Chapter 15

"Chief, it's Themis." Kat wasn't sure she was doing the right thing, but time was speeding by and she had to get to Aste.

The Chief sounded wary, as he responded to Kat. "Is there something you need, Themis? I am told that you asked specifically for me. I have to tell you, I would have cleared this through Minerva before talking to you, but she was unavailable. It is not normal practice to be calling Instructors when you are," he paused, searching for a harmless euphemism, "on break."

"I know, Chief, and I wouldn't have contacted you unless it was important. I don't know this, but I strongly suspect, that you might have some contacts among, say, some retired sailors or soldiers. I am not asking you to tell me anything you shouldn't, but I find myself need of some off-the-books help and the quality of the local talent is suspect at best."

The Chief stared at Kat's image, his brows furrowed and a scowl on his face. "Damn it, woman. I am not supposed to know about, much less get involved in whatever tomfoolery you kids get up to! You are asking a lot."

Kat held her tongue. She knew that no amount of cajolery would sway him if he decided not to help. Her only hope was that he would be willing to stick his neck out for a student.

His scowl deepened, and he shook his head, but he tapped out a code on the keypad and hit send. "This better not come back to bite me, girl, or I will take it out of your hide on the mats."

"Thank you, Chief. I knew I could count on you!"

"Hrumph." was all she heard and Chief cut the connection, but it was enough. When he was angry, he was quiet and overly polite. When He grumbled at growled at students, that patented scowl on his face, he was only trying to get his point across.

Shutting down the FTL connection and reconnecting to the local Comm network, she entered the code and waited for the connection to be made on the other end.

"Your credit." a gruff voice answered, but the screen remained blank.

"A mutual friend gave me your number, said you were the man to see about a problem." Kat said, remaining in the video pickup.

"Zat so? I don't have any friends. I have people who owe me money and people that I owe." The screen remained black, but the voice sounded a little less sour. Maybe it was her imagination, but she hoped that was a good sign.

"My friend is, well, a formidable fellow. I doubt that you owe him money, that would not be a wise path to take." Kat hoped that the reference would be enough for the man on the other end to make the connection without names.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Memorize this address." An address scrolled across the screen once, then disappeared. "One hour." and the call was disconnected.

Kat pulled up the city map and pinpointed the address, then disconnected and removed her Comm unit from the circuit, returning control to the network. No trace of these calls would exist on any system.

Kat dressed casually, concealing a pair of ceramic reinforced, polymer push blades on the inside of her belt and a monomolecular garrote line in her collar. A girl couldn't be too careful, or too well armed.

She chose a fashionable restaurant a klick from her destination so that no records would be able to trace her actual destination, and walked the rest of the way. Checking reflections in windows, doubling back, stopping in for a soft drink at a cafe, she used every trick in the book to spot and lose any tail she might have picked up. It would not do to bring an unwanted observer to this particular party.

The address was, of all things, a flower shop, nestled between a cleaner and a liquor store. It appeared, from the outside, to be a pleasant little place. Well lit and clean, it appeared to be doing a brisk business, sharing a parking area with the liquor store next door.

There was the tinkle of a small bell as she opened the door and entered the shop. The smell of tropical flowers wafted over her and the air was warm and moist, as though she had stepped into a hot house. Glass-fronted cases full of blooms lined each wall and the counter was manned by a young lady, barely out of her teens.

The girl looked up as she came in, her eyes lit with recognition and she called over her shoulder. "Grandpa, the lady is here."

Kat arched an eyebrow and smiled at the girl. She blushed and beckoned her close.

"Grandpa will be out in a minute."

"How did you know he was waiting for me?" Kat asked, curious now about how the girl had recognized her.

The young girl looked around guiltily, as if fearful of being overheard. She leaned over the counter and whispered "Grandpa is an artist!" she gushed, pride beaming from her eyes. "He says not to tell anyone, 'cause it isn't seemly for an old man to be..." she wiggled two curled fingers on each hand, "fiddling with that nonsense, but I think he is great! Look." She reached under the counter and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Kat was shocked. There, sketched in pencil, was an astoundingly good rendering of her face! It wasn't quite right. He had drawn her as prettier than she really was, her face softer and somehow, sexier that she was in real life; but there was no doubt it was supposed to be her. He had to have sketched it from the memory of their brief Comm conversation, and he had done it in less time than it took for her to get here.

"Can I." she hesitated, feeling foolish. "Can I have that?"

The girl gave a little giggle and handed it to her. "Hide it before he comes out. He would be mad if he knew I had showed that to you. He's funny like that."

"Thank you very much," she paused, looking expectantly at the girl.

"Lori", the young lady supplied.

"Thank you very much, Lori. It will be our little secret."

Kat barely had time to carefully fold the drawing and seal it in a pocket before the semi-opaque plastic curtains behind the counter parted and an older man limped in.

He was of medium height, but his shoulders were as wide as the doorway he was filling. One eye had been obviously replaced, the silver sphere that filled the socket swiveling in perfect sync with the remaining eye. A long scar passed over that silver eye and continued down the side of his face, puckering the flesh. The other side of his head, and including half of the ear, was a mass of scar tissue. A bad burn at some time that had not been treated quickly. The limp was not pronounced, but it was obvious. His left leg ended at the knee and a battered anthro prosthetic had taken its place.