"BOSS CONRAD'S HERE to see you, Penn."
Penn—Boss Penn Kalhoon, actually—frowned down at the balance sheet he'd been working on, and waited for the roaring in his ears to subside.
Boss Conrad was here. He'd hoped—never mind now what he'd hoped; it was too late for hope. Reality was that the man who'd come blazing out of Moran's territory less than a Standard Month ago—the man the streeters called Boss Killer—was in his territory—in his house—and suddenly Penn Kalhoon was looking at ending the day early.
Thera . . . Thera'd be OK, he told himself. Conrad targeted bosses; streeters and staff attached to a particular boss' household were, by report, safe as anybody ever was, so long as they had the good sense not to draw on Conrad or one of his 'hands.
The exception to that'd been Deacon. Conrad blew the house, there, boss and crew—but did it so neither of the houses next to it blew, or took fire. They'd shimmied a little, maybe, when Deacon's crumbled down into its own cellar-hole.
And, according to Penn's sources, Deacon had bought that special bit of attention fair and square by doing something stupid even by his standards, and sending a team onto Conrad's turf to take him out. The team never made it back to Deacon's territory, but they managed to screw up good before they all got shot dead: They killed Conrad's kid.
After consideration, Penn had finally allowed that Conrad'd done just what he needed to do to Deacon, and not one bit less than Penn might've done himself, if it'd been his kid killed.
He just wished the guy hadn't gone off his head and decided to wipe out every other boss on the planet, too.
"Penn?" That was Marj, his second, still standing by the door and not exactly sounding calm. He sighed, capped his pen, closed the notebook, settled his glasses on his nose, and looked up.
"OK," he said, voice steady. "Please show Boss Conrad in, and have Dani bring us some hot tea—I hear he likes tea."
Marj was looking distinctly white around the mouth. "Penn, this is the guy who—"
"Yeah, I know who he is," he cut her off. "And what I want you to do—no matter what happens—is cooperate with Boss Conrad. Got that? You level with him—explain how you're my second and you'll be glad to show him whatever he needs to see. Be smart, OK? You seen the reports—the only one he wants is me. He'll be good for the streets—you seen those reports, too. Be smart, Marj. Tell me."
She swallowed, eyes wet. "I'll be smart, Penn."
"Great." He nodded. "Now go get him. It ain't polite to keep a guest waitin'."
THE REPORTS all had Boss Conrad peaking at the lower end of average tall, with brown hair and brown eyes, a blue earring, a glittery hand-ring, and a liking for pretty clothes. All that was true, but Penn was still unprepared for the slim and elegant person who followed Marj into the office, his 'hand walking quiet and solemn at his back.
The 'hand—it was the woman. Natesa. Penn felt one of the knots in his gut loosen. Natesa was a pro; he didn't have to worry about a botched job. She'd be quick and she'd be clean. Not that the big guy's hand-cannons wouldn't've done the needful, but there'd been an awful mess left to add to Thera's upset.
Much relieved, he stood up from behind his desk, keeping his hands in plain sight, and nodded politely.
"'afternoon, sir. I'm Penn Kalhoon."
Dark brown eyes considered him gravely from an ageless golden face. The reports put him in his thirties, which he probably wasn't any younger than. But he could've just as easy been ten, fifteen, even twenty years older. He inclined his head, more formal, somehow, than a standard nod of greeting.
"Good afternoon, Penn Kalhoon. I am called Conrad. Please forgive me for disturbing you at your work." His voice was soft and pitched in the mid-range, real easy on the ear.
"That's OK, sir. I've sorta been expecting you."
The well-marked dark brows pulled slightly together. "Ah, have you? I wonder why."
Penn shrugged. "My sources said you was tending in this direction." That was the truth—wasn't no use lying to the man. He was gonna need to know the state of things, and best he had it straight from the one who knew it best. Penn pointed.
"I'd be pleased if you'd sit. Dani'll be up real soon with some tea."
The eyebrows moved again, upward this time. "Tea would be most welcome," he murmured and did sit, graceful as a girl. His 'hand took up her post behind him.
Penn sank down into his own chair, wondering what to say now, and was saved from making an immediate decision by the arrival of Dani with a tray full of cups, pot, and cookies. She got everything down on the desk with no spills, which was pretty good, considering how bad her hands were shaking, and shot him a look from wide, scared eyes.
"Thanks, Dani," he said easily, like he was having lunch with Thera. "We'll take it from here."
"Yessir, Boss," she whispered, and fled, closing the door a little too hard behind her.
Carefully, Penn poured tea into one of the cups, sipped it, and bit into a cookie.
Having demonstrated his good will, he filled another cup and passed it across the desk.
"I thank you," Boss Conrad murmured and took a sip, then favored Penn with a straight look. "I hope that you will forgive me if I come quickly to the purpose of my call," he said.
Penn swallowed the rest of his cookie.
