oh, right. Well, why didn't you start with that?" Hunter shook his head at him. "So you need to keep it safe, because if it breaks, you lose power. But you need to keep it where people won't find it and steal it or use it to find you. Right, I understand now. How about a bank vault?" He saw the frown on Shimazu's face at that suggestion. "Right, ok, not trusting banks. Ok, into a hole. So, you need something good for being buried, in a hole in the ground – so moisture proof, strong, rot resistant… hmm."
Nadia was wandering past the corridor as he said this, a fresh water bottle in her hand along with a bag of sweets. She stopped as he heard that, and leant around Shimazu to look at Hunter.
"How about a telephone junction box? Or a jointing box for electric cable? They're designed to be buried and are waterproof. What's this for?" Hunter ignored her, having already turned to his computer and starting a search using those key terms. Shimazu briefly explained to Nadia what he was after.
"Have you thought about getting it shrink wrapped and then put it in a coffin with a body?" Shimazu looked at her strangely, wondering what she was on about. "Look, think about it. They get buried, and then left alone. People respect the dead. Nobody digs up a graveyard to build a new house on, or a road, or anything like that. As long as you're not in the Carrib League you don't have to worry about Voodoo, it's the perfect hiding place." Shimazu saw the logic in her words, but still appeared to be acutely uncomfortable with the idea of burying his work next to a decaying corpse. Nadia in turn shrugged and then took her drink and snack back into their room and returned to work with Marius on converting the drones.
It took a while to find a seller, but after a few hours Hunter had found a business that sold the junction boxes, in Constantinople, that didn't want to negotiate a contract for hundreds of them. The downside was that it sold only to trade customers, and required someone to go with a legal SIN and perform the transaction "above board". Shimazu thought about using his own SIN, which was technically valid – but that would place him firmly in the city, and given what had happened with Saito, he much preferred to stay out of sight of the Iranians. He decided to put the purchase back, until their new IDs were ready – there was no rush after all.
The next day continued, much the same as the previous. Tads continued to work in the trailer, and set aside an hour to supervise Levi as he slowly and laboriously installed cable runs through the trailer's armoured sides for the new photovoltaic coating. He concentrated on his work and did appear to be remarkably competent at it for someone so young, but also appeared to be very nervous around her and the contents of the trailer – not for him the wonder and endless questions about magic, but more a deep-seated fear of the unknown and distrust of things not physical. Back at the house, the rest of the team continued with their allocated training and research. Shimazu was nearly complete with his treatise, having written many thousands of words by hand onto the sheets of handmade paper secured from an art shop. Marius and Nadia had finished fitting the heavy-duty shock absorbers to the gun mounting, and fashioning the cradle for the auto-fire weapon to sit in around the slightly unusual arrangement of recoil dampers and springs. Now they could take just about any assault rifle or machine gun and drop it in with little conversion work, and the mount would absorb a large proportion of the movement and bounce from the firing, helping to keep the fire on target.
The next morning they were up at the crack of dawn again, and made their way back to the converted house in the dense maze of streets to the south east. The body scanner had been pushed to one side, and instead the majority of the space was now taken up with camera gear and lighting positioned on mounts and frames, with the walls hung with a plain blue cloth. A rail of clothes was positioned to the side of the room, along with a box of random props. In turn, each of them were dressed and set up in the photo area, told to perform some particular action and filmed several times. Milo showed Marius some of the work, the advanced software chromakeyed into backgrounds and then filters aging and distorting the footage as appropriate for the type of camera it would have been shot on in the past. Each of the "legends" being created for them was being supported with supposed shots from store CCTV systems, snapshots taken by government agencies or scenes played out for street surveillance systems. For the non-technical members of the team it was a sobering view into the depths of control the corporations and electronic surveillance systems had into their lives.
After a busy morning of filming, including some effort in getting Tads hooked up to a fake set of medical monitors to support her "long stay in hospital after the house fire" segment, the team made their way back to the house, stopping off at the supermarket for food and supplies. Aswon was pleased to find a local store nearby that sold some self-defence gear – he passed on the pepper spray and rape alarms, but picked up a replacement extendable baton for himself. While Nadia was shopping for certain supplies, Marius cornered Kai and had a quick chat.
"Kai, I'm thinking we should get an extra mod fitted to the truck – it's not that expensive, but very useful. But I'll have to call Sasha to get it sorted, so let's not mention that to Nadia, ok?" Kai nodded to him in understanding. "Well, we're getting the truck upgraded right – wouldn't it be useful if I could drive it using my deck, remotely. We could call it to us if we needed an extract then, for instance. The hardware's not that expensive, and they can probably fit it in no problem – shouldn't be more than ten to fifteen thousand?"
