Crash Deluxe Page 3

  I flashed on to Irene. There was no doubt where my mum got her bliss, and it wasn’t from my stepdad Kevin.

  ‘So this guy - Delly - his flesh business is only for the wealthy: media and bankers and such?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. His workers are called Amoratos and are trained to give pleasure.’

  ‘And?’ I could feel the impatience coming back.

  ‘Amoratos have to be working for someone like Delly - otherwise they are breaking the law.’

  I digested that for a moment or two. I could see a crack in the door I wanted so desperately to open. ‘So, if he thought I was an Amorato he might want to hire me? That way I could get to meet your friend?’

  Honey’s eyes glazed with remembered fear. ‘Yes. Delly loves anyone exotic. He loves new blood. But he’s smart, too. If he found out you weren’t who you said you were . . .’

  ‘Too dangerous, Parrish.’ Ibis had woken up and his eyes were red-ringed with sadness and alcohol immersion. ‘I’ve heard of him. He expects his people to do . . . unhealthy things.’

  I ignored him.

  ‘You say his clientele is the Media?’

  Honey nodded. ‘He’s obsessed with them. Especially the ones he hasn’t been able to attract as clients.’

  I pinned her with a stare. ‘Like who?’

  ‘James Monk is one,’ she whispered.

  ‘Monk owns the sport Media,’ Ibis piped up again. ‘His sports stream takes a huge chunk out of the ratings pie.’

  The Big Country was crazed over sport so Monk had to be a big fish. I knew nothing about the Media power-divisions in Viva. Maybe it was time I did.

  ‘Delly wants James Monk as a client, desperately. He’s obsessed by him.’

  I tucked that info somewhere tight. ‘Tell me more about Merv the bio-hack and this place, the Luxoria. Who works there?’

  ‘It’s in a big-rise on Brightbeach called Cone Central. One of the best on Liberty Crescent.’ I heard the tiny sigh in Honey’s voice, as if she missed it. ‘All the rises along Liberty are connected by the Glass Bridge.’

  The Glass Bridge - a spectacular glass esplanade, running from the middle of one building to the next and on like a see-through belt. ‘I know it.’

  Who didn’t? The exxiest piece of architectural whimsy in the Southern Hem.

  ‘The Luxoria is on the 149th floor, just one storey below the bridge. Delly’s people pretty much live between the club and the Bridge.’ Her voice quivered. ‘He won’t let them go anywhere else.’ She flushed up both sides of her neck. ‘Merv got me a job as a bar hostess. But I got to help him out as well. We met when I worked for Heads Up.’ The flush worsened.

  Heads Up was a liveware company.

  ‘What did you do there?’

  She looked away from me, embarrassed. ‘I was a pig.’

  I understood the flush now and her often-vacant expression. Guinea pigs made a lot of cred and spent it mostly on their health.

  ‘It was OK for a while, until Delly started pushing me to work with clients.’ Her voice changed, catching in her throat. ‘I got scared. Merv helped me get out.’

  Grudgingly, my opinion of Honey shifted. Coming to The Tert must have been a last resort.

  ‘An Amorato.’ Ibis smirked. ‘You couldn’t do that, Parrish. You’d likely garrotte the first person who put their pinkies on you.’

  Teece loomed up over my shoulder. ‘Yeah, stupid idea. You’d never pull it off,’ he agreed.

  I eyeballed them both. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Face it, Parrish, you’re an acquired taste,’ Teece said.

  Ibis stifled an embarrassed laugh.

  Even Honey looked away.

  Perversity reared in me. ‘Is that right?’

  Teece shuffled and stared fixedly at my drink, knowing that he’d said the wrong thing.

  I whirled around to Larry. ‘Let the Babes know I want to talk to them. And set me up an appointment with Dr Drastic.’

  Larry looked as though he might faint, but disappeared behind his p-comm to contact Torley’s resident plastics-butcher.

  Satisfied that would shut them all up I turned back to Teece and caught him wiping a smile.

  I froze. Had he just played me?

  Did it matter if he had?

  What did I want to do?

