It's probably bad business practice to try to make contact with the guy you've been paid to dig up dirt on, but York's already got what she came for, she's been paid and she's made the handoff. Besides, it was hard to ignore what she'd found, and really, she's not sure why internals haven't picked up on it yet. It's clear it doesn't go up that high, and if it looks like what she thinks it looks like, the guys high up are probably gonna want to know. And Duv Galeni is pretty high up.
York's pretty sure he knows he's being followed, but that's probably for the best. Not surprising him is probably best in her favor right now. Hopefully that means he's less likely to shoot first and ask questions later, or maybe just shoot first -- he doesn't seem like a paranoiac, but he's ImpSec, and all ImpSec are paranoiacs in York's experience. Barrayarans, man.
She knows he's going back to his apartment and she tails him at a distance, waiting until he's gone up to take the lift. Delta's got the layout of this building pulled up in the back of her head, and it doesn't look like there are too many suites per floor higher up. She's not sure if she's gonna have to knock or if he'll be waiting there, ready for her. Man, she hopes she doesn't have to break in. Well, that'd be fun, probably, but she doesn't think it'd make a very good impression. Still, she came armed too. She's not stupid. But Delta is running probability scenarios and York is almost ready for a half a dozen outcomes when she steps off the lift.
Someone is following him. It's clear a few turns from work and becomes more obvious when he leaves his bubble car and starts the last leg of his walk. An angry Komarran that wants to yell at him for working with Imperial Security? A friend of his father's that's not sure they recognized him? Whoever it was, they were determined to find him and catch him off guard. Why else would they be waiting so long to engage? It's not his ideal use of his off-hours, not when he's spent all day and overtime trying to figure out who's been buggering into their system, but he doesn't have a choice.
His wrist comm is on and ready for use though he leaves it be for now. Alerting security or Imperial forces would only let the person who's following him know and if it's a friend of his father's, he'd rather not involve anyone else. He lets out a small sigh when he reaches the door to his flat and rubs his face before opening the lock. As soon as he hears the door slide shut behind him, his stunner is in his hand. If there's going to be a confrontation, he'd rather have it behind closed doors.
Well, hallway's empty. That's probably good. If this thing turns into a fight, better that it's not in a more public space, although York's hoping for the not-fight outcome. It's not that she's worried so much as it is that this would be a lot easier without her having to punch someone in the neck.
Hey, D, which one is this guy's again?
Duv Galeni's apartment is the third door on the left.
Got it. D'you think I should knock first, or just go on in?
It was partly rhetorical, but she feels Delta running probability scenarios in the back of her head anyway. He is already aware of our presence. There is a sixty-eight percent chance he has armed himself. Thirty-six percent chance of violent outcome if you choose to use the door chime. Thirty-nine percent chance of violent outcome if you choose to open the door yourself. After a moment he adds, I think you could have tried a little harder to evade detection.
But it's easier this way, York thinks, and she reasons that maybe that three percent difference in probability lies in that maybe, if she knocks, it'll come off as a little less threatening. So York, conscious of her stunner, raises a finger and hits the door chime.
They're ringing the door bell? That adds credence to his theory this is someone who knows him or a family member. He knew this possibility became greater when he was stationed on Komarr. Even in a dome full of as many people as there were, it was hard to escape that part of his past. Whether they intend to be friendly or not is another matter and he keeps his stunner in hand.
He takes a moment to approach the door, standing off to the side in case it's already been rigged with explosives. He is in Imperial Security after all and preparing for the worst was a key survival trait.
"I wasn't expecting any visitors," he says in an even tone. "Name?"
York would call the guy a paranoiac, except that he's taking totally reasonable measures against someone he knows has been following him. Still, this is gonna get awkward if they have to keep talking through a door.
"Yeah, 'cause that's why you left the door unlocked." Just because she knocked doesn't mean she didn't notice. "Not a name you'd recognize, but hey, as a sign of good will: you can call me York."
"A codename?" He doesn't need an answer to be willing to bet it is with the way she phrased that introduction. York. Nothing he recognizes or even in the realm of what a Komarran would choose for an alias. Which then begs the question what the hell is she doing here if she's not some old acquaintance of the family.
