Chapter Fifty-Nine – Popularity

Chapter Fifty-Nine – Popularity

“This cask behind me contains thirty-seven point four litres of fermented fruit wine. None of the fruits used in the fermenting process are available on Earth. The cask has been aged six thousand years in a sealed vacuum.

We will begin the bidding at 1,000,000,000 credits.”

–Excerpt from the 2050 Rarest Goods Auction

***

“Hey,” I said as I approached the table. The main hall was, surprisingly, still full of people. Some waiters were going around and filling people’s cups with champagne. Some people had left, but they’d been replaced by an equal number of additional guards hanging out by the edges of the room.

Lucy was sitting between Gomorrah and Frannie, looking rather relaxed with a long champagne flute pinched between her fingers. “Hi Cat,” she said.

“How’s Burringham?” Gomorrah asked.

“Alive,” I said. “Why’re there still people here? They stopping folk from leaving?”

“Oh no,” Lucy said. She shook her head. “This event went from a cool event to like, the most talked about one. Come on, the host almost got assassinated, the assassin was shot by a samurai, another samurai’s sitting here, as if she doesn’t care about it all. Not that Gomorrah doesn’t care, I’m just saying.”

“So… what? It’s become a sort of bigger event because Burringham almost died?”

Lucy nodded. “You know how we used to run out to the nearest corner store? Which times do you remember best, when nothing went wrong, or when we had to run away from some angry muggers?”

“Alright, fair,” I said. “Still fucky.”

“Some people left,” Lucy said with a shrug. “I bet a few of the people here are spamming their media feeds with news about what’s happening. Drama chasers. Others are just happy that they’re here. You know they’re showing up in a lot of camera shots, that’s food for any celeb.”

“And I bet the media are swarming this place,” I said.

Lucy nodded. “Oh yeah. I bet this will have more airtime than the next ten school shootings combined.”

“I don’t much care for the media stuff,” Gomorrah said. “But having a small amount of renown can help with some things, or so I’ve been told. So, did the gunman survive?”

“Yeah,” I said. “His injuries weren’t all that bad. Not good, mind, but he’ll live. The mercs keeping this place safe have some medics, they’re keeping him healthy. Got him to spill.”

Gomorrah raised a hand in a ‘one moment’ gesture. The next thing I knew I was receiving a call from her.

I answered. “Let’s keep this quiet,” she said.

“Not a bad idea,” I said as I sat across from Lucy. I muted the speakers on my helmet, no one could hear us chatting. “So, want to take a guess at who’s responsible for all of this?”

“The mayor?” Gomorrah asked.

I laughed. “Well, alright, so I can’t actually confirm it. But our assassin buddy was hired on short notice from some gun-for-hire contractor company. Like Uber, but for hitmen, you know? Anyway, he had a lot of details about the place, and about who would show up, and plans for the building. Myalis was the one who figured it out, actually.”

“That it was the mayor?” Gomorrah asked.

“We don’t have outright proof,” I said. “But the blueprints for the building are city blueprints. They have the city of New Montreal watermark all over them. DRM and everything.”

“So, if it’s the mayor, he was lazy enough to give his hired killer some information that he had access to,” Gomorrah surmised.

I wiggled my hand over the table. “Eh, maybe? It could be someone else being clever, trying to pin it on the mayor, but, well, Dupont’s a twat and he has plenty of motive. Far as I can tell Burringham’s shaking things up, and is a whole lot more charismatic. He might actually have a good chance.”