  The short answer was that I wanted to find out the truths behind Dis so bad that nothing else mattered. Roo had died. Punters had died. My life had been reduced to the status of a rat in a cage.

  I wanted my life back.

  And to make it worse, thanks to the Eskaalim mucking about with my libido the thought of posing as an Amorato wasn’t entirely repulsive. But I wasn’t telling anyone that.

  Let Teece think he’d had a win.

  ‘Jeez, grrl, you get a sex change or something? Why you wearing a skirt?’ a voice behind me enquired.

  I cogged the voice instantly so I didn’t draw my pistol.

  Maybe I should have.

  Instead I swivelled, beer in hand. Casual. ‘What do you want, Mei?’ I didn’t waste pleasantries on her - we had too much history.

  She stood with hands on hips, breasts peeking out of a halter top. Tight pants and tottery high heels completed the look. Loyl Daac’s loyal shaman and part-time . . . whatever . . .

  I resisted the urge to bare my teeth and snap. Due to a ‘spiritual’ experience, Mei Sheong and I had wound up with some type of mind bond. Along with everything else that was weighing on me, I now needed an exorcism from that.

  She eyed off my skirt and heels. ‘Miracles.’

  I couldn’t help myself - her second taunt had me clenching my fingers just short of my piece.

  A rifle bolt clicked across the other side of the room.

  His Majesty Loyl-me-Daac.

  I heard it because Hein’s had gotten dangerously quiet. The locals knew the deal with Loyl and me.

  ‘Easy.’ Teece took one step and was breathing in my ear.

  ‘Leave Mei alone, Parrish,’ ordered Loyl.

  ‘Do as he says,’ Teece urged me from the side.

  Surely by now these boys knew better than to tell me?

  ‘Why?’ I growled.

  ‘There’s something you don’t know,’ he said.

  Mei heard our whispered interchange, winked at me, and twirled confidently on her heel. She sauntered over to the door and stood next to the man with the rifle, slipping her hand possessively onto his hip.

  With extreme difficulty I unclenched my fist and moved my beer along the bar, trying to ignore how Daac’s lean physique and unnaturally handsome face sent loudspeaker messages of desire to my brain. His hair had grown and I liked it. Dead straight, black water-silk falling in his eyes. This man had lied to me and used me and my heart still did cartwheels on demand. His demand.

  I forced myself to speak coldly, icing down my stupid, long-suffering admiration. ‘You should teach your pets some manners, Loyl,’ I said.

  Daac lowered the rifle and frowned. ‘What are you wearing? You look ridiculous.’

  I felt like he’d punched me in the stomach.

  I didn’t like my new look either, but I didn’t want him agreeing with me.

  What was his problem?

  And as for his tone . . . he seemed more annoyed with me than usual.

  ‘What do you want?’ I sighed.

  ‘I brought you a present,’ he said, staring uncomfortably hard.

  ‘Hand-delivered?’

  ‘It’s that sort of thing.’

  He had me then.

  I nodded to Larry. ‘Drink for the guests.’

  Loyl threw me a mocking smile, lowered his piece and stalked to the bar. ‘How kind.’

  Hein’s clientele relaxed collectively and the murmur of normal conversations reignited.

  I soaked it in for a second. That sound was the sound of home.

  Loyl leaned on the bar next to me and looked around.

  ‘Tomas.’ He nodded at Teece on my other side. Teece and Loyl had a family connecti
on but no good mutual sentiment.

  ‘And . . . who’s this?’ His stare slid way too appreciatively over Honey tucked under Teece’s arm.

  She stared back, lips parted, awestruck by Mr Brave-and-Beautiful. Not quite panting, but nearly.

  I couldn’t tell who was more annoyed by it - Mei, Teece or me.

  Mei, I decided.

  The chino-shaman wedged herself between Honey and Loyl with a fierce look on her face. I should have laughed.

  We sucked down our drinks as if it might ease the tension.

  Nup.

  Loyl banged his down and reached into his pocket. He brought out a sheath and slid it along the bar to me.

