Echoes of the Past

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine: Higero Jaxx

The roar of the casino crowd, the strobing lights and bells and whistles, had all faded into the back of James's mind. He walked across the casino floor beside Castan, towards the booths in the far corner. James knew the angle they would play, and the background of their story. It seemed relatively simple enough, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a great sense of dread overwhelm him.

James focused. They were about to meet the dangerous arms dealer Higero Jaxx, pretending to be other people. He forced his breathing to steady and told himself everything was going to be fine.

James hoped Sam would be able to jump to their rescue, if it turned out they needed it. But it shouldn't come to that. James had to survive this meeting without a fight. This fight was a talk.

They approached Jaxx's two bodyguards. The one nearest them, the shorter one with cat-like eyes and long ears, held a hand out.

"Keep back," he said in a high and nasally voice. "Restricted section." The short fur on his face blended into the longer hairs that ran over his head, overflowing down his back like a lion's mane.

James held his hands up apologetically. "Oh, no trouble here. No, sir. We were just hoping for a word with Mr. Jaxx, if that were alright." Without planning it, James had emphasised the common, local tones of his usual speech, which he hoped would make him appear more simple-minded and less threatening. It was almost like doing a bad impression of Castan and his Canarrian accent. Was that the right way to go? Maybe they would think him a simpleton. It was too late to back out of his character now.

"You have no business with Mr. Jaxx," the bodyguard said. As he looked them over, his short snout rose with contempt. He wore a close-fitting jacket, his furred arms bare aside from thin metal wristbands, and dusty brown trousers tucked into boots.

"No, but we were hoping to," James said, smiling. "You see, we're metal miners, from Dendo next door – that's the small green moon you see at night – and we'd love to talk to Mr. Jaxx about doing some business together. We'd love to tell him about our company."

"He is not interested in your business," the guard said. Beside him, the taller one remained looking ahead, as if he had no concern with them.

"Well that's a shame, if that's true," James said. "We'll just have to find someone else who wants an unlimited supply of metal. Perhaps someone in Victory City."

The hairs on the guard's forearms seemed to bristle with frustration. James had seen many of his kind before. Firions usually preferred to keep to themselves, but were generally friendly and peaceful folk, from what he'd known.

"It's alright," a calm voice said behind the guard.

Jaxx shifted in his seat to have a look over them. "Seems that I have some time." He waved a hand dismissively. "It appears that my appointment is running late. You have until they arrive."

The short guard's eyes tightened and he remained still a moment, before giving them room to sit. Castan followed James and they slid into the booth opposite Jaxx. Both bodyguards kept their backs to them and continued to survey the casino.

"Genetlemen," Jaxx said. "Please forgive my employees. They were not held enough as children." He was disarmingly softly spoken, which James was sure masked a darker side. There was a scaled quality to Jaxx's brown-green skin, and his wide nostrils and flat face reminded James of a serpent; perhaps he was a similar race to the reptilian muqgraa's and bahkschim's.

"But as you can imagine," Jaxx went on, "one cannot be too careful with whom they interact. Particularly someone who has become quite notorious around these parts. As I'm sure you're aware of."