Obsidian's War The Winter City

Gel was thinking about his escape from Heather/Athena’s by the time Dr Addanc finished speaking, looking triumphant. To the spy it all seemed simple, but Gel knew from first hand experience that getting into or out of any place where the inhabitants had other ideas was not easy.

“Dr Addanc, have you lost your mind!” snapped Gel.

The spy’s smile faded. “What’s the problem?”

“Well, do we know anything about this facility, apart from the fact that it exists? Where are the entrances and exits and how many guards can we expect at them? What sort of Hoodie force is stationed nearby? Ralph, Sylvester, did you guys get any briefing before you left?”

“Just told we’d be in a fight, sir,” said Sylvester.

“A brief firefight for the entrance, we were told, Skip,” said Ralph. “Nobody said anything about multi-level complexes or that we’d have to blow anything up. Do remember one of the other guys saying that they had a lot of explosives along on our mule-droid. He didn’t know why.”

“The Guard’s mule-droid has gone with Captain Edge’s main party, no doubt,” said Gel. “And is now back in Fort Apache.”

“Must’ve done, Skip,” said Ralph. “I didn’t see it after they left.”

“Dawlish what sort of explosives have we got on our mule-droid?” asked Gel.

“Just the standard plastique, Skip,” she said. “It’ll make a mess of something but it’s not going to stretch to blowing up whole bunkers.”

“Okay, Dr Addanc, do you see a few problems in your grand plan?” said Gel. “We’re a scratch, second team put together to go and find another team because its leaders forgot to say where they were going. The first team has done little more than alert the Hoodie forces that something is up and then vacated the field, taking the material needed for the job with them. You now want the second team, that’s us, to finish the first team’s job. This involves gaining access to a heavily guarded bunker that we don’t know anything about, take data files from the system we have no information on, and then blow everything up with explosives which we don’t have, all while fighting off Hoodie forces thoughtfully alerted by the first team. Have I missed anything?”

“Well,” said Addanc, taken aback, “I never said the plan was perfect.”

The soldiers laughed.

“Dr Addanc I’m not risking any of my team on this until I know a lot more about it,” Gel said. “We gain access to this bunker-complex thing from the bottom of the Justice Building right?”

“Yes. We believe the temple and consciousness repository predates the building. The Gagrim who have been revived have managed to connect that complex with the underground part of the Justice Building.”

“Then they’re probably using the Smart Crystal AI city governor system. Just looking at your plans here, the Gagrim must have tunnelled in from some distance away. That’s an impressive engineering feat and not one even these guys would do lightly. The city system must be the attraction. Even for an advanced spacefaring race it’d represent serious computing power.”

“If we destroyed that or take away a part of it, that might do,” said Addanc

“Take it away...” spluttered Gel. “Dr Addanc we’re not talking about a laptop we can pick up and stroll away with. It’s a smart crystal system able to run a whole city, discuss philosophy and play chess with five grandmasters all at the same time without straining its processing capacity. Smart crystals have about the same density as granite, as I seem to recall reading, and, if its anything like the Lighthold system, it’s about the size of two of the old-fashioned shipping containers. That’s two container loads of rock encased in concrete. The explosives we’ve got w‘d just piss it off.”

“Captain Edge made it all sounds so simple,” said Addanc, mournfully.

“What about you Lawn Mower?” Gel said to Lewandowski. “How come you’re along in this happy band?”

“It’s a joint operation. We also want files from the system,” said the detective. “There’s a lot of gang related activity, including what my superiors say is odd stuff – that is, guys with glowing yellow eyes and wearing hoods – which all comes back to Dimarch. They thought the police authority files here might shed some light on what’s going on, and the old authority wasn’t big on sharing. My bosses are also always talking about joint operations and were real keen on chumming up with the Eye, until someone has to represent the Lighthold Police Authority in a freezing hell hole. That’s when junior guys like me get sent.”

“Makes sense – for them,” said Gel. “Talking to me was just a side thing?”

“While I was in the neighbourhood,” said Lewandowski. “You keep turning up on our radar and the LPA didn’t want you to think we’d forgotten either you or Theodore Turgenev, aka Theo the Turd.”

“Skip and me, we’re popular guys,” said Theo.

