The Transaction' Pt. 3

The razor teeth of the combat knife passed through a rapid arc, seeking the pale flesh of the young girl's thigh. Sidestepping with the grace of a trained fighter, her hand flashed down to take the wrist of her assailant. Turning the momentum of his attack against him, she pulled him off balance and allowed him to stumble past her. In that instant, she was spinning, her leg darting up into a graceful reverse spin kick.

Cheung watched as the schoolgirl's skirt flared up around her waist, the flash of her white underwear an odd distraction from the lethal beating she was exacting on her vaguely demonic attacker. He chuckled to himself and wondered if there were any fighting games which didn't feature a Japanese schoolgirl; Jeong had probably the most exhaustive collection he knew of and every last one offered the option of playing a cute girl with kawaii super-loose socks, a plaid miniskirt and deadly fists.

He moved over to the window, feeling uneasy. Thumbing a Dunhill from a crumpled pack, he nudged the window open a little further and allowed the warm, humid city air wash over him as he searched for his lighter. He loved the smell of night in Hong Kong; no other city had quite the same atmosphere. A confusion of aromas drifted up to him from the dai pai dongs, the street hawkers selling every type of food imaginable. The cigarette smoke tasted rich and smooth as he inhaled deeply, a feeling of contentment soothing his nerves as he surveyed the street below.

Forget about the deal for now; just relax, chill out, check out the 7-Eleven girl.

Every night she went into the convenience store and every night she sat on the tall curb outside, smoking her cigarettes and drinking her Pepsi from a glass bottle. She had this cute knock-kneed way of sitting which seemed at odds with her rough-and-tumble dress sense.
Cheung contemplated walking downstairs and going over to talk to her but decided against it as he had done all the other times. She was probably more attractive as a stranger anyway.

A vibration against his hip caused him to jump and bang is head on the window frame.
'Shit!' he cried, a little too loudly, his voice echoing across the narrow street.

As he answered the call, Cheung moved away from the window. He never got to see the faint smile his accident had left on the lips of the 7-Eleven girl.


*******


'This is Cheung,'

He swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten with nerves. If this was the buyer, he couldn't afford to mess things up.

'We have a problem,' Cheung recognised Domino's voice from the chat room. 'There are... complications.'

'What d'you mean?'

'Meet me at the Wanchai Star Ferry terminal in fifteen minutes and I will explain.'

'How will I ...'

Cheung let his question tail off; she had already hung up.

Copyright © A. Flood 2010 

'The Transaction' Pt. 2

Cheung had suffered as much as he could of Ash's pompous preamble after no more than a minute or two and allowed his attention to drift away from the drone of his voice. He scanned the rows of books and wondered if any of the old libraries had really kept books like these.

Must have taken some serious coding to map all the individual covers like that. Particle effects on the dust are pretty cool too, not that I'd give this guy the pleasure of – what the hell?!?
 
Movement behind one of the bookcases; he was sure of it.

'You said this node is secure, right?'

'Correct.'

'So how come we got a lurker?'

'Ah... that is no lurker, Mister Cheung. It would seem the final guest has arrived. Gentlemen, may I present Miss Domino,'

The figure emerging from the shadow of the bookcases seemed immediately incongruous in the context of their surroundings. Where the three men had presented as photo-realistic humans, Domino's avatar was a stylised, cell-shaded animé girl.
As she moved to join them, Cheung noted she wasn't broadcasting sound files for movement; enhancing the grace and efficiency of movement evident in the animation of her oddly alluring online self. He suddenly felt a little embarrassed that he had chosen to present as a Chinese Elvis in a pimp suit.

Way to be classy, Cheung...

She nodded to each of them in turn before sitting in a meditative posture. Her slender hands made a few short gestures in the air before her, causing several glowing data readouts to blossom translucently in front of her face. Her eyes scanned rapid streams of kanji, the flow only occasionally interrupted by IP addresses, one of which Cheung recognised as the anonymous re-mailer they had used to contact Domino's handler. The data-flow came to an end and her focus returned to Cheung and Jeong.

'You wish to employ my services,'

It hadn't been posed as a question, so Cheung just nodded confirmation.

'I need further details.'

Her voice was smooth, confident and hinted at an attractive intelligence. Cheung was looking forward to meeting her.

'What do you want to know?'

'You request protection for both the duration of a transaction and transit to and from the meeting. I need to know the location and nature of this meeting.'

'The meeting is at the Intercontinental in Wanchai. The transaction is a simple sale of goods; desirable goods. Something we worked very hard to obtain. We wish to protect our investment.'

The animé Domino seemed to consider this while Ash shifted uncomfortably.

'My fee is non-negotiable. I require an advance of ten thousand new-yen and a further twenty thousand on completion. You will also send any information you have regarding your buyers to this address.'

'Done,' Jeong said, his fingertips a blur over the Samsung.

Seconds later, a new data stream appeared before Domino. She took a moment to review the files, an exaggerated expression of concentration animating her face. When she looked up, her eyes were drawn as simple black lines of suspicion.

'This is no simple sale of goods. These buyers have been linked to radical groups and terrorist cells. They will be well protected themselves. Considering their trade, you cannot be suggesting that your buyers are the only possible threat.'

