Quiet Piggy Part 5

Cutthroat Alley was a fair distance from where I currently was. I walked back to Bar Zero. Then I called a Tsuru driver. Taxis dropped off in the Barrio but they did not pick up. So instead I had to use Tsuru, one of two local ride services. Most of its drivers were based in the Barrio so I could count on them to get me where I wanted to go. A beat up GM Skoda Partisan pulled up, I got in the passenger seat and told the driver where I wanted to go. We then dickered over the price for a moment or two, I pulled out some UN dollars and handed them over, he was very happy.

Fare negotiations concluded he swerve out onto the street oblivious of the traffic or pedestrians.

There was shouts and curses as we sped off back towards the river. My driver just laughed and turned on his radio, the car was filled with the sounds of reggae. I just leaned back in my seat and stared out at the passing scenery. Nothing unusual. People going about their daily lives as you'd expect. Every now and then I'd flick a glance at the rear view mirror. We were not being followed. Eventually we pulled up outside Cutthroat Alley.

I thanked the driver, gave him another UN dollar bill, a twenty. Then closed the door. He drove off singing.

Oldtimers said originally the alley was an alley, nowadays though it was a covered area. Essentially the frame of a warehouse that was never quite finished for reasons never specified. The hawkers, dealers, fences and other types swiftly moved into stake their claim and nothing was done by City Hall. Why would they? The place while it physically existed down on the waterfront didn't exist in the records, so if the Militsiya was sent in they'd need a damn good excuse to evict people from a property that no one actually owned.

Back when I was part of the 6th Division the place had been under the watchful eye of Reynard the Fox, a known thief or vorovka, who had somehow imposed order on this chaotic mess. Now according to Aziz the Seven Bridges gang were running the show. 7B were not a major or even large gang, so if Aziz's intel was correct something had changed in the local gang structures. I walked in through the nearest entrance passing a woman selling produce. That was the other use for the area, people sold their produce for cash money with no sales tax levied. And it was a major draw with the folks in the Barrio as well as workers in the Warehouse district.

I started to wander around, aimlessly, because that's the best way to gauge a place like the alley. You want to see the entirety of it all before you start drilling down on what your really want. You want to get some sense of the power structure, how maybe calling the shots, the general vibe and the feelings of the vendors. Do they look scared? Are they being squeezed? Or is it all just business as normal? As far as I could tell nothing seemed out of place. If 7B were pulling the strings they were doing it with a light touch. Someone tapped me on my left shoulder. I turned to look at them.

It was James, the roadie for Quiet Piggy. She was wearing urban camo fatigues with a forage cap on her head and a cigarette in the corner of her mouth. There was noticeable bulge under her left arm pit. As well as a bulge in one of her pant's leg pockets. So possibly a firearm in a shoulder holster and a taser in the leg pocket? I shook my head.

"What are you doing here?" I said, I glanced around surreptitiously to see if anyone was watching us.

"Oh I just thought I take in the local sights and flavour," she said, a deadpan look on her face.

"Great you do that," I said. "I've got work to do."

"Really you looked like you were wandering around like a chicken with it's head cut off," she said and blew a smoke ring.

"Whatever," I said and wandered off. I'd already scouted the area I needed to be. So I proceeded over there post haste. And naturally my new 'best' friend decided to follow me.

Numerous things can be found in the alley, including musical instruments. I saw various brass instruments, several sets of drums, exotic South Asian instruments and guitars. And there among the guitars was one that stood out an AU away. Ziggy's axe, still in fairly decent condition from what I could tell. It lay on a rug next to a weird looking banjo and a lyre. The person selling them was obviously down on his luck, he was clad literally in rags, his eyes were sunken and there was a jaundiced tinge to his skin.

"How much for the guitar?" I said.

He held up five fingers.

"Five roubles? Five UN dollars?"

He shook his head.

"Five hundred UN dollars," he said. His voice was a rasp, like the sound sandpaper made when it was rubbed against timber.

"Hey..." James started to say but I held my hand up to silence her.

"I'll give you one hundred UN dollars, and I won't inform the badges there's a Duster at large," I said. His eyes widened and he looked furtively around the area. He visibly started to shake.

"OK take it," he said handing me the guitar. "Just don't grass me up man."

"Where's the case?" James asked.

"I don't know lady, just take it," he whined. I gave him his hundred. He then stuffed them in a pouch around his neck looking every where at once. Then he grabbed the other two instruments and the rug, rolling it up swiftly and moved off. He was going to get his next hit or several, a hundred UN dollars would definitely scratch his itch for a while.

"Is being a Duster at large a bona fide offence?" James said watching the Duster leave the alley.

"Nothing on the books, nothing at all, but for some reason among the Dusters it's gotta around that the authorities are actively engaged with disappearing them. Who started that I have no idea. Anyway we've got the guitar."

"Yeah but no guitar case," James said. "People don't carry them out in the open like an assault rifle you know."