StarCraft II: Devils' Due (27 page)

when someone turns on the light. Daun grinned and

replaced the eye patch, straightening.

He always had liked Deadman’s Port.

He had a lead on whom he was looking for, and

where he might be found. There was a smal opening

off to the side that denoted either a very secretive

establishment or a very seedy one. His intel told him

that this would be a good starting place to look, and if

his quarry was not here, he would flush the rabbit

elsewhere.

Daun slipped inside, pistol at the ready. No one

chal enged him. The building opened up as he went

farther in, and strains of … singing? … reached his

ears. The soft voice of a woman, not shouting

obscene lyrics, nor fighting to be heard over blaring,

raucous music. She was softly singing, with only a few

instruments as background noise, an old, old song

about love found and lost.

Daun frowned and moved ful y into the room. The

environment was calm, one might even say placid,

even though there were a surprising number of

customers sitting at smal tables lit only by a few

candles. The décor was subdued, almost spartan.

The singer was on a stage il uminated by a single

spotlight. She was attractive, but older and a little

overweight, and her clothing actual y left something to

the imagination.

He shook his head at the strangeness of the place

—no wonder the clientele was so secretive: in a place

like Deadman’s Port things like this were shameful,

he thought—and looked around for his target.

The man was sitting alone, sipping something out

of a smal glass and watching the singer with a half

smile on his face. Disgusted with the mel ow feel of

this place, Daun slipped beside him and pointed the

gun at the base of his skul . The man’s sudden spike

of fear was most rewarding.

“You’re Edward Baines, aren’t you?”

The man started to nod, felt the muzzle at the back

of his neck, and stopped the motion. “Yes,” he said,

with calmness that was both admirable and annoying.

“And you must be Ezekiel Daun.”

Surprise flitted through Daun. “I could be a two-bit

thug.”

“Unlikely,” Baines continued. The man was thin and

as gaunt as a corpse. Daun disliked him, not least

because Baines was quickly mastering his fear. “A

two-bit thug wouldn’t have the connections or the

funds to pul the sort of strings it takes to learn about

this place, let alone be able to sneak up on me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Daun snorted, lowering the

gun. Baines turned around to face him, regarding him

with calm, watery eyes.

“So. What do you want from me, Mr. Daun?”

“I need the dog to take a message to his master,”

Daun said, smiling a little. “You tel that comfortable

bastard who plays al sides that I’l respect his little

duchy here. I won’t make a play on Findlay and

Raynor while I’m in town. Bad for business … his
and

mine.”

Baines nodded. “I wil tel him. I’m sure he wil

appreciate your business acumen.”

“But,” Daun said, reaching over and picking up

Baines’s drink, “that only lasts while I’m here and

they’re here. I’m not interested in any kind of deal that

makes me renege on a bounty. I don’t care how much

someone pays. Besides, it’s gotten personal now. I

want those two. And I’l have them.” He swirled the

drink, sniffed it, and raised an approving eyebrow

before gulping it down and setting the glass back on

the table with an exaggerated thump.

“Once Raynor and Findlay leave Deadman’s Port,

they become fair game.”

Baines nodded. “I wil tel him. Anything else?

Perhaps about how long you expect to be in town?”

Daun chuckled. “I only came down to find you to

deliver the message. I’m not interested in any of the

other entertainment Deadman’s Port provides.”

It wasn’t quite true, of course. He stil had to get

back to his ship. There were a lot of places a man

could visit while retracing his steps. But once he had

reached his vessel, he would simply stay in orbit, a

spider watching his web very, very careful y.

“That might be best for al involved, sir.”

Daun rose, patted Baines on his bony shoulder,

regarded the singer with a thin smile of contempt, and

left as quietly as he had come.

“How the hel did you even hear about this heist?”

Scutter O’Banon was saying.

He, Jim, and Tychus were at O’Banon’s mansion.

Tychus had insisted on meeting there, due to the

extremely private nature of the information. “You don’t

want this to be overheard,” Tychus had warned, and

had been quite correct in the assumption. Even so,

they were no longer being feted with lavish food and

drink. The dapper Randal was conspicuously absent,

and they were meeting in a smal room off the front

hal rather than in the parlor. There were no chairs.

Scutter was saying without words that the business

would be conducted quickly.

“I ain’t gonna name names, but people do talk,

especial y when they’re liquored up,” Tychus said.

“It would be worth your while to name names, Mr.

Find-lay,” O’Banon said. “Especial y considering the

trouble you and Mr. Raynor here keep causing me.”

Tychus shook his head. “Naw. You’d know I’d rat

someone out then, and the next person I ratted out

might be you.”

Scutter sighed. Tychus had raised a good point.

Stil , he frowned. “You two are starting to become

more effort than you are worth.”

Jim felt a chil . Words like that were never pleasant

to hear. If Scutter felt they had exceeded their value to

him, no one would ever find their bodies. Not that

anyone would miss them, he mused darkly.

“Your hound showed up on my planet today,”

Scutter said.

Jim’s stomach dropped into his shoes. Daun! He

was alive after al . Jim had dared to hope—but it was

hard to kil someone like him. Hard as hel .

O’Banon walked over to a hutch, opened a

humidor, fished out one of his thin cigars, and began

to trim it as he spoke. He did not offer one to Jim or

Tychus. “Told me that he was going to play nice and

not cause any trouble in my sandbox.” O’Banon

almost spat the words. “Mighty gracious of him, don’t

you think?” He lit the cigar and turned back to them.

