Chapter 23

Kat had the beginnings of a plan.

She had been fooling herself, thinking that she could take up a normal life after her years of struggle on Ovid. She had no marketable skills, and what little knowledge she did have was self-taught and centered around violence in its many forms. If she wanted to be a normal citizen, she would have to start over and go back to school. She would have to hope that she could find some way to support herself until she reached a level that would allow her to find a job that did not include waiting on tables.

Or, she could take what she already knew and use it to create a different kind of career. If she could not live in the light, as a normal citizen, then she would make her way on the other side of the law.

Kat had brought along the drawing of the back cat on a whim, and staking it to Peske's chest had been a petty conceit, even knowing that no one else on the planet would have a clue what it meant. She had found the drawing in a book containing children's tales and had loved the symbolism of the bad luck omen. That the image meshed so well with her self-styled nickname seemed serendipitous.

Now that she was back in her new bolt hole, she examined her motives and began to plan for the future. She was a killer. It was what she had trained herself to be, over long hears of hardship in her old life. She had even made it a business back on Ovid, making money for hurting and killing the scum that made life hard for regular people.

She admitted to herself that she had enjoyed that, probably more than she should have. She liked having power over those scum whose purpose in life seemed to be causing misery in others. And she was pretty good at it too, avoiding the Peace Keepers for so long. The people here on Alta were soft, easy targets and it made the criminal element soft as well.

There was an opportunity here, for someone like her. She just needed to find an opening, an way to get her name circulated in the right groups. The back cat drawing, though crude and impulsive, provided her with an icon, something that would make her stand out from the crowd. She spent several days drawing and redrawing the image, altering it until it was a highly stylized, modern-looking logo. It took her two weeks to find a place where she could print out business cards without them being traced back to her, but it was worth the trouble. She now had the hook, all she needed was an opportunity. Another week spent planning, and she was ready to begin her assault on Alta.

She first task was to find out where the criminal element in Jennet congregated. If they were anything at all like the scum on Ovid, there were certain bars and clubs that attracted the type; where they gathered and could feel relatively safe in large numbers. There were businesses that were fronts for criminal gangs and were used to launder money and there were those shady businesses who fenced stolen goods, like her friend Harry.

When Kat was not worming her way into the criminal underbelly, she was identifying and stalking victims. She had taken almost a thousand credits from Peske that fateful night, and, since she needed funds like anyone else, it just seemed right somehow that those funds come from people who really needed to die anyway.

She stalked drug dealers and pimps, thieves and con men. She stole when it could be done without real risk and killed when the target was one who used violence in their work. Each time, she left her new calling card with the stylized representation of a black cat. It was not long before the stories started to spread; vigilantes and hit men were the topics of conversation on everyone's lips. She was quickly becoming legend.

She became a regular at a half dozen clubs, one of those people who do not stand out but that everyone recognized as belonging. She even struck up a few acquaintances, targeting those who were on the fringe of the group and becoming meek little Agnes Crown, a secretary who liked the exciting nightlife.

Criminals had groupies, men and women who were mostly law-abiding, but who found it exciting to hang around and be seen with the dangerous types. They were sycophantic yes men and women, people who laughed at all the jokes and were quick to pick up a tab if it allowed them access to the princes of the criminal underground.

They were easy to pick out of a group, they tended to dress and act as if they, themselves were dark and dangerous, ending up instead as unknowing caricatures. The deliberately soiled designer clothes, the too-expensive shoes and jewelry, the overcompensation and tough-guy acts of bit players who wanted to be stars.

Kat cultivated these types, learning about them and, sometimes, passing juicy bits of gossip to them. She dropped several references to the Black Cat into conversation, trying to build buzz about the shadowy figure's exploits and speculating about who the man could possibly be. She even intimated that she knew somebody who knew somebody and had inside info on the mysterious killer's actions.

She would occasionally drop hints about a hit before it was general knowledge, able to provide details that most people would not have access to, or at least not until it hit the papers. She walked a fine line between knowing enough to make her seem interesting, but not knowing enough to make her look like a confederate. It was always "I heard from this lady who knows a guy..."

People talked to her, sharing information in exchange for gossip. She slowly became the go-to person for fringe types who were looking for excitement. Want to see an underground fight? Ask Agnes. Need to know who can get you stimtabs to liven up your next party? Agnes would know. Who knows the most about the latest Black Cat killing? Let's ask Agnes, she might know someone.

It was just a matter of time until someone asked her for more information about this Black Cat, saying that there might be work for the now infamous character. Agnes, titillated and excited by the prospect of being involved in something so naughty, assured her new acquaintance that she had a friend who swore they knew someone who had a method for contacting the killer. She couldn't promise anything, but she would pass on the information and they would see what happened.

The client was a woman who lived in a luxury roof-top apartment in the swankier part of the city. She was the type who attended all the right functions, who called the Governor's wife by her first name and who was always on the invitation list to the best parties. She also wanted her wealthy husband killed.

Kat had no desire to become someone who killed just for money and she had decided, before she began this campaign, to only take contracts for people who deserved the fate she would bring. She spent a couple of weeks researching the target and learning about the man and his greedy wife.

He was old money, his wealth inherited from his father and his grandfather before him. The family money was made in real estate speculation as far back as the original colonization of Alta. His grandfather had even been the Governor for several terms and his family had been among the Hoi Poloi for many generations.

He was not, as many inheritance types seem to be, a lush or a letch. He didn't drink to excess or gamble, beat his wife or even cheat on his taxes. In fact, he was something of a philanthropist, spreading his wealth around to several projects that interested him. Kat thought that the man was probably a nice guy and she didn't have any interest in nice guys.