He edges his foot in front of the door, having decided it's not ready to explode if she's still standing so close. He has one more requirement before he opens it. "Weapons out and on the floor. You can slide them to me when I open."
She might still have some hidden on her, but he can at least get an idea of the tech level he's dealing with. The nature of trade on Komarr meant all kinds of equipment passed through.
York sighs. They never do make it easy, do they? She was willing to put her hands up at stunner point, sure, but drop her own? This might be turning out to be more trouble than it's worth. Hey, D, what do you think he's packing?
Based on Duv Galeni's psychological profile, he is most likely holding a stunner. However, I estimate there to be a seventy-point-three percent chance that he also has a nerve disrupter somewhere in his apartment.
Okay, I know, not the time, but I do you go out of your way to avoid saying 'sixty-nine' on purpose?
But rather than wait for an answer, because she's sure Galeni isn't going to wait long, she unholsters her stunner and sets it on the floor. After a moment's hesitation, she sets down her nerve disrupter in resignation, too. Well, she'll keep the knife hidden in her boot. He's probably not expecting that anyway. And if it really comes down to it, as long as she gets in close, York doesn't really need a weapon.
Good. He was wondering if it would be wiser to stun her and sort out the rest later if she was hesitating this long. Door open and stunner pointed at her, he notes that at least one of the weapons she's laid out is lethal. If there's another on her in hiding, he'll have to be sure he's faster. Distance would be his best weapon.
He slides her weapons back into his flat with his foot before stepping back from the door and motioning her in. Whatever it is she has to say, he has a feeling it would be best to say them behind closed doors.
"You've been following me," he states with a raised brow. He'd really appreciate an explanation.
Terrible time to make jokes, but then again, York never was good at holding back the commentary. She holds her hands up, showing them empty in a sign of sort-of surrender. "I know, I know, stranger following you home, that's always a red flag. But I only came to talk, I swear." She raises her eyebrows in a hopefully disarming smile, the scarred skin around her bad eye stretching a little, and steps in.
A mercenary? Those weren't uncommon on Komarr where many used their money to their advantage. If only Komarr relied on their own bodyguards, but with their population limited and interests lying elsewhere, outside resources had always been more practical.
"Talk quickly. Right now I see no reason not to alert security to your presence." And then they could take it from here, both the headache and paperwork that came with such an intrusion.
Hey, D, how quick could he alert security if he gets bored with conversation?
Very quickly.
Okay, cool.
York keeps both her hands and that disarming expression up, apparently mostly unruffled by the threat. She's had worse said to her at nerve disrupter point. "Something's a little rotten in your house, Ser Galeni. I'd do some finance audits on your ImpSec outposts on Komarr. Some of your officers are investing Daddy Emperor's pocket change in the wrong places."
Now that gets his attention. His aim doesn't falter, but his interest is piqued. Questions are flooding through his mind, but there's one that sticks out above the rest.
"If your concerns are with what ImpSec is doing," he starts, "you realize there are better places to report such information than a random Captain in the same organization."
"Yeah, but then I'd have to explain a bunch of stuff I don't really want to, and I think this ticket'd get lost going through proper channels, if you know what I mean." York tilts her head with a shrug, keeping her hands up. "You seem like a standup kinda guy. How much do you think it'd boost your career if you outed an internal racket?"
"That depends on the racket," he answers dryly. A Komarran going after important Barrayarans in Imperial Security sounds like a dream of his, but a dangerous one. He almost committed career suicide once when he answered his father's call on Earth and covered his tracks.
"You're already going to have to explain it here and now. The only part you're changing is the audience."
"That part's a long story. And it's not really the part you care about." A little eyebrow raise, a nod in his direction. "I think the part you care about is the one where you've got an internal racket funding what's probably a terrorist cell."
There's a long moment where he stares her down before reluctantly kneeling to grab the weaponry she dropped. His stunner isn't holstered, but he's at least not aiming it at her anymore.
"I'll give you a chance to explain," he says curtly and motions for her to take a seat in the conversation circle adorning the main room of his flat.
"Generous of you." York carefully moves to sit, keeping her hands up, but muscles still tensed. "I don't have all the details -- I just noticed a few things looked kinda off, and the rest followed from there. There's a local contracting company under your budget, but I think that might be a front."
