Breakout (32 page)

Hover cars upset Jael's stomach, but the vertical drop was worse. “That's first on my to-do list. If I transfer funds today, will you start the paperwork with dome administration?”

Pace was much friendlier now that they'd passed the Madame Sorush gauntlet without bodily harm. “It would be my pleasure. I know a solicitor who can file everything for you before the end of business.”

40

Unchecked Momentum

“So now we know
who
is after Jael,” Calypso said.

They had paused for lunch at a café near the port market, and the remnants of the meal still littered the table. It was such a novelty to order a meal from the serv-bot and have it delivered. Freedoms that others took for granted seemed marvelous to her. Hopefully that appreciation wouldn't fade.

I don't want to take this fresh start for granted.

“Now we should decide what to do about it.” Martine sipped her kaf, eyes slitted in appreciation.

“We shouldn't take action without discussing it with Jael first,” Tam cautioned.

“And our first instincts probably shouldn't be indulged.” Calypso sounded glum.

Dred smiled. “We'll learn to solve problems with something other than a hammer.”

“But it won't be as much fun,” Martine muttered.

Tam finished his drink and stood. “Let's learn what we can about the Quintel Consortium. There should be information available, we just have to find it.”

“I think I'll leave that in your hands,” Dred said. “I'm heading back to Hidden Rue to see how the meeting went.”

The others stood as well. Martine and Calypso went off together, looking secretive, while Tam was bound for research. She paid for their meal and went to the tran stop, waiting along with a handful of other people. None of them looked twice at her. Anonymity was a strange and wonderful thing. During the trial, people spat on Dred when they saw her in public. They threw bottles and rotten food, and the officers never attempted to shield her.

We hate vigilantes. You're scum, Devos, nothing but a cold-blooded killer.

She hopped on a transport along with everyone else and reveled in the snippets of conversation. One man was whining about long hours at his job while a woman boasted to her friend of the present she'd just gotten from her boyfriend. There was nothing portentous or vital about any of it, but no violence or danger, either. The trip ended when she hopped off a couple of blocks from Hidden Rue.

Dred took her time, watching the way other people moved. In Perdition, she always had one eye over her shoulder, and a few people walked that way in Gehenna as well. But most of them seemed to be driven by time instead, if they were running late or not.

Music thrummed from Hidden Rue, but then in the short time she had been here, it always did. From what she'd seen, it never closed. There was always a dancer onstage, always at least a few drinkers watching or doing business. She passed through and headed up to their suite. Jael was inside already, poring over something on his handheld. A frown furrowed his brows, and he didn't seem to notice her. Dred closed the distance to peer over his shoulder.

“What's wrong?”

He started. “Didn't hear you come in, love. Where have you been?”

“Checking on some things with the others.”

“Ah, so they found the place. That's good.” He was so distracted.

“Didn't the meeting go well?”

“Hm? No, it went fine. That is, I'm still waiting to hear. This is something else.”

“Is there a problem?” Dred tried not to sound impatient, but she was used to being in charge and having all the information before anyone else.

“Not exactly,” he hedged. Then he seemed to focus on her expression and apparently realized she wanted details. “Sorry. I think I made a good impression on Madame Sorush, but she's not rushing into an alliance. Not that I blame her.” Then he told her about the citizenship requirements and how he'd already invested the necessary funds in Hidden Rue. Jael concluded, “Now I have the forms to submit, but I've hit a small hitch.”

“What is it?” Concerned, she leaned closer.

With a faint sigh, he tapped the screen, zooming in. She saw that the “surname” space was blank. All at once it hit her.
He doesn't have a last name.
At one point, he'd told her that even his first name came from the initials of the scientist that had created him.

“I'm not sure what to do about that,” he admitted quietly.

The words came out before she properly processed them. “Use Devos.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Unless you don't want to. It's a pretty notorious name, now.”

“Are you proposing to me?”

A hot flush washed her cheeks.
Mary, how long's it been since I blushed? This is ridiculous.
“No. I was just offering a solution to a problem.”

“You sure that's all?”

“I'll let you know if I change my mind,” she muttered.

He touched the handheld, then hesitated. “The same surname will definitely foster the impression that we're a married couple. You all right with that, love?”

“It won't bother me.”

With no further hesitation, he entered Devos into the field and flew through the rest of the document. Happiness didn't begin to describe his expression when he transmitted the final forms; it was more like pure radiance or incandescent joy. Dred felt weird using those phrases even mentally, but they both applied.

“It only takes twenty-four hours,” he said, smiling. “As long as Pace's solicitor files everything as promised.”

“So that means you'll be a full citizen of Gehenna, this time tomorrow. Congratulations.” While she couldn't pretend to understand how much it meant to him, she could guess. For the longest time, he'd been a thing in the eyes of the law.

He nodded, eyes overbright. “I can vote. Run for office. Own property.”

