“Brando,” Jazz said. “You’re probably the last person I expected to see today.” He paused, looking him over. “You look like you got hit in the jollies with a baseball bat.”

  “Not quite,” Cassidy replied. “More like the kneecaps.”

  “You’re a little old to be jumping off rooftops, my friend.”

  Cassidy smiled. He should have guessed Jazz was listening in, probably through an implant on the clerk’s sunglasses. “It couldn’t be helped.”

  Jazz put up his hands. “None of my business. My friend Brando comes to me for assistance, then that’s what he gets.”

  “I don’t have much coin at the moment.”

  The big man stood up. He took the G21 from the desktop and shoved it into a drawer before circling the desk and draping a thick arm around Cassidy. “Coin? You’ve managed to get the UDF off my ass how many times over the years? Brother, your coin is no good here. Come on, we’ll see what we can do.”

  Cassidy let Jazz lead him back out of the office, doing his best not to react to the statement. Hall had helped the dealer avoid detention by the UDF? As far as he knew, that was illegal. Of course, when it came to Special Investigations and especially the Shadow Initiative there was a lot of gray area. No doubt Hall had traded protection for intel. Maybe he could do the same.

  They paused at the blast door while Jazz typed in his passcode and scanned his thumbprint. The electromagnetic lock on the door released and he grabbed the handle, straining slightly to pull it open. He waved Cassidy through, entering the room and closing the vault door behind them.

  Cassidy recognized the room from Hall’s memories. It was almost like a reproduction of the pharmacies’ front end, except the supply was more densely packed. Legal stuff sat on the left, excess inventory to be shelved up front when needed. Not so legal stuff was on the right. Hundreds of boxes of pills and vials of different kinds stacked and labeled.

  Jazz went over to those shelves, using a finger to hunt for his target. “Here we go,” he said, locating what he wanted and picking up a bottle of liquid. He turned and held it out to Cassidy. “They call this Jarhead Piss. It’s basically the same shit the UDF Marines get juiced with from a stim-chem, reformulated to go through the intestines to get into the bloodstream instead of the direct line. Tastes like formaldehyde, and too much of it will eat away at the stomach lining, but it should get you through the next week or so. There’s a dropper inside. Fifty milliliters as needed, no more than three times a day.”

  Cassidy took the bottle, holding it up so he could see the liquid inside. “Are you sure this isn’t just a real jarhead’s piss?” he asked, the deep golden color making it seem as if it were.

  Jazz laughed. “Go to the wrong dealer and you’ll end up drinking their urine,” he replied. “But my stuff is pure. Especially when friends are involved.”

  Cassidy nodded and shoved the jar into his raincoat pocket. “Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Maybe you can do a little more, then.”

  “What else do you need? Prime? You look like you could use a high.”

  “Information,” Cassidy replied.

  “So, the usual,” Jazz said. “What is it this time?”

  “Does the name Mason Garrett mean anything to you?”

  Jazz rubbed at his face. “Garrett? Garrett. Hmmm. It sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

  “I thought you owed me?” Cassidy said.

  “I don’t owe you that much.”

  “You afraid of him?”

  “I’m not afraid of anyone.”

  Cassidy didn’t believe it, but he didn’t argue. “The name isn’t the secret. What can you tell me that’s within the bounds of your debt?”

  “Not a lot. He’s a former Marine.”

  “I already know that.”

  “He’s been swimming around in the same water as me for a couple of weeks now. I hear he’s looking for something.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “He’s connected to the Silver Dragons. Did you know that?”

  “I’m surprised you know that.”

  “You aren’t the first person I’ve talked to,” Cassidy lied. “Do you know what he wants with them?”

  “He’s a mystery like you. A new player keeping his moves close to the vest. Doing favors to get closer to whatever it is he wants. He probably did a favor for them. Or will. What do you want with him?”

  “You know better than to ask. Unless you’re going to pass my interest on?”