A front receiving Imperial money and converting it into terrorist funds. He had been hoping to come home to relax and have a drink before he went to bed for the night. That thought is long gone as he watches her. How much of what she was saying was true?
"Komarran run?" he asks dryly. "And I hope you have proof of what was 'off' in your estimations."
"Hey, I didn't save any of it. I just happened to notice it. They're your records, you go check 'em." York sits back on the couch slightly, hands still up, and nods at Duv. "Komarran run, and some of their employees don't have the most pristine backgrounds." She raises an eyebrow. "You should get on that. This could be a career-changer for you."
"If I have the clearance for them," he grumbles to himself. It wasn't too long ago he remembers that being an issue when a supposed military fleet captain landed in his embassy's care. He eyes the woman before pacing a few steps. If she were telling the truth...
York shrugs noncommittally. "Let's just say I'm operating off an...alternative revenue stream."
That is perhaps not the most comforting answer she could've offered, but it isn't a lie. "Like I said, I stumbled on it by chance. I think you'll have clearance for a few financial records, won't you, Captain?"
"Alternative revune stream?" he repeats dryly. "If I'm dealing with a criminal syndicate, I'd appreciate knowing which one should a knife end up in my back."
Or a plasma burst or a needle. Still this could be worth investigating and he didn't go into academics to ignore that nagging voice of curiosity that was always in his mind.
"I'll consider putting in a request," he acquiescences.
"Syndicate? Nah, you've got nothing to worry about. I'm just a freelancer. Don't worry, pal, where my money's coming from isn't a stitch in this particular tapestry of trouble."
She grins at that concession. "Good for you. Take that career move by the balls and ride it to the top. Can I go now?"
"No," he says bluntly. That was a colorful expression. The fact that the woman is from Jackson's Whole is solidified in his mind at those words.
"I need to verify your information and prepare a proper report of it." After a moment's consideration he adds, "One I'll file once I know the extent of this corruption." Because what good was a report if it only went to the one in charge of this laundering scheme.
"Yeah, that sounds like a lot of paperwork. What do you think I'm gonna be doing all that time, sitting with my thumbs up my ass?" York raises her eyebrows at him. "Illegally detaining a woman in your flat, Captain? Not a good look for you."
"You arrived willingly," he says with a scowl. He can't keep her here, that much she has right. Detaining her would only cause further problems if there were those in his ranks he couldn't trust never mind how trustworthy this woman would be if he turned his back on her.
"Yeah, and now I'd like to leave willingly," York says pointedly, but Duv seems to be drifting away from that crucial point. She'd really like to part on good terms here. She spreads her hands out palm up, empty. "I told you, all I did was notice a few irregularities and do a little probing. I didn't take anything."
Well, nothing related to that, anyway.
York raises an eyebrow. "You want me to go back and do my dirty work again, don't you?"
"It would make this investigation go more smoothly," he says with a frown. The word of a woman he's met only this evening isn't much to go on no matter how plausible the story is given the difficulties of Komarran integration.
"There would be a stipend once this is all said and done, in Betan dollars." Since he has a feeling she'd need incentive to return. Even the Imperial coffers knew outsiders didn't operate the same as subjects in terms of motivation. "I wouldn't expect you to work for free."
York's eyes light up. A grin spreads across her face. Delta's scenario simulations taken abrupt turn in a different direction. "Hold up," she says, finally dropping the under-arrest pose and leaning forward. "Are you offering me a job? Shit, I just figured you were gonna make me do it at gun point."
"I find we get better results when our contacts are properly compensated," he remarks dryly. Following her at gunpoint would be a waste of his time with the work he's about to put in to track this down on his end. "I can't guarantee when your payment will be issued, but I have the authority to authorize it."
York tilts her head and twists her lips in acknowledgment of that point. Yeah, she'll do a lot for money than she would for...well, no money.
Hey, D, is this guy for real?
Barrayaran Imperial Security has a ninety-six percent of record third party recompensation, not including cases in which the third party died before payment.
Well, let's hope we're not in that four percent, then. Or that I don't kick it before they cut a chit.
There's a second's delay while that conversation happens in her head before she answers Duv. "Betan dollars or...what the hell d'you guys use, Imperial marks?"
