The Blood Money - Freeport One Edition -

[Squad]

Johnson watched his new acquaintance swipe through his tablet’s screens before lifting a leg up on the padded booth bench to relax his core.

“I used to have one of those. Didn’t use it for much but reading. I honestly don’t know where it went off to.”

Mr. Tablet’s eyes met his.

Small talk isn’t the specialty around here.

“A girl, to be blunt. Mireen, not exactly sure what she does these days. One of those with a strange habit of showing up, surprisingly, when you need them.”

Johnson let his neck crane against the booth’s headrest.

“She was a mercenary, but I don’t know much else. Used to be of the Queen’s Privateers when I was young, but I suppose she’s off to better things. When I got this . . .”

His left hand rested on his abdomen.

“She visited me in the medical ward. Told me to come here and show that little chip on your hands. A bit cryptic, but it gets me away from a certain group of people who would like to give my stomach a few more holes to match.”

Johnson put three fingers on the wound, one at each corner of the entry, marking a triangle.

“A dirty kind of knife. Triangular wounds are notoriously hard to mend. Mireen ‘no-last-name’ gave me quite the rub to seal it, though. In fact, she gave me my ship when I first fled Gran Canaria. That’s a story for another day, of course.”

Slowly, Johnson leaned up to the table and tried to put his elbows on it in an acceptable, painless manner.

He needed practice.

“So, that’s my part. What does that little piece of pewter mean?”

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