Kai winced a little, but then nodded.
"Let me go distract Nadia for a few minutes, make the call." He took a deep breath and headed into the 'feminine hygiene aisle' and looked for Nadia, while behind him Marius fired up his com-link.
After they had finished their shopping, they loaded back up into the MPV and headed towards the house. Nadia called over to Shimazu, asking if he'd found his box to bury yet. Shimazu responded, telling her that Hunter had found somewhere, but that he needed to buy it legally so he was going to wait for their new IDs. That in turn jogged Kai's memory, and he pulled out his phone and called Ngo in Vietnam, hoping he wasn't too late in the day. She answered through, and told him the IDs were waiting for him, giving him the collection details.
Kai redirected them as he ended the call, sending them back to the south west. Marius grumbled as once more he got caught in traffic heading over the bridge, but they fought their way over and pulled in shortly after to Sirkeci railway station. Kai climbed out of the truck and headed in to the customer service desk, and following Ngo's instructions informed them he had lost a brown attaché case, with gold handles and the initials KQB. The assistant quickly found the case, and informed Kai that there was a 15 Nuyen storage charge which he slotted his medical ID for. Less than a minute later he left the vaulted hall of the train station behind him and climbed back into the truck, and Marius headed for the bridge – and the traffic – once more.
Kai opened the case, and found it mostly full of crumpled plastic and waste product, but nestled inside were five cylinders, about ten centimetres long and two centimetres across – standard ID credsticks. He pulled them out and pushed the case to one side, grabbed the terminal and then slotted each in turn, checking through them.
"Ok, let's see what we have here then. First up is a nurse, all Tads – here you are. Or rather here's Illona Astaruu. It says here your knee was surgically rebuilt with a bunch of composites and metals following a skiing accident, and that you have a slight limp. Picture matches though, and some detail on the university and hospital you trained at in Russia." He passed over the stick, and slotted the next in line from his hand. "Hunter – or should I say Dr Julian Barnham, qualified at St Hilda's Oxford, as a general practitioner. Notes here about some clinical incident you were involved with that damaged your liver, meaning you need to take daily medication." Kai leant past Tads to pass Hunter the ID then slotted the next.
"Aswon, from the picture – you're now Dr Chege Keanjaho from Mozambique. Apparently you're a skilled surgeon and woah. Ok – how good are you with a knife?" Aswon quirked an eyebrow at him. "According to this, you did an emergency appendix removal using a hunting knife on a tourist out in the bush, saved his life – that's where your scholarship money came from. Hope that doesn't come to bite us…" he passed over the stick to Aswon, shaking his head. "Ahh, here's me – Dr Arban Erdene, from China, middle-aged…. I need to buy that lady lunch, it seems. A whole bunch of medical certificates and background, ok, looks good. Marius, this is you – another nurse…" Hunter sniggered, but got himself under control almost immediately, and Kai continued quickly before anyone could say anything. "Kleiner Kampf, registered ward nurse with a specialism in cybernetic monitoring. Oh, and you belong to something call the German National Party." This time Hunter couldn't supress the snigger.
"Ahh, they've made you a Nazi!" Kai looked alarmed, but then the speakers keyed up.
"I think you'll find that the GNP is a right-wing party sure, but not recognised as either Nazis or national socialists!" Marius continued for another minute, describing the differences, but in the cab Hunter was too busy performing inappropriate historical salutes at the slumped body to care.
"Anyway, last one here should be for you, Shimazu. Oh look at you, Mr. fancy pants. You're a professor – Sang Po Yi. You sound like a bowl of soup. Oh, and you're a massive communist by the looks of things – at least you're a member of the Red Book society, whatever that is. Sounds dodgy to me." He handed over the credstick to Shimazu, who hesitantly accepted it, looking at the gloss black plastic as if he could determine the level of political trouble just by peering at it." Hunter was by now having fits of the giggles and muttering under his breath about burning people at the stake just to fit in with the rest of the team.
They made it back to the house without incident, and after the mundane tasks of getting lunch and putting away their shopping, split up again and continued their tasks. Shimazu finished his thesis, having completed more than fifty thousand hand written words on the rough paper and spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing it – checking for errors and any parts that needed to be re-drafted. He sat cross-legged on the floor at the end of the bed, looking at the sheaf of notes forming a thick pamphlet in his hands. He had poured his soul into this, and he could feel the faint stirrings of magic whenever he handled the thesis, the ethereal link between his writings and his Ki. If something were to happen to this thesis, it would trigger a backlash, and potentially unbalance him – and he would have to recentre himself and reapply lessons already learnt. He looked over at the pile of spare supplies, sighed deeply and then reached for the sheets of paper and started to copy out the writings, carefully duplicating his efforts…
The following morning, having finished the conversion work on the drones and all of the recoil mountings, Marius got on the phone to Andre. After exchanging chit chat and assuring him that the house was in good shape, Marius asked him if he could be put in touch with someone local who might be able to get the team some hardware, off the books. Andre thought for a few moments, and Marius listened patiently to the quiet beeps as his fixer paged through his contacts, looking for the right person.
