“How about this?” Penn placed a porta-comp on the bar and touched the 'on' switch. Penn noticed the look the bartender shot Ellis; silently hoping she wouldn't smack the crap out of the guy just yet. They needed information first.
The bar tender's eyes flew open. Tech! No one ever had tech, especially working tech. The thought made the bartender's heart race. From the look of it, this was a top of the line unit. Anyone with tech could name his, or her, own price. Working tech even higher. The bartender bit down on the stub of his cigar. Did this kid really know what he had? Did he have more? If so, how much?
“What else you got?” Trying to sound disinterested.
Penn took a flat, round box out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. The barkeep reached out to open it.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Penn said, halting the reaching hand.
“How come?”
“Because, I don't want to chase this damn thing all over the room, that's why,” saying that, he pressed the button on top to activate the capture field and carefully unscrewed the lid. As he moved it away, a flat, silvery disk lifted out of the box a few inches. One look and the barkeep knew he was looking at high-grade Cg material. The look in the man's eyes told Penn everything he needed to know.
“This all you got?” The barkeep tried to hide his excitement. It made sense to find out if the kid had a source before killing him.
“I might have more… if the price is right.” If processed correctly, and added to the right metal, there was enough contra-gravity material to lift a spacecraft into orbit and beyond. So, why, the bartender wondered, was the kid so stupid as to walk around with a king's ransom in his pocket, and, in particular, why this dump?
“I need to ask around to see who can work a deal on something like this.” The bartender's eyes darted back and forth between the porta-comp and the box. That didn't surprise, Penn. A small-time barkeep wouldn't have the resources to handle something this big. He might have a contact who knew someone, who might have the contact to put him in touch with someone who did. “It might take me some time to find someone…”
“No problem, but you have until this evening before we go somewhere else. How about those beers? And do you have anything to eat?” Penn cut him off.
“Cold roast beef, homemade bread, cheese, and onions.” It wouldn't hurt to feed them and put them at ease.
“That will do for a start. What about later?”
“Might have some beef stew going by then, if the cook's sober.” Penn placed three Imperial gold credits on the counter top. The man jerked back slightly. Gold was also pretty rare these days.
“Make sure he is, and that it's real beef, not dumpster bunny.” Meaning rat.
“Also got me some hard-boiled eggs, but they cost…” Penn added another gold credit to the first three.
“And a room.” The barkeep thought of dickering for more, until he looked into those yellow eyes again. He felt the same shiver run up his back. A kid he might be, but he saw something in those eyes, something hard, killing hard and thought better of it.
This guy was no virgin, no matter how young he looked. Penn careful retrieved the porta-comp and the box and slipped them back into his coat pocket before following Ellis to an empty table in the back corner. Doing that changed the dynamics of the situation. Now anyone coming at them had to come from the front. Being in the back corner also made it look as if they were even more trapped as there was nowhere to go. Keeping his eyes on the people in the room, Penn took off his long coat and threw it across the back of the chair before sitting, his eyes sweeping the barroom again. The owner had knocked down the dividing walls between this building and the ones on either side, and added support pillars where the original walls had stood to create this open space. He'd also put any competitor within a twenty-mile radius out of business. Not exactly by the methods approved, or recommended by the Tucson University School of Business, or the local Better Business Bureau for that matter, but more or less in keeping with local customs for cornering the local market. He’d used the time honored American tradition of putting his competitors out of business, permanently. The barkeep arrived a few moments later with the beer and the makings for a sandwich.
“Nice place to bring your girlfriend on a date.” Ellis muttered as she made sandwiches for them.
Penn tipped his chair back against the wall, tapping it with his knuckles. Behind the planking was solid stone or brick, so there was little chance of someone shooting them through the wall. That removed one line of attack. The wall behind Ellis was windowless, and he suspected it was brick or concrete. That would make it the supporting wall of the next building. To be sure, he reached out and gently kicked the all-concealing decorative planking. A solid thump came back, eliminating a second line of attack. Sitting side-by-side at the table, their field of vision covered the whole room, despite the intervening pillars, which Penn felt confident, would slow an attacker down more than hinder him or Ellis.
