Fear the Darkness Read Free

life, it had begun in a bar. Last night to be precise, when he had been sitting in his regular backroom booth at McGinty's Tavern, nursing a synthi-beer as he waited to see what business the night would bring him. Jard was a low-level fence and spent most of his nights there, dealing with the endless procession of has-beens, never-would-bes and wannabe big-timers who would come to McGinty's looking to sell the swag from their latest heists. Tap gangers, bat burglars, B&E men, walk-in artists - Jard had dealt with them all. With each customer he would go through the same song and dance, feigning a show of bored disinterest in whatever they were selling in order to drive down the price. It was the same old story, every night. Until yesterday, when a particularly sad-looking case walked into McGinty's and Jard realised his days of haggling with small-timers were over.
    Tangents, he found himself thinking again, finding a strange sense of comfort as he repeated the word in his head. Tangents. That's what makes all the difference between being a rich man or just another hardworking schmuck who never gets a break.
    Lincolm. That was what the sad case had called himself. Whether or not he was dumb enough to tell him his real name, Jard had no way of knowing. Not that he'd cared much either way. All he'd wanted to know was what kind of goods were on offer, and when Lincolm opened his bag and showed what was for sale, Jard heard the ringing of cred-registers and knew he was looking at the kind of score most fences only ever saw in their dreams.
    Gemstones. Fifteen of them, in different sizes, shapes and colours. Jard was no expert when it came to hot rocks, but he figured straight away he was looking at a couple of million credits' worth, easy. Just as he figured the guy Lincolm was probably even dumber than he looked. Dumb as shit and carrying two million in stolen goods. Yeah, it had been a dream score all right.
    "They're paste," Jard had said, making a big show of taking out an eyeglass and inspecting each stone in turn. "Synthetics," he said, holding up a diamond and using it to scratch a groove in the plexiplast surface of the table between them. "See what I mean? Real diamonds aren't hard enough to cut plexiplast. Everybody knows that."
    "Oh," Lincolm said, before trying to launch into his entire life story as though he hoped Jard might take pity on him. But Jard was not interested in hearing where the gems came from, or why Lincolm had stolen them. If his experience as a fence had taught him nothing else, it was that it was always better to conclude a deal quickly before a sucker could get wise. Besides, it was not as if he would believe Lincolm's story even if he heard it; thieves always lied - it went with the territory.
    "I'll give you two hundred credits," Jard said, cutting Lincolm off in mid-flow. "I know a guy who deals in costume jewellery. He might give me something for them."
    Of course, Lincolm had held out for more. Eventually, after a few minutes' hard bargaining, they had settled on a price of five hundred credits. With that, Lincolm walked out of McGinty's - no doubt congratulating himself on what a great haggler he was, and none the wiser he had just given away his only chance to ever make it rich. I was right, Jard thought as he watched the man go. As dumb as shit. I'm surprised the bastard's even smart enough to walk and eat a Gooey Bar at the same time.
    With the gemstones in his satchel, Jard was on his way to Flynt Plaza for a meeting with a buyer. An hour more at most and he would have all he had ever dreamed of. Like most people, he found it hard to accept good fortune at face value. Which was why, even as he walked the pedway, the word "tangents" was still echoing through his head. To Jard, it seemed to explain everything. Lincolm, the gemstones, himself - they were all tangents: lines that had intersected for seemingly no better purpose than to make Jard Kelso a wealthy man. As far as Jard was