The Langley Case: A Nathan Roeder Mystery

Wrapping it all up

Once back in Town, I headed for a bar. While I wouldn’t necessarily call Johnny a friend, he was at least an acquaintance, and I killed him. That’s worthy of a drink or five.

I settled myself in for the long haul right up at the bar. When the bartender, a cute little number with a shaved head and more tattoos than I could see with her clothes on, asked me what I wanted, I told her to show me a glass and make sure I never saw the bottom.

“Some kind of trouble?” Her voice was sweeter, more gentle, than I would have expected.

“Just had a fight with an old friend,” I said.

She looked me in the eyes. “Girlfriend?”

“No.” I shook my head.

She raised en eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

I looked at her hard. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. “Male friend.”

She nodded and poured the drink. “Usually, someone orders what you ordered, there’s relationship problems involved. Normally a girl.”

“There’s always a girl,” I said. “Sometimes more than one.”

“Sounds like you’re a lucky man.”

I laughed. “Tell that to my ribs.”

“What’s wrong with your ribs?”

“They’re broken.”

She winced as if she could feel my pain. Anything for a big tip. “How’d that happen?”

I thought about lying. Thought about telling her I fell, or I got hit by a car, or something like that. But there was no reason not to use the truth. “Got in a fight with a girl,” I said.

“Rough girl.” She grinned. She was enjoying this. And interested in me. “Girlfriend?”

I laughed. “Not hardly.”

The bartender was true to my order. Every time I put the glass down, she’d pour a little bit more into it. “You want to talk about it?” She asked after what had to have been my third glass.

“Too much to say,” I said.

She smiled, and her eyes sparkled. They were blue. No idea why I noticed that. “Sum it up for me.”

I leaned back. “Okay,” I said. “Here goes. People have been trying to kill me for a week, ever since I took a job. I’ve killed more people in the course of this job than I care to admit, and I’m going to destroy more lives than I think I can comfortably figure before I’m done. Add to that one girl I saved from a life of ill repute and another that I’m working on saving from a life of middle management poverty, and me in the middle. Me getting beat up by girls, attacked by old friends, and paid less than I’m worth.”

She smiled again. “We’re always paid less than we’re worth,” she said. “Sad fact of life.”

I wasn’t sure if she’d listened or not. It didn’t matter. She probably thought I was lying to impress her anyway. “You going to give me advice?” I asked.

“About what? The people you killed, the lives you’re going to ruin, or the girls you’re saving?”

“Whatever,” I said. “The girls.”

She nodded her head, pretending like she was actually listening. “Have you slept with both of them?”

“Just the one.”

“Ill repute?” She smirked, but didn’t look surprised.

I smiled. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” She filled my drink again. “I’d say don’t make any decisions until you’re sure there are decisions to make. If you pick one over the other, and then it turns out she wasn’t available, you’ve shot yourself in the foot. Not a pleasant option.”

I groaned. “Would be par for the course for me, though.”

“So take advice from someone else, and stop being such a moron.”

She had it. In one. “So you think I should just wait, see how things turn out?”

“Yeah. Unless one of the lives you’re going to ruin belongs to one of the girls. If that’s the case, fuck them both, literally, if possible, and move on with your life.” She winked at me and moved to help other patrons. Thankfully, she left the bottle behind.

Theresa called me. “I think I have it,” she said. “It’s a computer. A hardwired one. I never had one of those.”

Not surprising. Hardwires are a rare thing. Most computers come hooked to the Net, have for as long as most people can remember. But that’s a bit obvious. A bit easy to find.

“Turn it on,” I said.

“There’s nothing important. Just a bunch of crap.”

“Did it ever ask you for a number?”

“It wanted me to put in my identity number when I turned it on,” she said. Most computers do that.

“Put in Stoppard’s,” I said. I’m surprised she didn’t think of it first. Maybe it’s because most computers ask for it, and she didn’t really pay attention.

She put the PDA down. I couldn’t see anything helpful. There was silence for a few seconds; long enough for me to signal the bartender that no, I didn’t need anything, and she could keep ignoring me for a while yet.

Then, “Holy shit.”

I smiled. It had to be the mother load. It had to be the answer.

“Can we agree that I’ve completed my part of the bargain?” I asked.

“Nathan, you would not believe what’s on here.”