“Richard? Where did you get that box?” Ellis asked softly, licking butter delicately off her fingers, and coating her sensuous red lips with the residue, knowing very well what he was doing with the walls.
“I found it in the Director's office.”
“And I thought you told me not to stop for souvenirs?” She murmured softly, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“I don't remember saying that.” Penn lied.
“Is that why we have two lovely pure silver tankards with the Imperial crest sitting on the bar at home?”
“Yes and a lovely gold inlaid silver platter that I don't remember owning before.”
“I needed a center piece for Sunday dinner.” She smiled sweetly at him.
“Oh I see. Just a little decorative touch to smarten up the table?”
“Right. That's it exactly.” She wrinkled her nose. “We do want our kids to grow up with some manners and know how to eat properly, don’t we?’ She asked, raising her eyebrows.” Penn flicked his eyes to her lips for a moment, wishing he could lean over and kiss them.
“You mean you don’t want them running around like little savages with baby raptors as pets like they do now?”
“Richard, you, and they will shower, change into proper clothes and sit at the dinner table like proper, well mannered, well behaved human beings at least one day a week, instead of the barbarians you usually are.” She huffed.
“I see. Punishment. Just because you got caught trying to sneak into our fort to capture the flag.” He laughed.
“That is entirely beside the point.” The grin gave her away. He leaned towards her and they kissed anyway, Richard drawing in her delicate lavender scent as they did.
At this time of the day, few patrons inhabited the place. The drunk still lay, slumped over the table in a corner, and the two coarsely dressed men playing some sort of card game near the door ignored them, both armed, but then again who wasn’t around this place. The woman and the man at the other end of the bar didn’t appear to be paying any attention to them, and other than the woman’s initial look of envy at Ellis, they continued with their conversation. To all intents and purposes, the female in a revealing dress was the resident hooker, but Penn didn’t believe that for a moment. To Richard, it felt like a setup, not that he cared. Thankfully, the beer was cold, and real. That was enough. How the owner had managed to come up with a pre-invasion beer was anyone's guess. Probably the carefully hidden contents of a high jacked big rig. Whatever communication system the barkeep used was very efficient, almost too efficient as within ten minutes the bat-wing doors opened and in walked a tall, scruffy looking, fair-haired man dressed in rough, albeit clean, western gear. He wore a cowboy hat and a sidearm, a nine-millimeter Browning automatic by the look of it in a low hung holster. Three men followed, but none were dressed as well as the first. Penn whispered something to Ellis, and she laughed playfully. Some signal passed between the barkeep and the fair-haired man, as he changed directions and walked over to their table. Penn and Ellis appeared lost in each other's eyes, but anyone who thought that was sadly mistaken. Even before the man walked into the room they knew he was there to see them by the sound of his purposeful footsteps on the sidewalk. You don't walk like that in this heat unless you are going somewhere important, like a meeting, a dance, or a gunfight. Penn and Ellis were primed for either, and didn't care which way the ball bounced.
Moody looked cynically at the two teenagers sitting at the table as he walked across the room, gazing into each other’s eyes like love struck kids, the shadow of his brim effectively hiding his scrutiny. He quickly evaluated their potential for profit down to the last cent. Both in their late teens or early twenties unless he missed his guess, but it puzzled him why they were here. This wasn’t exactly Rodeo Drive or some fancy big city hotel, so why come here to make a deal on some high priced items. Offhand he could think of five places you could go to make a good deal on what they had, so there had to be something else going on. As young as they were, they probably wouldn't have much experience with this sort of deal, but even so, you would think they’d be smart enough not to come into a place like this and expect to walk out again. His eyes shifted to the girl. She was definitely a looker in that outfit, and with the right motivation, she could turn a tidy profit as a whore, or he could slave her out to the Imperials once they came back. The clothes were worth a year's pay, and, if what the barkeep reported was true, he could retire on what they were carrying. How much could he keep for himself was the question? If the report was true, it would be interesting to find out where these kids had gotten their hands on a Cg disk, and whether there was any more. There was also the question of how they’d gotten here, as the scouts he’d sent out hadn’t found any rolling stock or horses.
