11

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked.

“With certainty,” X-37 said. “What were you expecting?”

The building wasn’t much wider than the safety-glass door that led into it. It had been constructed from solid concrete, a style I hadn’t seen for a while but assumed was a hat tip to some ancient architect.

Massive buildings flanked it like a pair of steel and chrome leviathans devouring the smaller building between them. The effect was a funnel-like approach to the smaller, older building.

The windows to the middle building were too small for my taste, barely allowing light into the foyer. A bell chimed when I went through the doorway. Noise from the street vanished when the front door shut behind me.

“That’s interesting,” I observed.

“It is,” X-37 said. “I believe this area can be sealed against gas attacks. The concrete walls may be reinforced with steel. I measured an unusual thickness to the walls when we passed through the front door.”

“The landlord must be paranoid,” I said.

“Or well prepared for any contingency,” X-37 said.

“I was being sarcastic,” I said.

X-37 responded sarcastically as seemed to be his new normal on this planet. “I didn’t notice.”

Turning slowly, I gave my Reaper LAI a chance to record the floor plan. “Looks pretty shabby on the inside. They must have blown their budget on the blast-proof front door.”

The white and green tiled floor was grimy down the middle and dusty near corners where the efforts of a single janitor made a token effort to do his job for the last thirty or forty years.

The old man eyed me but seemed too defeated to challenge my presence, even if he wanted to.

I stepped into the rickety elevator and thought about holding my breath as the stainless steel doors closed, trapping me in with generations of body odor.

“Was that man actually a janitor or one of their agents?” I asked.

“He doesn’t seem to be skilled at cleaning,” X-37 observed.

“I can barely hear you, X.” Lack of contact with X gave me a bad feeling I didn’t want to think about.

“My connection is weak but steady,” my Reaper interface promised. “You know as well as anyone that in a place like this, a harmless old man can reveal themselves to be assassins. The truth is rarely what the eye implies.”

I laughed. “Sure, X. But there are limits.”

“Agreed. I’ve heard Reapers also have their limitations,” X-37 said.

“Fair enough.” I watched the levels pass and realized the display had been at the lowest level for some time, but we were still moving downward.

“Especially when said Reaper has nothing but malfunctioning gear, no way to repair damage, and numerous addictions and bad habits,” X-37 said.

“All true.” I laughed. Diving into a lair of assassins and underworld crime bosses felt more natural than roaming the streets of Greendale. The prospect of a violent confrontation improved my mood tenfold.

“Are you going to put that cancer stick in your mouth before meeting the assassins’ guild representative?” X-37 asked. “It might make you look tough and intimidating.”

“Ha, ha, ha, X. You’re fucking hilarious,” I said dryly. “And for the record, I’m not confident in my continued supply of recreational carcinogens because someone hasn’t found me a decent smoke shop on the last three worlds we’ve visited.”

“I’ll put it on my list of things to do,” X-37 said. “Do you wish me to suspend work on your fake background to search for Starbrand cigars?”

“You’re not done with my background?” I demanded.

“Not quite. Give me some credit. We’ll be ready.” X-37 beeped several times, something he only did when nearly overloaded or trying to get my attention during a gun battle.

“We damn well better be,” I warned. “I didn’t come all this way to get shanked by local enforcers.”

The door opened to a long, dark hallway. The ceiling felt low and the walls close together.

“That looks like emergency lighting,” I said. “Is that normal?”

“I’m unable to access the utility bill for this location and have no way to determine if there has been an emergency or if this is how they normally keep their lighting. My suspicion, however, is that the gloomy atmosphere is the ambience they’re looking for,” X-37 said.

“Well, they nailed it,” I said.

“We have a problem,” X-37 announced.

“Give it to me,” I said, more than a bit annoyed at the timing. The hallway looked like it led to a torture chamber. I started forward, not wanting to be trapped in the elevator and hoping to expand my options by locating other rooms and hallways.

The small, heavily reinforced door at the end of the hallway looked daunting.

“It's not a problem, actually, but a recommendation based on my current analysis,” X-37 said.

“You're about to tell me you haven't completed my first background,” I said.

“What I have managed so far should be sufficient to deceive ninety-nine percent of investigators, be they working for the Union or a criminal enterprise,” X-37 said. “Unfortunately, I discovered the local assassins guild has already issued an alert about a Reaper on Greendale.”

“A general alert or do they know it's me?” I asked.

“I have insufficient data to know the answer to this question,” X-37 said. Something about his tone seemed strained. “Apologies, maintaining a presence in the local network is requiring a lot of processing power.”

Static rippled across my vision. I ignored it, hoping there wouldn't be a wave of nausea-inducing pain to follow.

“What's your recommendation, X?” I asked.

“Partial deception. Rather than create a complex backstory, I would like to block access with tiny bits of real information accessible to anyone who has the skills and the tenacity to find it,” X-37 said.