Dred perched on the arm of his chair and wrapped an arm around his neck. It was impossible not to kiss his forehead in silent gratitude. Now Jael would have legal recourse; he wouldn't need to resort to carnage that resulted in his inevitable capture.

“I like the ring of Senator Devos. Is that what you want?”

“I'm not sure. Never thought about it. Before, I was always running, just trying to stay alive. Now I have time to breathe.”

And live,
she thought.

•   •   •

THE
next day, Jael stared at the courier package. Pace's solicitor had been as good as his word, so he unwrapped it. The documents he held proclaimed his citizenship in black and white, red stamp, gold foil. He hadn't expected it would feel like this, but after so many turns, it was . . . overwhelming. For long moments, he held on to his desk.

The long wait is over.

Soon thereafter, Tam rang at the suite door and came in with an information packet on the Quintel Consortium. He made his presentation efficiently, then said, “My advice is to proceed with whatever business plans you're making, solidify your position before taking action. It will be better if you can respond to their offense from a place of strength.”

Jael nodded. “Dred is out with Pace right now, looking at real estate. We can't stay at Hidden Rue forever.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A ten-story building. The bottom floors will serve as our corporate offices. Then we'll remodel for flats on the top levels. I meant to ask you about that, actually. I reckon we need one for Dred and me, another for you and Martine, then one for Calypso. Or do we need four?”

Tam smiled. “Three would be fine. I'm just a little surprised you want to keep us all so close. Don't you want separate houses, a normal life?”

Jael set down his precious citizenship papers. “No, I really don't. I don't think I'd sleep well if we were spread all over the city. What if something happened, and I couldn't get there fast enough?” It was more honesty than he usually offered but the other man had asked. “Maybe it's trauma talking or habituation, but . . .”

You're family to me, all of you.

Tam was quiet.

“If I'm presuming too much—”

“No, I think a private flat will be fine, though I'll need to check with Martine, of course. If you haven't guessed, I'm rather at loose ends. My plans never extended to what I'd do, should I survive an escape attempt.”

“There's a job for you here,” Jael said. “Analyze data for me, the way you always have. I've got credits, now I plan to found an empire. But the right people are critical for any start-up.”

“Make me an offer.”

They talked terms for close to an hour, and, at the end of that time, Jael signed a contract with Tam. He'd never put his name on anything before; there would've been no weight, no meaning. For a few seconds, he stared at the signature:
Jael Devos
. Tam watched him, wearing a faint smile. The smaller man seldom gave away his thoughts, but he seemed pleased by the agreement.

“Do you think your better half will be willing to sign on?”

“I'll talk to Martine and get back to you, but I can't imagine she won't be interested.”

Just then, his handheld buzzed with a message from Dred.
Found a likely locale. Come and see?

He sent back,
On my way.

There was no need for a jacket. Gehenna climate didn't change. “Did you want to scout the property with me?”

Tam shook his head. “I need to find out what Calypso and Martine are plotting.”

“Then I'll see you later.”

The building they had found was exactly ten stories, as he'd requested. It wasn't located in the aerie, so the premiums weren't as high as they might have been. Yet property in Gehenna was
always
expensive because of limited space. A sales agent chewed Jael's ear off, explaining that the area was a “bridge,” whatever that meant, and that it was becoming gentrified. He shot Pace a look, who read it correctly and led the woman away so he could talk to Dred.

“What do you think?”

“She said it intersects a fair number of communities.” That wasn't really an answer.

He stood gazing up at the façade, a sort of neoclassical design. The style wasn't modern, and someone had leased one side to augment failing revenues, so there were a series of flashing advertisements for other businesses. Those would have to go.

“You don't sound enthusiastic. Shall we head in?”

The foyer had clearly been grand at one time, but it was grungy now, a little worn-down, with scuffs on the floor and dings in the walls. The structure would require an external facelift, much like Hidden Rue, plus a full remodel on every floor. Jael didn't have the skill set to estimate how much all of that would cost. There were few mod-cons; the two lifts were dated and creaky when he and Dred inspected the place floor by floor.

She was oddly silent, venturing no opinion, even after the lift doors opened onto the final stop, a single open space. Instead, she paced to the windows that flooded the room with light. Clearly, this had been the penthouse office of some failed business. He could still make out divots in the ancient carpet where the desk legs had dug in. But he could envision the room transformed; there was already a kitchenette and executive san. It wouldn't take much doing to turn this into a home. Mentally, he mapped it out, placing furniture and choosing the décor.

“I don't want to hire someone,” she said unexpectedly.

“What?”

“If we buy this place, I want us to fix it together. It will slow your plans somewhat, but . . . this is the only way I'll feel part of it, not just tagging along on your goodwill. I think they call it sweat equity.” Dred let out a nervous laugh. “Anything we don't know how to do, we'll learn.” She was watching him in the glass, apparently unable to face him, as she whispered, “I want to build a home with you.”

In that moment, he wanted it too, more than anything.