  I twisted the catch on the sheath and touched the handle. The dagger inside it came easily into my hand. Not any dagger - the Cabal Coomera dagger - polished iron ore and with an astonishing ability to cut through anything. It had to be charmed, or voodooed or something.

  Not that I believe in all that spirit shit.

  Loyl stepped around Mei, touched his fingers to Honey’s golden hair and came to stand in front of me.

  This close he was half a head taller. I hated having to look up to anyone so I stared at his mouth.

  Bad move. Now I wanted to finger the curve of his lip.

  What’s wrong with me? He’s just made a pass at Teece’s girl.

  I held up the dagger. ‘This belongs to the Cabal. I returned it to them,’ I said.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What are you doing with it?’

  ‘Let’s say it’s mine to give now. You can have it, Parrish. In return for something you have that belongs to me.’

  I risked a glance into his eyes. They were black with unfathomable thoughts and emotions. If I’d been a ‘Loyl’ believer I would have said he cared. But these days I actively resisted standing in his devotional queue.

  I knew what Daac wanted: Ike’s wetware - a piece of grisly alloy memory that contained all the research notes of his genetic fooling.

  What good will that do him now? He has no media money backing his pet project. His cash cow, Razz Retribution, is dead.

  ‘Things are moving ahead again. I have some potential investors.’ He answered my unasked question in the softest of whispers - more a touch than a spoken word.

  I swallowed hard. What was worse? Someone deliberately infecting Tert citizens with the Eskaalim parasite? Or Daac hell-bent on genocide by default?

  ‘You’re still going to do this?’ I hissed. ‘You saw what I saw. You know what your gene splicing has let loose. How can you ignore it? How can you just on with your crazy business?’

  Daac showed only a tiny flicker of irresolution, moving closer to me, turning his head at an angle so that no one could lip-read our conversation.

  ‘I’ve taken steps to destroy the original infected trial group. That only leaves you.’ He leaned down, his breath fanning my cheek. Threatening and intimate at once. ‘Why haven’t you come to me? You said you would.’

  I hesitated, appalled and relieved. He’d killed a bunch of people. People who would have become - might have already become - the thing I so dreaded. He was playing God again.

  And yet . . . at least he’d had the guts to try and tidy up the mess he’d made.

  There was only me left now.

  And I didn’t want his help.

  I also didn’t want to know that I’d seen through his lie that I had shape-changed.

  Anger came quick and hard in me. My thoughts flew in all directions.

  Daac had said the dagger was his to give now. That meant a change in Cabal Coomera politics. He was no longer an outsider. Somehow he was back in favour.

  No mean feat. The Cabal had ostracised him because of his obsessions - seemed they weren’t in line with Cabal law and beliefs. No matter how crummy and toxic the place where you lived was, there was always someone in charge of the show. The Cabal was at the top of the Tert pile. They ran the hits, scared the crap out of most of us and had the monopoly on the last word. If Daac was back in favour then his power had increased exponentially.

  I shifted my glance to Teece who’d shouldered his way in, blocking Mei and Honey out altogether.

  What a sad lot we were - raw with suspicions and jealousies. Flick a Zippo between us and we’d blow.

  Teece’s steady expression told me that Daac’s news was no surprise to him.

  Why didn’t he tell me?

  Mei squeezed out from behind Teece and tugged Daac’s arm.

  ‘Your pet needs a leash,’ I said.

  Mei raised her long fingernails toward my face in a scratching gesture. Daac pushed her hands down.

  ‘My people are merely loyal to me,’ he replied. ‘I honour that.’

  I honour that. Phew.

  How was it possible that I had any feeling left for this guy? He was so cunning. So deluded. And now so powerful.

  ‘The Cabal saw fit to give that dagger to me,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve told you. Things have changed. They made a mistake. Come to me with the wetware and I will help you.’

  I pretended to consider his proposal. ‘Leave me the dagger and I’ll come today,’ I said.

  Daac shook his head.

  I persisted. ‘I want this to look like some sort of trade otherwise the rumours will be wild. I don’t want anyone to know what’s happening. Give it to me and I will give you my pistol. You have my word that I will come to you tonight.’