"Ahh, here you go. Head down to the Turkish Dessert restaurant, and after your meal ask to speak to Orhan Pamuk. I'll give him a heads up and warn him to expect you. He should be able to get hold of whatever you're after, providing it's not too out there."
Marius thanked him and disconnected, then looked up the address. It was in the eastern half of the city, so he'd have to cross the straights, and it was down to the south, just inland from the coast. The area was another tight warren of streets, and he imagined it would be like the area around Milo's ID studio. Most of the rest of the team were still busy, so he grabbed Nadia and Hunter and told them where he was heading – and both offered to come along.
Crossing the bridge took as long as he expected, and it was approaching lunchtime anyway by the time they'd managed to cross to the eastern half of the city and thread their way through the streets and down towards the waterfront. At least the brown MPV stood out less than the truck and drew fewer hostile stares from the populous, although he also couldn't push his way through the traffic in the same way either, so it wasn't all good. Eventually though they pulled into the street and slowed as they searched for the restaurant.
The Turkish Dessert appeared to be four of the homes on one block that had been knocked together at some point, forming the end of one of the densely packed strips of housing that filled the area behind the waterfront. The streets were narrow and badly potted, with minimal street lighting directly attached to the second floor of the houses that ran down the sides of the narrow pavements. The cheap clay building blocks had been whitewashed, but were now stained and pitted; green algae grew in patches under badly fitting joints in the guttering, and some of the paint had an odd texture where salt from the air had crystallised and formed large flaky patches. They searched around the blocks until they found somewhere they could leave the vehicle without blocking the road, and headed back to the restaurant.
Once out of the protection of the vehicle, they found themselves being watched by the people on the street – many of them again showing signs of hostility. Nadia had a skin tone that matched the area, but had adopted a much more western dress sense since joining them, which put her sharply at odds with the local culture. Marius and Hunter were both very clearly white Europeans – hair and eye colour, dress sense, even the way they walked marked them out as strangers. They stuck together, and tried not to make eye contact, heading swiftly to the restaurant, and hoping the car wouldn't be trashed by some angry locals. It only took them two or three minutes to reach the open door to the restaurant, but that was long enough for them to wonder if they should have bought some firepower along, just in case. Each of them gave a small sigh of relief as they ducked in through the front door of the house on the corner and their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside.
Inside it was just as much of a jumble as they expected. The origins as a home led to odd shaped rooms and passages, low ceilings and cramped conditions in some areas. The designers had also faced some interesting choices with load bearing walls, and there were hatches to pass food through from one area to another instead of doorways in some places. The three of them were greeted by a young man in black trousers and a white shirt, and shown to a smallish table nestled in what had once been a living room. Drinks were ordered and they browsed the menu for a moment, before deciding to go with the "chef's recommendation" for the day.
As they looked around, the origins of the restaurant became more and more apparent. All of the tables were different, varying in styles, colour and finish. Chairs were mismatched, the carpets changed abruptly halfway through an area where there had once been a wall, and as they watched a few of the other diners eat, they saw all the cutlery and the crockery was equally mismatched. A few people sat in lower seats around a coffee table, taking long draws on a hookah. The place seemed very relaxed and chilled and the locals inside didn't seem bothered by their presence.
When the food arrived, theirs too was served in a variety of bowls and plates, while their glasses of drink were equally mismatched. The food was reasonably priced and quite clearly soy based for the most part, but was very tasty – it appeared to have been cooked by someone with at least a modicum of skill and reasonable care, certainly it was all presented very carefully. They ate their fill, enjoying the meal and listened to Nadia as she described how similar the houses were here to some parts of home, and talked about the area she had lived in. The only disappointment in the meal was dessert – Hunter said he wanted to try the baklava and the others went with his recommendation, but the product that arrived was bland and fairly tasteless, and appeared to have come out of a packet rather than being cooked on site.
