Free Koko Takes a Holiday by Kieran Shea Page B

a thumbs up and hit the ramp.
    * * *
    Yeah, I guess I planted the seed then, didn’t I?
Koko thinks wretchedly. Man, maybe if they hadn’t crossed paths that day Koko wouldn’t be in such a jam now.
    But why? Why would Delacompte want to do this to her? Is Koko some sort of liability? She has nothing but veneration and respect for the woman and for what she’s accomplished. After all their time campaigning for the syndicates and multinationals together, after all she has done for Delacompte and—good God—if you consider that night back in—
    A light snaps on in Koko’s head.
    “Oh, no…” she whispers.
    Finland.
    No. It can’t be.
    No way. It can’t possibly be that simple.
Suddenly, a dark, violent tide of memories starts to seize Koko and her knees weaken. She has to force her mind to go blank lest the recollections overwhelm her.
    Why that little… Now?
Now?
After hiring me on The Sixty? Wasn’t it understood? Delacompte is coming after me after all this time has passed? Good God, I saved her from—damn it. Get a hold of yourself, Koko. Even if this is all about what went down back in Finland, no way does whatever happened have any bearing on your present situation. What matters right now is survival. Like it or not, an order has been given and there is a price on your head and you’re in unfamiliar territory. Focus.
    Her mind sufficiently seared with the most likely reason for Delacompte’s vendetta, Koko twists the towel and grips both ends of it just above her breasts. Elbows tucked inward and chin down, she steams back into the bedroom and breaks into a series of long-neglected kick drills. Motor patterns riding on drilled but not forgotten reflexes, she teeters a bit as she centers her core and it takes more than a few missed kicks to find her rhythm. Echoes from fight instructors resonate in her memory.
    Protect on attack and keep your head clear.
    Be alert. Be ready.
    Be
balanced.
    Fully limbered up, Koko whips the towel onto the bed. Along the wall she sees a power cord trailing from a set of two floor sockets. The cord doesn’t seem critical to the room’s functionality, so Koko yanks it free from its housing and whips the cord over her head for ten minutes of footwork until the balls of her bare feet grow hot. A belch percolates from her lips, and she charges back into the bathroom. Koko retches up the cheap mini-bar beauty along with the last remnants of the drink she bought back on
Hesperus 6
.
    She stares at her sweaty reflection in the mirror and smears the dripping bile from her lips. Her eyes are green, hard flames.
    Goddamn you, Delacompte.
    Cranking the flash shower settings to just above freezing, Koko tugs off her dingy panties, steps into the stall, and lets the surrounding jets of misted, cold water lash away the pungent film seeping from her flesh. She rinses the last of the vomit from her gums with repeated jabs of her index finger and lathers herself all over with a heavy squeeze of cinnamon-scented disinfectant. Soon her aches are numb and her head clears. After stepping out of the shower, Koko buffs the remaining cold moisture from her nakedness with a second thin towel hanging by the sink. She feels cleaner than she’s felt for days.
    If he’s still on
Alaungpaya
, it’s high time to track down her old contact, Juke Ramirez. Get strapped and work on getting good and gone. Ditch her look. Definitely a new hairstyle for cover too. Something different, but cut short for if and when things get ugly again.
    Koko picks up and jams her clothes into the room’s courtesy cleaner mounted on the wall and sets the device for quick clean. As the clothes run through the ionizing cycles, she crosses the room to the window and looks down on the red pulsating lights in
Alaungpaya
’s central casino. Thirty seconds later, a soft ping tells her the clothes are sterilized and dry.
    Pocketing her piercing jewelry and her rolled crinkle-flake smokes for later, Koko dresses quickly and heads