Dark Sky (Keiko) by Mike Brooks Page B

nosedive.
    ‘And Pavel,’ he said, trying to buy some time to think, ‘he would be … your son?’
    ‘My husband,’ Shirokov replied. Drift nodded; at least a second adult would be easier to move than a child …
Why in God’s name am I even considering this?
    ‘You understand that this is a slightly different situation to the one we were anticipating?’ he asked, amazing even himself with his understatement.
    ‘Of course,’ Shirokov nodded. ‘You may wish to get used to this, if you keep dealing with Mr Orlov.’
    ‘Right, thanks for that,’ Drift muttered. ‘Can you just up and leave when you like?’
    ‘
Nyet
,’ the other man sighed, shaking his head. ‘We will need emigration papers, and these the governor does not often grant. Who would stay, otherwise?’
    ‘Who indeed?’ Drift paused, then realised to his horror that Shirokov expected him to be able to do something about this. ‘Wait … what sort of clout do you think we have, exactly?!’
    Shirokov shrugged. ‘I do not know. A lot, I hope.’
    ‘Great.’ Drift looked at Jia, then back at Shirokov. ‘I’m gonna need to discuss this with my crew, so if you’ll excuse us …’
    ‘Please.’ Shirokov gestured to indicate they should leave the table if they wished. ‘We have until next storm arrives.’
    ‘Thanks for the reminder,’ Drift said, trying not to grit his teeth too hard, and pushed his stool back. He drained the rest of his beer with one long swig and turned to head for the bar, Jia at his elbow.
    ‘What we gonna do?’ the pilot hissed.
    ‘The way I see it, we don’t have many options,’ Drift muttered. ‘I mean, do you think Apirana would beat the information out of him?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘No, me neither,’ Drift agreed, ‘and I wouldn’t want to do that, anyway. That leaves us with—’
    ‘Rourke might.’
    Drift frowned. ‘You might be right. Maybe. Even so, I still wouldn’t like it. I think we’re going to have to do this the hard way and get both Shirokovs out of here.’ He smiled at the landlady and held up his now-empty bottle as she wandered over to them. ‘The same again please,
krasotka
.’
    ‘Why do you know how to say “pretty lady” in
every
language?’ Jia hissed as another beer found its way into Drift’s hand, courtesy of a slightly blushing landlady. Good to know he hadn’t lost his touch.
    ‘Because there are pretty ladies everywhere,’ he replied, taking a sip. ‘Okay. We obviously can’t get them proper emigration papers, so—’ He stopped, taking in Jia’s suddenly widening eyes. ‘What?’ He glanced around as much as he could without moving his head, trying to see if there were any mirrors or other reflective surfaces nearby, and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Did someone just come in?’
    A hand landed on his shoulder and he was spun around before he could even move of his own accord. He found himself staring up, which didn’t happen often, into the face of a man he didn’t know. The newcomer was pale, with a slightly overlarge nose and hair an unremarkable shade of brown that fell shaggily to his jawline, and an artificial eye much like Drift’s own.
    He wasn’t alone. Drift registered three others, all shorter, two men and a woman. Then someone else sidled into view, hair as black as a New Samaran night and his face weathered and tanned by actual atmospheric exposure. He was wearing a red-and-white neckerchief, a matt black armavest and heavy-duty trousers, the sort Kuai favoured with hundreds of pockets and reinforced knees. His mouth, under that stupid damn moustache, was twisting into a smug grin.
    ‘
Olá
, Ichabod,’ Ricardo Moutinho sneered. ‘Long time, no see.’

PUBLIC RELATIONS

    ‘ COULD YOU IMAGINE actually
living
in a place like this?’ Jenna asked in a low voice, looking around the bar. Apirana took a swig of his drink and followed her lead, trying to let his preconceptions go.
    The buildings down here had clearly been built to specification;