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eimarraBodyguard of Lies is a serialized science-fiction novel updating once a week on Tuesdays. If you missed last week’s episode, Falling Further, it can be found here. You can catch up on the entire serial on this page with a description of the story and links to all published episodes.
Bodyguard of Lies
Episode 27
Shakedown
Johansen paused inside the door of the bar. Dingy lighting, more booze than food, and customers that minded their own business — his kind of place. That blonde book-cooker hadn’t wanted to give him the name of this place, but it hadn’t been hard to track down. She’d been walking the downside, coming here, and the best explanation was to meet that fem glad. The blonde had denied it, of course, but he could find the connections. He just had to look in the right places.
He moved to the bar.
The bartender didn’t even look up. “Lemme see your chit.”
“Not looking for a drink right now,” Johansen said. “Just want some information.”
The bartender snorted. “In that case, lemme see your chit.”
An uncooperative witness in a dive — this was Johansen’s lucky day. Nobody here would testify against him if he got a little rough. He started easy, though.
“Yeah? So you just holding that glass on the back counter until you can turn it over to the cops, then?”
The creep’s eyes flicked toward the rack of vials behind him, then returned to whatever vid he was watching below the bartop. He didn’t say anything.
Johansen grabbed his gun and pointed it at the bartender. “Why don’t you just hand it over, nice and easy?”
The guy didn’t blink. “I’m paid up on my protection.”
Dirty cops? And they hadn’t let Johansen in on it. Or maybe the bartender thought Johansen was just a regular low-life scum trying to break into the local scene. Johansen smiled slowly. This was going to be fun.
He shot the rack of vials. Powder sprayed everywhere.
“Why, you — ” The bartender surged to his feet and found Johansen’s gun in his face.
Johansen glanced around the room. A few customers had left; those who remained didn’t look toward the counter. He returned his attention to the bartender.
“The next time a cop shows up looking for information, cooperate.”
“I didn’t know you was a cop.”
“Sure you didn’t. Who else comes in looking for info?” Johansen pushed his gun under the guy’s chin. “Now you going to tell me what I want to know, all about a glad what hangs out here when she could be doing much better for herself.”
The bartender’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “I don’t know nothing. I don’t.” His voice rose to a squeak. “Ed, the guy what owns this place, he’s the one who always works when Tiger’s coming by. I don’t know why she comes. You got to ask him.”
He’d have some flatfoots dig out the scoop on this Ed. Maybe he was a known. It was a lead, but Johansen was sure he could do better. “But you know who she is, so that means you saw her at least once. Who was she with?”
“I don’t know. I was here, picking up my cut of the week’s tips.” No doubt meaning the money that had passed hands for the glass and whatever else — transactions no one wanted on their records. “I saw her come in and nod to Ed, then she headed for the back room. I left right after that. I swear.”
“Sure you did.”
The bartender was probably telling the truth; he didn’t look calm enough to lie with the gun poking into his skin. Still, a background check on him and his associates might turn up a lead or two or at least reassure Cap that he was doing his job. Bitch. Someday, he’d get her job — and maybe this case could help him do it. If he got the credit.
He pulled the gun back but paused before putting it away. “Don’t suppose you know where the glass comes from?”
The bartender eyed the weapon and licked his lips. “Ed picks it up once a month, cuts it himself. He gets some special deal for carrying . . . other things.”
Johansen leaned onto the bartop. His smile wasn’t meant to be friendly. “What sort of other things?”
The bartender glanced toward the customers and dropped his voice. “Stuff he can’t sell here, so they know he won’t take any. He’s dropping some Katy today — that’s the only reason I’m covering this shift.”
He was no closer to finding out who the glad had met with, but a reik bust might put Cap in a good mood. And if he nailed Ed, Johansen could ask him about who Tiger had met here, and how often. “Tell me — where can I find Ed?”
~O~O~O~
Cinn stopped by Charly’s office again at the end of the day. “I heard what happened. Tough break.”
Charly shrugged and slid another chit into the terminal. She was taking all of her files with her; her replacement would never know the difference. “It happens. They’re giving me a nice cushion of creds.”
“Where you going to go next?”
“I was thinking of maybe going in for some corporate work. Managing accounts here should be good for a reference.”
Cinn closed the door. “You going to check out that corporate that Tiger was running with?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
Cinn grabbed the chair and spun it so Charly faced her. “I’m serious here. Whatever she was mixed up in, she died. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
Charly smiled softly. “That’s sweet.” She wheeled the chair back around. “I haven’t thought about going there. I haven’t heard much good about that particular corporate.”
Cinn leaned over and kissed Charly. “Let me know when you’ve found your new place, okay? We’ll do dinner or something to celebrate.”
Charly kissed her again. That combination of spices never got old. “I’ll let you know.” She brushed a finger down Cinn’s cheek. “Take care of yourself. Grunt may have a bit of steam to work off; he and Tiger were friends.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Cinn headed to the door. “You didn’t mention that to the cops, did you?”
“Figured they’d get whatever they wanted from the glads. They didn’t ask me about her friends.”
Cinn nodded without looking around. Charly stared after her for a moment before returning to her computer terminal. She still needed to reroute all the searches she’d set in motion to dump duplicates in Sabra’s account as well as her own.
~~
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Originally published at Erin M. Hartshorn. You can comment here or there.