"Betan," he confirms. "They are well aware that Imperial marks serve their uses only on Barrayar." At least the conversion rate had improved since they first re-entered the galactic scene. Thank god since it made his job far easier.
"I can have a formal contract written and ready for you by mid-morning."
Oh, good, she's getting paid in real money. York nods approvingly, internally agreeing with Delta that this really is the smartest course of action. No sense in trying to get out of this and lose out on the payment part when that's a surer thing.
"Alright, I'm in." She nods at the stunner still in Duv's hand, one eyebrow raised. "Are you gonna keep me here overnight to make sure I don't disappear in the meantime?"
"I get the impression the promise of a paycheck is enough motivation for you to return." The look he's giving her implies if he has the wrong vibe, she's more than willing to tell him.
If it isn't well... Holding her hostage in his apartment wouldn't serve him any good. She's not likely to be cooperative any further than she has been without the use of fast penta which he doesn't have on hand.
York winks her good eye at Duv and gives him a single finger gun. "You got me there. I will definitely be coming back to collect."
Getting double paid? Oh, yes. You just made York's whole goddamn week, Duv. There's no way this will come back to bite her in the ass.
She starts to get up from the couch. "Alright, see you tomorrow then. Let's say...I dunno, eleven? That French Barrayaran café down the street? I'm feelin' brunch."
"Eleven," he agrees. That would give him plenty of time to run what he knows about her through their system and see what he can find out. Duv doesn't need to start this working relationship at a disadvantage.
York tips him a lazy salute with the wrong hand as she gets up from the couch and heads for the door.
"Yeah, I've got a good sense of direction." York flashes him a grin at the door way. "See you tomorrow, Galeni."
She reviews the dossier she'd nabbed that night, the one she was actually paid to go looking for. She's not being paid to read it, but they never paid her not to, so she indulges her curiosity. Duv Galeni is a deceptively interesting man, it turns out, with a surprisingly sordid past. Huh. With that face, York wouldn't have guessed. There's layered security in the file, a locked portion she hasn't been able to get to. She sets Delta on it, passes out comfortably on the cheap hotel bed, and when she wakes up, Delta's cracked the file. Apparently York just wasn't trying hard enough.
She doesn't have time to read it before she has to jet, though, which is a shame, but she's sure she'll get a chance later, so for now she pockets her datacube and grabs her jacket on the way out. Yeah, she's definitely feeling brunch today.
He shakes his head at the lazy salute. If she had been hoping to get a rise out of him, it fails. The Vor were the ones in bed with the military and concept of it. In his younger years, the discipline had provided guidance and through the ranks, a goal for him to obtain. At least he has an idea of the kind of informant he's dealing with.
The morning consisted of him getting the contract drawn up, the proper paperwork filed, and a security order sent out to find any information about this woman they possibly could. He might fly blind for this meeting, but the next he intended to have a leg up.
Datapad tucked under his arm, he's waiting for her at the agreed place and nods in greeting. "I was wondering if you would come."
"What, and miss brunch with my new favorite ImpSec officer? Wouldn't dream of it."
York gives Duv a crooked grin -- she seems like the sort of person who'd arrive at least a few minutes late, but she's actually right on time. This job, she's taking seriously -- not the least because it intersects with her current job, and she's curious. It seems like a hell of a coincidence. She's curious about whatever the hell's going on in ImpSec over here, and she's even more curious about Duv after reading through his file. Also, Delta makes for an excellent, if irritating, alarm clock.
So, yeah, she's totally here.
"It's a seat yourself kinda place," York says, rolling one shoulder in the direction of the dining area, and she jerks her head in a motion for him to follow as she heads in, hands in her jacket pockets. She glances back at Duv and the datapad with him. "Got my contract?"
Acquisitions are usually a breeze. The clients usually aren't asking a whole lot -- sometimes expensive shit, but usually it's just information, and that's easily portable -- and for the most part, the places she needs to get into are a joke compared to what she used to do for Freelancer. Civilian security systems? They don't stand a chance against York, especially with Delta.
Getting in is always easy. It's the getting out that sometimes poses a problem.
