Up Against It - M. J. Locke [52]
“That is good to know sooner than later,” Chikuma said. “We will do all we can on our end to prepare.”
They spoke of other things, then: family and mutual friends and acquaintances. Jane took her leave, refreshed and with much to think about.
* * *
Geoff, Amaya, and Kam tried calling Ian during the ride back, but he did not answer, and he wasn’t in the bike hangar when they reached 25 Phocaea. But his bike was there, and the hangar owner said he had just left.
“Did he say where he was headed?” Geoff asked. The older man shook his head. “No idea. Sorry.”
“Where would he go?” Geoff asked the other two. Kam shrugged, but Amaya’s eyes narrowed. “I think I know where. Come on.”
They followed her to the lift station and boarded a lift. As they descended through the rock layers, she elaborated. “He went down to the Level-240 Promenade. To Industry Row.”
“Huh? Why?” Kam asked. But Geoff got it. “It’s the black marketers’ neighborhood.”
“He knows we’re going to turn over the ice,” Amaya said. “He’s going to try to sell it before we can notify the authorities.”
Kamal’s face darkened. “That asshole.”
Geoff said, “He’d share the money—he’s not that big a jerk. I don’t think. But we have to stop him before he makes an offer, or we’ll all be in for a heap of shit.”
“Yeah,” Kam said. “If our parents find out—”
“If the cops find out, you mean,” Geoff said. “We’ll probably go to prison if we sell to the black market.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Kam said, but Amaya interrupted. “Neither of you gets it. It’s much worse. My older brother says some of them have ties with the mob. If Ian approaches the wrong guy, we’re all fucked.”
A lump settled, hard and nickel-iron cold, in Geoff’s gut. “We have to stop him before he gets hurt.”
“Yeah, so we can kill him instead,” Kam muttered. Geoff did not say it, but he was thinking the exact same thing.
* * *
Geoff and Amaya found Ian right where they had expected: in Industry Row, where the black marketers offered better exchange rates than the banks, for those foolish or desperate enough to believe their promises.
Kamal had gone to get help, but not before they wasted precious moments arguing, while catching their breath at a rest stop in the Noonie Spokeway.
Gravity tugged at them. A cold breeze, laced with the faint smell of ammonia, lifted their hair. Motes drifted up through the netting from the circle below that led to Bottomsville. Clots of commuters passed by their benches, headed down on the spiral stair. Across the way, another stream of people trudged upward toward the lower-gravity levels. Some eyed the three of them as they passed, and spoke to each other in whispers or gave them nods or pinged their sammy caches. Geoff’s own cache was bigger and greener than it had ever been, and getting greener by the minute. Geoff did not like it so much. Being recognized by everyone creeped him out. He did not know any of these people. He made a face at a little kid who stared at him, and the kid stuck out his tongue, hit him with a bad-sammy, and ran to catch up with his parents.
“Kam, you need to get going,” Geoff said. “And so do we.”
“No way!” Kam insisted. “We stick together.” He shivered, hands jammed in pockets, jacket zipped up to his chin. “He could be cutting a deal right now!”
“Somebody has to tell the authorities about the ice,” Geoff said. He began pacing back and forth in the tiny cul-de-sac. Kam could be so pigheaded. “If we all go, and we get into trouble, who’ll know?”
“Why don’t we all go to the cops, then?”
“We’ve been over this! There’s still time to stop Ian if we hurry. If we don’t, they could force him to give them the coordinates to Ouroboros. They might hurt him.”
They had tried calling their parents on the