Still, after the meal, they settled the bill and left a small tip, and when the waiter asked if there was anything else they were after, Marius asked to speak to Orhan Pamuk. The waiter looked surprised and asked if everything was ok with the meal, but was assured that yes, it had been fine – though for a moment it looked like Hunter was going to complain about the baklava. A minute later a swarthy and heavy-set Turkish man in his forties approached the table, wiping his hands on a cloth.
"Hello? You wish to make a complaint?"
"No no no, not a complaint. In fact we had a very nice meal thank you. But we were advised to speak to you, specifically, about getting a very special menu for a party. My friend Andre recommended your catering."
"Ahhh. I see. A party." The man leaned in and lowered his voice a little. "Out of the front door, and left, along to the blue gate and in." He stood up and raised his voice again. "We will of course be happy to discuss some catering for a special occasion. Please, scan the code by the door for our mailing list and we will send you a menu."
They left the house, following the directions given and ducking into a yard enclosed by a high wall to the rear of the property. Ohran was already there waiting for them and once the door to the street was closed, greeted Marius and Hunter with firm handshakes. He took Nadia's hand somewhat more gently, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of her hand, winking at her as he did so.
"So, friends of Andre. What do you need?"
"Well, we're leaving town soon, heading back out into the wilderness. We're after some new hardware to help keep us safe – this isn't stuff to be used locally." Ohran nodded at them. "Right, what I'm after is a Colt Cobra TM110, with a suppressor and at least a pair of magazines… actually, make that two sets." Ohran pulled out a small tablet and started to make notes as Marius worked through his list. "Next is a Franchi Spas 22, preferably with the fold out stock and the top mounted full length rail, and at least a couple of boxes of shells." Marius stopped as Ohran raised a hand to him.
"Is the specific model important to you? If so, that will be harder and take longer. If you're happy with alternatives, from reputable manufacturers, then I can make some arrangements."
"As long as they're decent, I'm happy with substitutions of equivalent manufacture. Ok, next down the list is a grenade launcher, preferably an MGL6 or 12, whatever you can get. Yes, I know, not exactly the usual list – we're not after a couple of pistols to knock over a shop, we're heading out to the Russian steppes and need to deal with bands of bandits and wild critters." Ohran shrugged, and continued to note down the specifics of the order.
"An Ares Predator II, with the smartlink system and a pair of adjustable smart goggles, with a detachable silencer and several spare clips. A bandolier of throwing knives – if we can get them coated with Dikote or something similar, that's great. We're also after a couple of 300mm suppressors to be mounted on the Ares Alpha gun system, with a right hand thread. We also need one more silencer, this one sized to go on a hunting rifle – chambered in 7.5mm magnum super. Along with that lot, we need several boxes of decent grade ammunition, preferably in waterproof containers, along with a case of improved smoke and defensive grenades. If you can get any other grenades, hollow point or explosive ammo or anything like that – we're interested.
Ohran flicked back through the list and pursed his lips.
"Ok. Well, this is all achievable, I think. Depending on the timing. You're in town for at least a week, yes?" He saw them nod, and scrolled again. "Yes, all should be ok. A little cost for the rush on some things, and it will not be Colt branded – that much I know. Very little of their stuff over here. And, I have a friend who has some new ammo – special stuff, fresh in the market. I think you would be interested, based on this list. I will ask him for a price and availability.
Marius and Hunter watched his body language and posture and tried to get a read on the guy. He certainly seemed sincere, and knowledgeable about the market. Marius took a breath, and decided to risk pushing things.
"There is one more thing we're after, which is a bit harder to get and likely to be quite costly. If you're happy to handle the enquiry, of course." Ohran nodded slowly, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Well, we're after a Walther M2100 sniper rifle with the full maintenance kit and a case of match grade ammo as well." Ohran let out a tuneless whistle and stared at him for a good thirty seconds before he spoke.
"That is likely to be difficult to obtain. And expensive. Very expensive. But I can make enquiries. Nothing else though, that is everything?" He waited for Marius and Hunter to nod, then studied his list again. "Ok, I will make some calls. Can you come back in two days? I will have a list by then of what I can get, for how much."
Marius and Hunter agreed, and with handshakes for them and another kiss to the hand for Nadia, they headed out of the yard and back towards the car. Once again they were watched, and a small group of men followed them for half a block from a discreet distance, but they reached the car ok, and got out of the area as quickly as they could. As they wound their way through the streets, Hunter and Marius shared a look. They didn't have to say anything – they could see in each other's expressions that this was not somewhere to be after dark.
The following day was another trip back to the ID manufacturers – again each of them was shot in some scene that was apparently going to be slotted into their backstory or past history somewhere, and required some costume and acting under Milo's direction. Once again though they were finished by lunchtime, and after stopping for some lunch they were back at the house where they continued to train, practice or work on personal projects.
