The Most Dangerous Dame

Her dark eyes never blinked. “I have nothing to do with the Service or the United Havens, Mick. I work for a far more clandestine operation.”

“Really? Like the Gestalt? You seem like their type with all the mystery.”

“The Gestalt?” Even her sneer couldn’t mar her flawless features. “A failed group of exiles consumed by preserving their attempts at immortality. No, I’m afraid I have no dealings with them either. They’ve had their day, but they’re facing extinction like everyone else. Just another fossil for future inhabitants to puzzle over.”

I leaned back against the cushioned lounge and folded my arms. “Know what I hate? People who talk above your head while trying to claim they’re doing you a favor. You want something from me? Better spill, ‘cause I’m getting pretty bored here, Ms. Sinn. You got the time it takes to down one more drink. After that I’m gonna skip this dog and pony show. Got better things to do.”

“Very well, Mick.” She set her glass down. “There’s a lot going on you don’t know about. The situation outside of this Haven, for example. Everyone here just goes about, lost in their filtered memories, oblivious to the rumbling of thunder just outside the range of their hearing.”

“I just told you about all the double talk. Lay it on me straight or catch a cab back to wherever you came from.”

“War, Mick.” Her eyes grew serious. “Invaders are attacking the major Havens, and the UH is aggressively recruiting for soldiers, weaponry, and technology. This Haven has always been thought impregnable, but the pressure will continue to build until your heavily shielded walls come crashing down. The Secret Service was only the beginning.”

I shrugged as the barmaid returned with my reload. “I don’t worry about things beyond my range of control. If it happens, it happens. Why expect me to get all soggy-eyed?”

“You don’t think you’ll be affected?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I tapped the bourbon glass in time to the beat from the stage. “Maybe I just don’t give a damn either way.”

“You should, Mick. You’re a valuable commodity, and the truth is I’ve been sent to recruit you. A man of your skills is wasted playing Russian roulette in this Haven. You must be tired of gambling with your life, hoping you don’t roll a snake eyes.”

“I retired from gambling, Ms. Sinn. Never was much good at it. I’m a Troubleshooter now, as I’m sure you must know with all of those implanted doodads amplifying your brain. You say you were sent to recruit me? By who?”

“The anonymity of my organization is crucial, Mick. I can’t tell anymore about us until you’ve earned our trust.”

I downed the bourbon and set the glass down with a smile. “Time’s up, darling. It’s been a joy gabbing with you.”

Sinn placed her hand lightly on mine. “I didn’t expect you to trust me without reservation, Mick. So I’ll extend an olive branch as a sign of my goodwill. You had to take down Franklin Newman, robbing you of an information broker. You know my skill-set with information. I can help you in your investigation.”

I tilted my head, studying her carefully. With her raven eyes and angel’s face, it was impossible to get a read on her true intentions. “You saying you’ll be my ace in the hole, that it? Don’t you have to get permission from your superiors, whoever they are?”

“All you need to know is this arrangement will instantly benefit you. Do we have a deal?”

I hesitated. “If you’re so tied into the system, can’t you tell me who killed Scarlett right now? That would be a huge down payment in the trust fund of the Trubble Bank.”

“I would if I knew. Whoever the killer is, he knows how to avoid surveillance like no other. But I’ll be working on it, I promise you.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to get back with you, Ms. Sinn. You’ll have to excuse me if I take the cautious approach to secret organizations with hidden agendas. Don’t exactly have a sterling track record with that sort.”

“Have it your way.” She stood with the sinuous grace of a ballet dancer. “I synched my number to your holoband. Call me when you need me. And you will need me before this is all over, Mick.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself, Ms. Sinn.”

“It’s a mathematical certainty, Mick. I’ve already run the calculations. On your own you have a 4.84 percent chance of surviving the next forty-eight hours. With my aid your chances increase to 57.36 percent. Not the grandest of odds, but much better than the alternative.”

“Never had the egg for math, I’m afraid.”

“Mathematics is the only pure language, Mick.” Her gaze was almost empathetic. “And numbers never lie.”