The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) by Ian Malone (great books of all time TXT) 📕

“Am I to assume, then, that so long as you produce adequate proof of the former condition, you’ll still get paid full rate?” Taylor asked.

“That is also correct,” the spider said.

“Good.” Taylor shifted his stance. “Inform your client that Akoya Vello was caught in the crossfire during our battle with the KzSha and subsequently killed in a cave-in. Sadly, you were unable to retrieve his body from the ruble.”

The Flatar motioned with its head toward Akoya. “But he did not die in the battle. That is him there.”

“No, it’s not,” Taylor said casually. “That’s one of Akoya’s Sumatozou slaves. He had a lot of them down here. My people can take you to the final resting place of the real Akoya, at which time you’re more than welcome to take all the pictures your client requires.”

The Flatar narrowed his gaze at Taylor. “Why would I agree to this?”

“Swamp Eagle Security has something of an arrangement with the Cartography Guild,” Taylor said. “Long story short, we helped them out of a jam a while back, and in exchange, they don’t charge us stargate fees…ever.”

The Flatar’s expression turned sideways. “Why does that matter to me?”

“Because that deal also applies to any other merc companies we subcontract with for additional support,” Taylor said.

The Flatar’s eyes widened.

“Tell me, Colonel,” Taylor said, “how do you feel about rent-free stargate travel for the next six months?”

The colonel made a clicking sound with his teeth as he considered Taylor’s proposal. “My client will need more than pictures for proof of the Sumatozou’s demise. They will expect DNA.”

Taylor’s arm blade made an audible shing as it deployed beside Akoya’s right ear. “I think we can work something out.”

* * * * *

Chapter 25: Curtain Call

Once the last of their business on Droxis was concluded, Taylor and the Eagles boarded their drop ships, alongside what remained of the River Hawk Defense Group, and returned to the Ryley Osyrys in orbit. The transition home promised to be a long one, both due to the travel time and all the new mouths to feed on account of the dozens of refugees aboard. The rest of the slaves were either taken off world by the Tortantulas, courtesy of their first subcontractor deal with the Eagles, or left behind on Droxis with shelter and enough supplies to get them by until ships could be dispatched to take them home.

On the upshot, a week’s worth of downtime in hyperspace gave Taylor plenty of time to think, though not before he took the longest, most amazing shower of his life. After that came the longest, most amazing night of sleep in Taylor’s life, followed by a full pot of coffee the next morning in preparation for the next major task on his itinerary—the interrogation of one Michael Genovese.

“Remember all those nice things I said before about Southern hospitality?” Genovese jingled his restraints across the interrogation room table. “I take back every damn one of them.”

As it turned out, Genovese had been telling the truth about his exodus from New York. His father, Al, had gone to prison on charges of conspiring to murder a public official. Meanwhile, the rest of his family was effectively drummed out of Queens at gunpoint by the remaining factions in the New York mob. This included Genovese, his mother Sally, and his kid sister Carola, who’d just started her freshman year of high school when Al had been indicted.

It was also around this time that the Genovese family had received an entirely different type of bad news, in addition to the trial. Carola had been diagnosed with a rare bone disease that was gonna cost a fortune to treat. Problem was, all of the Genoveses’ assets had been frozen by the district attorney’s office as part of the investigation.

Enter Paul Torrio with a lifeline call from Jacksonville.

“That job with the River Hawks literally saved our lives,” Genovese said. “It got me back up on my feet with a fresh income, it put a roof over our heads, and it got Carola the meds she needed to stay healthy.”

In time, however, the girl’s disease progressed, rendering her current treatment plan almost useless.

“We needed something stronger,” Genovese recalled. “Something more aggressive. It was around then that Paulie got wind of the Vuhov contract and started makin’ calls. About a week later, I was approached by a Buma over in Cocktail Junction. Don’t ask me how, but he knew about Carola’s condition. He said he represented someone who could ensure she got the best care possible if I’d give them intel on whatever we found on Emza.” Genovese bowed his head. “I swear to you, Taylor. All I wanted was for my kid sister to live a normal life like the rest of us. I had no idea what was coming down the pike. Nobody did.”

According to Genovese, the River Hawks touched down on Emza expecting to face between two and three hundred aggressors, per the estimates laid out in the Vuhov contract proposal. When the KzSha’s numbers proved far superior to that, the group was forced to improvise.

“That’s when everything went to pot,” Genovese said. “I was tasked with leading a convoy from the east valley, where we’d established a rally point to the main line in order to help resupply our forces out front. It was on that trip that the KzSha ambushed our caravan and took me hostage.”

“And that’s when you met Akoya?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah,” Genovese said. “The fat, arrogant prick was waiting with a guard force nearby when the KzSha grabbed me. He’d seen that the Vuhov had hired a human merc outfit, and he had questions, mainly about you. FYI, I didn’t find out about any of the Rukoria stuff until later.”

Taylor nodded. “What happened next?”

“By this point, the River Hawks had been almost completely overrun,”