“So you’re safe here. But once you leave, he’l be after

you. I’l do what I can.”

“Oh, that’s just great—” Jim started to sputter, but

Tychus held up a hand.

“See, and that’s another reason we should go on

this heist. Your boys might talk, but they ain’t stupid.

Might have figured Jimmy and I already knew about it.

Point is, nobody else does. Including Daun.”

O’Banon’s eyes narrowed. “True,” he said. “And

you two do have certain …
expertise
that could

enhance things.”

“Damn straight we do.”

“Very wel . I’l let you come along.”

“‘Come along’?”

Scutter smiled with his very pursed, very red mouth.

“You couldn’t possibly imagine that I’d send you two

off alone with something of this magnitude…. Hel ,

boys, you’re lucky it’s Randal ’s day off, or you’d be

bleeding on the floor right now.”

“Now wait a—” Jim began. Again Tychus held up a

hand, though the strain was starting to show on his

face.

“We’l do it. But we want an equal cut.”

Scutter chuckled. “You pul this off, you’l get an

equal cut. My word on it.”

“I knew we could come to an agreement that would

be of mutual benefit,” Tychus said. He ambled over to

the sideboard and helped himself to a cigar. Scutter’s

eye twitched, but he said nothing as Tychus prepped

the cigar and began to smoke it. “So. Here we are.

Fil us in.”

“I’m sure you boys are familiar with Bacchus Moon,”

Scutter said.

“Hel yeah,” Tychus replied. “Gambler’s paradise.

The Koprulu sector’s high rol ers go there. Lots of

entertainment too.” He looked at Jim and waggled his

eyebrows.

“Entertainment of that sort, certainly,” agreed

O’Banon,

“and

other

types

of

shows

and

performances for those with more discerning tastes.

Incredibly fine hotels, famous restaurants. Fantasy

fulfil ment on al levels, for the right price. The place

caters to gamblers, as you say, but also hosts

conventions. A very great number of people are

moving through there at any given minute.”

“Good place for crime,” Jim said.

“Less than you would think,” Scutter said, in a
this is

why I’m the boss and you are the henchmen
tone of

voice. “Security is a going commodity, and people

can pay for the best. Especial y,” he emphasized, “the

banks.”

Jim’s heart sank. He had hoped that they would

have a specific mark, or that they would pul off a sting

or fleece some gamblers. He didn’t know a lot about

Bacchus Moon, but he knew the things that everybody

knew, and one of the things that everybody knew was

that if your money was in a bank safe on Bacchus

Moon, the operative word in that sentence was “safe.”

Nobody was going to touch it.

He began to wonder if he and Tychus were being

set up for a suicide mission, just as a way for Scutter

to punish them. Then he realized that al Scutter

needed to do was let Daun have a crack at them. In

the end, that would be more efficient.

Even Tychus’s body language changed. “I see,”

was al he said, though, as he thoughtful y blew out

smoke.

“It has come to my attention that the Covington

Bank wil be the location of a massive stockpile of

Confederate credits for exactly thirty-seven hours

before the credits are dispersed.”

“Define ‘massive,’” said Jim.

Scutter eyed him. “Seven hundred mil ion, thirty-six

thousand, four hundred and twenty.”

Jim wasn’t sure, but he thought he made a smal

choking sound. Even Tychus coughed a little as he

inhaled the smoke from his cigar.

“For thirty-seven hours,” Tychus confirmed.

“At the Covington Bank.”

“Wel , now, I must say, Scutter, that’s a right tidy

sum.”

“I thought so. And since it’s so bountiful, and the job

so tricky, I’m inclined to be generous with the men

who get it for me.”

“There’s the rub, isn’t it?” said Tychus. “Gettin’

those seven-hundred-plus-mil ion credits. What’s the

current plan?”

“One cannot simply march in and ask for the

money, so my man Ash Thompson has been doing

some research into what’s below the bank. There was

a cave-in about six years ago that severely damaged

the sewer system. Costs to dig it out and rebuild it to

meet safety regulations were prohibitive, so they

simply let it stay caved in. Now, we don’t care about

how good a sewer system it is; we just need to get

access to the vault. Ash believes that—”

“Nope. That plan is total shit.”

O’Banon blinked. “‘Shit’?”

Tychus shook his head. “Too risky, from a lot of

standpoints. Too time-consuming and uses too much

manpower.”

A slow flush began to creep up Scutter’s face. “You

have a superior plan?”

“I think I do,” drawled Tychus. “And you wil recal , it

was our reputation that got you interested in us.”

“I agree with Tychus,” Jim said. “We need to get in,

get the credits, get out. The longer we’re digging in

the dirt, the greater the chance someone wil find us.”

Scutter took a puff of his skinny cigar and narrowed

his eyes, thinking. “You know,” he said at last, “I did

not get to the current position I so happily occupy by

doing the dirty work myself.” He smiled thinly—at

least, as thinly as was possible with his ful lips. “Both

you and Ash know your jobs. I think I’l leave you three

to figure it out. May the best man win, eh?”

He retrieved a piece of paper and a gold pen from

the desk, jotted down an address, and handed it to

Tychus. “Be there in three hours. I wil expect to hear

what you come up with in five.”

DEADMAN’S PORT, DEADMAN’S

ROCK

JACK’S SPOT

Jim and Tychus knew the place wel . Scutter