“A tunnel hunter?” Danny said, sounding excited.
Simone arched an eyebrow. “Don’t get enthusiastic about the idiot stuff, Danny.”
“So I should be like you and save my enthusiasm for cigarettes and silly hats?” he asked with a smirk. He looked down at the printer and tapped it idly with his finger as it oozed plastic into a neat white sheet. Simone folded her arms. Danny was terrible at keeping anything to himself, you just had to wait. He looked up again suddenly. “But it’s not so stupid, you know.”
“Yes it is,” Simone fired back before the last syllable had left his mouth.
“There were all these companies when the waters first started rising,” Danny said, waving his hands—a gesture that looked particularly absurd as he was still in costume. “Aquatube, C-Rail, the Waide Corporation—they were all working on building tunnels so they could control trade between here and the mainland. I read all about them when I was coming here. They knew that—”
“I grew up in the city, Danny,” Simone interrupted. “If there were some underground pipeline to the mainland, I’d know about it. No one could keep that secret.” Danny shrugged and looked back at the printer. It was nearly done, the card baking in a red light. “OK, then, you’re the one who literally has information on any server or cloud. Can you genuinely tell me that, with all that information, you believe there is a working pipeline?”
Danny turned one corner of his mouth up as if both amused and sad. “No, of course not. It doesn’t exist. But it would be cool, though, wouldn’t it? An underwater train?”
“It would make our connection to the mainland much stronger; they’d have more control, could enforce all those federal decency laws no one obeys out here, and find you a lot more easily. Be happy there’s no pipeline. And I’ll be happy there are people dumb enough to pay me to help them find it anyway.”
“Yeah,” Danny said, his shoulders slumping. “Still. It would be cool to ride an underwater train. I wonder if it would have windows.”
Simone patted him lightly on the back. “I’ll take to you the Carnival Ship sometime. They have a little train ride for kids that goes through a tunnel that’s also an aquarium—water all around. I rode it once. It was pretty cool.”
“How is Peter these days?” Danny asked with a sudden smile. Simone narrowed her eyes. She had, in fact, been on the Carnival Ship with Peter.
“Is that ready yet?” Simone asked, pointing at the IRID in the printer. Danny took it out and fanned it in the air to dry.
“What, we can talk about my stupid excitement over a train, but not your stupid decisions with men?” Simone stayed silent, her arms refolding in fluid motions. “Fine, fine,” he said, grinning. He held out the IRID to her. “Here, press down with your thumb so it can get the initial scan.” She did so, placing her thumb on the small square next to her face on the card. The scanner on the card lit up for a moment and then buzzed gently. “All done. Here you are, Alexis Foyle, of Maple Leaf Importing. All your data is in order.”
“Fantastic,” Simone said, standing and taking them.
“What does tunnel hunting have to do with Canadian importing, anyway?” he asked.
“Nothing. Different cases.”
“Don’t overwork yourself.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Are you still using your infrared-blocking wallet?” he asked.
“Sure, of course.”
“I can feel your real IRID’s signature. It must have a hole. You should get a new one if you’re going to carry two IRIDs around.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that when I have a moment. You want to come out with Caroline and me this weekend? I think we’re finally trying that VR bowling thing.”
“Sure, I’m in. Now scram, I have another client in ten minutes, and I have to check what year her dear departed Grandma Elsie died. I always forget. Hard to pretend to be a dead woman if you don’t know when she died.”
Simone smirked. “Some business you got.”
“Same as yours, just different wrapping,” Danny said with an amused look. “It’s why we work so well together.”
“Is that why?” Simone asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was because you didn’t charge me.”
“I’m sure that helps. As do my phenomenally good looks. Keep you coming back for another glance. Got anything else? I don’t wanna have to do any work for you in front of Caroline. It weirds her out; she always thinks we’re doing something damp and dirty.”
“Just keep an eye out for The Blonde, if she pops up anywhere.” Simone put her finger to her lips, deciding. “Yeah, and if you could check out the finances of Henry St. Michel and send them to me when you get a second, that could be useful.”
Danny put the turban and cape back on as she spoke.
“St. Michel?” he asked.
“Yeah, M-I-C-H-E-L. Saint.”
“Funny name for this city,” Danny said.
“Funny name for anywhere, these days. Thanks again.” They walked back through Danny’s inner sanctum to the waiting room, where a young girl with honey-colored curls was waiting, her eyes already wet. Simone turned back to Danny and clasped his hands.
“Oh, thank you,” Simone said, in a voice wrought with tears. “Thank you so much, Yanai. You are as great as they say you are.”
Danny glared but bowed with a flourish. Simone walked quickly from the room, trying to stifle her snickering.
False IRID in her leaky wallet, Simone strolled the bridges of New York towards St. Michel’s place of business. The day was blue, but the clear skies from early morning were clouding over, and the wind was picking up. Still, it was a nice day, and Simone enjoyed the walk, even stopping at one of the cart vendors on the decommissioned tanker Guandong for a quick lunch of warm noodles. Guandong and the neighboring cruise ship, Fu, were what was left of Chinatown. Fu was mostly residential, but Guandong was filled with carts that sold cheap electronics or fresh noodles or fish caught that morning from the deck. It was hung with red lanterns and streamers and was often crowded. Simone liked that. She ate her noodles on a stool by the cart, surrounded by throngs of strangers, feeling like calm water—invisible and safe.
When she got to Above Water Exports/Imports, it was nearly two, and the skies were steel and chilly. St. Michel’s business was operated out of an old masonry building, nearly twenty stories above sea level. He was on the thirty-fourth floor, but thankfully, they had put in a new algae-powered elevator in the building, so Simone didn’t have to hike. The offices were marked only by a small plaque. Simone knocked once and went in without an answer. The room was barren: concrete walls, metal desks, one large touchtable in the center of the room, and a few cheap chairs lining the walls. The room was empty except for an older woman leaning over the touchtable, apparently tracking something on a map.
“Yes?” she asked, without looking up. Simone walked up to her.
“My name is Alex Foyle,” Simone said, “From Maple Leaf Imports. I was hoping to talk to a Mr. St. Michel?” The woman turned to look at Simone. She was easily eighty and her gray hair was tied back in a tight bun. She was tall and had good posture without looking like a tin soldier. She appraised Simone with the look of someone who hadn’t been impressed by anything a young person had done in several decades.
“I’m Ms. Freth,” she said, “I’m Mr. St. Michel’s partner. What can we do for you?” Her voice was low and rough but had the tone of a woman used to getting what she wanted. She walked to one of the metal desks and opened a drawer to take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Real tobacco cigarettes, Simone noted. Maybe being in importing made them easier to get. She lit one and began to smoke, waiting for Simone.