Ten
TEN
“I’m relieved to see you’re still on contract, I really am. Shame about Greves, though.”
Anand is relaxed, bundled in a tan bomber and lableather gloves.
He pushes mirrored shades up the bridge of his square nose, jostling the mess of dark curls trapped under a herringbone pageboy hat.
Isako thinks he looks like a cross between a grizzled detective and a gangster.
Although atiers are required by Agency code to carry a longknife, the weapon strapped to Anand’s thigh is short and compact, purely ceremonial; he’s one of the rare contractors who have bodyguards of their own under subcontract.
A modern atier, so he fancies himself. Isako would guess he hasn’t drawn his blade in years.
She finds it hard to muster much respect for him because of that.
But she’d be a fool to underestimate him.
Anand’s client is arguably even more powerful than Sandbar Uchi, and Anand has served him on an Exclusive contract for over a decade by having his finger on the pulse of the Company and spies everywhere.
“I’ve said before that if reunionists want to go into space so bad, we ought to gather them all up and launch them into orbit where they can’t use up our oxygen.
Greves was an insufferable gasbag with delusions of grandeur but I tell you what: At least he was willing to walk the talk—literally.
Unlike most of those reactionary idealists.
Big respect for that.” Anand smiles, obviously trying to get a rise out of her as he reclines, ankle crossed over his knee.
He gestures to the bottles in the back seat drink holder. “Soda water?”
“Who says I’m on contract?”
Anand gives her an insulted look over the top of his sunglasses— really? “You’re asking me to believe that Quickblade would ever stoop to freelancing? And that you’d freelance here , in SoCon GasPro, the worst place to be badgeless? Give me some credit.”
“I’m visiting an old friend, is all.”
“Dragonfly Martim? Used to be an apprentice of yours, right? Nice of you to check up on him. Busy guy, though, hard to reach. Were the two of you able to meet up and reminisce a bit?” Anand’s voice is slow and nasally, but there’s an edge to it.
Isako’s eyes narrow. The car doesn’t seem to be headed in any particular direction; it’s driving leisurely circles around the area, which makes her less worried that she’s in danger. “What do you want to talk about, Anand?”
“You’re being used as a pawn by the big-Es,” declares the Puppetmaster. “Is that what you want?”
Isako almost laughs. “Since when does personal preference play any part in our line of work? You’re serving your client, and I’m serving mine.”
“Your client’s dead by his own choice.” Anand’s not smiling anymore. “What do you owe to the hag who happened to inherit your contract only two days ago?”
“The same I owe to any client. That’s the Code.”
“You’ve been in the edge life for thirty years.
How many clients have you had? Doesn’t matter—add it all up, and you’ve made more of an impact than some directors.
We’re not midtrac desk jockeys or gencons hired to carry out orders and do basic shit.
We’re atiers . We steer our clients, we set the fucking agenda, we make our divisions better, and that’s how we serve the whole Company.
We think big picture, and we lead from the front. ”
Isako smirks at his tirade. “Are you explaining my job to me?”
Anand says, “Savannah Minto sent you to mess around in SoCon GasPro. It’s obvious what she wants. To sabotage the Company’s progress. It would be a crying shame, for that to be your last job. Might as well sink to becoming a shadowcon.”
Isako grinds her teeth at the dig. “You’re ignoring the fact that I don’t have a choice.”
Anand uncaps a soda bottle and takes a swallow.
“That’s not true. My client could make it worth your while to take the month off.
” When Isako’s too taken aback to reply right away, he adds, “Whatever you expect to get as a resignation bonus at the end of all this, we could more than match it, under the table.”
What the Puppetmaster promises, he can actually deliver.
He’s atier to Tide Sullivan, the director of Northern Continent Gas Production, a senior member of the Board, someone who has more than enough scrip to buy allegiances.
Sullivan is Uchi’s greatest ally, the man who years ago advocated for Uchi to be appointed director of SoCon in the first place and is supporting his Board nomination.
Isako shouldn’t be surprised that the little-Es would try to bribe her into inaction.
It’s not an uncommon tactic, to incentivize your rival’s workers into not doing their jobs—and it often works, with wagefolk as well as contractors.
But she’s still astonished and insulted that Anand would try such a thing on her .
Why not, though? Under the right pressures, no one is incorruptible.
If she takes a step back and puts herself in the other atier’s shoes, she can understand his logic.
Isthmus Isako is old and defeated, at the end of her career.
Her client’s dead and she’s stuck in a contract she never wanted, doing a job she has no stake in.
What did the edge life amount to? What did living by the Code get her?
Not very fucking much in the end. She’s got to be bitter and cynical. She could cash out. She should.
It’s tempting. She could spit in Director Minto’s eye, take Anand’s offer, live it up for the two years before her grace period runs out, and still leave plenty for Maya when she saunters out the gates, middle fingers raised behind her.
She folds her hands over one knee thoughtfully. “Sullivan must be deeply invested in Uchi’s confirmation going smoothly. With the directors of both NorCon and SoCon on the Board, you gasblowers will hold sway in the Company for the next century.”
Anand finishes his soda. “What do you care? You’re a good soldier, maybe the best, but you’re no radical reunionist. Is whatever stubborn personal loyalty you might still have for Greves worth throwing yourself under the bus?”
“I have to thank you, Anand,” Isako says mildly.
“I’ve been in the neighborhood less than a day and you show up, trying to bribe me to leave.
You could’ve just let me spin my wheels until I gave up.
Now I’m sure there’s something here that can bury Sandbar Uchi, along with the hopes and dreams of his supporters. ”
She sees the twitch in Anand’s cheek before he stills his squarish face and motions the vehicle to a halt.
They’ve returned to the exact spot where he picked her up.
“You know what my client’s kith name means?
It’s a wave of water pulled by the gravity of a moon, a force so enormous that nothing can hold it back.
There’s a political tide in the Company right now that no one can stand against, not even your client and all the stargazing spaceheads, not even with you working for them.
You won’t find anything here that’ll stop what’s coming, but if you look too closely, you won’t be finishing your career the way you hoped to, or the way you deserve—that would be a real shame. ”
“That sounds a lot like a threat.”
Anand’s thick lips curl upward. “Not at all. You have nothing to worry about from me. SoCon GasPro can handle its own business. I wish you’d taken my offer, though.
I just hate to see a good atier with your record being sacrificed by their own client.
That’s what’s happening, you know—you’re being set up to fail. ”
The door opens. Isako gets out. Anand leans over to speak to her across the seat, pointing up at Martim’s apartment building. “He wasn’t home, was he?”
Isako turns around, unsettled by the ominous change in his voice. “You know where he is?”
“He’s dead.”
She stares at him, the words not registering. “Dead?”
“That’s what I hear. Tragic. But like you said, who am I to believe rumors?” The door closes and the Puppetmaster’s car drives away, leaving her in a cloud of exhaust.