“I hear you have something to sell?” Moody asked as he reached for a chair.
“I don't remember asking you to sit.” Richard’s voice cut through the hot air like a razor, stopping Moody's hand in mid motion.
“Not exactly the way to start a business negotiation, kid.”
“Who said we had anything to negotiate? Any talking we do, you can do it standing.” Moody looked from the kid to the girl, and he didn't like what he saw. They might look like kids, but these two were primed. It was the kid’s yellow eyes that caught his attention and he took a half step back before recovering. He'd only seen eyes like that on a bald eagle, but it felt as if he were looking down the barrels of a rifle.
“So, what are you looking for then?” Moody shook off the feeling, but kept his hands in view by hooking them into his belt and close to his sidearm.
“I hate dealing with a middleman.” Richard leaned back slightly and turned his head to look up at him. “I need to talk to your boss.” Moody forced himself to stand still as the kid looked at him with those eyes. He remembered a story about a man with yellow eyes, and if only a fraction of it was true, he was death incarnate.
“My boss?” Moody snorted, recovering quickly. “I don't have no boss, I'm it!”
“Then go away, I don't deal with low-life bottom feeders like you.” Richard saw Moody's hand twitch slightly. His fingers didn't exactly move towards the weapon on his hip, but Richard could feel the intent if he saw the slightest chance.
Penn wanted to get under Moody's skin. Getting insulted to his face was bad enough, by a mere kid was even worse. It was one of the few times Richard was thankful for what the scientists had done to make him look perpetually young. People completely underestimated his potential.
“You've got a big mouth for a kid who wants to make a deal.” Moody growled, his face feeling hot. Being called a low-life bottom-feeder rankled, even if it was true to some degree.
“I’ll only talk to someone higher up the food chain. Who's your boss?”
“I just got through telling you kid, there ain't no boss!” The kid just smiled and turned his attention back to the drowning pools of the girl's eyes, his left hand stroking her stocking covered thigh.
“We'll just wait until he gets here, or take our business down the road.” Penn commented offhandedly as he looked up.
The man's eyes narrowed, and he slowly reached up with his left hand to scratch his unshaven chin. He thought the move might distract the kid, as it had others, but those Golden Eyes never left those of the girl. This wasn't going well. The kid was too sure of himself. He deliberately moved his right hand to see if the kid would react. He hadn't so much as twitched in the direction of a weapon, and neither had the girl. However, they had to be carrying something besides the imperial blast rifle leaning against the wall. It was too far to reach if things went sideways, yet no one in their right mind came to this part of town without a weapon. Were they stupid enough to walk into a place like this without one, especially with what they were carrying? If only he knew what else they might have, he'd kill the kid right now and take the girl.
“Look you snot nosed piece of shit. I just got through telling you, there ain't no boss!” He snarled, sliding his thumb along his belt so his right hand was closer to the butt of his weapon.
“Go tell your boss Richard Penn wants to see him.” Richard could feel his temper stirring in the pit of his stomach, and clamped down on it. This wasn't the time, or the place to start a rumble yet. “All you have to do is walk across the room, he's sitting right there.”
The man jerked his left hand away from his face as a distraction, as his right hand went towards his weapon. Moody always prided himself on being fast, very fast. It was one of the things that made him valuable, and yet, before his fingers even touched the butt of his weapon less than two inches away, the girl was pointing a lethal looking weapon at him. He hadn't even seen her move. It just seemed to appear in her hand, as if by magic. The kid shook his head, as if he'd seen that move a thousand times.
“Now, will you stop dancing around the bush, and go tell your boss we want to talk to him?” Somehow, that was scarier than the gun pointing at him. How the hell could the kid know Brody was here? He tried to speak. “Look, there's…”