Free Parabolis by Eddie Han Page B

else?”
    “Look, he’s offering two thousand marks and all you have to do is open your breaker. You don’t even have to be there.”
    Suddenly, it occurred to Dale that his reunion with Arturo in the obscure tavern might not have been so serendipitous after all.
    “Wait, do you live around here?” he asked.
    “No. Why?”
    “How’d you find this place?”
    “What?”
    “This bar. It isn’t exactly the city’s main attraction. And you’re obviously not a regular.”
    “So?”
    “So what are you doing here?”
    “What do you mean? I just happened to be walking by.” He looked at Dale, incredulous. “I was thirsty.”
    “I never said I was running a breaker.”
    Arturo stared blankly for a moment.
    “I just assumed—it’s what your father did, right? I mean, what other kind of business could you be in? Textiles?” He chuckled nervously.
    “Did you follow me here?” asked Dale.
    “No! What? No, of course not.” Arturo scoffed. “What are you, paranoid or something? Why would I follow you?”
    Dale shrugged and went back to his bourbon.
    “Okay, fine,” Arturo surrendered. “I followed you, all right? I did. I’m sorry. I’m a fixer. It’s my job to keep an eye out. To know who’s where and doin’ what. Anyway, your breaker is perfect for what my client needs and it worked out even better that
you
run it because this is an opportunity for you to make in one night what would normally take you five weeks. So I get to help you out in the process. Everybody wins, right?”
    “I’m not interested.”
    “Look, Dale—”
    “Really.”
    Arturo sighed, scratched his chin, and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he chuckled. “How do you like that? I’m a fixer and you’re a breaker.”
    Dale shook his head. “It’s kind of creepy, actually, that you followed me,” he said.
    “I was trying to be tactful.”
    “You didn’t do a very good job.”
    They both quietly finished their drinks.
    “You want another one?” Arturo asked.
    “I’m all right.”
    “No, no, come on. It’s the least I can do for not being straight,” he insisted. He flagged the barkeep. “Whiskey. Two.”
    “On the rocks?”
    “Neat.”
    When the barkeep had poured them a shot each, Arturo held up his glass.
    “To old times.”
    Then they tossed them back.
    Dale’s stomach felt warm as the whiskey poured in. He hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Three drinks on an empty stomach were enough to get him tipsy.
    “I need to get some food.”
    “Well, you’re in luck,” said the barkeep. “I happen to make the best potato fish stew in the city.”
    “Sounds good.”
    “Give me five minutes.”
    “Can we time you?” asked Arturo.
    “Be my guest.”
    As soon as the barkeep went into the back kitchen, Arturo stood and stretched. “Well, I should get going now. I mean, all stalking aside, it was good seeing you again, Dale. Honest.”
    “You too, Art.”
    Then he started for the door before Dale stopped him.
    “Hey, aren’t you going to pay for your drinks?”
    “Oh! Right.” Arturo chuckled and shook his head as he returned to the bar. “Been so absent minded lately.”
    He removed some coins from a leather purse and tossed them on the counter. It was more than enough to cover all of their drinks and Dale’s potato fish stew.
    “Oh, and listen,” he then added. “If you change your mind about my business proposition, you can find me at the Velvet Fray. You know where that is, right?”
    “No.”
    “Well, you can’t miss it. It’s the casino near the Halo. The biggest and brightest. I’m there pretty much every night, so just ask around. They know me there. Everyone knows me.”
    “I meant ‘no,’ as in, nothing’s changed in the past five minutes. Not interested.”
    “Of course. Of course you’re not. I’ll see you around, Dale,” he said with a warm smile and darting eyes. And then he walked out.

CH 12
     

FELIX
     
    Dale sat in his office, feet propped up on the old wooden desk cluttered with