Shadow Box

“That we would,” Kane said, impatience in his voice, “depending on what deal you’re offering here. All we’ve heard so far are rumors.”

The man’s head turned and his blue eyes met with Kane’s. He was perhaps twenty-five, lean with sunken eyes but just a little puppy fat around his jowls. He had dark hair, cut short and prematurely balding, and his chin was dark where he hadn’t shaved. With his sharp features and swift, twitching movements he reminded Kane of the rats they had seen in the streets outside.

“Rumors are tricky things,” the man said cheerfully. “Never really know what the cack you’re being told. I’m Tom.”

Kane bowed his head slightly and Grant and Brigid did likewise.

Carnack gestured that they take a seat on the cushions before him. “No need to stand on ceremony. We’re all brothers under the skin and on and on.” He smiled. “You fellas got names, I take it?”

Taking the lead, Kane kneeled on the cushions before Tom. “John Kane,” he said, “with my partners, Grant and Brigid.” This was a lie. Kane had no first name, and nor, in fact, did Grant. Magistrates were born with one name, bred to take over their father’s position in the Magistrate Division in the illusion of continuous service. The need for first names was a luxury Magistrates never enjoyed.

“Nice to meet you, John, Grant and Brigid,” Carnack said genially. “So, why don’t you start by telling me these rumors and we’ll see if we have any common ground or if you’re just pissing your time away.”

As Carnack spoke, the woman draped in shimmering silks continued to gyrate provocatively to the soft music, but Carnack appeared to have dismissed her from his mind, suddenly all business. She was tall with straight brown hair and long, shapely legs, and Kane found himself distracted by her movements for a moment.

He blinked and turned his attention back to the trader. “They say you have access to a baron,” he stated. “A young baron, ripe for training, for molding. Mentally, I mean.”

Again, this wasn’t entirely true. The rumor that had reached Cerberus was that Tom Carnack and his brigands had access to hybrid DNA blueprints and the technology to regenerate barons from them—cloning tech or birth pools or whatever. That part of the story changed in the telling from place to place. Since the hybrid barons were sterile, the only way for them to reproduce had been through artificial techniques.

“Well, you’re half-right, friend.” Carnack nodded, smiling widely. “What I’ve got is, well—did you hear what happened out in Beausoleil?”

Kane rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t get out there that much, but I heard there was some kind of aerial bombardment.” In actuality, Kane and his colleagues had walked through the rubble just a few months ago. “Maybe leveled the whole ville.”

“That’s pretty much the long and short of it,” Carnack told them. “See, the barons had some sort of disagreement and they started taking shots at one another. Don’t ask me what it’s all about, I couldn’t give a monkey’s, I can tell you. The bottom line is, the nine baronies are in turmoil, right?”

Kane nodded, encouraging the man to continue.

“Happens that I knew some folks what were in the flamin’ ville when they started bombing Beausoleil.” The trader smiled. “Almost got themselves barbecued. One of them has got half a head of hair now—you couldn’t miss him.”

Kane suppressed a smile at the man’s friendly charm. “So, what is it you have?” he asked.

“Well, once the bombing was over there was stuff there that was just ripe for the taking, see?” Carnack explained. “High risk, you know. Magistrates trying to keep out independent traders, honest folk like you and me. Anyway, I happened to acquire some genetic material, very nice stuff. Hybrid DNA. You know what that is?”

Grant snarled. “Yeah, flyboy,” he growled, “we know what it is. Nature’s building blocks for making new barons.”

“Spot on, my friend, spot on.” Carnack laughed.

“So, what use is this DNA?” Kane asked.

Carnack adjusted the cushions beneath him and sidled a little closer, holding his hand up to mask his words from the dancing girl. “World’s going to hell in a handbasket, friend,” he told Kane conspiratorially. “The baronies are all blowing up, and I figure the whole game of marbles is up for grabs for those that want it. Strong people, leaders, like you and me. Am I right?”