  “I can probably arrange a meet if that’s what you’re after.”

  Cassidy considered for a moment. It would be that easy to get facetime with Garrett, but that was the last thing he needed. He couldn’t take him by surprise that way. “I prefer that he doesn’t know I was asking about him at all. It’s between you and me.”

  “Whatever you say, my friend. Is there something else I can help you with? Something a little less likely to get me killed?”

  “So you are afraid of him.”

  “Garrett’s like a hurricane. When someone like that shows up, you hunker down and wait it out. And if you’re patient enough you’ll get through it unharmed. Jump the gun, and you’re liable to get blown away.” He smiled again. “That’s good advice for you too, I think.”

  “Yeah, you might be right about that. Thanks again for the piss.”

  Jazz laughed. “Anytime.” He returned to the blast door, going through the security protocols again in order to open it and let them both out. “Another piece of advice, my friend.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t jump off any more rooftops.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Right. Duly noted. I’ll show myself out. I’ll see you when I see you, Jazz.”

  “My door’s open,” Jazz replied. “But you’re going to owe me soon. Take care of yourself out there.”

  “I will. Oh, and Jazz?”

  “Yes, my friend?”

  “I probably don’t need to remind you, but if I find out you leaked anything, I will come back here, and I will kill you.”

  Jazz’s smile faded. “Of course.”

  Cassidy returned to the front of the pharmacy. He nodded to the clerk on the way out, noting how she hurried to the back as soon as he was gone. He wasn’t convinced Jazz wouldn’t pass word to Garrett that someone was looking for him. While the big dealer seemed afraid of Hall-as-Brando, he was much, much more afraid of the former Marine.

  Hopefully, Jazz would take his own advice. Hunker down and wait it all out. Bringing up Garrett’s name had been a calculated risk. Cassidy had only given the tree a light shake.

  Would anything fall out?

  Chapter 16

  Cassidy didn’t take a swig of the stim cocktail right away, instead keeping it concealed while he limped a few blocks from Jazz’s drugstore to a nearby hotel. The place was nothing fancy. A dive located a couple of streets over from the main drag, it was accessible through narrow streets crowded with strip clubs, virtual reality gaming, gambling halls and pubs. It was less brightly lit than Jazz’s place but still lined with animated holos trying to draw in customers.

  Downtown, dark alleys led to darker vices. The only indication of underground clubs and shops were the men and women monitoring the corners, whispering to potential marks while keeping their eyes skyward for signs of passing patrol rotos or drones. An occasional delivery bot rolled agiley through the throng, as did an even rarer bicycle or scooter. There wasn’t enough room for cars.

  Nobody paid any attention to Cassidy as he slipped through the front doors of the Agora, moving from the bustle of the city nightlife to sudden quiet delivered by thick noise-deadening substrate. The contrast was nearly enough to confuse his senses, and he paused a moment just inside the door, hearing only the rainwater on his coat dripping onto the old tiled floor.

  “It’s really coming down tonight,” the woman behind the reception counter said.

  Cassidy looked over at her. The lobby was barely big enough to let a dozen people stand inside. The counter was dead ahead, the majority of it protected by bulletproof glass. The elevator and stairs were immediately to the right of it, along with a small series of dropboxes where the place could take deliveries. It was all decorated in chipped and scratched painted gold-leaf and plenty of Romanesque flourishes, abiding to its name. Like the ancient city, the hotel’s best days were long behind it.

  “More like wolves and cougars than cats and dogs,” Cassidy replied, approaching the desk. “What’s the rate?”

  “Two hundred for the standard,” the receptionist answered. She had a weathered face and thin blonde hair. Her baggy blue cardigan had seen better days and her posture gave Cassidy the impression she hated her job. “Or I’ve got a special on a suite for two-fifty.”

  “Standard is fine,” Cassidy said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve Hall’s ClearPhone.

  “You look like you’ve had a rough night,” the woman said as he tapped on it to transfer the coin to a ClearTab on the desk beside her.

