He stopped in front of the second stand, and Rigel followed.
“He is looking for mist,” Barrow said, nodding at Rigel. “What have you got?”
The man with the apron started rummaging around, knocking aside small bottles in his haste to sell Rigel something before he drifted away. Barrow had asked for mist because it was a fairly expensive party drug, difficult to obtain and even more difficult to preserve.
“You’re in luck, sir, you are!” he told Rigel. “I just had a shipment of the finest quality mist you could ever hope for…. Here we are. Have a look!”
The man was talking to Rigel, but he handed Barrow the palm-sized cylinder of metal and glass. It was deceptively heavy for its size since mist had to be stored at a very high pressure to maintain its strange half-liquid and half-gaseous consistency. As a result, the metal seals on the top and bottom of the cylinder were made of extremely dense metallic alloys. Barrow lifted up the cylinder and held it up to the light for Rigel to inspect. Rigel played along, peering at the contents of the vial. Inside, the translucent substance swirled around lazily, neither liquid nor gas. It looked like very thick fog, which was how the drug had gotten its nickname.
“What do you think, sir?” Barrow asked Rigel.
Rigel considered for a moment and then shook his head. He looked away, apparently unimpressed. The woman in the next stall immediately began trying to get his attention.
“Sorry,” Barrow told the man. “Not good enough for him. We’ll keep looking.”
The man immediately began protesting and telling them something about premium stock he didn’t usually offer customers, but by then Barrow had led Rigel away and farther down a perpendicular aisle.
“Nice acting,” Barrow commented under his breath when he was certain they were out of earshot.
Rigel grinned. “You too. Are you supposed to be my bodyguard or something?”
“That’s the idea,” Barrow said, pleased that Rigel had been so quick on the uptake.
“That’s the idea, sir,” Rigel corrected him.
Despite himself, Barrow found himself smiling. “Shut up, Rigel.”
“I don’t think so,” Rigel said playfully. “I’m supposed to be the rich guy, remember? You have to do what I say.”
Barrow rolled his eyes, and Rigel laughed. They kept going through the crowded pathways, going deeper inside the Market. Barrow made sure to look around carefully as he tried to spot Streaker. It was nearly fifteen minutes before he saw his quarry, sitting at a small and rundown-looking stall at a corner of the drugs section. Just beyond him began the electronics division.
Barrow approached Streaker quickly with Rigel close behind. They stopped in front of the stand.
“Streaker,” Barrow said.
The junkie grunted at the sound of his name, reluctantly lifting his gaze from a tablet he had been watching. He did not even bother to hide the prominently displayed pornographic video that was still playing on it as he stood up and set the tablet to the side.
His eyebrows went up when he recognized Barrow. “Hey,” he said. His tone was suspicious. “What can I do for you, big guy?”
“I had a hard time finding you, Streaker,” Barrow said.
Streaker’s eyes shifted to the side, almost as if he were contemplating his avenues of escape.
“Hey, Barrow, my friend. The stuff I got you was top-notch quality, I swear. If a batch turned out bad, it wasn’t my fault. I test everything before I get it to you, I—”
“This isn’t about my usual stuff,” Barrow told him. “I need something else, something bigger, and I figured you’re the right man for the job.”
“What kind of a job?” Streaker asked, still standing as if poised for flight. He looked past Barrow and spotted Rigel standing next to him. Barrow clearly saw Streaker’s eyes widen in recognition.
“We need an off-roader,” Barrow told him. “Something that can drive over the desert about an hour or so and come back in one piece.”
“An off-roader?” Streaker echoed. “What the hell do you need an off-roader for?”
“That’s none of your business,” Barrow said, getting a little bit closer to Streaker. He caught a whiff of the man’s stench. Streaker had probably not taken a shower in weeks. “And don’t play stupid with me, Streaker. I know you have contacts. I know you have to know someone who can get us what we need.”
Streaker was now looking from Rigel to Barrow and back again. He seemed to be working something out and answered only slowly. “I… I might know a guy over at the metalworks. Fixes up busted ancient craft, might… uh, might have something like what you want. It won’t be cheap, though.”
