eimarra | Serial: Bodyguard of Lies, episode 58: Questions at the Station (Reply)

Bodyguard of Lies is a serialized science-fiction novel updating once a week on Tuesdays. If you missed last week’s episode, Bailing Out a Friend, 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 58
Questions at the Station

“Flynn?”

So that was Johansen’s agenda; he had been serious about questioning her. Somebody’d gotten to her old boss.

“Why aren’t you at the arena? I’d think you’d have plenty of people to talk to there.”

“That’s none of your business, is it, blondie?” Johansen’s partner strolled down the hallway toward them. “Nice save, getting her for questioning,” she told Johansen.

“Thought you and Cap were sorting through what we got earlier. The two of you been spending a lot of time in her office lately.” He leered at his partner.

“You can watch the vids later.”

Charly hesitated in the doorway. The room had a single chair and nothing else. Not a good sign.

“S’amatter? Fraid the chair’s going to bite?” the fem asked.

“More afraid that you will,” Charly said.

“I’ve had my shots. It’s him you should worry about.”

Charly glanced at Johansen. Worms didn’t have teeth, but now would not be the time to say so. “I’ll take my chances.”

Rather than sit in the chair, she stood behind it, her hands resting on the ladder back. Johansen blocked Gena from entering the room. He handed her the chit. “Go make sure this doesn’t have anything on it that would be . . . dangerous.”

To their system? She wasn’t dumb enough to bring something like that in here with her. Probably Johansen wanted her alone for some reason, other than the obvious.

The door closed behind him. “Relax. I just want a few details on your old boss. You got nothing to hide, right?”

Everyone had something to hide.

“He was a boss. A bit of a creep at times, but absolutely fair — everyone played by the same rules, took the same hits.”

“We both know that ain’t true.” Johansen rubbed his fingers together like a man looking for a bad habit. “No one but your friend got kicked out to freelance.”

“She wasn’t kicked out,” Charly said. “She’s still drawing salary.”

“Bet you fixed that up. Have to kill Flynn when he found out?”

“I don’t fight.”

Johansen walked over and leaned one foot on the seat of the chair. “Don’t, or can’t?”

She shrugged.

“So who didn’t like him? He set everything up — who fought, how much they made, who took a dive . . . ”

“Nobody took dives. Not in this city. Few years back, a ring tried to set up, came in to pitch to some of the glads. The glads took care of it before word got back to Flynn.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t see anything about that in the records.”

“You wouldn’t.” Charly pushed away from the chair. With her back to Johansen, she said, “Everyone hated Flynn. He pulled every last cred from both sides that he could get, and a few more that he shouldn’t have. He bullied the glads and forced them to fight when they still shoulda been flat in med bay. But no one would’ve lifted a finger against him.”

“Someone did. Killed him in Tiger’s flat last night, about the time your friend’s place was torched.”

“Tiger’s flat? What was he doing there? If she were still alive — ”

“You’d say she’d done it? Yeah, I thought about that, but the DNA’s clear — the first dead body is hers, not some corpus clone.” Johansen paused. “So what would make you suspect her?”

Charly still didn’t face him. “She was bringing stuff to the arena. Flynn didn’t hold with drugs. I don’t know the new management policy on it, but Flynn blackballed Tiger’s cousin for glassing before a bout.”

“Cousin?”

“Dead now, I think.” Charly turned. “Wound up down in Yellow, trying to find something better than glass.”

The door opened, and Johansen’s partner walked in. She shot a glance at Charly, walked over to Johansen, and murmured something in his ear. He darted a look at Charly then shook his head. He held his hand out, and his partner dropped a chit into it. It might be Charly’s chit, but she’d have to get to a terminal — a secure one — to know for certain.

Johansen held it out to her. “It’s clean. You want to go see your friend now?”

“I want to bail her out.”

Johansen’s gaze flicked back to his partner. He nodded toward the door, and she left the room. He refocused on Charly. “Announcement of bail was premature. Her case is under review currently.”

“And I’ll bet it’s because someone showed up willing to post the bail money.”

Johansen drew back from the chair. “She’s dangerous to herself and others. We’re trying to make sure no one else gets hurt.”

A nearby explosion rocked the room. Charly met Johansen’s eyes. “What was that?”

He didn’t bother answering her. He opened the door. Smoke coiled in, faint gray against the beige walls. Not too close, then, or it would be heavier. “Stay here,” he said.

“Like hell.”

She followed him into the corridor. Smoke and dust mixed with a babble of voices in the entry area. They headed that direction, but another explosion shook the building, knocking them into the wall. The opposite wall caved in, blocking passage to the entry.

“Now what?” Charly asked.

“We go through the main station. Unless you want to be tossed into a cell for safe keeping.”

This didn’t seem to be the time for jokes. “I doubt the cells are any safer. I should get Sabra and go.”

“We’re not going that way; it ain’t safe.”

“If you’d let me bail her out, safety wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Payment ain’t gone through, you can’t take her.” He pushed himself away from the wall. “You think they’re gunning for your friend?”

“Seems to me a hell of a lot of people might be mad at you guys.” Charly turned toward the prison division. Maybe she could make someone else see reason.

Johansen grabbed her arm. “It ain’t happening, fem.”

She pulled away from him just as the next pair of explosions rumbled through the building, sounding a deep one-two from above and below. The floor slid downward at an angle, shifting toward an outer wall that wasn’t there any more.

Charly looked around for somewhere to jump; the ceiling shivered, and chunks dashed downward into the corridor, blocking it with dust and debris. They were too far from stable flooring to leap. Johansen clutched at her as the floor tilted further.

She grabbed the wall. It wouldn’t hold long; the entire section of the building swayed like a drunken Green. Charly counted the oscillation period of the building — not long enough to give them momentum any direction but down.

Part of the entry way caved in. She gauged the distance, took a deep breath, and leaped the next time the building swayed. Johansen, still holding her tight, was carried along with her, and the extra weight almost made her miss. Her hand barely found a hold in the concrete rubble.

She swung her other hand up, seeking a better grip. Johansen’s hand pushed hers out of the way, and his feet dug into her side as he clambered over her to perch atop the piled wall. Charly pulled herself up next to him. “Next time,” she said, “save yourself.”

He was panting too hard to answer.

Click here to continue reading with Episode 59, Glad Conversation.

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Originally published at Erin M. Hartshorn. You can comment here or there.