2953-11-12– Tales from the Inbox: The Swindler’s Ticket Out
Mari Robertson and Eddy Rothbauer watched Albie Schmelling get up from the table and amble across the lounge to where his young friend was waiting. They didn’t need to eavesdrop to know whether he was going to do what was said; the body language of each was sufficient to see whether the big conman was doing what he had to do, to avoid catching the immediate unfriendly attention of both the Gilhedat mission on the Sprawl and the local station administration.
Idly, Mari wished he’d try his luck, if only so she could see which of the two arms of hated officialdom caught up with him first. That datapack under the bench at Rennecker’s diner was still on her mind, even though she knew it was folly to ever go back to that spot, much less to pick it up. If it turned out that local security was faster than the councillors’ own means of exacting retribution, she might have a slim chance of getting it and getting away clean.
“Fortunately this one was easy.” Eddy kept his voice low and his eyes on Schmelling. “The next one won’t be.”
“Got the next gig lined up already, eh?” Mari shrugged. “Would that I could be so lucky.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Eddy shook his head. “Pay’s all right, but I’m going to be running rabbit trails for weeks.”
Mari saw Schmelling press something into the hands of the girl, who was now staring at him in stunned alarm. “Was that a ring of cred-chits?”
“Yeah. But there’s no way that’s all the money. Looked like three or four ten-grand chits.”
“Think he spent the rest already?”
“Doubt it. Less what those outbound tickets cost he probably has all the rest stashed somewhere until the moment of departure.”
Mari nodded. She probably would have done something similar; that way, she wasn’t caught with a suspicious pile of hard money on her if the authorities did come sniffing. “That means he has to go get the rest. And one of us has to follow him, while the other stays with the girl.”
“You stay with her.” Eddy stood up. “She’ll see you as less threatening. Do not let her make any calls.”
Schmelling was already slinking out of the lounge, and though the girl at first made as if to follow him, she stopped and sat down at an empty table with a bewildered look. Mari sighed and headed over to join her there.
“Not everything he said was a lie.” Mari said as she sat down, thinking this better than an introduction. “Eddy and I really are old business partners of his. Regrettably.”
The girl started, as if suddenly noticing that she was not alone in the half-full transit lounge. “It was all a lie?” Her voice squeaked with despair, then her face suddenly hardened. “What do you have to do with it?”
“Nothing. This time.” Mari flicked one of her calling-cards out of a sleeve pocket and spun it across the little table. There was nothing on it but an abstract pattern and a comms code, of course, and no two cards had the same pattern or the same code; it was easier that way. “The Glitters hired us to put it right off the books, before anyone files any official records. When their money is returned and that big oaf is safely off the station, you’re in the clear.”
The girl picked up the card, looked for a name, then frowned when there wasn’t one. “So that’s it, then? I have to slink home and forget all of this never happened?”
“Well.” Mari put her elbows on the table and leaned in. “You can do that, sure. But forgetting means being a mark the next time, too. Never forget how he got you to trust him. Because there’s always a next time.”
The girl squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. “What was he going to do to me?”
“Nothing too bad.” Mari shook her head. “You were the go-between that prevented him from being found out by the Glitters, mostly. He was going to sweep you away on this liner, have his fun with you while the money lasted, then run off to a new swindle in a few weeks and leave you with nothing but a broken heart.”
This being the extent of Schmelling’s designs didn’t seem to comfort the girl. She scowled as she pulled a transit pass from her pocket, looked at it for a long moment, then tossed it onto the table with all the disgust Mari expected of someone so recently shorn of a dream.
Schmelling returned a moment later with a travel bag, approached the table, and, with a shifty look behind himself, dropped it next to the pass. Without a word, he skulked off.
“Get it all back to the Glitters as soon as you can.” Mari pushed the bag toward the girl. “They’ll be understanding.”
With a nod, she grabbed it and hurried off, not even noticing Eddy as she darted past him. He watched her for a moment, then sat down at the table, staring at the travel pass.
“She’ll be all right.” Mari said, after a long silence. “They usually are.”
“Probably.” Eddy agreed tepidly.
After another long pause, Mari picked up the pass, staring at it intently. “Suppose you got the other one off Albie, Eddie. Why couldn’t we take their place? Hang that other job you’re dreading and get out of the Sprawl for a while. I’ve got enough money stored away for a few weeks of fun.” And when she got back, the heat would be off on the lifted datapack, and she could replace that stock easily by selling its contents.
Eddie smirked. “Sounds nice, Mari, but not this time. I’d feel better with Albie off the station, You want to go and haunt his every step, though, you be my guest. And his. I’m sure he’d love that.”
Mari laughed. “That would be its own kind of fun. But it wouldn’t be a holiday. Come on, Eddie. You know we can bum Albie off on some tramp freighter to nowhere.”
Eddy met Mari’s eyes for a long moment. “I appreciate it. I really do. But I really should already be looking for that damned lost datapack.”
Mari did her best to keep her face neutral, as if this was the most boring-sounding task imaginable.
“Anyway. I’ll send over your cut of this gig in an hour or two.” Eddy arched one eyebrow, then got up and headed for the exit, leaving Mari there alone, holding a transit pass for a liner leaving in two shifts.
“Hellfire.” Mari whispered, long after he was gone. Eddy knew her too well not to guess something. Obviously, he couldn’t prove anything, but if she took the girl’s place on the liner, or if someone saw her retrieving the datapack, or if it was discovered under that bench, her friend would have a prime suspect.
Mari shook her head, finally giving the day’s expected windfall up for good. If Eddy was assigned to find it, then it needed to turn up somewhere; hopefully somewhere that didn’t trace back to her.
That this account was shared with us suggests that Mari was entirely unsuccessful in this effort (as it being published would obviously reveal her involvement to anyone who was present, anonymization notwithstanding). Most likely, though the account ends here, she was not entirely successful in preventing the claws of officaldom from closing around her in some way, and she like her friend is now snared and forced largely to work for the Gilhedat or station authority rather than on her own initiative.
I am not particularly sympathetic with her plight, or her friend’s. No doubt in her life she’s committed far worse crimes than petty theft and escaped justice for them; being forced to live within the restraints set out by handlers might be unpleasant for her, but it is better for Sprawl society in general that she be kept on a short leash.