Alyssa muttered something.

“Okay, well, I understand more than I did before, I guess,” said Gel. “And we can rule out a few options. Dr Addanc, look where this Alien bunker of yours is – the only way into or out of it we can see is that long passage and its deep underground. We’ve got no idea what’s down there and all the Hoddies have to do is put a few guys on the exit and we’re trapped. I’m ruling out the bunker. We’ve got a lot more information on the Justice Building. We know the exits and entrances and, as they won’t have moved the Smart Crystal system, we know where that is too.”

“You said we couldn’t move it or damage it,” said Addanc.

“What about its power supply?” Lewandowski said.

“Good point,” said Gel. “I’ve seen lights on here and there, so I think the city’s generators are still going, even if the distribution grid is not doing so well. If the generators are those standardised, small nuclear reactor units they’d go for years without human intervention or refuelling. Just cutting the power connection wouldn’t do much – they’d reconnect it - and messing with a nuclear reactor is not a good idea on a number of levels.”

“If we can’t move it, blow it up or sabotage it, Skip” said Dawlish, “whadda we going to do?”

“If we can find details of the layout. Including access ducts and somehow reach the system, maybe there’s another way,” said Gel. “Let’s see if Hartmann’s leg is up to a field trip.”

***

The first thing Gel did on returning to his apartment was to call Yvonne on a separate mobile she had given him. He interrupted the spy watching a children’s film with her daughter.

“You say one of the guys who tried to stop you was one of those who tried to nab me,” she said.

“He’d bought himself a new electric shocker but otherwise the same.”

“The people we’ve been fighting are based at this apartment block,” she said. “That’s interesting – it gives us a more of a focus.”

“Us?” asked Gel. “How many of you are there?”

“Urgh, I’ve already told you too much,” Yvonne said. “It’s all over between you and Athena/Heather?”

“Seems so,” said Gel. “Having fought my way out once I can’t really go back again. She wanted me to talk or bargain my way out, but those guys didn’t seem to be the bargaining types.”

“You shouldn’t have gone back to your apartment or kept your mobile phone,” said Yvonne. “Change your phone and your address.”

“I’ll change the phone but I have a lot of advantages here,” said Gel, “including security cameras which I’m watching now.”

The front security camera showed a man and a woman strolling towards the front door. The woman then tried to look casual while the man pretended to fumble for his keys to mask an effort to break in. Gel relayed this to Yvonne.

“Two people are trying to break in through the front door? You share it with others, don’t you?”

“Five others. Let’s see if they’re incautious enough to take the lift.” He touched the release to the door and the man was evidently surprised to find that the door opened. He said something to the woman and they both went in. The foyer scanner systems showed that they were both carrying pistols in shoulder holsters. He told Yvonne this.

“You have scanners in your foyer?” said Yvonne.

“You can get all sorts of stuff commercially,” said Gel, “or so builders tell me.”

“How come you’ve got so much money for security systems?” asked Yvonne. “I thought you’d been disinherited.”

“I’ve already told you too much.” Gel touched another control which locked the door to the stairs. With any luck they would then take the lift.

“You going to have a shootout at your place?”

“Nope. Just lock them in the lift while the AI summons the police, informing them that there are armed men trapped in there. Gun permits are hard to obtain on Lighthold and they are carrying them concealed – not shoulder holsters. They can have fun explaining themselves to the cops.”

“You are a resourceful man, Gel,” said Yvonne. “But you must also be a heart sore one. How are you feeling about the sudden breakup?”

“Sorry that it’s over, of course, but also relieved now that I think about it,” said Gel. “She was hot and we got on well, but it was a strange deal. When she wasn’t with me, she was having sex with other men for money.”

“It was strange, even before you found the cameras. Plenty out there for someone like you when you’re ready. Even seemed to like you.”

“Even has a hitman boyfriend and I’m going to have enough to do dodging the enemies I’ve got now.”

“If you won’t change your address at least change your number and phone,” said Yvonne. “Write down the numbers you need, don’t transfer anything, and don’t call Heather on the new phone. While you’re at it, look at anything that might have a bug in it. Sweep your place and check anything that she might have given you. That’s what they tell you in The Eye training.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Gel. He hung up just in time to intercept the call made from the lift intercom. The man was reporting a fault with the lift. “A fault with the lift has already been reported,” he told the man in his best phone operator voice. “You will be released in a few minutes.” He could see a police car pulling up in the front of the building. “Have a nice day.”