“Do it,” I said. “Keep tabs on what we see. I'm going in.”

The door opened as I approached it, sliding upward into the ceiling, confirming my suspicion it was rated as another blast door. If they didn't want to let me in, I wouldn't get in, even if I had brought explosives.

Passing through the doorway, I saw that the barrier was nearly a foot thick and made from two layers of reinforced steel.

A pair of silent guards escorted me forward into a large room. They wore tactical gear that would make most assault teams jealous, but in all black with no insignia. The place had the feel of an underground library or secret cathedral.

The man facing me from the other side of a huge wooden desk was extremely tall and extremely thin. He had the look of someone who had spent most of his adolescence on a space ship or station with poorly calibrated gravity simulators.

“Quite a place you have here,” I said, spotting two additional guards who were lurking in the shadows. They also wore heavy body armor and carried shotguns with drum magazines of extra ammunition.

“Thank you for coming, Wyatt Gold,” the lean, older man with strange eyes said, not sounding at all thankful.

I resisted the urge to question X-37 about his name choice. My adversary was dangerous, more so than anyone I'd ever met. I had known a lot of cunning and devious individuals. I recognized confidence, especially the kind that had been well earned.

This man had the advantage over me and not just because I was in his underground bunker surrounded by heavily armed guards. X-37 and I were playing a careful game of truth and misdirection. This man who had established a functioning assassins’ guild was clearly a master of the game.

“You haven't asked my name.” He leaned back in his chair slightly, resting his left hand on the edge of the desk. His right hand was in his lap, probably holding a weapon.

“What’s your name?” I asked, focusing on his body, eye movement, posture, and the pace of his words to evaluate his level of honesty.

He smiled slyly, almost reluctantly. “Call me… Mr. Gold, since Gold clearly is not your name.” He leaned forward, catching more of the room’s untrustworthy light on his face. “And also for these,” he said, pointing at his gold irises.

“It's good to meet you. I hadn't expected such personalized treatment. All I wanted to know was about the contract,” I said.

“Which contract? We have many that are active,” he said. If he was annoyed I wasn’t more intimidated, he didn’t show it.

I responded without hesitation. “The contract that has a bounty higher than all the others combined.”

“Ahh,” he breathed. “I suppose you are the right person to bring her in.”

“You don't know me,” I promised him.

“I might know you better than you think, Halek Cain.”

“Who? Never heard of the guy,” I said, keeping my eyes on my adversary.

“Surely you've heard of the man who murdered seventeen upstanding citizens of Night City,” Gold said.

I shook my head. “Not ringing any bells.”

The name he had given for my home world, Boyer 5, was slang, and not complimentary. I didn't know if that meant he was being sarcastic in his reference to the gang members I had punished for killing my father or if he had some connection with them that would make us mortal enemies.

Gold snapped his fingers, sending all of the guards from the room. The two lurking in the shadows stepped backward until doors closed in front of them like he kept them in some sort of tactical locker. The other two went out the door I had come in and closed it.

“Let's get serious, Cain. I keep a tight watch over all the contracts on Greendale, including assassinations,” he said.

“So you're not just head of the assassins’ guild, but a crime lord,” I said.

He didn't respond immediately. “Call it what you like. But don't forget that I run Greendale.”

“Maybe we can work together,” I said.

“Maybe,” he answered. “You're a Reaper, and that's always a problem.”

“It doesn't have to be.” I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but suspected his problem with me wasn't what I thought it was.

“I already had some issues with a Reaper. He killed some of my best men. If any of my people find out you're one of the murderous freaks, they’ll want your head,” he said.

At least some of this was a lie. He’d dealt with a Reaper, I thought, but felt there was more to it than he was letting on.

“Tell me about this contract. If it's what I think it is, then I have a vested interest and anybody who opposes me should be ready to go to war,” I said, surprising myself with the statement. “All I want is one person from this planet, then I'll leave and cause you no problems.”

“Interesting,” he said.

“How did you know my name?” I asked.

He chuckled and spread his hands as if the answer was obvious. “The other Reaper told me. He said Halek Cain is coming and if I didn’t get rid of the girl from Dreadmax, Cain would come here looking for her and kill everyone.”

“Where is she?”

“Do you want her for the Union?” he asked.

This felt like a test question. I didn't have enough information about the crime boss to understand his allegiances. “I'm no friend of the Union.”

“I didn't think you would be. But maybe you could do some work for me if things go right. Go find the girl. I won't help you, but I won’t hinder you. That's a good deal, trust me.”

I said nothing. He had given me his blessing on the contract too easily. X-37 whispered possible reasons for this in my ear, but I wasn’t in a place for a discussion with my digital friend.

“My people will show you out,” Mr. Gold said.

“I know the way. But thanks.” I lit my cigar, taking my time, then made my exit.

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