Jeong's uncertain glance deferred to Cheung, who smiled ruefully.

'Okay sister, you got us. The product could be considered hot; word is maybe once upon a time it was a Yakuza interest. 'Course that could just be a rumour...'

'Indeed...'

She fell silent then, and Cheung felt fearful she may now turn their contract down. They needed her; she was widely accepted to be the best.

'Contact me through the same channels when you have finalised your meeting; I will be ready.'

Cheung and Jeong let out sighs of relief in unison as Domino's avatar winked from existence.

Now to put the final pieces into play...

Copyright © A. Flood 2010

'The Transaction' Pt. 1

This is another story I wrote some time ago and one I intend to return to, possibly once 'Smoke and Mirrors' is done.  I hope you enjoy.

Cheung had never seen so many clocks in one place and he was reasonably sure that he never wanted to again. Their combined sound reminded him of a club he had visited with Kanoko the Nissin Noodle girl, back when she had been someone he wanted to impress. There was this guy, she had said, made really cool music with sound chips from old games consoles, a drum machine and DNA fragments as source code for the tones.

Cheung shuddered as he recalled that night and hated the way that these clocks and their syncopated ticking gave him flash-backs to that dingy pit some Indian gimp was passing off as a club. He looked over to Jeong, who was entranced by a Doraemon branded digital clock with a built in piggy bank.

'Dude!' he hissed, 'let's find the entrance; this place is freaking me out,'

Jeong pushed a button on the base of the clock. It chimed 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' in uncertain tones.

'This clock's like... older than your grandma, mate!'

'Whatever. The entrance?'

'Oh yeah, sorry...'

Jeong looked up from his prize find and nudged his wire-rimmed spectacles back onto the bridge of his blunt, slightly-too-wide nose.

'...Need to look for the shopkeeper first.'

Cheung sighed in exasperation.

'The fuck we supposed to do that in amongst all this shit?'

Jeong shrugged, almost apologetic but not quite pulling it off.
In that moment, all the clocks stopped ticking. The digitals powered off in unison. Cheung felt his eye twitch.

The sound was faint at first, like maybe it wasn't there at all; teh... teh... tehpahtapah... tepapahtapahte...

There was something else there too, just floating at the edge of that sound; a mechanical whirring, a hint of tiny servomotors...

When the rabbit appeared between Cheung's feet, playing its little red drum and smiling enthusiastically, all he could manage was, 'erm...'

They stared warily at the toy as it made a shaky half-pirouette before wobbling off in a very decisive path through the jumble of timepieces.

'Erm... I think maybe it wants us to follow it,' Jeong offered.

'Of course it does,' Cheung managed to deadpan.

He shook his head slowly.

Too weird...

They formed an unlikely precession behind the toy rabbit as it led them through the shop toward a door they were both certain had not been there a few moments before. The rabbit disappeared smartly through a cat flap at its base, leaving them staring at their distorted reflections in a perfect walnut veneer.

'Should we knock?'

Jeong seemed to consider this at length.

'Guess so,'

Cheung rapped his knuckles against the wood three times.

Nothing.

They waited, still staring at the walnut versions of themselves.

As Cheung raised his hand again, the door slid into a recess in the wall, contrary to the design indicated by its brass hinges and handle.

The passage ahead of them was blocked by an efficiently muscled black man wearing a top hat and white grease paint around his eyes. Small staples formed fractal patterns on his naked chest and served to enforce the aura of menace initially stated by the shotgun cradled in his arms.

'Are you Domino?' asked Cheung, suspecting it was a stupid question.

'PASSWORD.'

His voice was virtually subsonic and the word arrived with all the force of a gut-punch.

Jeong produced his Samsung palmtop and checked for an instant message, as he had been instructed. He recited the massive string of alphanumerics he saw there, his voice trembling slightly. The Staple-Guardian retreated to a previously unseen alcove and settled into an overstuffed armchair, replacing his shotgun with a cup of steaming tea. Almost as an afterthought, he nudged open a second door with his toe.

With no small amount of trepidation, they stepped into this new room. In doing so, they were certain they had stepped back in time. They were surrounded on all sides now by books of every conceivable size, stored reverently on hardwood shelving that extended to a rich burgundy ceiling. Motes of dust danced in warm cones of light cast by intricate fittings which were most likely antiques even in the last century.

'Welcome, gentlemen,'

The jovial greeting had come from a portly man with a vaguely middle-eastern cast to his features. His arms were held wide, as if to welcome home a sorely missed family member. Cheung was more interested in the man's face and noted his expression to be entirely predatory.

'Come, sit with me,'

Their host gestured to the centre of the library, where he had laid out a spread of exotic throw cushions around a low table covered with batik.

'We're here to retain Domino's services; isn't he joining us?' Jeong asked, jerking his thumb back toward the door. Cheung cringed inwardly at his friend's clumsy approach.

'I'm afraid you have made a common, though understandable mistake. That man is not who you seek. Domino is female.'

'So who's he, then?'

'He is in fact a very expensive counter-intrusion program I am rather proud of; no simple firewall, I can assure you. My name is Ash and I am administrator of this most private of chat rooms and designer of the virtual space you now inhabit. How do you like my little island in the net?'

Copyright © A. Flood 2010