Kane dipped his head in a slight nod. “Right. So what do I do with this baron DNA? Just add water?”

“If you want to make baron soup.” Carnack guffawed, slapping his thigh loudly. “You’re having a laugh, right? Just add water? What are you, a clown?”

“Then what use is this DNA to me?” Kane asked, his tone somber.

“Like I was saying,” Carnack told him, “the world’s changing and everything’s up for grabs. But you try setting yourself up as a baron, friend—people will lynch you from the nearest tree. They’ve been indoctrinated, see?” He tapped the side of his head. “In their heads. These ville-raised twits all think that the hybrid barons are their natural leaders—it’s like law of the jungle or something.”

“So,” Kane said, “if I had a baron of my own I could call the shots.”

“Exactly,” Carnack told him. “If your crew want to live like barons, you set up your puppet in the position of power and you pull his strings. Welcome to John-Kaneville.” He looked at Brigid and a smile crossed his lips. “Mind you, your friend there can pull my strings anytime, if you catch my drift.”

Brigid smiled tightly at him, narrowing her eyes and saying nothing.

“Suit yourself.” Carnack smiled back before turning to address Kane once more. “So, I’m talking a small fortune for the DNA. On top of that, you’ll need birthing pods. Now, I’ve got a lot of DNA but only one set of the pods. For them you pay the motherlode, and it’s a rental—there’s no buyout option. You get me?”

“And then what?” Grant asked. “DNA in the pods makes us a baron?”

The trader shrugged. “Well, that’s the catch. We’ve got the equipment, but we’ve yet to produce a real live hybrid.”

Brigid leaned forward, suddenly interested. “How are you operating it?”

“What’s that?” Carnack asked. “How do you mean? The thing’s set up with plenty of juice but, honest, all we’ve had come out so far is dead babies. Ugly nippers, too.”

“You have whitecoats operating this? Scientists?” Brigid urged.

“Some, but they’re still working out the kinks,” Carnack admitted.

“So, why would we go in with your organization on this?” Kane asked.

“It’ll work,” Carnack assured them. “Might take another ten goes to get it right, but it’ll work. And if you want to set up a barony, you’ll need a baron. That’s science right there, my friends. Once it works the price triples. Get in early and you nab a bargain, set yourselves up for life.”

Kane gestured to Brigid. “My colleague here is a scientist.”

“Geneticist,” Brigid said by way of clarification as the trader turned to admire her once more.

“What say you to a forty percent drop if she can get your tech working?” Kane suggested.

“Friend,” Tom said, smiling, “if she can get my tech working, I’ll bloody well marry ’er.”

“Forty percent discount will be sufficient.” Brigid smiled patronizingly. “When can I look at the birthing pod?”

Carnack’s eyes lost focus for a moment, and he looked at Velvet Coat, who stood beside the exit while he thought. “Now you’re asking,” he said. “Let me go work out some details. You wait here. I won’t be a minute.”

Carnack stood from the cushions and stepped past the dancing girl, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek before disappearing through a gap in the veils that hid the contours of the walls.

Kane sat still, watching as the man disappeared. He wanted to turn to address Brigid and Grant where they knelt behind him, but the armed guards were still in the room, along with the dancing girl and Velvet Coat. This was too easy. If they could get access to Carnack’s alleged birthing pod, they could assess whether this was a genuine threat and if it was, maybe destroy it then and there.

“Seems like a nice guy,” Grant muttered under his breath after a few moments, and he felt the eyes of Carnack’s men turn on him, watching warily.

“Just watch the pretty girl, Grant,” Kane suggested out of the side of his mouth, and they sat there in silence once more while the long-limbed beauty continued her sensual dance before them.

After a moment, the dark-haired woman leaned down and stretched her arm out to Kane. “You like what you see, yes?” she said, flashing dark eyes at him.

Kane smiled. “You’re very pretty,” he told her, his eyes flicking back to the curtains where the negotiator had disappeared.

“Would you like to dance?” the girl asked.