Every scrap of information she had retrieved pointed to the Regan secret police. A frigid band constricted her heart. The very air of Etarus reeked with the subtle scent of Ily Takka — and Staffa had vanished without a trace. Of that, Skyla could now be sure; but the street hadn't failed her. Whispers
of a gray suit of combat armor circulated through the networks and pipelines of the secret markets.
Inquiry had brought her here, to this dimly lit hole, this den of black marketeering and strong drink.
"You need help or do you want to turn?" the landlord asked, studying the veil she had adopted. "You gonna work the pukes, you gotta pay the house fifteen percent."
"Perhaps you can do the helping," she answered, ignoring the insinuation of prostitution. "I have a friend in need."
The landlord racked the last of his mugs before wiping his hands on a greasy rag. He leaned over the bar and gave her a hostile inspection. He hadn't shaved his thick face, and red veins traced his nose. "A lot of people need help."
A rough-dressed man lifted a hand. "Help the lady. She's no Nab."
Skyla turned and curtsied. "The Blessed Gods keep you, ranny."
"What kind of help is your 'friend' interested in?" the landlord asked casually, keen eyes on her veil as he tried to penetrate her cover.
"Discreet help," Skyla replied levelly. "Perhaps you could lend information on where I could find a trader of durable garments?" She pushed a credit onto the bar. With a casual move, the landlord swept the 1C from palm to pocket. "Follow me."
He led her to a rickety dark stairway and faced her with heavy fists propped on his waist. "All right, give. What are you after?"
She cocked her head, staring at him through the veil. "My client is in need of battle armor. I understand a man resides here who has offered such a suit into the channels. My. client desires discretion in this area. It is also understood the suit is vacuum capable. Correct?"
The landlord squinted and crossed his arms tightly before jerking a nod. "I might be able to help. But now it's your turn to understand. the man who owns it wants an even two thousand credits for his suit."
"Too high. Military surplus vacuum capables are going for twelve hundred."
The landlord grinned to expose gaps in his teeth. "You know your market. In this case, what's for sale ain't military surplus. We're talking class here." He made a decision. "Go on up. First door to the right. I assume you have the money with you?"
Skyla gave him a cynical laugh. "You think I'm a Nab? Would I take the chance of having the Civil Security find me in the sewer with an empty purse and a slit throat?"
"No, I suppose not," the landlord laughed heartily and pushed past her to go back to his duties.
The molded plastic stairs creaked under her weight as she climbed up the narrow spiral. Dusty light bars cast eerie yellow shadows to show the way.
At the top, she found a narrow plastered hallway. She reached the first door on the right, palmed the lock, and waited. Though she couldn't see any monitors, she could sense the security system. They would have already found the pulse pistol, tool kit, and vibraknife at her hip. They would have counted the two hundred credits in her purse and noted the titanium pins that held her left femur together.
"Name?" a voice asked from the speaker overhead.
"Call me C." The door opened and Skyla stepped into a lighted room famished far better than the crummy tavern would have suggested. Was this where the small fortune Staffa carried ended up?
A muscular man stepped through a far door. Skyla's trained eye immediately detected the energy shield separating them.
"Yes?"
"I've come to make an offer on the combat armor you have." Skyla crossed her arms and stood, feet apart in an easy attack posture. "You are called?"
"I am Broddus." He frowned, heavy brows creased. "I don't like dealing with shadows who come armed into my house."
"I don't like dealing with men who hide behind security screens. Makes me wonder what they could do to my side of the room while remaining in complete safety."
He laughed, teeth shining. "Noticed that, huh? Not everyone would pick out the slight haze. You're no casual customer."
"No, I am not."
"Very well. I turn off my security, you unveil and leave your weapons on the table. That done, we share a cup of stassa and discuss your offer for the gray combat suit. I warn you, however, the twelve hundred you mentioned for military surplus isn't enough for this suit. It is most unusual."
"I see. So you monitored that discussion."
"I monitor everything."
Skyla pulled back her veil and his eyes widened with sud-
den interest. She pulled her weapons from under her robes and laid them on the table.
He motioned her ahead and she stepped down into a sunken lounge tastefully decorated with hanging plants. A tinted skylight cast soft rays on the light blue cushions that padded the place. The air carried the perfumed odor of sandwood. She took a seat as he poured two cups of stassa. Handing her one, he padded into a back room and returned bearing. Staff a's combat gear.
Skyla's anguish built. She willed herself to calm and stood, keeping her head down, unsure of her facial control, forcing herself to finger the fabric.
"Most. unusual," she managed.
"Yes, got it from a rich Nab," Broddus told her absently.
She swallowed and realized he'd become distracted by her hair, worn loose in shimmering silver-gold waves for exactly the purpose it now served.
"How much?"
He mistook her tone for awe. "Two thousand. Firm."
She tensed as he leaned forward to take in her scent. His voice dropped. "But for a woman as beautiful as you. I might bargain."
She looked up, off guard, eyes wide.
"You are a fascinating woman, you know." His mouth curved into a smile as he traced the lines of her face with narrowed raptorian eyes.
"And the owner of the suit?" she asked meekly, disgust building, giving her control of her frayed emotions.
Broddus shook his head. "I fear he'll not be making claims."
"Dead?" Oh, Staffa, I'm not too late! I can't be!
He shrugged, "As good as. Killed two of my friends. Civil Security charged him with murder and assault and sentenced him to slavery. He'll not be back to claim ownership."
A quiver of relief rushed through her. There was a chance, an ever so slight chance.
"How much for the combat armor and the weapons he carried?" She soothed her tortured mind and allowed an eyebrow to rise suggestively. "There may be some. bargaining latitude on my part."
He considered, licking his lips. "Take off your robes. Per-
haps I can sweeten the pot." The dominating smile widened, expression daring her.
Skyla chuckled to herself. Here was her game! He didn't think she'd do it. Unabashed, she unpinned her robe and let it slide down her pale flesh to a tangle on the floor. Clad only in her weapons belt, she could see his intake of breath.
"My price is dropping," he whispered. "I doubt you can get down to two hundred credits though."
"That's down payment. There will be more. later." And she saw his interest peak. "Thirteen hundred. and me." She let her fingers linger on his skin as she handed him the two hundred ICs from her belt purse.
His face had gone hot. He nodded, a nervous tic in his cheek as he noted the scar along her long muscular leg. "Come this way. Or do you want it here? I'll consider the suit sold and take my first. payment."
She walked ahead of him into a sleeping room. Her practiced eye picked out the security monitors — a poorly done job. She turned to face him as he entered. "If you're recording this, we drop the price to just me. I know what you can get for a holo of my action."