This was it. Barrow didn’t have any money, and he didn’t want to force Rigel to give away his entire inheritance. His plan was to bluff his way until he got the off-roader and then take it however he could.
“We’ll pay you,” Barrow said as confidently as he could manage. “My friend here has plenty of money. First you take us to this guy you know, though. We work out a price with him, give you a cut when the deal’s done. Sound fair?”
“No can do,” Streaker answered, shaking his head. “That’s not the way it works in here, Barrow. You should know that. You pay me up front. This guy I told you about, he’s my brother-in-law. Oswald. He’ll give you a fair price for the off-roader if you want to keep it.”
“We don’t want to keep it,” Barrow told him. “We just need it for a run in the desert, and then we hand it back.”
“Same thing,” Streaker said. “Trust is important in here, my friend. You got to trust me on this. Can’t get you a deal otherwise.”
“We could go to the metalworks ourselves,” Barrow countered. “Talk to this Oswald without you running errands for us.”
Streaker laughed out loud. “Good luck with that! Do you even know where the place is? My in-law’s business is an illegal operation, make no mistake about that. He doesn’t exactly go about advertising where he works, particularly not to outsiders like you two. And if you start asking too many questions trying to find him….”
He didn’t have to finish. Barrow knew it would be fruitless and dangerous to begin asking random people to help him find someone he was looking for. Here in the slums, when somebody started asking questions about you, it usually meant he wanted to get even or that he was with the law. In either case, the best he could hope for was misleading directions that would take him clear across the slums until he got lost. The worst would be for people to get suspicious of his questioning enough that he would be ambushed in the first dark alley he stumbled into.
Only one option left to try. Intimidation.
“We’re kind of in a hurry,” Barrow said, lowering his voice and walking around the stand slowly so he was face-to-face with Streaker. He lifted his hand and poked Streaker in the chest once, hard enough to make him stumble backward. “I said we’ll pay, and we will. But my employer here is not very patient. And neither am I.”
Barrow pointedly rested his right hand over the gun he carried under his belt. He gave Streaker a significant look.
To his surprise, Streaker laughed.
“You’ve been too long living in the city, Barrow,” he said, grinning wide enough for his rotten back teeth to show. He took a step back, completely unconcerned.
Behind him, Rigel cleared his throat. Barrow looked back to see what was the matter, and he saw what Rigel had already spotted: at least six of the nearby vendors had left their stalls and were chatting among themselves in pairs, apparently oblivious of what was happening with Streaker. Nevertheless, each of them was armed, and they casually managed to show their weapons to Barrow as he looked at each of them in turn. The last pair of vendors actually caught Barrow’s eye and held it until Barrow was forced to look away.
The message was clear. He would not get away with threatening Streaker to do anything, not here.
Barrow gritted his teeth. He was running out of options, and he had no idea where else he might be able to procure a vehicle that could take them over the desert. There was the military compound down south, but he had never even been there, and he supposed all the vehicles would be heavily guarded. The airships were another option, but even more unlikely. Even the smallest one required a crew of several people, and it was simply impossible to steal one without having the other captains notice.
That left only Streaker and his contact, but he wanted money Barrow simply didn’t have.
“Look—” he began, but Rigel chose that moment to step up and cut him off by placing a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Steve,” Rigel said in a resigned voice. “Mr. Streaker, is it?”
Streaker nodded suspiciously, shifting his attention to Rigel.
“If you won’t have it any other way, we can get you your payment up front. Bear in mind, though, that we will expect this payment to also go towards covering the cost of the off-roader rental, plus the necessary fuel that will be required. I trust you will work out the details with your brother-in-law?”
“Maybe. What will you be paying me with?”
Rigel held up his data card.
“Steve,” Rigel said authoritatively. “Give it to him.”
“Of course, uh, sir,” he said, barely remembering to stay in character. He reached out and grabbed the little black card Rigel was proffering, and handed it to Streaker.
“Here, scan it,” he told the man.
Streaker took out a handheld terminal and proceeded to do just that. When he saw the readout, he gasped. He couldn’t help himself.
