LotS/The Story/Playing with Fire (Part 1)/The Man With The Keffiyeh

Kyburn McManus had been waiting for the phone call. But he still nearly jumped out of his chair when its ring eviscerated the silence of his penthouse. He glanced up, blinked, and pressed the button.

Alison's face appeared in front of him. Her pretty mouth and eyes were narrow, like blades.

"Ali, I-"

"Where the hell are my creds, McManus? I made the delivery. I even saved the loser's life."

"There was a... problem with my account."

"Funny how there's never a problem when it's money coming in instead of going out."

"Look, my bitch ex-wife's lawyers are digging through my accounts. The whore says I've been holding out on her!"

"You have!"

"Well, yeah..."

"Anyway, I don't give a crap about your divorce or your wife. I want my creds!"

"You'll get them. Come to my place. I'll give you them in hards. Nice and untraceable."

"You expect me to lug that many hard credits around? Screw you! Maybe I'll give your wife's bloodsuckers a call instead..."

"I'll give you five percent extra!"

"Deal. I'm on my way."

Ali disappeared. McManus released the breath he'd been holding.

"Very good, Mr. McManus."

The man with the green keffiyeh grinned at him from across the room, beside a rain-lashed window. A flash of lightning illuminated his dusky face. His cyan eyes glittered with its electric hue long after it had vanished and yielded to thunder.

"The girl..." McManus said.

"No harm will come to her."

Kyburn McManus forced himself to feel reassured, and turned away from the Arab's predatory smile.

"And... the creds?"

"They have already been deposited in your account."

"But you don't even have her yet!"

"Consider it a token of my good will."

McManus pressed a series of buttons on his terminal. His eyes widened.

"A generous sum, is it not?" Al-Husam said.

"It's more than..."

"Than I promised? Yes. The people I represent are prepared to handsomely reward those who assist us."

McManus stared at the screen. It was a lot of creds...

Ali stepped out of the elevator, into the lounge of McManus' penthouse. Perhaps a dozen windows surrounded her -- like dark blue eyes, with the black structures of the nocturnal city swimming in their depths behind a veil of rainwater. It made the place seem like a castle under siege. The castellan himself was sitting before an immense fireplace, obscured by an armchair's high back.

Synthetic flames, they said. Disgraceful... Like painted whores.

Ali murmured for them to shut up.

"Where are the creds, McManus?"

She stood there for several moments, while the rain lashed and the firelight flickered. But Kyburn McManus said nothing.

Something's wrong, they said. You should leave.

"McManus?"

Flames flared up around both of her shoulders in blazing epaulets. Dancing tongues licked along her arms and wreathed her hands. Dark presentiment gnawed at her innards. But she had to see...

Ali crossed the room.

McManus' eyes were large and unblinking. She took him for a corpse until he spoke.

"I'm sorry!" he whispered.

She ran towards the elevator. Then her mind exploded.

"Is she what we are looking for?" Al-Husam asked.

Two masked cultists, a man and a woman, flanked the kneeling form of Alison Haelia. Each of them held one of her hands. If the woman was aware of this, or of anything else, she gave no sign. Her face was emotionless, her eyes glazed.

A pair of smooth, light blue masks turned to the Arab. Their cyan eyes glowed.

"She has a strong connection," the man said.

"The strongest I've ever felt," the woman added.

"Masha'Kalaxia! Then she will live, for now."