When Soradiyo finally called them up to meet in the Rat House, he clapped Bero and Mudt on the backs and spoke to them in a perfectly friendly way, as if there had never been any problems between them. When they’d all had a few drinks and gone through the usual conversational bullshit, Bero said, “We’ve been working as rockfish for more than a year. Where’s the jade you promised we’d be earning by now?”
Soradiyo spread his hands. “You’re getting it soon, keke.” He seemed to have picked up some Kekonese slang and mannerisms since Bero had first met him. “But the rainy season doesn’t count. That’s vacation time. You’ve got another couple months to go.”
Bero scowled. “So you’ve got more work for us, then?”
For the first time that Bero could remember, Soradiyo appeared nervous. He wetted his lips and leaned in to speak so that no one could overhear them. “Yeah, but it’s not a scavenge,” he said.
“What is it, then?” said Bero. “Packing rock, again?”
“It’s what you call a whispered name. Can’t wear jade to do it either, because it’s not just any name. We’ve been offered the chance to go on the offensive. To go into the tiger’s lair, so to speak. I need a couple of kekes who’re fearless and want to make a shitload of money.”
“Who are we going after?” Mudt leaned in, sounding interested for the first time.
“First, I have to be sure you’re both up to the task. We’ve got a plan to get you in, do the job and get out, no problem. Still, it’s going to be—”
“Not interested,” said Bero.
Soradiyo sat back, surprised by his quick refusal. “It’s a big opportunity. If you don’t take it, I’ll give it to Mo and Shrimps.” They were another pair of his rockfish managers.
Bero shrugged. He didn’t care to explain that he’d already been down this road. Every time he’d had a run-in with Green Bones, he’d been lucky to escape the encounter alive, and far from gaining what was promised, his fortunes had taken a nosedive. He’d had enough near-death experiences for someone who was only twenty years old, and he’d learned by now that there were easier ways to get jade than trying to kill a Green Bone directly. He finally knew what it was like to wear jade and walk around with a secret sense of power over all the weaker people around him—but the Green Bones could take it all away from him in an instant, leave his body floating in Summer Harbor.
“Give me another scavenge job. I’ll even pack fish like last time, but I’m not taking off my jade for anything, and I’m not doing any whisper work, not if it involves Green Bones,” Bero said. “I’m not that stupid.”
Soradiyo got out of his chair. “Wait, what about me?” protested Mudt, but the barukan threw down some money for the drinks, gave both of them a scornful, disappointed glance, and walked out of the Rat House.
CHAPTER 29
Opening and Closing Doors
The Lantern Man Mr. Enke was back in Shae’s office. His overall demeanor was considerably more amenable this time because he was asking for money. “The Oortokon War is having a terrible effect on Janloon’s real estate market,” Enke said. “My company needs to diversify our holdings. Property in Port Massy is a reliable, high-return investment. And this particular development is good value for its location.”
“And you want the clan to loan you the capital,” Shae concluded.
Mr. Enke extracted a file folder from his briefcase, placed it on the table, and opened it to a page with a financial summary detailing his request. “With the assistance of the Weather Man’s office, Enke Property Group could purchase a forty percent stake in the development.”
Moneylending was one of the most common activities on the business side of the clan. Of course, Mr. Enke could go to an independent bank to ask for a loan, but banks were purely financial institutions, operating within a limited scope. A relationship with the clan meant that Mr. Enke had access to innumerable business connections throughout Kekon and beyond it, the assurance that Green Bones would protect his properties from criminals and rivals, and preferential interest rates that reflected the fact that he had two Academy-trained sons who wore jade and served the clan as Fists. He would resort to the open market if No Peak did not give him as much as he hoped for, but like most Lantern Men of standing, he went first to the clan.
Shae studied the figures on the paper in front of her, then handed the file folder over her shoulder to Woon. She regarded Mr. Enke silently while her Shadow perused the papers. If Woon had any concerns, he would give a subtle signal—a cough, a clearing of the throat—to indicate that she ought to hold off on her decision. She Perceived in the even hum of Woon’s aura that he was satisfied with what he saw. Mr. Enke, however, could not tell; faced with the intimidating silence of the Weather Man and the stoic expression of the aide behind her, he continued talking. “I’ve sent my most experienced scouts to Port Massy, and they’ve all reported back that the area of Lochwood is desirable. Well served by transit, rapidly gentrifying, walking distance to the Port Massy College campus and major shopping districts. The development will be mixed use: condominium apartments with ground level commercial space and—”
Woon closed the file folder and handed it back to the Weather Man, who placed it on her desk and said, “Mr. Enke, the Weather Man’s office would be pleased to extend our patronage.”
Mr. Enke broke into a smile and touched his clasped hands to his forehead. “Kaul-jen, I couldn’t be more pleased to have the clan’s approval. May the gods shine favor on No P—”
“I’d like you to buy the entire development.”
The Lantern Man blinked. “That’s far more than…”
“You’ll have to adjust your calculations,” she said. “The clan is willing to finance your acquisition of a controlling interest in the project. As you say, it’s a good investment.”
Mr. Enke cleared his throat. “I would like to take advantage of your generosity, Kaul-jen, but there are regulations in Espenia strictly limiting foreign ownership of property.”
“I’ve recently received reliable assurances from the Espenian ambassador that within three months those regulations will be relaxed for investors of certain preferred nations—Kekon being one of those.” It was not everything Shae had hoped for in terms of trade concessions, but it was a good start. The Espenians were stingy, but reliable. “Move now to purchase the forty percent stake as you planned, and buy out the rest next year.”
Mr. Enke opened and closed his mouth, then said, “My current tribute rates…”
“Would normally go up, but there’s a way we can work around that,” Shae said. “It’s becoming more common for Kekonese graduates to further their education by going to study in Espenia. It was unusual when I did it five years ago, but these days, many families encourage their children to gain some international experience. My younger cousin is in Espenia right now, living with a host family. Once these apartments are built, you can rent them out to Kekonese students studying in Port Massy. Charge them half the market rate for the area. In exchange, the clan will screen potential tenants from No Peak families and cover the difference in your income. Our subsidy will offset your tribute obligations, and you’ll be guaranteed renters who’ve been backed by the clan.”
Mr. Enke licked his lips warily. His bushy eyebrows drew down until they touched. “Kaul-jen,” he said slowly, “can I count on this being a binding agreement with the Weather Man’s office?”
Normally, such a question would be unnecessary; the Weather Man’s word guaranteed fulfillment of the contract. But Mr. Enke was not sure Shae would remain in charge of Ship Street long enough to deliver on their arrangement. Since the scandal over her past connection to the Espenian military intelligence services had broken six weeks ago, she had been persistently disparaged in the media and there had been calls for her resignation.