After the police had taken both of Gel’s visitors away the soldier thought over Yvonne’s advice. Gaining access to his apartment was not easy. He had seen to that. There was no building superintendent with a spare key and the unit AI monitored all doors and windows. Then Gel remembered the Lava Lamp that Heather had given him. He thought the gift was unusual but had come to like the lamp. He liked to watch the red wax blobs constantly form and reform. Now he took a closer look at the lamp which had pride of place on his living room sideboard. He found a small hole in its base which proved, when he levered it open, to be the outlet for a tiny camera and listening device.

He rang Heather, thinking that as he wouldn’t change his phone until the next day so it would not matter.

“Gel,” she said, “where are you, are you alright?”

“I looked at that Lava Lamp you gave me,” said Gel, “and found those devices in the base. It was a nice touch making it a Lava Lamp. No one would suspect a dorky lamp, and it has a power supply.”

“They said they wanted to check on you,” she said, softly.

“Right, just like the cameras are insurance and not blackmail. I’ve been taken for a fool by a woman again.”

“I’m sorry, Gel,” she said, “the money was just so good when I took the job, I just didn’t question the other parts of it. Now I’m in trouble because you found the cameras.”

“They won’t do anything to you, you’re too valuable to them. Tell them the cameras were easy to find when I decided to go snooping, and I went snooping because I was told your employers were, and I quote, ‘weird’.”

“Who told you that?” she asked, sharply.

“Never mind exactly who. Your employers approached others when they were setting up,” said Gel. “Anyway, this does not matter anymore. Your employers can try and come for me again, but they’ll find me a tougher proposition than they might think. Thanks for the good times. I’ll see you around.”

He hung up before she could respond and switched off the phone.

***

Hartmann had just finished discussing his complicated instructions with Gel when Captain Barastoc strolled in.

“Just wondered when you’re coming back to us, Hartmann,” he said jovially. “Your talents are wasted calling down missile strikes on Hoodies. That’s way too much like being a soldier. There are admin systems needing love.”

“Not just yet, sir,” said Hartmann. “But we’re close. After tonight I should be free.”

“Tonight huh? Nothing’s showing on the operations list.”

“They’re going to insert a team a few blocks away to the North of the Justice Building, sir, and try to sneak in from a different direction, two levels down.”

“Sounds risky,” said Barastoc. “There’s room for a Russian literature ending yet, Hartmann. Misery and suffering, that’s our lot.”

“Yes sir,” said Hartmann. “Misery and suffering. But maybe after tonight I can get back to just light misery with the admin systems.”

“We can all only hope, Hartmann,” said Captain Barastoc and left.

Hartmann waited until he was gone before going through to the next office and asking the Colonel’s squad leader assistant for a few minutes with Colonel Lee.

***

Even was wearing a black, halter-top minidress with a low back and the head of the Mongolian crime family, a Mr Darkmore, obviously appreciated it.

“I’m glad you could join us Even, please sit.”

They were between sets at the club Night Beats, the layout of which owed much to a 1940s Hollywood idea of a club with lots of small tables, each softly lit by a small table lamp, around which the club patrons could discuss the issues of the day. In that club those issues often involved matters of dubious legality. For Night Beats catered to customers like Mr Balsum Darkmore who was a power in the Five Ways slum area.

“You asked to see me,” she said, sitting on the edge of the seat closest to her and furthest from Mr Darkmore. He was a small, wizened man with white hair, ears that stuck out and a gap tooth grin that made Even think of serial killers. But at least he was polite and kept his eyes above her neck, unlike the two young, hard-looking associates on either side of him who leered at her top.

“I did,” said Darkmore. “I have admired your singing. You add a great deal to the songs you present.”

“Thank you, I try,” said Even, smiling politely.

“I thought we could get acquainted,” he said. The two associates smirked knowingly. “I could do things for you.”

“What things, Mr Darkmore?” said Even warily.