This time, it's a museum. Nothing crazy, not a whole painting or anything, just a few historical artifacts in small padded crates that are easy to tuck away. No alarms tripped, no guards sighted, no one even knows she's there. But when she swings up into the vents that'll take her to her exit, she has to drop right back down with a pained hsis as a blast of steam powers right through it.
"The hell?" York mutters, rubbing her hand. Damn near burned it. "They're not supposed to be flushing the ducts out for another six hours."
I did advise against using the vents as an exit strategy, Delta notes.
"Yeah, I know," York mutters to herself, glancing around -- and then the pitter-patter of little footsteps in combat gear start to sound down the hall. Shit. And here she is, backed in a corner office on the tenth story with some stolen property and no other exit strategy. York looks over her shoulder through the floor-to-ceiling glass window.
"Hey, D? What are the odds I wouldn't break both my legs if I jumped out this window?"
A point-zero-zero-one percent chance.
"Cool, thanks." York looks down the hall, then back at the window. "What about my survival odds?"
Delta is silent for just a beat. York waves him off quickly. "Y'know what, never mind. I don't wanna know."
Natasha's spent months looking for James. She chases military chatter, news broadcasts, every whisper of a rogue soldier has her slipping in, usually days late, and trying to put together some of the pieces. Far as she can tell, the program that made them didn't go under completely and James seems to be trading time between trying to pull those pieces out of the shadows and picking up mercenary jobs that are so far under his skill range it sometimes makes her laugh.
Laughing is good, because it keeps her from thinking about what she's going to do if she finds him. If he doesn't remember. What she's going to do if he tries to put another bullet in her body.
She'd actually been casing the museum herself -- rumors and hints at connections she couldn't prove. So she'd been laying the groundwork to slip in and investigate herself. The fact that this is where her scanner programs pick up some security chatter? It's a streak of unexpected good fortune. It feels almost too lucky, but she can't help hoping anyway even as the practical side of her figures it's a trap. But, she's walked into traps before. And she's hunting a goddamn ghost and she knows it, so she chases every whisper.
The details are sparse, but it's enough to spark her attention, to get her moving, giving up all pretense of surveillance. Benefits of being a paranoid soldier turned weapon and spy is that she always has her gear with her. It's just a matter of getting in, hoping she's not too late. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, it's him.
She always likes rooftops. Easy landings, usually no guards, and that smooth drop of window panes down to the street below. In this case there were a few guards but they were quite unconscious by the time she picked up the floor number from the comm chatter, and likely to stay that way until this mess was over one way or the other.
10th floor. She doesn't have time to waste on the elevator, so she uses an explosive charge to knock in the door to the service stairs. Normally she'd be quiet, but she wants to draw attention. If it's James, she knows he can handle it, but it'll be easier for her to pick off security on her way toward him if it's not all at once. Not that she couldn't, but, not much reason to push her luck if she doesn't have to. And if it's not James, well. Call it her good deed for the night.
The sound of people in combat gear starts to get louder and a lot more chaotic.
Oh, shit. York jerks at the sound -- she knows an explosive when she hears one -- and stares up at the ceiling.
"D, what the hell?"
Alert. Secondary intruder entering from rooftop. Security is on its way.
"Secondary intruder? Who's the first intruder?"
That would be you, York.
"Oh, ha," York mutters, annoyed, and edges against the wall to lean into the hall. No one on this floor yet, but she can hear the little pitter-patter of combat boots thundering up stairs. "Alright, cool. Can't go through the vents or I'll sauna myself to death, can't go down or I'll get shot to death."
She glances out the window, then eyes the stairwell exit across the hall. Secondary intruder, right. "Guess I'll take whatever's behind door number three. D, how close are they? Do those stairs go straight to the roof?"
Affirmative. Security will reach the tenth floor in nine seconds.
"Oh, this just gets more and more fun." No time for hesitation now. York bolts across the hall to the stairwell exit and hooks around the railing to give herself a little momentum as she starts to run up the stairs. She has no idea what their exit strategy is going to be from the rooftop, but hey, maybe they can hijack this secondary intruder's getaway plan instead.