On the 9th, Hunter Marius and Nadia prepared themselves to head back to the restaurant, again heading over in the early morning. After their previous experience they didn't fancy trying their luck in the area after dusk, so they sat in traffic for an hour or two, working their way across the bridge and through the crowded main streets before they could dive off into the maze of side streets near the sea. As they entered the narrow streets they immediately noticed the area was quiet – deserted in fact. Nobody was on the street corners, or leaning out of the windows, nobody was moving around. In fact nobody was driving around either, and the streets were strangely empty of traffic. After their previous encounter, it was disquieting to say the least. They made quick progress with the clear roads, and were approaching the last turn towards the restaurant when they heard the massive roar of engines. Marius slowed, and then cautiously edged around the turn – grateful that he did as three Lionheart APCs trundled past them in formation. As they entered view, the trooper in the turret turned to watch them, his featureless black helmet giving no sign of his thoughts. They didn't stop though, or check their IDs, but rumbled off to the west in convoy.
The restaurant was much the same – other than being almost empty, so they settled down and enjoyed another meal, before asking to speak to Orhan again, and being directed out and round to the yard once more. He greeted them as before, and got straight down to business.
"Welcome back my friends. I have some good news for you – I think I have everything you needed available, of a sort." Marius raised an eyebrow, wondering what 'of a sort' meant to him. "Well, I can get two FN Eagle submachine guns – very similar to the Colt Cobra, but made in Belgium. I have manged to get the grenade launcher no problem, in the brand requested. I can't get the Franchi, but I can get you a Smith and Wesson AS7 assault shotgun – that's a nice piece of kit, by the way. No problem with the pistol and goggles, the suppressors and the silencer. Now, throwing knives I'm coming up short on – but I've got a line on some heavyweight throwing stars?"
Marius and Hunter exchanged a glance and shrugged.
"Why not, I'm sure our friend will cope fine." Orhan ticked a box next to the entry and continued.
"I have boxes of grenades and ammo as requested, and I have some of the new stuff. It's a new penetrator round, very high speed. Superb quality, but a little pricy." He saw Marius and Hunter exchange a look, but it was Nadia who spoke
"How much, and how many?" Orhan blinked at her, then seemed to shrug a little, and continue. "He's got eight boxes, at a hundred and eighty per box. So eighteen Nuyen per round. Like I said, it's good stuff, but new – there's always a premium."
"They'll take them." Nadia said firmly. Orhan smiled at her and pushed the button on his pad.
"And last of all, the big item you wanted. Good news and bad. I couldn't get the 2100 at all – they're pretty rare to start off with, and there's just not enough time to work the channels. But I have found something you might be interested in. Now, I warn you first – it's just been acquired, locally. You definitely want to take this out of the city, and not hang around, ok? Right. It's an Enfield L99A1 rifle, with a full cold weather adaption kit and built in thermal viewing scope. Chambered for .460 long draw, comes with a bipod and all the kit. Beautiful gun, very high spec – and probably a careless but very annoyed former owner.
"How much?" This time Hunter got there first.
"Well, I can do this for you for thirty. Overall, the whole lot comes to fifty-eight for the hardware, excluding the accessories and ammo, and I'll need about four days to get it all together."
They haggled a little, discussing the ammo costs for the additional grenades and clips wanted, and eventually settled on sixty thousand in total, with fifty percent up front, the rest to be paid on delivery in four days time. Hunter paid him, using a variety of the hard currency they'd acquired along the way.
As they headed back to the car, and out of the area, they suddenly ran into the back of a huge crowd of people, walking slowly along the road. Several of them turned and made threatening gestures at them through the polarised glass, but it was all done in eerie silence. They backed off and tried a parallel road, but found much the same. It took them a few minutes before they realised it was a funeral procession, and it appeared to be slowly moving through the quarter. The crowd was huge and the atmosphere felt charged – Marius backed away from the crowd back the way they had come swiftly before any of the rear end of the crowd detached to come and deal with the car trying to make its way through their ceremony. Hunter pulled up the map, and they detoured wide around the area, adding miles onto their journey back – but all of them felt it was worthwhile, compared to the idea of being stuck in a densely packed area moving at a snail's pace surrounded by people who didn't seem to like them much.
When they got back to the house, eventually, they informed the rest of the results of their shopping trip and scheduled in the pickup. It would have to be in the afternoon, as they were due for one of their last sessions with Milo in the morning, but otherwise the day was clear. As the team quizzed them on the exact particulars of their shopping trip, they got together around the dinner table and shared their evening meal, working out what they were going to do next.
