The Langley Case: A Nathan Roeder Mystery

Why I hate Nathan Roeder. Chapter 1

I really wish the Albino had killed Nathan. Honestly, I wish he’d done it before Nathan dragged me on his little crusade.

I have no real loyalty to Nathan. I barely know the man. I’ve worked with him a few times in the past, but never anything serious. Roeder would need something, I would get it, and he would pay me. End of story. It didn’t matter to me if he despised me. Most of his kind do.

I’m all natural. One hundred percent a product of the good old genetic lottery. They think that means I’m diseased, that there’s something missing in me. A lack. They have no idea how much I don’t care what they think.

What matters is that he pays me. And this time around, he agreed to pay me more than usual. A lot more.

I hate telling this story as if I survived it. I’m not sure I will. That’s another reason I hate Nathan.

I guess you could say I didn’t really meet him until a few days ago. I’d worked with him before, and I knew what he looked like, but I hadn’t really met him until the last time he came out to the Sprawl. He called me and had me come find him. Something about needing a guide.

The Sprawl, as far as the Townies are concerned, is a no man’s land. They have no idea what goes on where, who does what, or where things are. Just because the world isn’t as specific and planned out as they’re used to, they panic.

Nathan never really seemed one to panic. That was something I respect about him. And something else I hate about him. He wanted my help because I knew the area, the same as he’d ask for help up on the Tiers.

I’ve never been there. Not allowed. We apparently are too disease ridden to mix with the god-like lords of the corporate world. Windbags, all of them.

At the time, I liked Nathan. He wasn’t as good looking as some of the Genetically altered. Like his parents ran out of money and cut corners. Or maybe they were just ugly. You can’t help but work with what you have, I suppose. Maybe his folks were natborns. That would be nice to know. A dirty little secret. Maybe it was another generation back. Something to show that his family wasn’t always so genetically perfect.

That helps when I think about the men at the top. I find the thought that somewhere, however far back, they came from the same genetic stock as the rest of us very appealing.

Some claim that living in the Sprawl has, or will, someday create a whole new species. That because we don’t live as long, we evolve faster. That we’ll someday be better than all of them. A pipe dream.

If I could live in Town, or in the Tiers, I would. And not just because of the money that means. I wouldn’t be totally opposed to protection I didn’t have to pay for.

When I found Nathan, he was wearing a three piece suit, complete with jacket and fedora. He even had the trench coat on, and was carrying some kind of satchel. Very film Noir. He likes that kind of thing.

I’m more of an action fan. Or at least, I used to be.

“What do you need, Roeder?” I asked.

“I need to speak to the man.”

“Which one?” There’s three of them out here. I think they took the idea of TriCity a little too literally. But I knew who he was talking about. The Bicycle Man and Raymond would kill him on sight. More the Bicycle Man. The two of them have a history. That leaves just one person left. And I don’t want to be the one to owe him a favor for talking to a man like Nathan from Town.

“You know which one,” he said, trying that cold glare on me that he’s seen in so many movies. I’m not saying he’s bad at it, but I will say it shows that he’s been practicing it in front of a mirror or something.

I shifted from foot to foot, trying to think of an excuse not to, trying to think of a way to get him to make the money offer. I didn’t want to go to The Albino, but I would if he paid me.

And, to be honest, I did want to go to the man’s club. Everyone does.

“I’ll give you five hundred now, five hundred more when I’m done with you.” I hate the way he says that. When he’s done with me. Like I’m some kind of servant. Like I’m just a service he’s paying for. I am, but he doesn’t have to rub it in.

I suppose at the time I found him charming, the way he tries to look all cold and heartless, the way he tries to be as cool as his heroes, and the way he fails.

Still, a thousand’s a thousand. “Okay,” I said. “But you pay the cover.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of the expenses.”

I took him around the corner to where my car was waiting. I doubt Nathan’s ever been in a car. I don’t know how they travel in the Tiers, but I’m told they use a lot of mass transit and moving walkways up in Town. I doubt they drive in the Tiers. Unless they actually have those flying cars they’ve been promising everyone for so long.

Once we’re in the car, I can drive him anywhere in the Sprawl he wants to go. “How long is this going to take?” He asked.

“Well, I have to get in touch with the man’s men,” I said, knowing that was bullshit. Nathan’s good as a celebrity down here. Anyone from Town is. “But I think I can eventually get you an appointment.”

“In the meantime?”

“Have you eaten lately?”

“No.”

I turned down the street to one of my favorite restaurants. It’s got decent food, but more importantly, alcohol and naked women dancing around poles. I don’t know if that’ll be Nathan’s cup of tea. At the time, I didn’t even know which way he swung. Bastard.

Getting inside was easier than normal. I made Roeder pay the cover charge. He asked what kind of restaurant had a cover charge. I told him that oldest of lies, the one we tell ourselves. “It’s a gentleman’s club,” I said.

Inside, the music hits us both, along with the smell. Stale sweat, staler cigarettes, and old beer. A beautiful cacophony of smells that I’m sure my compatriot doesn’t appreciate. Me? I like the smell. And I like the titties.

We take a seat at the stage. I watch the girls, trying to figure out who is made of the best her genes had to offer, and who is just a really lucky girl from the lottery. It’s hard to tell just by looking at them, but there are subtle clues. Some of the genalts have had certain unimportant parts of their bodies removed prenatally, allowing them to be impossibly skinny. Ribs that just never grew, or organs that didn’t bother developing, anything to make them fit closer to that ideal, that hourglass figure.

Not that the natural’s aren’t gorgeous too. They have the tiny imperfections that make them seem real, that make them seem like they might actually talk to you, or actually fuck your brains out. Either way, it’s a certain magnetism they have.

Maybe it’s just that they’re naked.

After we’ve ordered food, I leave Nathan with some cash to get the attention of the ladies and head to the back room, where I can make a phone call.

Once I get someone on the other line, it doesn’t take long to tell them that Nathan needs to see the Albino. Once I mention that he’s from Town, I get put on hold. “Bring him tonight,” the voice says. I think that’s Simon, the big scary bouncer. I can tell just by the sound of him that he wants to hurt pretty much everyone.

The line clicks dead, and I headed back to Nathan. He looked annoyed, but like he’s hiding his arousal with annoyance.

“I think I might be able to swing things,” I said to him. “I have to make another call in an hour. So settle down and enjoy the show.”

“When will you know?”

“Not for at least an hour,” I lied. “So settle down. Here, buy us each a lap dance.”

“What?”

“You said you’d cover expenses.”

Okay, so there’s at least one reason I don’t hate Nathan Roeder.