I thought about it for a second. Was this information I wanted to have? Not really. “Theresa,” I said. “Listen to me very carefully.”

Her face came back on camera. The shock was written all over it. You didn’t even have to be a Reader to see it. “What is it?”

“You have in front of you some of the most dangerous information in the entire world. What you do with it is up to you. Personally, I’d suggest keeping it hidden, but make sure that there’s a way for it to get out if you turn up dead. It’s the perfect bargaining chip for dealing with Stoppard. Isn’t it?”

“It would ruin him.”

I looked at the bartender for a second, watched her moving down the bar, and thought about the aftershocks of ruining someone like Stoppard. “It would ruin a lot of other people too,” I said. “It might not be worth that.”

“So what, I just pretend this never happened?” She shook her head. “Let my father’s name be destroyed?”

“Like I said, it’s up to you.” I shrugged. I was almost done with it all. “I just want to point out that you’ve got the upper hand now.”

She stopped freaking out as a thought occurred to her. She smiled, a dangerous smile. “So I should blackmail him?”

I laughed. “Call it what you will. Do with it what you will. All I ask is that you use it, one way or another, to make sure that Stoppard stops trying to have me, or anyone else, killed.”

“Not a problem, Nathan.”

“Good. Then is our business concluded?”

She smiled. “I’ll wire the funds as soon as we hang up.”

One hundred and fifty thousand. That would pay the bills. And a nice salary for Felicia.

“Okay then. It was a pleasure working with you, Ms. Langley. Keep me in mind if you ever need help again.”

She nodded. Her face twitched, but the screen was too small for me to make out why. I was about to hang up when she spoke up, barely a whisper. “Nathan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be free for coffee some time?”

Was she asking me on a date? And was it because of what I did for her and for her father, or was it because of—“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “In a month, if you still want to, ask me again.”

She smiled. I hung up.

There’s not much more to tell. Felicia is still working with me, ostensibly as an assistant, though she does a few cases on her own from time to time. She brings in money to the firm, so I don’t feel like I’m wasting anything paying her a decent salary. Most of the time, she’s just glad not to be in the Sprawl anymore. We made an agreement that I had to handle any case that involved the Sprawl. We also agreed that I could use outside contractors if I wanted to.

Speaking of which, Max is doing all right. He got his money, plus a little extra for his suffering. He didn’t say thank you. But he did agree to be held on retainer for future dealings.

Felicia and I didn’t sleep together again. We’re keeping things strictly business. She moved into her own apartment two weeks after the Langley case ended.

Jack Stoppard is still a king among men, ruling the world from his gilded board of directors. There was no scandal in the news, he served no jail time, and nobody lost their jobs. His office did send me a fruit basket at one point, but I threw it away without opening it, just in case.

Oddly enough, the news didn’t carry a story about Oliver Langley either. I looked into it, and while there was an investigation, and there was talk of pinning the murders on him, the case was never technically closed, and it was all kept very hush hush. Jack’s got his fingers in a lot of the media. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

All in all, the last month has been pretty business as usual. Except that no one has tried to kill me at all during that time. Which suits me just fine.

I haven’t done anything particularly interesting in the intervening time. My ribs are healed, so I can’t use that as an excuse anymore. Most of the time, I’ve been pretty bored. I feel like I need a change in my life. I contemplated quitting smoking, but decided that my happiness was worth whatever surgery I would eventually need. I’m just not ready to become a goody two shoes gumshoe. Not yet. Besides, Sam Spade would never quit smoking. Or drinking. And I don’t intend to do either anytime soon.

I’m smoking right now, in fact, standing on a moving sidewalk in Town, just enjoying the weather.

My new PDA, top of the line don’t you know, vibrates against my waist. I’m not expecting any calls, and it isn’t the pattern I’ve programmed for Felicia. I take a deep drag from my smoke and pull it out. The screen, a nice holographic number, shows me an attractive, businesslike face. One that looks like it’s got a whole lot more money than it used to.

“Hi Nathan,” Theresa says.

“Hello Ms. Langley.”

“I was wondering,” she says, “If you’re still interested in that coffee.”

I smile, thinking that it’s just a social call. “Absolutely,” I say.

“Good,” she says. “Because I might need your help with something.”

Oh well. It was a nice month off.

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