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sunchime2016-12-27 10:11 am
For Epsilon
for duv
York's pretty sure he knows he's being followed, but that's probably for the best. Not surprising him is probably best in her favor right now. Hopefully that means he's less likely to shoot first and ask questions later, or maybe just shoot first -- he doesn't seem like a paranoiac, but he's ImpSec, and all ImpSec are paranoiacs in York's experience. Barrayarans, man.
She knows he's going back to his apartment and she tails him at a distance, waiting until he's gone up to take the lift. Delta's got the layout of this building pulled up in the back of her head, and it doesn't look like there are too many suites per floor higher up. She's not sure if she's gonna have to knock or if he'll be waiting there, ready for her. Man, she hopes she doesn't have to break in. Well, that'd be fun, probably, but she doesn't think it'd make a very good impression. Still, she came armed too. She's not stupid. But Delta is running probability scenarios and York is almost ready for a half a dozen outcomes when she steps off the lift.
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His wrist comm is on and ready for use though he leaves it be for now. Alerting security or Imperial forces would only let the person who's following him know and if it's a friend of his father's, he'd rather not involve anyone else. He lets out a small sigh when he reaches the door to his flat and rubs his face before opening the lock. As soon as he hears the door slide shut behind him, his stunner is in his hand. If there's going to be a confrontation, he'd rather have it behind closed doors.
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Hey, D, which one is this guy's again?
Duv Galeni's apartment is the third door on the left.
Got it. D'you think I should knock first, or just go on in?
It was partly rhetorical, but she feels Delta running probability scenarios in the back of her head anyway. He is already aware of our presence. There is a sixty-eight percent chance he has armed himself. Thirty-six percent chance of violent outcome if you choose to use the door chime. Thirty-nine percent chance of violent outcome if you choose to open the door yourself. After a moment he adds, I think you could have tried a little harder to evade detection.
But it's easier this way, York thinks, and she reasons that maybe that three percent difference in probability lies in that maybe, if she knocks, it'll come off as a little less threatening. So York, conscious of her stunner, raises a finger and hits the door chime.
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He takes a moment to approach the door, standing off to the side in case it's already been rigged with explosives. He is in Imperial Security after all and preparing for the worst was a key survival trait.
"I wasn't expecting any visitors," he says in an even tone. "Name?"
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"Yeah, 'cause that's why you left the door unlocked." Just because she knocked doesn't mean she didn't notice. "Not a name you'd recognize, but hey, as a sign of good will: you can call me York."
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He edges his foot in front of the door, having decided it's not ready to explode if she's still standing so close. He has one more requirement before he opens it. "Weapons out and on the floor. You can slide them to me when I open."
She might still have some hidden on her, but he can at least get an idea of the tech level he's dealing with. The nature of trade on Komarr meant all kinds of equipment passed through.
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Based on Duv Galeni's psychological profile, he is most likely holding a stunner. However, I estimate there to be a seventy-point-three percent chance that he also has a nerve disrupter somewhere in his apartment.
Okay, I know, not the time, but I do you go out of your way to avoid saying 'sixty-nine' on purpose?
But rather than wait for an answer, because she's sure Galeni isn't going to wait long, she unholsters her stunner and sets it on the floor. After a moment's hesitation, she sets down her nerve disrupter in resignation, too. Well, she'll keep the knife hidden in her boot. He's probably not expecting that anyway. And if it really comes down to it, as long as she gets in close, York doesn't really need a weapon.
"All yours, pal."
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He slides her weapons back into his flat with his foot before stepping back from the door and motioning her in. Whatever it is she has to say, he has a feeling it would be best to say them behind closed doors.
"You've been following me," he states with a raised brow. He'd really appreciate an explanation.
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Terrible time to make jokes, but then again, York never was good at holding back the commentary. She holds her hands up, showing them empty in a sign of sort-of surrender. "I know, I know, stranger following you home, that's always a red flag. But I only came to talk, I swear." She raises her eyebrows in a hopefully disarming smile, the scarred skin around her bad eye stretching a little, and steps in.
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"Talk quickly. Right now I see no reason not to alert security to your presence." And then they could take it from here, both the headache and paperwork that came with such an intrusion.
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Very quickly.
Okay, cool.