  “What makes you say that?” Cassidy asked.

  “Your coat has glass dust clinging to it, and you’ve got tranq gel on the leg of your pants. Translation: rough night.”

  Cassidy smiled. “That’s pretty observant of you. Are you former law enforcement?”

  “My ex worked for the UDF,” she replied. “Taught me all about attention to detail. God rest his soul. If he were still alive, I wouldn’t have to work this lousy shift.” She laughed. “He got tranqued himself a couple of times during training.”

  “What happened to him?”

  She shrugged. “Damned if I know. Left for work one day and never came back. A month later, I get a note from the UDF that he’s gone. They paid me his shitty life insurance and that was that.”

  “Tough going.”

  “Yeah. I got by on it for a year, but you know how it is. Rent’s only getting more expensive and space is becoming more of a premium. I heard on the news the seas are still rising and if they don’t stop we’ll be goners in fifty years. I’m glad I won’t live long enough to see that.”

  “Let’s hope they’re wrong.”

  “We can hope.” She tapped on her ClearTab and sent a virtual key back to his phone. “Welcome to the Agora, Mister Hall. You’re in room four sixteen. I’d give you directions to the elevator, but since you’re sober I think you can figure it out. My name’s Shell, if you need anything. I’ll be here all night.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Thanks, Shell.” He nodded to her and walked to the elevator, tapping the control to summon it. He eyed the silent world outside the facing of the hotel while he waited for it to arrive, his eyes sweeping over a wide assortment of people. They slipped past a woman in a long, dark raincoat who seemed to be looking back at him. By the time his mind registered her and he turned his gaze back to where she was, she was gone.

  He remained in place when the doors to the elevator opened, trying to locate her in the crowd. He gave up when the doors began to close again, sticking out his foot to hold them so he could slip inside. The woman had a resemblance to Minara. That was probably why she stood out.

  The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and when he walked out he nearly tripped over a passed out drunk. He used a foot to shove the man out of the path of any other incoming guests before continuing across dark blue carpeting that had turned almost black with dirt. The door control for four sixteen sensed the key on his phone and unlocked ahead of him. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The standard was just that. A twin bed next to a small window, a tiny bathroom with a sink, a toilet and a stand-up shower. It was more like a prison cell than a hotel room. Not that Cassidy cared. He had slept in worse places. Much worse.

  He left his raincoat on a hook next to the door, where it continued to drip on the carpet. He dropped his ClearPhone and needlegun on the pillow at the top of the bed before stripping. He took a minute to pick the tranq gel off his pants before placing them and the rest of his clothes at the foot of the bed. Entering the bathroom, he did his best to avoid looking at Hall’s face in the mirror while he relieved himself and took a quick shower. He returned to the bed with a towel around his waist, picked up the phone and sat back against the headboard. Looking down at his knees, he saw they were both bruised and swollen.

  There was no point taking the stim right now. Unless things really went sideways, he shouldn’t need to run again for a few hours at least.

  Tapping on the ClearPhone, he navigated back into the Unity OS, returning to the accumulated files on Garrett. He started with the UDF Marine personnel file.

  Mason Garrett. Age twenty-five. Cassidy stopped there. Only twenty-five? He was young for someone at the top of Unity’s most wanted list. Six feet, three inches tall. Two hundred thirty pounds. Looking at the attached holo, the guy was all muscle. Joined the UDF on his eighteenth birthday. Completed basic at the top of his class. Deployed to the moon for low gravity training, which he also completed in rarified air. After that he was assigned to the Dome for additional training before joining one of the details headed off-world.

  He flunked out of that program. Why? Cassidy scrolled through the file, looking for the answer. He found a psychological assessment attached. It turned out Garrett hadn’t taken well to the idea of leaving home so far behind, especially as a glorified babysitter for the colonists headed off to settle nearby systems. Proxima, Trappist and the like. Anywhere they’d have a future that promised a future they didn’t have here.

