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Simon Wentworth (order #1132857) 9. . . advanced contacts . . .Riser slouched in his chair at the Bloody Fist, kicked back against the back wall, waiting. Most ofthe patrons of the bar were the hard-drinking, hard-hitting type that knew enough to mind their ownbusiness. Right now, that business was a pirated ‘trid broadcast of some Azzie blood-sports.When Cole walked in, no one looked at him. Oh, everyone saw Cole—a black skinned human, wearinga tailored grey suit, walking like an executive into a boardroom—but no one in this bar would dare look theman in the face. Riser stood when Cole walked up. He waited until Cole sat before he took his own seat.“Riser,” Cole said, picking up the beer that had materialized—almost like magic—at his fingertips.“Cole,” Riser nodded at the gang boss. “Nice suit. Business is good?”“Profits are up, losses are down,” Cole replied, smiling. “What’s up?”“I’m hoping to take a quick trip,” Riser said. “I’m flying into DC and I hate checking baggage.”Cole took another long drink of his beer. His eyes flicked to the emerald and topaz studs in Riser’s leftear. Riser wasn’t a Cutter anymore, but no one in the gang would question his right to wear the colors.“What sort of baggage?”Riser sent the list he’d prepared over to Cole, using the current encryption protocols of the Cutters.Cole read through the list, smiling.“A Barret 121,” Cole said. “I can see why you’d want to pick it up there. Airlines are such sticklers onsniper rifles.” Riser gave a slight shrug, amused, as Cole kept reading. Riser knew when he hit the lastitem, from the way Cole’s elegantly shaped eyebrows winged up, emerald and topaz studs winking in thedim light.“Riser, man, do I look like a fucking pansy-assed elf to you?” Cole said.“Nah, you’re not nearly pretty enough,” Riser replied, smiling.“Ten doses of Laës, in injections, strong enough to make a troll forget his own mama?” Cole said.“What, do you think we’re the damn Ancients? Where do you expect my DC brothers to get thatfor you?”Riser slouched back in his chair, studied the ganger in front of him as he slowly sipped his own beer.“You mean to say there’s a drug out there that the Cutters can’t get?”Cole glared at him, then jerked his head. “I’ll make a call, asshole.” Cole’s dark eyes got that unfocusedlook that said he was using his internal ‘link, and Riser patiently waited. Finally, Cole’s attentionsnapped back.“It’s done,” he said, with a tight smile. “But our friends in DC are going to be charging you for thehassle of dealing with those damn pixies.”“My nuyen’s good,” Riser replied.“Oh, Riser,” Cole chuckled. “They know your name. They know who you are, what you do. I don’tthink they’ll be asking for nuyen, my brother.”Riser sighed inside. Having a large circle of friends could be a blessing… and a curse.Runner’s Companion123