  He stared at me so hard that I thought the glue on my hair extensions would melt.

  ‘Break your word this time, Parrish, and I will come after you.’

  I handed Daac my holster and pistol. In return I took the dagger and slipped it down into the front of my hip band. It set my skin tingling.

  Too late, baby. I’ll be gone.

  I stepped away and spoke loud enough for the eavesdroppers. ‘Nice of you to think of me - now get out.’

  I watched him leave Hein’s, my pulse racing for more than one reason. I didn’t lie very often but when I did it was usually a big one.

  I had to get out of Torley’s before Daac realised that I’d gone. But there were a few things I had to check out first.

  Like - Wombat help me - some sex toys.

  Chapter Four

  The babes on the strip were more than happy to impart their wistful knowledge about their rich sisters, the Amoratos. I got the feeling that if I came back from a stint in a Viva pleasure house my reputation among them would be golden.

  As it was I struggled back to my place laden with gear. Most of the clothes I discarded as cheap, nasty and used. Most of the stuff I kept because it was nasty. Some needed a talk-manual to operate it and some of it just looked like torture instruments. I appreciated their donations but didn’t plan on using any of it for pleasure.

  Merry 3# observed my unpacking with interest. ‘Stop gawking and find me anything you can on the Media’s Information Owners.’

  She bounced three names back at me in no time: James Monk, Sera Bau and an ex-muso, Esky Laud.

  ‘Transfer everything you found to screen.’

  I sat down and read through it.

  James Monk was homegrown from the marriage of some grave Australian media pedigree - the remnants of the Packer-Murdoch dynasty, mainly. Sera Bau boasted mottled but powerful religious connections. And Esky Laud, from what I could see, was short on talent, long on ambition. There was a lot of public-domain knowledge about these three media heavyweights but when I asked Merry 3# to find me a current whereabouts the connection threw up errors.

  ‘Useless pile of . . .’ I said.

  ‘Well, they’re not exactly going to advertise,’ Teece sniped over my shoulder. ‘What did you expect?’

  ‘Can’t you ever knock?’ I stood up and stalked past him to my bedroom.

  ‘You gave me the key code.’ He followed me in. ‘What’s crawling up your leg?’

  ‘You knew about Loyl taking over the Cabal and you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘It was just rumo
urs.’

  ‘Rumours are more reliable than the truth round here,’ I countered, stuffing spare knickers into a borrowed case. I’d given up G-strings for something altogether more practical. Skinny-band hipsters with a flared leg. They didn’t interfere with you running or give you bite marks.

  While I remembered, I slipped Ike’s wetware into a pocket in my leather crop.

  ‘I’m trying to keep you alive,’ Teece said.

  ‘Then you’re doing it wrong. I need to know and hear everything. Everything. Keeping things from me will get me killed.’

  He grabbed my arms and spun me round. ‘No, you will get you killed.’

  Instead of thumping him, like I wanted to, I softened.

  Teece felt it. He wound his hands into the strands of my new red hair and kissed it. ‘Why can’t I get you out of my head, Parrish?’ he groaned. ‘It’s like my every breath is tainted with you.’

  I leaned into his shoulder, trying to will away the rush of desire building at his touch.

  ‘Teece . . . please . . . go . . . now,’ I panted.

  He knew why, could feel the tremble spreading across me. Another moment and I’d be clawing him.

  He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look into his eyes. My desire was more than palpable - it was intoxicating.

  I saw his control slip, felt his hand move to my waist, tug at my clothes.

  ‘Get on top of me,’ I said.

  Teece sprawled with me sideways onto the bed. In one movement he wrenched my skirt up round my waist. Maybe dresses were good for some things.

  Heedless of regret or consequences - and of the knife sheaths strapped to my thighs - he was inside me with thrusts of fierce possession, bruising my body, riding me across the edge.

  My moan turned into a scream of pleasure. Orgasms piled over each other, saturating my body with waves of release and pleasure.

  Inside me, though, something far darker was drinking them in.

  My response left Teece panting, trying to stay with me.