“Please call me Balsum. I can arrange a recording contract, and for the songs to be distributed and played on media casts. I can arrange for videos of your songs to be professionally produced – turn you into a star.”

“That sounds very nice, Mr… um Balsum, but what would you expect I return?”

“Merely to be your friend,” said Darkmore.

His associates chuckled knowingly.

“Friendship might be difficult, given that I already have a friend, Boris, who gets jealous.”

Even had been looking to get out of her relationship with the hit man for some time. However, Boris represented a useful excuse for refusing the crime lord. Darkmore had a Mongolian relative somewhere in his family tree, or so he said, but otherwise had no connection with the nation, race or outlaw motorcycle gang of Earth. His organisation was also not a family. What Darkmore did have was a reputation for cruelty and womanising that would have stood out even among the crime lords of Earth. Even did not care to find out more about this reputation first hand.

“I can talk with Boris,” said Darkmore, smiling. “We can come to some arrangement.”

“Mr Darkmore... Balsum, I’m not really a girl who can be traded,” said Even, quickly. “And I make my own arrangements. I’m also happy singing live. Music producers might get in the way.”

“I’m a powerful man, who can help your career,” said Darkmore, with a smile that chilled Even’s blood.

“A powerful man who can attract many women,” said Even. “You don’t need me as a friend, Balsum. I would complain too much. Ask Boris. Thank you for the offer, but I have to start the next set.”

Even got up, watched wolfishly by the two associates.

“What now, Boss,” said one when Even was out of earshot.

“Never thought she would come on the first offer,” said Darkmore. “It will make the final act of conquest all the sweeter.”

“Boris could be a handful,” said the other. “You want we should take him out?”

Darkmore shook his head and smiled his chilling smile. “No need for the trouble that might cause. I know Boris of old. A cash payment will overcome any objections he may have.”

***

Gel’s team listened in silence to his plan as he pointed to various places on Dr Addanc’s projection.

“The Guard guys won’t be real keen on coming back after getting out, Skip,” said Theo.

“They’re soldiers and they’re not being asked to do much. Just draw the Hoodie forces around the Justice Building away from it, keep them busy, make them think they’re being useful. In the meantime, we’ll come in from the opposite direction in our usual guise of a Hoodie group. Hopefully, anyone who sees us will assume we’re on our way to reinforce those fighting the Guards. We’ll then dispose of whoever’s on watch on our side, ideally before they get a chance to use their comms, and walk in. I’m betting that once we’re past the guards on ground level there’ll be few Hoodies in the building itself. The main Hoodie HQ building is thought to be a couple of blocks away.”

“We’ve still got to get to the basement, Skip,” said Dawlish.

“That’s true and, as its unlikely the lifts will be working, that means we will use good old-fashioned stairs. In the meantime, Hartmann will use an ultra-modern grav-pack to drop from a transporter to land on the roof with all the equipment he needs.”

“Grav-pack, Skip?” said Parkinson. “Those are real fun but has Hartmann used one before?”

“Probably not but those things can be programmed to deliver the wearer to the designated point, and Hartmann knows about programming. The real problem is that he has to jump from fairly high and it’ll be freezing up there. Maybe I’ll get Squad Leader Addison to assist with the equipment on that trip. She could use some field experience and he’s not going to chicken out in front of her.”

“Typical,” said Alyssa, “use a woman to cheer on the man – but it’s not a bad plan.”

“Okay, guys, those are the basics, but we need to hash it over and we can’t do anything until nightfall, so let’s get to the details.”

***

Gel peeked around the corner of the alley. It was broad daylight on a Sunday morning, and the two men in the black car a few metres away were parked down a side road at what they imagined was a discrete distance from Gel’s building. With no one else in sight and no inconvenient surveillance cameras the soldier straightened up, walked fast to the rear passenger door – space travel had not changed the basic design of ground cars – and slid into the back seat.

“I have a gun, gentlemen,” he said, as both men sat up straight and reached inside their jackets. He raised his hand with the pistol in it, to show that he was not bluffing. It was, in fact, the Destroyer-issue pistol he had used at the Easy Spice shootout and had managed to smuggle back to Lighthold as a souvenir. “Let’s keep this calm and civilised, shall we? This is just about passing on messages. You don’t try and shoot me, and I won’t blow your heads off. You know, the usual deal.”

