Nylon Angel Read Online Free Page A

Road Tedder.
    Even sitting, I towered over Io Lang. If I hadn’t been so jumpy, I would have been embarrassed that I looked like his mother. I studied his appearance while Mikey, the Pet, served our meal.
    Lang’s brown hair was cut up over his ears and above his collar, military style. His milky skin made it difficult to place his age. A strange smile played along his lips. Not exactly pasted on, but not connected with the rest of him.
    Only once during the tedium of the dinner did he look directly at me. I was thankful that it didn’t happen again. If Mondo looked like a snake, then Lang reminded me of the worst predator of all . . . soulless Man.
    To make matters worse Stellar, the bodyshop bitch, hung over Mueno like fake cologne. Mueno lapped up the attention, complimenting Jamon on his hospitality, while Stellar flashed her I’m better than you bitch look at me.
    A month ago I would have risen to the bait like a starving street kid. Now I just wanted out.
    For the most part I kept my head down and listened to the tone of conversation - their words were carefully guarded. Instinct told me Lang was the dealer and Jamon and the others were buying. But buying what? Something valuable enough to get the four of them in one room.
    When Mikey served the main course of cuttlefish I noticed a slight difference in the colour of the meat. Lang, Tedder, Mueno and Jamon’s were an opaque, clean white. Stellar’s and mine were a perceptibly darker, almost grey, colour. If it hadn’t been seafood I probably wouldn’t have even noticed, but everyone eyeballs their seafood these days. Nobody, even the nutters, ate stuff caught in the Filder or off Fishertown. It meant sure death.
    I glanced at Mikey but his robotic features gave nothing away. Nor did his darting human eyes.
    ‘I presume the swordfish is imported?’ Road Tedder asked.
    Lang and Mueno stared at Jamon.
    ‘Of course,’ Mondo replied hastily.
    ‘Then you won’t mind if I test it, Jamon.’
    ‘Actually, I do mind, Road. You insult me in my own home. Surely even you have better manners?’
    The room suddenly stilled.
    Only the shadows cast by the candlelight moved. I loosened my grip on the base of my glass so I could get my garrotting wire in a hurry. The ’goboys had taken my pistol.
    Tedder reached with a slow teasing movement into his breast pocket. To my right I could smell the perfumed sweat on Mueno’s soft body. Stellar’s as well - hers was pure chemical.
    ‘Understand that my manners have kept me alive, Jamon. I don’t doubt your intentions. But tell me, did you prepare this meal yourself?’
    With a flourish Tedder produced an object from his pocket that sent me grabbing for my wire. Mueno and Jamon betrayed similar spasms. Only Lang seemed unconcerned.
    Sniggering, Tedder dipped the object into his meal. A toxin detector.
    I relaxed my fingers.
    ‘In my place you’d do the same. Or are your good manners more important to you than la morte vite ?’ he asked.
    Satisfied with the detector’s advice he waved it across Stellar’s plate and gave her a wink of assurance. Then he offered it to Lang and Mueno in turn. Mueno accepted and repeated the process.
    ‘Lang?’
    ‘Death before dishonour . . . isn’t that the expression, Road? No, thank you. I trust Jamon.’
    Jamon’s expression lightened at Lang’s vote of confidence.
    Lang was playing games, though. I’d caught the faint hum of his inbuilt detector, probably in his fingernail. He already knew his meal was within the safety limits of mercury contamination.
    ‘What is the world coming to?’ Stellar brayed to break the tension and then gulped down a large mouthful. Under the weight of her giggling inanities the moment passed.
    As I sliced the offending fish and brought it to my lips, Lang looked directly at me for the second time that evening.
    ‘Tedder lied about Stellar’s food,’ he whispered. ‘My detector tells me that yours and hers are not the same batch as mine.’
    The