"Sure," he said, and his voice sounded a little edgy to himself. "You're a busy man."
"As you are," Conrad said. "So, then—quickly: I am here to offer you an opportunity to enter into a partnership with me."
Penn blinked, thinking he'd heard it wrong, and dared a quick look up at the pro. She smiled slightly, and inclined her head.
"Um," Penn said, and had another swallow of tea to clear the sawdust out of his mouth. "What kind of partnership?"
"A perfectly unexceptional sort of partnership—or so I persist in believing, despite those who have felt they would rather die than accept it." Conrad sipped his tea. "I envision free passage and trade between my territories and your own, and a pooling of our various resources, for the betterment of all. You will continue to administer your streets, as you have been doing so ably for these last ten Standards. I will administer my streets, and hope to do as well."
Penn blinked again, then shook his head with a half-laugh. "I'm sorry. See, when you walked in here, I knew my day was done. Gonna take me a sec to focus." Something struck him and he looked into Conrad's smooth, calm face.
"You didn't offer this deal to all the—all the other bosses, did you?"
"In fact, I did not. The late Boss Deacon did not impress me as someone with whom it would be advantageous to associate. The rest, however—yes. I offered them this precise deal."
"And they turned you down?" Penn rubbed his nose. "How dumb are these guys?" He waved a hand. "I know, I know. Dumb enough." He closed his eyes, turning the deal around in his head, looking at it from this angle and that, seeing profit, growth, and—a snag.
"I worked hard to make my streets safe," he said carefully. "Some of those turfs you picked up are pretty rugged, according to my sources. The tollbooths don't keep all the trouble out, but they keep it down."
"True enough. We are in the process of developing a street patrol, which will eventually work to keep trouble to a minimum. In the meanwhile, we may leave the tollbooths in place, as checkpoints only. Travelers would be required to stop and submit to a search, as they are now, but no cash would change hands."
"OK, that's a workaround—we can do that."
"Good. I wonder how you feel about trading people as well?"
Penn froze. "Trading people?"
Boss Conrad moved his hand; his big ring sparkling. "Gently. I only meant that it might profit you if—for an instance—I were to ask a master brewer who lives inside my territory to come to you for a time, to teach the craft to one of yours. Likewise, I am in need of assistance in the matter of inaugurating schools, such as you maintain. Now, we have a system of . . . itinerant teachers, who wander from street to street, teaching those who would learn how to read. I wish to do better than this, but I must be taught how."
"I get it," Penn grinned, excited now. "An' if your master brewer, say, didn't want to leave home, maybe I could send my student over to him for a while."
Conrad smiled, faintly. "Precisely."
"OK, so far this is easy." Penn looked at the other man seriously. "What's the catch?"
Another smile, slightly less faint than the first. "The catch is that I wish to secure the entire length of the Port Road, and I will require you to guarantee safe passage for all along that portion which runs through your territory. I will undertake likewise."
The Port Road ran more-or-less through the middle of Penn's turf, and it was as safe as the rest of his streets. But . . .
"We're cut off by Ivernet to the north, and Whitman, on the east. I can hold my piece of road, OK, but there ain't nobody gonna come walkin' out of Ivernet's turf. Whitman—I can talk to Whitman, if you want. She's not somebody who snubs a profit, if you know what I mean. But Ivernet—sleet, Ivernet's crazy."
"Ah. Nonetheless, I will be calling upon Boss Ivernet and offering him the deal. If the deal is not acceptable, then measures will be taken."
Penn shook his head. "You're a braver man than I am," he said.
"Merely foolhardy, I believe." Conrad leaned forward to put his cup on the desk, and came to his feet, smooth and graceful. Penn stood, too, feeling like his whole body was grinning.
"It seems we agree in principle," Conrad said, inclining his head. "Natesa."
The woman moved. Penn had time for one sharp spike of terror before he saw that it wasn't a gun in her hand at all, but a portable radio.
Shakily, he took it.
"If you need to speak with me—a consultation, an emergency—simply push the 'four' key. If I need to speak with you for similar reasons, I will use my radio and yours will emit three tones, from low to high. Is this acceptable?"
"Acceptable," Penn croaked.
"That is good. And now, I will take my leave and allow you to return to your work. Good-day, Penn Kalhoon. It is . . . a pleasure to do business with you."
"Good-day, sir. Ma'am." He raised his voice, "Marj!"
The door popped open so fast he knew she'd been listening at the knob. Her face was white all the way to the hairline, but she was grinning fit to beat all.
"Marj, Boss Conrad and his 'hand are leavin' now. Please take them down to the door."
"Yessir!" she said snappily, and turned her grin on the man and the woman. "Right this way, Mr. Conrad."
They followed her without a backward look between them and Penn sank back into his chair, taking pleasure in the simple act of breathing.
After a while, though, his brain started in, like it always did, and he shook his head. Going to call on Ivernet, was he? That Natesa'd better be a damn' good shot.