Soldier of Fortune: Gideon Quinn Adventures Book One

Chapter 14

Just shy of ten o'clock, Gideon scanned Marlowe Street as the girl (apparently she didn't consider them on a first—or any—name basis, as yet), opened the door of Kit's Place, the joint she'd suggested two hours and eight tram stops ago.

It would have been only one hour and three tram stops, but it seemed the lovely Rey and her accomplices didn't take being ditched in the Circus lightly, and had called in a few favors from other players.

Gideon discovered this when, upon stepping down from the tram at its third stop (one avenue away from their current location), he caught a high-shrieked keen of warning from the rooftops, where Elvis had just perched.

Instinct had him ducking, and shoving the girl back onto the already-departing tram, thus barely avoiding a blast of plasma from some street tough's shooter.

"Does every street drone in Nike have a gun?" he'd asked, frustrated.

"Only them as wants to work," she'd said, with a hood-bouncing shrug.

Fortunately, there had been a dearth of street drones at the Canterbury Avenue stop, where, even if there had been any of the criminal class waiting, they'd have had a tough time getting to Gideon through the throngs of university students pouring out of the closing library towards home or, more likely, the pubs.

From there, they'd hiked to the Virgin Avenue station and caught the Twining Circle tram, which eventually brought them to Tempest Park, from which they hoofed it back to Marlowe Street, and Kit's.

Halfway through Tempest Park, the girl had looked at Gideon oddly. "What are you counting?"

Gideon, who'd just reached 2,218, came to a halt. "Nothing," he said, then gestured for her to continue on.

Shortly after (another seventy-two steps), they turned onto Marlowe, and ninety steps after that, they reached their destination.

After a thorough scan of the street, and an all-clear from Elvis, now perched on the diner's awning, Gideon was pleased to discover that no one had followed them.

Fortunately, the rain continued to hold off as well, so Gideon didn't feel too guilty about leaving Elvis outside.

"It's for your own safety," he explained, looking up.

Elvis glared down from the top of the awning, unconvinced.

"Fine, I'll bring you a little draco bag," Gideon promised, then followed his young guide into the diner, where the warm air was redolent of oats, cinnamon, butter, and the sharp slash of bacon.

His mouth commenced watering while his eyes skimmed the place.

Kit's wasn't large, having room for no more than five booths running along the left-hand wall, a handful of four tops in the middle, and a counter fronted by well-worn, red-cushioned stools on the right. The kitchen was open to the dining area via a long pass-through, though he couldn't see anyone inside the kitchen.

He wondered if the place served pie. He seemed to recall, in the distant past, having a fondness for pies. Not the gooey ones, though. He liked real fruit in his pastries.

"You comin' in or what?"

Gideon shook off the whimsy of desserts past and followed the girl into the diner present.

She'd explained, during tram connection six, that Kit's tended to slow down after the early dinner rush, and that by this point in the evening, the working folk who frequented the place would have come and gone.

"We'll be able to watch for any trouble coming, no problem," she'd promised.

The way she'd said it told Gideon the girl was accustomed to watching trouble approach. Certainly the way she'd handled herself thus far—both as a medic in his room and backup in the alley—indicated the kid kept a cool head in a crisis.