“Is… is all of this down for payment?” Streaker asked Rigel with wide eyes.
“Unless you can deduct a reasonable amount without leaving an electronic trace,” Rigel said.
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid. You’d need to get the bank to authorize that.”
Rigel sighed. “I was afraid of that. We can’t leave a trace, or people will know where I am. Take it all, then. I’ll give you the access credentials for the total.”
Barrow interrupted. “Rigel, don’t. It’s too much—”
“Can you get us what we need or not?” Rigel asked Streaker, ignoring Barrow.
Streaker’s head started bobbing up and down so fast it looked almost comical. “Of course, sir. It won’t be a problem. My brother-in-law, he’s working on a big project now, but I’ll convince him to get you a desert-worthy vehicle. It might take a few days, though. It’s… it’s not the easiest thing, getting hold of the parts, and fossil fuel in particular is going to be a problem, but if you give me about a week, I should have everything for you.”
“A week is too long,” Rigel said evenly. “We want to be on the road as soon as possible.”
“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” Streaker answered quickly, speaking formally and so unlike his usual self that Barrow was hard-pressed not to snicker. “If I do procure everything you need before the week is over, I’ll let you know. It’s slow going, though. Surely you understand. There are people to bribe, work to be done, some parts to be scavenged from other projects. My brother-in-law and I will also have to work out the little details, like getting you your vehicle out in a spot where gang leaders won’t spot us, all of that. If you get me a contact number, I’ll make sure to send you a message the minute we have everything ready.”
“We don’t have a number,” Rigel told him, “and as a matter of fact we were thinking of staying somewhere nearby until you are done. We want to stay out of sight for a while. I’m sure you understand.”
Streaker blinked, obviously caught off guard, but he recovered quickly and gestured frantically with his left hand to one of the women who had been silently monitoring the conversation from the nearby stands.
“What’s up, Streaker?” she said, eyeing both Barrow and Rigel with mistrust.
“Alyssa, go tell Zoe that these gentlemen here will be needing rooms for the next week or so. Underground if possible. Then get your ass back here so you can show them where to go.”
Alyssa appeared surprised, but she did as Streaker asked. As she left, she must have given some kind of signal to the other onlookers, because Barrow noticed each of them went back to their stands and relaxed. The threatening atmosphere dissipated instantly.
Rigel took both Streaker’s terminal and the data card. He logged in and authorized for the funds to be cashed to the carrier of the card. “I trust this will be enough to pay for everything?” Rigel said, handing over both items.
Streaker snatched the things from Rigel’s hand and cupped the card in both of his own, looking at it greedily. He mouthed something to himself and then closed his fist firmly on the object. Then he actually smiled, looking happier than Barrow had ever seen him.
“For this amount? Sir, we’re more than even. With my brother-in-law too. And everything else.”
“Good,” Rigel said casually, although Barrow caught the faintest glimmer of regret in his eyes as he looked at his inheritance trapped inside Streaker’s fist.
The woman, Alyssa, reappeared a short while later, and she told them very politely to follow her so she could show them the way. Rigel and Streaker shook hands, and Streaker promised to be in touch as soon as he had everything ready. As they left him behind on their way to wherever it was they would be staying, Barrow wondered just what kind of person Rigel was. He had willingly given up all his money bravely, without whining about it. It had been necessary, so he had done it. Simple as that. Barrow only hoped Rigel wouldn’t regret having parted with that money.
They walked for a short while until they were outside the perimeter of the Night Market. Alyssa led them to an establishment that looked like the average shack here in the slums, but as soon as she opened the door, Barrow realized the shabby entrance was only a front. They stepped into what could have been the reception of a modest hotel back in the city. Someone was already there, waiting for them.
“Zoe, here they are,” Alyssa told the woman standing in the lobby. “Streaker said to get them underground rooms.”
“Thanks, Alyssa. I’ll take it from here.”
The sound of her voice triggered something in the back of Barrow’s mind. When the woman stepped closer so that the light hit her full in the face, his eyes widened as he recognized her. He had not known her as Zoe, but it had to be her. He just hoped she wouldn’t—