The two men looked grim but stopped reaching for their pistols.

“Eyes front and hands where I can see them.” The men compiled. They were both clean-cut military or police types, Gel thought, with one distinctly older than the other. “You on the right,” he said. “You have the look of an Imperial Marine NCO.”

“Staff sergeant,” said the older man. “I used to break recruits like you.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Gel genially. “Disciplinary standards should be maintained. Did you know another ex-sergeant called Sylvester?”

“Can’t say I do, but it’s a big organisation,” said the older man. “Why?”

“Just know him, that’s all,” said Gel.

“You had a message?” said the younger one. He was of middling build but had the wire and whipcord look of a kick boxer. Gel would not care to face either of them in the ring or in the street.

“Only that I’ve passed on what I know about your employer’s establishment to The Eye.”

“Are you The Eye?” said the former marine, who moved the real view mirror so he could look at Gel.

“People keep on asking me that – no, I’m not,” said Gel. “But I know people who are in Imperial Intelligence, and I’ve told them all about the establishment with its cameras set up to take interesting shots of important people with young ladies, or young men. Just because people travel in space doesn’t mean the old, black arts have been forgotten, and honey trap blackmail is the oldest and blackest of them all.”

“Blackmail?” said the older man. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

Gel could see the former marine’s face in the mirror and thought that he might be telling the truth.

“You guys are just soldiers, and the people who pay you have only told you that I’m a threat that has to be eliminated,” said Gel.

“Are you a threat?” asked the younger man.

“My point in engineering this cheerful little encounter,” said Gel, “is to say that the trigger has been pulled on whatever threat I represent. My contact has also passed on the information to certain trusted contacts in the Lighthold Police Authority. Making me disappear was never going to be easy for you guys. But now if I happen to vanish hard questions will be asked. You will have noted, incidentally, that my place has certain security features. How did those other guys you sent yesterday get on with the police? The police disapprove of people carrying concealed firearms, but if it’s a first offense the penalty will be mild.”

“You just need to worry about how long you’re gunna stay alive,” said the younger man.

“If you seriously want to kill me then take a number and get in line,” said Gel. “For the record the group that tried to frame me for murder are way more interesting than you guys.”

“You murdered someone?” said the sergeant.

“I’m innocent of that crime, at least,” said Gel, “Let’s not discuss other crimes. As I was saying, another group in the queue complicates my survival efforts, I admit, but everyone’s got to have a hobby, right?”

“We’re gunna get you, shithead,” said the younger man.

“Now that’s not nice,” said Gel, reprovingly. “We were having a friendly chat and suddenly you get insulting. I might point out that if the contest becomes more serious, I have the advantage here. I could shoot you both through the back seats with the muzzle right up against the cover to muffle the shots. Disposing of the bodies and the car later would present difficulties, but the bay is close by. I’ll think of something.”

“You threatening us?” said the older man.

“You were threatening me,” said Gel, sharply. “I was just pointing out the possible consequences if your side decides to escalate the conflict. I’m not going to make the first move. Live and let live, that’s what I say. One more thing, have you spoken to the head guy of your happy little band?”

“The guy who gave us our instructions? What’s it to you?” said the ex-sergeant.

“Was he wearing a hood and had blazing yellow eyes?”

“He was a guy in an office,” said the older man.

“With money,” added the younger man.

“Then he’s not the head guy,” said Gel. “He’s a mouthpiece for the person who runs the show. That guy wears a hood to cover the fact that either his forehead seems unnaturally elongated or he has cables from a unit on his chest implanted on the sides of his skull. In fact, the leads are implanted directly into the brain.”

“What are you saying?” asked the younger man.

“What I’m saying, guys, is that your ultimate employers are not human and, if the conversation is going to degenerate into insults, that’s all I’m going to say. Have a nice day now.”

With that Gel slid out of the car and walked back around the corner. By the time the two men had gotten out of the car and peered cautiously into the laneway, he was nowhere to be seen.

***

Gel’s little command was sheltering from the freezing wind in a ruined office building, when they heard several distinct, distant thumps.

