(eng) Mike Brooks - Keiko 01 by Dark Run

Author:Dark Run [Run, Dark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

REUNION

Drift sat on a cold, bare steel chair, hands pulled back behind him and cuffed to the rod that curved up from under the seat to support the back. His shoulders were already starting to ache, and the cuffs had so far proved resistant to everything Rourke had ever taught him about slipping out of such restraints.

There’d been no question of fighting, of course; one hit from a shockstick could drop a man, and two would do even for Apirana. If he’d pulled a gun, then he’d have likely had to shoot all three guards dead, and he’d had enough of shooting security personnel for doing their job. Besides, any stray shots into the crowd could have sparked a riot that would have sealed their death warrant, quite apart from any injuries or fatalities they might inflict.

Most importantly, though, he had to speak to Nana Bastard, and he had a greater chance of doing that as an obliging prisoner than he did either dead or having killed three of her guards.

The CAPT. TAKAHARA nameplate on the desk in front of him stared at him mockingly. So he’d been captured by Alex Cruz’s old first mate and handcuffed to a chair in her office, with its tidy bookshelf and modern-looking terminal and other things that generally seemed quite incongruous this far belowground in Old New York City . . . but where was she, if she’d ordered this? People were always more pliable than steel cuffs, and he rated his chances higher with dialogue than with escapology.

The door behind him clicked open and someone walked in, their steps swift and light over the floor. Another click signified it shutting again and was followed by a faint buzz, which the deepening shadows helped his brain translate into windows darkening to opaque. Now the only illumination came from the desk lamp. A snap of fingers from behind him caused its head to turn toward him automatically, flooding his eyes with a stark whiteness. He heard the faint whine of lenses as his mechanical right eye tried to compensate but failed to completely manage it.

Steps again, now moving around behind the light. He squinted but couldn’t make anything out other than a vague shape. “Is this strictly necessary?” he asked, trying not to sound too plaintive.

“That depends,” a voice replied, seemingly from out of the light. “It’s not every day a ghost turns up on my doorstep.” The voice had changed, of course, but he knew it at once.

“Maiha,” he said, relief warring with irritation in his tone. “I know you didn’t exactly expect to see me, but—”

“Shut up.”

Drift shut up. When handcuffed to a chair with a light shining in your face so you couldn’t see what the other person was doing, compliance was usually a good idea.

“Gabriel Drake was killed by FAS forces in the Ngwena System,” the voice of Maiha Takahara continued, a little less harshly but still with an audible edge to it. “Everyone knows that. It was well publicized.

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