Xenoform by Mr Mike Berry Page B

took on a distant look and Whistler knew she was listening to a call over DNI. Smith breathed deeply, steeling herself, and Whistler knew that it wasn’t good news.
    ‘Your new one has it, too.’
    ‘Oh that’s fucking it ! Tell me what you want.’
    ‘We want you to find out where it’s coming from, if you can.’
    ‘The new organ.’
    ‘Yes. We will offer any help we can, but to be honest it’s likely to be minimal.’
    ‘I just bet it is.’
    ‘You know we have to be cautious with regards to our involvement in certain scenes . It’s down to you and your team.’
    ‘Right. And if we sort this, we get our money?’
    ‘Well, the good news is, I can offer you an intel fee. One hundred thousand up front. One more if you find the source.’
    ‘We could be on this for months, though. Two hundred doesn’t equal what we’d usually generate in that time. Nowhere near.’
    ‘Maybe you’ll solve it within the day. I really don’t know. Anyway, take it or leave it.’ Smith began to tap at the keyboard on her desk as if to indicate that the conversation was concluded.
    ‘Right,’ said Whistler decisively, looking about herself. ‘Right! I’ll get the fucker who’s behind this. I’ll sort it out and we’ll get our money. But who was the guy? Leo. If we’re going to find the source, we need to trace him, I guess.’
    ‘Right – of course. Here are the details, what we know, on Leo Travant. I’m afraid we don’t know much, really. And some pictures of the unknown organ. As I mentioned, we haven’t been able to successfully scan it. He worked at Smithson’s, near here.’
    ‘If there is an answer, we’ll find it. I guess we have no choice.’
    ‘That’s the spirit. I have already transferred the first hundred to your account.’
    ‘Presumptuous, nay?’
    ‘Maybe.’
    She passed Whistler down a data spot. Whistler flicked it back to her. Smith fumbled, dropping it, and part of Whistler’s mind rejoiced – Ha! Was that a glimmer of humanity, Smith? She stood and made to leave. ‘Send a copy of the data to the van, would you? Me being a meathead and all.’
    Smith let it go and bent to her keypad again. ‘Of course,’ she said without looking up.
    Whistler shook her head and swept from the room, the doors struggling to open in time. She stopped in the reception room to collect her gun.
    ‘It’s been looking at me funny,’ complained one of the guards.
    ‘You were probably acting suspiciously,’ said Whistler, grabbing the gun with a taloned hand and dumping it into her jacket pocket. ‘It does that.’
    ‘Where the hell did you get that thing anyway? I don’t know that you should have that in here at all.’
    ‘What are you, my mum? I’ve never even been asked to remove it before,’ answered Whistler emphatically.
    ‘Honestly I’m surprised by that,’ said the guard, shaking his head.
    Whistler smiled, exposing her pointed fangs and got into the lift. She waved to the guard and the doors closed. The lift scanned her eyes again and began to descend. She watched the layers of tower unstacking through the single five hundred metre-tall window. Far below her, gravpods could be seen like bright beads thread upon bracelets of roadway. She had almost stopped being angry and her mind was now obsessively chewing on the problem at hand. Leo had been his name. The wings. Smithson’s. Someone would know. Someone would know where the extra organ had come from. Whistler’s team would find them and make them talk. And make them stop. Stop everything, if necessary. You don’t mess with my bank balance. The gun in her pocket sensed her vengeance like a shark sniffing blood in water. Its sleek metal body was humming gently against her.
    At the very bottom of the tower, back in the basement where Material Receipt was housed, the lift stopped and Whistler got out into bright lights and a hospital-clean corridor. She found the others in the lounge as expected. Spider and Sofi were sparring gently and