York keeps both her hands and that disarming expression up, apparently mostly unruffled by the threat. She's had worse said to her at nerve disrupter point. "Something's a little rotten in your house, Ser Galeni. I'd do some finance audits on your ImpSec outposts on Komarr. Some of your officers are investing Daddy Emperor's pocket change in the wrong places."
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"If your concerns are with what ImpSec is doing," he starts, "you realize there are better places to report such information than a random Captain in the same organization."
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"You're already going to have to explain it here and now. The only part you're changing is the audience."
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"I'll give you a chance to explain," he says curtly and motions for her to take a seat in the conversation circle adorning the main room of his flat.
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"Komarran run?" he asks dryly. "And I hope you have proof of what was 'off' in your estimations."
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"What's your reward in all of this"
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That is perhaps not the most comforting answer she could've offered, but it isn't a lie. "Like I said, I stumbled on it by chance. I think you'll have clearance for a few financial records, won't you, Captain?"
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Or a plasma burst or a needle. Still this could be worth investigating and he didn't go into academics to ignore that nagging voice of curiosity that was always in his mind.
"I'll consider putting in a request," he acquiescences.
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She grins at that concession. "Good for you. Take that career move by the balls and ride it to the top. Can I go now?"
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"I need to verify your information and prepare a proper report of it." After a moment's consideration he adds, "One I'll file once I know the extent of this corruption." Because what good was a report if it only went to the one in charge of this laundering scheme.
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"Do you have any files to support your claims?"
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Well, nothing related to that, anyway.
York raises an eyebrow. "You want me to go back and do my dirty work again, don't you?"
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"There would be a stipend once this is all said and done, in Betan dollars." Since he has a feeling she'd need incentive to return. Even the Imperial coffers knew outsiders didn't operate the same as subjects in terms of motivation. "I wouldn't expect you to work for free."
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Hey, D, is this guy for real?
Barrayaran Imperial Security has a ninety-six percent of record third party recompensation, not including cases in which the third party died before payment.
Well, let's hope we're not in that four percent, then. Or that I don't kick it before they cut a chit.
There's a second's delay while that conversation happens in her head before she answers Duv. "Betan dollars or...what the hell d'you guys use, Imperial marks?"
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"I can have a formal contract written and ready for you by mid-morning."
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"Alright, I'm in." She nods at the stunner still in Duv's hand, one eyebrow raised. "Are you gonna keep me here overnight to make sure I don't disappear in the meantime?"
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If it isn't well... Holding her hostage in his apartment wouldn't serve him any good. She's not likely to be cooperative any further than she has been without the use of fast penta which he doesn't have on hand.
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Getting double paid? Oh, yes. You just made York's whole goddamn week, Duv. There's no way this will come back to bite her in the ass.
She starts to get up from the couch. "Alright, see you tomorrow then. Let's say...I dunno, eleven? That French Barrayaran café down the street? I'm feelin' brunch."
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"I'm sure you can find your own way out."
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"Yeah, I've got a good sense of direction." York flashes him a grin at the door way. "See you tomorrow, Galeni."
She reviews the dossier she'd nabbed that night, the one she was actually paid to go looking for. She's not being paid to read it, but they never paid her not to, so she indulges her curiosity. Duv Galeni is a deceptively interesting man, it turns out, with a surprisingly sordid past. Huh. With that face, York wouldn't have guessed. There's layered security in the file, a locked portion she hasn't been able to get to. She sets Delta on it, passes out comfortably on the cheap hotel bed, and when she wakes up, Delta's cracked the file. Apparently York just wasn't trying hard enough.
She doesn't have time to read it before she has to jet, though, which is a shame, but she's sure she'll get a chance later, so for now she pockets her datacube and grabs her jacket on the way out. Yeah, she's definitely feeling brunch today.
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The morning consisted of him getting the contract drawn up, the proper paperwork filed, and a security order sent out to find any information about this woman they possibly could. He might fly blind for this meeting, but the next he intended to have a leg up.
Datapad tucked under his arm, he's waiting for her at the agreed place and nods in greeting. "I was wondering if you would come."
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York gives Duv a crooked grin -- she seems like the sort of person who'd arrive at least a few minutes late, but she's actually right on time. This job, she's taking seriously -- not the least because it intersects with her current job, and she's curious. It seems like a hell of a coincidence. She's curious about whatever the hell's going on in ImpSec over here, and she's even more curious about Duv after reading through his file. Also, Delta makes for an excellent, if irritating, alarm clock.