“Sounds like the guards going in,” Gel said to no one in particular. He checked his command tablet which was being fed information by operatives at Fort Bravo, who had taken over Hartmann’s job. The IT support private was now strapping on a grav pack and another huge pack containing the equipment he would need for the mission in a transport well above their heads.

At Gel’s command the soldiers moved out into the Dimarch night, where the wind cut to the bone and visibility was down to zero, forcing them to navigate by dead reckoning and the occasional glance at the frozen city scape through visors set to light amplification mode. One major benefit of this ordeal was that any sleepy Hoodie guards would not see the group coming unless they also had special equipment and, even then, were likely to mistake them for a Hoodie force coming to join in the excitement on the other side of the building.

“Why not enter the buildings at one of the sub levels, Lieutenant?” asked Addanc over the comm link.

“No particular reason,” said Gel, “except that they’re expecting a sub-surface attack and, as far as they know, the force that was moving around on the surface has been withdrawn. Hartmann you ready?”

“Um, yes… skip,” said Hartmann uncertainly. The grav pack on his back was about the same size and shape as a hiker’s backpack, which meant that he had to strap the pack containing the rest of the equipment he would need on his front. This added up to so much weight he could barely stagger.

“Your grav pack is programmed for the right place?” asked Squad Leader Rebecca Addison.

“Yes, Squad Leader,” he said, trying not to think about how cold it would be outside.

“Remember what the Lieutenant said,” Addison told him. “Just keep your eyes closed all the way down, and the grav pack will deliver you to the right point, even in these conditions. Alarm set for thirty seconds before touch down?”

“Yes, ma’am. All ready, I think.”

“Time to drop guys,” said Flight Lieutenant Nielson from the cockpit.

“Reeallly,” said Hartmann looking anxiously at the drop hatch. Addison pulled him gently so that he stepped onto the hatch.

“When you get back,” said Addison, “you can start calling me Beckie.” She flipped open Hartmann’s helmet visor, kissed him on the lips and then closed it.

Hartmann came to life.

“Oh hey, wow, now I want to come back…”

Addison touched the hatch release button and the soldier vanished from view.

Nielson, who had come out of the cockpit to urge Hartmann to drop in time to see the byplay, said, “Squad Leader, you know it’s not standard operating procedure to kiss the person you are about to drop into enemy territory.”

“I know that, ma’am,” Addison said, primly, “but the situation seemed to call for it”.

***

The Night Beats club bouncer eyed Gel suspiciously.

“Nothing much for the police here, constable,” he said.

“I’m not police I’m military,” protested Gel producing his identification, aware that the other bouncer was waving through other patrons, including a couple of tough looking types who might have come from the streets of Five Ways.

“Second Lieutenant Gellibrand Obsidian,” the bouncer read. Gel had graduated from his officers’ course and was kicking his heels in a headquarters job while awaiting deployment, which turned out to be to Dimarch. The bouncer had eaten all his breakfast cereal as a child to the point where he was a head taller than Gel and seemed about to burst out of his dinner jacket, but little of that nourishment had reached his brain. Gel’s name meant nothing to him. “Military types are too much like police,” said this gentleman frowning at the piece of plastic. “Police make our exclusive clientele nervous.”

“Exclusive?” said Gel.

A barrel-chested older man with a weathered face and hard eyes walked into the foyer with a blonde on his arm, trailing two men who might have been the younger brothers of the bouncer Gel faced, albeit wearing the de rigueur sports jackets and shirts, rather than a dinner jacket. This party was also waved through with just a nod from the other bouncer. For his part, Gel had dressed up to smart casual standards with a light blue jacket which his sister had commented favourably on, and a white shirt. It had not occurred to him that he might look like a plains clothed policeman or that this would be a problem.

“But I came to see the singer Even Barstow.” He pointed at the night club poster which showed Even along with other singers. “She invited me to watch her sing.”

Despite being told to drop Even a line before he turned up at the club, Gel had not planned on announcing himself, at least not that day. After his discussion with the two thugs in the car, Heather’s employers seemed to have decided he wasn’t worth any further time. The trip to Even’s club was an exercise to check whether he was being followed or not. He had expected to just hang out for a time solo, then slink off home, checking for tails.

