Alex landed the hover in a public lot a few blocks away from the broadcasting station, and changed into something more appropriate for a movie producer. Black pants, white shirt, light gray jacket due to the weather, and most importantly, no knife harness.

He still kept three knives. Alex didn’t go anywhere unarmed. One in his boots, one at the small of his back, and one in a forearm sheath.

He exited the hover, locked it and headed for the station. He stopped on the way to buy himself a large drink. He made it a protein-enhanced energy booster. In his research, producers always walked around with a drink in hand. He hadn’t been able to figure out why, but he had to play the part.

The Station building was tall, with multiple communication antennas and dishes on the roof. Otherwise, except for its height, it was typical of corporations, formed of reflective poly material designed to resist earthquakes, storms and the occasional attack. 

This one had a name at the top; Quadrillian, the name of the broadcasting company, based on the first owner, although it had been centuries since it had slipped through that woman’s fingers and been acquired by one of the thousands of corporations. It had then been sold back and forth between corporations like it was some token they handed over as a favor.

As he walked, he tried to change how he moved. He wasn’t a Merc, he was a producer. Producers didn’t have people after them. They didn’t have to constantly be aware of their surroundings. He forced himself to breathe and calm himself. He needed to be relaxed, happy.

His face hurt from the smile he’d plastered on it by the time he entered the building. Immediately a guard left the desk at the center of the large lobby and strode toward him.

“Sir,” he called, “please stop.”

Alex looked around at the other people coming and going. None of them were paying the guard any attention. He stopped and pointed at himself.

“Yes, you.”

Alex fought to keep his smile on, but it faltered. What had he missed? It couldn’t be his cover, he’d set everything up perfectly int the system. Had he missed a detail of how producers dressed? He wanted to put a hand on the pommel of a knife for comfort.

The guard stopped before him.

“Is there a problem?” Alex asked in his most jovial tone—the guard had to get how fake it was.

“You registered as being armed. I need to verify what you’re carrying before you can proceed.”

Alex hesitated before reaching to unclip the sheath at his back and handing that to the guard. He looked around as casually as he could while the guard studied the knife. He couldn’t see any detectors. It had to be in the frame, it was the only way he could have reacted so quickly.

“This is a military model,” the guard said, slightly awed.

Alex nodded. “Polycarbon blade with permanent edge. Hollow handle for storage, hardened end for a better contact when hitting someone with that side.”

The guard raised an eyebrow at him.

Alex silently cursed himself. It was a producer, not a knife expert. “It’s what the site said.”

“Can’t have been cheap.”

Alex smiled. “I have money.”

The guard handed it back without more comments. And guided Alex to the counter.

“Name?”

“Orville Pantor, of In the Dark Production. I have an appointment with Miss Fiolis, to talk about broadcasting rights.”

The guard consulted a screen. “She's on the eighteenth floor, office eighteen-forty-three.”

“Thanks.” Alex sipped his drink and headed for the lifts. He was the only one in it, so he quickly took out his earpiece and put it in. He couldn’t do more than listen in without a screen and board to fully interact with the system, but this let him get a feel for the building’s computers. He could hear three, one of which sounded like it coordinated things with the other two. 

He took the earpiece out when he passed the fifteenth floor having learned little more than one handled the distributions side of things, and one the production. Fortunately he had more visits scheduled. He’d learned more over time.

* * * * *

The woman wished him a good day as she escorted him out of her office. Alex had a headache from trying to keep everything he’d said straight.

She’d asked for the movie plot. Which he’d made up on the spot, taking elements from what he’d lived through. She hadn’t commented, other than to nod when he was done. He had no idea if it was good or bad, but then she talked about the kind of market she felt the movie could reach. How best to promote it. What kind of changes he was willing to make to widen its appeal.

He answered as best as the could, aiming to sound confident over sounding accurate, but he kept hoping she’d been called out, even for a few minutes. What he wanted to do was sit at her desk so he could look at the system, chat with it.

But in the forty-five minutes he was there, she never left, and now, as he went down the lift, there were four other people there, so he couldn’t listen in on the system.

He nodded to the guard as he left. Outside he considered his next step. His next meeting was in the late afternoon. Hopefully with a change of shift in between. With the interaction he’d had with the guard, he’d remember him. It also meant he’d have to leave the knives in the hover unless he wanted to go through that again and draw attention to himself. Without knowing the kind of detectors they had, he couldn’t make sure he carried an undetectable knife.

Since he didn’t have to be a producer for a while, he decided to change back into his clothing then find a good public access terminal and see what he could learn about the security of the Quadrillian building.

He stepped into the public lot and stopped. He looked at the hover and for a moment he couldn’t understand why the back ramp was down. He tried to remember if he’d closed when he’d exited. Of course he had. He’d also locked it. So what was it doing open?

A woman stepped out of it, laughing and threw a panel to the ground. She said something in a dialect Alex barely understood to someone inside the hover. She glanced in Alex’s direction, looked away, then back to him freezing in place.

They were stealing parts from his hover?

She yelled something to the person inside.

Damn it, he’d paid good money for that hover, from his own account.

She started running and Alex reacted without thinking. He had the knife out of his forearm sheath and it was flying at her. As soon as it was out of his hand he was running for the hover.

She screamed in pain a moment before he reached the ramp. A guy stepped out and fumbled for his own knife. Alex grabbed him and slammed him against the wall.

“What are you doing here?”

The guy—teen? Young adult? How old was he? He didn’t look to be more than sixteen—babbled something in a language Alex didn’t understand.

“Let him go.” The girl was at the bottom of the ramp, holding the knife Alex had thrown at her. Her right leg was bloody where the knife had gone in.

He could have the knife at his back in this kid’s stomach before she moved. He looked at her. “You better hope it still flies, because if I can’t take off, I’m coming after both of you.” He threw the guy at her.

She dropped the knife to catch him, and then went down as she put weight on her injured leg.

Alex closed the ramp and went to check the damage. The front panel was missing and the wires had been pulled out, as well as some of the components. Nothing looked to be missing, there weren’t any loose wires, but it wasn’t like he knew much about how the guts of a vehicle should look.

He sat and cursed. He should have questioned them, found out why they’d targeted him. He activated the collision sensors. If they were still there they would register. Nothing. Now he couldn’t find out if they were with one of the gangs that had talked about trying to take Tristan on.

No one had survived that attack as far as Alex knew. He’d killed both his attackers, and he knew Tristan hadn’t left anyone alive. He never did.

With a sigh he started the hover. Everything came on as it should. He gave it a moment in case something failed, and he noted his knife harness was where he’d left it on the other seat, with his jacket. At least there was that.

Gently he eased the hover out of the lot, into the flight lane and headed back. He needed to make sure everything was fine now, and all the tools were with Tristan.

He groaned. He could just imagine what the Samalian was going to have to say about this. And about the fact he left two people live.