So, yeah, she's totally here.
"It's a seat yourself kinda place," York says, rolling one shoulder in the direction of the dining area, and she jerks her head in a motion for him to follow as she heads in, hands in her jacket pockets. She glances back at Duv and the datapad with him. "Got my contract?"
for natasha
Getting in is always easy. It's the getting out that sometimes poses a problem.
This time, it's a museum. Nothing crazy, not a whole painting or anything, just a few historical artifacts in small padded crates that are easy to tuck away. No alarms tripped, no guards sighted, no one even knows she's there. But when she swings up into the vents that'll take her to her exit, she has to drop right back down with a pained hsis as a blast of steam powers right through it.
"The hell?" York mutters, rubbing her hand. Damn near burned it. "They're not supposed to be flushing the ducts out for another six hours."
I did advise against using the vents as an exit strategy, Delta notes.
"Yeah, I know," York mutters to herself, glancing around -- and then the pitter-patter of little footsteps in combat gear start to sound down the hall. Shit. And here she is, backed in a corner office on the tenth story with some stolen property and no other exit strategy. York looks over her shoulder through the floor-to-ceiling glass window.
"Hey, D? What are the odds I wouldn't break both my legs if I jumped out this window?"
A point-zero-zero-one percent chance.
"Cool, thanks." York looks down the hall, then back at the window. "What about my survival odds?"
Delta is silent for just a beat. York waves him off quickly. "Y'know what, never mind. I don't wanna know."
s c r e a m s
Laughing is good, because it keeps her from thinking about what she's going to do if she finds him. If he doesn't remember. What she's going to do if he tries to put another bullet in her body.
She'd actually been casing the museum herself -- rumors and hints at connections she couldn't prove. So she'd been laying the groundwork to slip in and investigate herself. The fact that this is where her scanner programs pick up some security chatter? It's a streak of unexpected good fortune. It feels almost too lucky, but she can't help hoping anyway even as the practical side of her figures it's a trap. But, she's walked into traps before. And she's hunting a goddamn ghost and she knows it, so she chases every whisper.
The details are sparse, but it's enough to spark her attention, to get her moving, giving up all pretense of surveillance. Benefits of being a paranoid soldier turned weapon and spy is that she always has her gear with her. It's just a matter of getting in, hoping she's not too late. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, it's him.
She always likes rooftops. Easy landings, usually no guards, and that smooth drop of window panes down to the street below. In this case there were a few guards but they were quite unconscious by the time she picked up the floor number from the comm chatter, and likely to stay that way until this mess was over one way or the other.
10th floor. She doesn't have time to waste on the elevator, so she uses an explosive charge to knock in the door to the service stairs. Normally she'd be quiet, but she wants to draw attention. If it's James, she knows he can handle it, but it'll be easier for her to pick off security on her way toward him if it's not all at once. Not that she couldn't, but, not much reason to push her luck if she doesn't have to. And if it's not James, well. Call it her good deed for the night.
The sound of people in combat gear starts to get louder and a lot more chaotic.
:')
"D, what the hell?"
Alert. Secondary intruder entering from rooftop. Security is on its way.
"Secondary intruder? Who's the first intruder?"
That would be you, York.
"Oh, ha," York mutters, annoyed, and edges against the wall to lean into the hall. No one on this floor yet, but she can hear the little pitter-patter of combat boots thundering up stairs. "Alright, cool. Can't go through the vents or I'll sauna myself to death, can't go down or I'll get shot to death."
She glances out the window, then eyes the stairwell exit across the hall. Secondary intruder, right. "Guess I'll take whatever's behind door number three. D, how close are they? Do those stairs go straight to the roof?"
Affirmative. Security will reach the tenth floor in nine seconds.
"Oh, this just gets more and more fun." No time for hesitation now. York bolts across the hall to the stairwell exit and hooks around the railing to give herself a little momentum as she starts to run up the stairs. She has no idea what their exit strategy is going to be from the rooftop, but hey, maybe they can hijack this secondary intruder's getaway plan instead.