“Is Ms Barstow expecting you?” asked the club’s pet gorilla, sharply.

“The invitation wasn’t for a specific day, just to come and see her sing.”

“Wait,” said the gorilla and went to the girl at the admissions booth who looked up when Gel’s name was mentioned then, to the surprise of the bouncer, came out of her booth. The girl was a teenager hired to decorate the booth, but bright enough.

“You’re Gellibrand Obsidian?” she said, smiling.

“As advertised, yes,” said Gel, as the bouncer handed back his identification.

“Even said to look out for you, please come through. No need for the admission price. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“I just thought to see her sing,” he said.

“She’ll be disappointed if you don’t say hi,” said the youngster. “We also have Hestia working backstage. She’s talked about you too.”

“Oh, okay, sure it would be good to see her but isn’t she a little young for a place like this,” said Gel.

“Even won’t let her work in the club proper,” said the girl, “although management would like it.”

“I’m sure they would,” said Gel.

He was left at one of the small tables that were a feature of the club. Even was on stage in a strapless gold dress which left Gel breathless, backed by a band singing the classic bad girl song Why don’t you do right. Her low, smoky voice suited the song. More importantly, the music was quiet enough for the patrons to talk in low voices to one another, as many seemed to be doing. A few of those in tables close to the soldier glanced suspiciously at him as they talked. He ordered an inordinately expensive light beer from a cute waitress and sat through several more songs. Then Even went off to be replaced by another singer and shortly after Hestia was at his table.

“Hi, Gel,” she said cheerfully, “Even asks if you can come through.”

“I was told Even wouldn’t allow you in the club itself,” said Gel as they walked. He noticed that patrons at several tables stopped talking as he walked by and did their best to look innocent.

“She’s been keeping tabs on me since the incident Gillian helped with,” said Hestia, “but I go out onto the club floor sometimes on errands.”

Even, standing outside the dressing rooms talking to another somewhat older, dark haired woman, crossed her arms when she saw him.

“You took your time about coming to see me,” she said, sternly.

“I have an excuse,” said Gel, “Heather’s employers have taken a serious dislike to me – they want to make me disappear.”

“Whoa!” said the other woman. “This is the guy dating Heather?”

“Gel this is Courtney. Courtney, Gel here can take us to that new night club we want to check out.”

“I will?” said Gel.

“He can?” said Courtney.

“Sure, you were talking about checking out the competition. We can go there after our shift for a drink. You said it was expensive, but Gel can pay.”

“He can?” said Courtney.

“I will?” said Gel.

“We’ll be about an hour,” said Even to Gel, “can you wait that long, or do you have to disappear.”

“One of the reasons I came tonight was to check whether Heather’s guys h’d given up,” said Gel, bemused by the turn of events. “They seem to have – so far, anyway.”

“That’s reassuring,” said Courtney in a tone that implied it wasn’t reassuring at all.

“Where is this expensive place?” asked Gel.

“Just along the club strip,” said Even, “we can walk there, get some supper while we’re at it, then you can drop us home afterwards.”

Courtney looked sharply at Even. “Does Gel get a say in his schedule for the evening, or Boris for that matter?”

Even waved away this objection. “I told you I haven’t seen Boris for a couple of days. I don’t know where he is, or who he’s with this time. It also sounds as if Heather doesn’t count now.”

“She doesn’t have a say anymore, no,” admitted Gel.

Even went off to tell Hestia to take a taxi home, leaving Gel with Courtney.

“Nice club you have here,” he said.

“Thanks, I own and run it with my husband.”

“Has its own market niche, too, I’ve noticed.”

“You mean we cater to gangsters,” she said, smiling.

“Well, yes – I had trouble getting in because I looked too much like a policeman.”

Courtney laughed. “I’ll put your name on the entrance list – you have some status in this crowd anyway, being in that shootout.”

“It was a military thing and a total accident from beginning to end.”

“That’s what Theo says,” said Courtney. “I know him too. He says you’re a killer like him and Boris, but you don’t seem like a killer to me.”

“I’m a soldier,” said Gel, “I kill if the job calls for it and within rules. It’s not personal.”

“It’s not personal for the Five Ways killers either,” said Courtney.