The hangman comes to Tyche: Part 6
In which the lawman and the criminal reconnect
If you’re just joining us, hop back to part 1.
“Hey.” Taggard looked at the blank screen of his comm as he spoke. He stood at the entrance of one of Ate's many alleyways, hunched over his wrist to keep his words to himself.
“Hey,” the husky voice on the other end said. “You had a change of heart?” Marpo Gothe asked.
“Not exactly, but I’d be up for a drink. Meet me at the Old Well?”
“Why should I if I’m not going to get a good lay out of it?”
“For old times sake?”
“Old times was you and me screwing around in a back alley.”
“Please, Marpo.”
“Wow, first names.” There was silence for a few long seconds, and Taggard worried she’d disconnected, but the light remained green. “Fine, see you in fifteen,” she continued.
He knew Marpo Gothe wasn’t the simple cargo runner she claimed to be. She had connections — rebellious connections that could arrange a way off planet. He swallowed, his throat tight, and looked at the door of the sheriff’s office. His niece was locked inside, and he had no way of getting her out.
As he stood there ruminating, something brushed his ankle. He looked down to see the kitten. “Maybe you can go keep her company.”
The cat’s green eyes reflected light from some unseen source as it peered at him.
“Watch out for her while I go to the bar.”
Whether the cat understood what he was saying or was just tired of his rambling, Taggard didn’t know, but it sauntered towards the doorway.
Taggard patted his chest, checking that the notebook was tucked securely in the inner pocket of his jacket. Then he headed towards the Old Well — the seedier of Ate's two bars but also the one much less likely to have Dominion soldiers hanging around.
“Hera wept, you look like something the cat dragged in.”
Taggard lifted his head from the drink he was nursing to find Marpo Gothe’s black eyes studying him.
“You look the same.” He gave her a half smile. It was true. Even though it'd been a few years since he’d last seen her, she hadn’t changed — she even had the same number of wrinkles at the corner of her eyes as they examined him. Her long black hair was tied into the same knot on the back of her head.
She settled in beside him and waved at the bar tender. “I’ll have what he’s having.” She pointed at his drink.
“Fair warning — it’s oilbush whiskey, tastes like its namesake.” Taggard downed the rest of the piney, tarry liquid in his glass as the tender poured a shot for Marpo. He tapped the bar top to get his own refilled.
A cough sounded beside him. “You’re not lying.” She took another sip. “Why do you drink this swill?”
“Few things grow in the desert here. Oilbush is one of the exceptions.” He turned to meet her gaze. Her red lips quirked. He exhaled and jerked his head towards the far corner. “Let’s get some privacy.”
“I don’t like where this is going.” She pressed her lips together, but strode to the far side and took the chair facing the bar.
He slid into the one beside her. “I need to call in that favour,” he said, without giving her a chance to speak.
Her face went flat, emotionless … a rebel operative Gothe expression. “That’s a once in a lifetime favour. You call it in, and we’re even.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“So, what do you want?”
“I need to get someone off this planet, someone with a SIPS inspector interested in them.”
“You’re a Dominion officer.” She nodded at his chest and the badge it bore. “Surely, you could get yourself off.”
Taggard peered into his whiskey then shot it back, placing the overturned glass on the table. “Not me.”
Stay tuned for part 7. Please share if you know someone you think would like the story.
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