Kean's Edge

Darby Krenshaw

Description

Petty thieves Kean and Ozzy are recruited by an eccentric collector to smuggle outlawed treeware. When the pickup goes wrong, they are hunted through the streets of Morocco. Running for their lives, they discover what lengths each will go to to save the other. A short story.

Sujets

• Short story
• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Untreed Reads
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 0001
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781611873641
• Langue: English

Extrait

Kean’s Edge
By Darby Krenshaw

Copyright 2012 by Darby Krenshaw
Cover Copyright 2012 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Also by Darby Krenshaw and Untreed Reads Publishing
Rules for the Care and Feeding of Tiffany

http://www.untreedreads.com
Kean’s Edge
By Darby Krenshaw
Kean gazes up at the stained-glass dome over the rotunda library. Its azure glass is inset with silver stars that twinkle in the soft light. Engrossed in the effect, he bumps into an alabaster bust perched on a column.
“Please do be careful, Mr. Kean.” Dr. Fischer steadies the statue with one hand and places the other on the small of Kean’s back.
“Kean,” he replies, making an effort not to jerk away.
“Pardon?”
“Just call me Kean. There’s no mister in front of it.” Kean moves away to take a closer look at one of the curved bookcases that circle the room. The shelves, packed with books, vases and figurines, rise from the floor to the dome that seems to float above.
“Marvelous, isn’t it? The room is three stories tall and three hundred feet across, the floor is Italian marble. Humidity control is essential, which is one of the reasons it’s underground. The dome actually lies underneath a shallow reflecting pool located in the meditation garden. Ingenious, really.”
“Ingenious,” Kean repeats, moving to step on the scuff mark his work boot left on the marble. “I don’t think I have ever seen a holographic library this big.”
Kean places his finger on the spine of Jack London’s White Fang. The holograph doesn’t flicker. His blue eyes widen in surprise.
“The code is amazing, Dr. Fischer. To create this type of interaction takes some seriously tight programming.
The doctor grins and picks up the small dog that’s sniffing around Kean’s boot. Its body is covered with wispy long hair so thin Kean can see its gray-freckled skin.
The doctor’s Japanese sandals clack across the marble, as he comes over to stand too close. “Pick it up.” He nods to the book.
Kean gently pulls the book and let’s it fall open in his hand. “It has weight to it? How is that possible?” There’s a slight musty odor when he turns a page; he brings the book to his nose.
“Mr. Kean.” Dr. Fischer places a hand on Kean’s shoulder.
“Kean.”
“Right, Kean.” He pauses for a beat, tasting the word. “And please call me Ellis. I’m afraid I brought you here under false pretenses.” Beads of sweat form on the doctor’s bald head.
“Uh, listen, Doc-” He sneezes.
“Gesundheit.”
“Thank-” Kean stops. The copy of White Fang drops to the floor. “There’s dust on these.”
“Please, do try to be more careful.” Fischer grunts over his large stomach to retrieve the book.
“That’s organic. Only real books would collect dust.”
Dr. Fischer returns the book to the shelf. “As I said, Kean, I brought you here under somewhat false pretenses.”
Kean looks around again with growing apprehension. “Listen, Dr. Fischer. I’m not sure what you have been told, but I’m a hacker.” Kean starts to back his way to the elevator.
“I thought we agreed on Ellis?” Fischer gives him a hurt look. “I need you to retrieve a book for me.”
“A real book? Not possible.”
“And yet look around you.” Fischer makes a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“Sorry. Can’t help you.” Kean reaches behind him and pushes the elevator button.
“I can offer you a great deal of money.” He drops the dog on a couch as he shuffles behind a brass-topped bar, his red muumuu billowing. He offers a bottle of water.
The elevator doors open and reclose behind Kean. “How much?”
*
Kean takes the stairs two at a time to the one-room apartment. The thumping bass from the strip club below makes its one window vibrate. He bumps his head on the bare bulb hanging from wire just inside the apartment door. A round burn mark appears on his forehead.
“When are you going to learn to duck?” Ozzy chuckles without looking up from her laptop.
He gives her a sheepish grin and shrugs. “Your dad caught me downstairs.”
“What does Frank want?”
“What do you think? His cut from last week. Here, I fixed the other netbook.” He sits on the edge of the tired couch and rummages through his oversized backpack, tossing out his gym clothes.
“Uh, please do not tell me my netbook is underneath all your nasty laundry.” Ozzy crosses her arms.
He holds the little pink computer out to her.
“Yuck. Just set it over there, will you.” She points at the desk. “So, what did you think of the good doctor?” she asks, wiping the offending netbook down with alcohol towelettes.
“Are you mental?” Kean chews the edge of his thumb.