A haven for hustlers too, from the two bit con with the shifty eyes and greasy smile and overused clichés, to the higher end player who will invent his own stories and likely instruct his assistants to bid against the competition, not unlike a ploy I imagined Detran had going for himself in an effort to inflate prices.
Where was my angle? Something was here. Just had to find it. Had to keep my crew busy too, keep their teeth chewing on something. The last run had nearly put us over the edge. Blest had become more of an annoyance than ever. May have to get rid of him. Though his heroics had surprised me back in the alley.
A big man with a loud voice came bragging about his luck at the space casino in Vega. A crew of cronies at a nearby table gathered about to listen. He was getting a little tight on the Black Dog, a few too many highballs light on the rocks.
“Boys,” he said, just shy of slurring his words, “you stick around with me, and you’ll go places. Give you shares in pickings that you won’t find anyplace else.”
The bald idler beside him, maybe his business partner, grinned ear to ear. “Now, Sal, don’t you go shooting your mouth off.”
Jolly boys, out for a romping time away from wifey and the kids and the haze of their humdrum lives. Living it up with big talk and big drink. Didn’t doubt they had all the money in the world to buy one of those space yachts parked out there but not the brains to keep it. How hard would it be to lift one of those suckers off old Sal or one of his buddies?
“I’m going to take a little walk,” I said at last, depressed by it all. “You folks settle in, mingle with the gentry.”
I drifted over to the end of the rotunda, gazing at the mixed bag of folk and their garish dress, and the antiquated slot machines they played on to idle away the time, half listening in on random conversations with an amused grin. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a big man dip into an exit. He looked important, wouldn’t be surprised if it were Detran or Holse himself. On a whim, I followed him, down a wide stairwell to a service bay where some maintenance crew or what could have been the big boy organizers themselves and their lackeys were preparing a kind of pre-bidding lounge. A lower level, a mini version of upstairs with large picture windows granting a view of the vintage offerings on the docking ring.
Yep, Detran, all right. I caught the drop of the name ‘Halley D’. At any rate, looked as if the two partners were setting up their wheel and deal spectacle to a few VIP customers in advance. I pushed a colored hair net over my head to make my purple streak more silver, then wiped skin cream on both cheeks to create a look paler than I really was.
Detran, even from a distance, I didn’t like from the start. Swarthy, long-boned with sandy walrus mustache and big, fleshy lips, a match for his mouth and ego. Something off about him, his ophidian mannerisms, like when a certain song plays on the radio that makes your skin run cold, so did this man’s strident tone offend me.
I did a subtle hop and skip and bounded in behind some crates of decorations and accessories being offloaded onto their starships. To make them look prettier? Every gimmick counted. I scootched in closer to listen in on what they were saying.
I heard Detran, who had been smiling all the time and murmuring to his crony with the grey-beard, blow air out of his cheeks. “Not bad for a day’s work, Lew. Unlucky for those SOBs out in deep space who lost their ships.” Detran gave a sour guffaw, one that had a mean and hollow ring to it. I caught some muffled words then of him bragging about how he had grabbed the ships out from under those about to be boarded after one of the Star Lord’s blitzkrieg rampages. The corpses he had jettisoned into space. He turned to his two henchman, covered in grease. “Hurry up, you bums. What’s taking you so long? These showboats aren’t going to sell themselves. Remember, what we don’t sell in the auction, we ship to the wrecking yards, piece by piece.”
“What about these X2s?” one lackey inquired. “Sure you want to unload them, Hal? If we wait, we could get a better price on consignment at one of the local shops.”
“Cost us too much.” Detran’s sneer widened. “We unload as much as we can. Plus, I have other reasons.”
The hired hand seemed to grunt at that, but clearly disliked the decision. “As you like, Hal.”
There came hurried footsteps. Someone approached, wheezing. “Hal, problem on pier 14. The Lady Lou. Some grifter trying to make off with the audio board.”
He clicked his tongue. “What the flaming hell—Come! Holse, you too.” He swept off to investigate with his entourage.
Wren hunched up beside me, apparently having overheard the latter part. I raised my brows, for I hadn’t even heard her.
“Seems as if that lout Detran hardly deserves the fruits of his haul.”
“No kidding.” I gave the ships parked outside the glass a once-over then I got a sudden idea. Caution is not usually my greatest virtue, but when an idea sparks, I’m like a kid in a candy store. “Maybe this ticket is our next easy way to cheat penury.”
“How? You thinking of conning an unsuspecting playboy