  According to the doctor’s report, Garrett’s reaction wasn’t that unique. Not everyone was cut out to be an explorer. They had redeployed him to Mars, where he spent the next two years before his unit was brought back to Earth for a year of sentry duty. Interestingly, he didn’t earn a single promotion during that time. In fact, his record was filled with disciplinary actions post-Dome.

  Whatever had happened to him there, he had never completely gotten over it.

  He hadn’t even made it to the end of his last deployment. Eight months in, he and a group of five other Marines were found illegally selling Marine-issue firearms. Caught in the act, they made a run for it. Only Garrett survived.

  Cassidy leaned his head back, considering the report. Something had happened to Garrett at the Dome; that much was clear. Was it as simple as a psychotic break, or was there more to the story?

  He returned to the files, looking for more information about his childhood. He found foster care records dating back almost to birth. It seemed his mother had been addicted to the popular street drug of the day, his father nowhere to be found. Getting bounced around as a kid was definitely hard, but he didn’t seem to have any obvious mental health issues, behavioral problems or anything that would suggest his later activity.

  Cassidy lowered the ClearPhone. No real clues there, either. The only way he would understand what happened to Garrett would be to ask Garrett himself. He didn’t foresee that happening any time soon.

  He lifted the phone again a few minutes later, resuming his review of the files. A security video of Garrett getting jumped by a quartet of Bureau agents caught his attention, mainly because of how efficiently Garrett took them out of action. What Cassidy found more intriguing was that he didn’t kill any of the agents during the fight.

  Other data inside the folder included a full accounting for Garrett’s travels from the time he joined the Marines, with some of it backfilled based on assembled investigative evidence. Like Nevis had said, he moved from city to city, never staying in one place long. The UDF hadn’t uncovered any specific patterns or made any solid connections related to the visits. It was all so random, ostensibly to avoid capture.

  Or was it?

  Hall’s experience as an investigator left Cassidy unconvinced. He couldn’t shake the sense that Garrett wanted something, even if he had no idea what that something was. His thoughts kept turning back to the Dome. The training facility was designed to mimic offworld environments, from rocky, barren landscapes with low gravity to more Earth-like terrain. The complex was part virtual reality, part augmented reality. One of the UDF’s greatest technical achievements, at least with regard to training combatants. What could have happened to Garrett there that had caused the sharp turn in his trajectory? Would finding those answers help him with his current predicament? As much as the curiosity nipped at him, he didn’t think it would.

  But there was something else to consider. The Initiative had put him on Garrett’s tail with Hall as his repo. Nevis had explained her reasoning, and now that Cassidy had been shadowing Hall for a couple of hours he understood and agreed with the decision. But at the same time, it felt almost too convenient. And Hall knew ahead of time it might happen. He had prepared for it.

  How were Garrett and Dorne connected, if they were connected at all? What was Hall’s place in this? What was his own? What was so important Hall had risked and lost his kid over it?

  Cassidy had a million other questions. Zero answers. He had known when he spoke to Nevis that this job would be hard. But it had already grown exponentially more difficult than he had originally thought. He remembered she had suggested that he might be able to use Hall’s recognizance as an advantage rather than a detriment. He reconsidered the notion again now.

  Putting the ClearPhone down on the bed next to him, Cassidy closed his eyes. He had some ideas. A little bit of rest to let everything stew and he would be ready to get back to work.

  Chapter 17

  Cassidy didn’t sleep for long and he never slept very deeply. Too hardened to drop his guard, too experienced to lose track of time, his eyes snapped open when he heard a light buzzing sound in his left ear.

  Glancing sideways, he spotted a small insect hovering over his ClearPhone, its tiny wings the source of the noise. He didn’t react to it by trying to smash it with his hand or to shoo it away. Instead, he squinted to better focus on it, noticing the tiny lenses of its eyes and the mechanical structure of its delicate frame.