I grabbed my good coat and hopped a transport to Jara's Teahouse.
It was in an upscale part of the station, near admin and some of the megacorporate offices. Kresh plants flanking the doorway and a few tasteful light sculptures inside - but I happened to know that the owner was born on the station, same as me, and the closest his ancestors ever came to Caldari Prime was seeing it through a telescope from Gallente Prime.
The man I was looking for was sitting near the back, drinking tea that probably cost more per-kilo than pure Exile, out of a delicate cup thinner than a whore's knickers. Intaki, dressed expensively but conservatively enough to fit in in any boardroom in The Forge, wearing tight fitting black gloves, fingers moving nervously on the cup he was holding. His name was Alusen Steirs.
Teahouse owner was only his day job. Nights and weekends he was one of the higher priced assassins on the station.
He was also a notorious hypochondriac and germaphobe. Hence the gloves and pricey tea. People called him Ailing Alusen, but never in his hearing. My missing woman was a doctor with a stim problem. If she was doing freelance medicine, Alusen would have heard about her. I slid into the seat across from him.
"Hey Al, how's the tea business?"
He sniffed like I'd just dumped a bucket of fish heads on his floor, "Tarva-haan. Did you need something?"
"Yeah, you hear about a new medguri setting up lately?"
Alusen gave me a cold look. I held my stomach and tried to look sick. It wasn't hard, I'd gotten a whiff of that tea he was drinking.
"Really need one Al. Station medical's too steep for me, I'm barely making the rent as it is. I hear that new sawbones, the woman, is really good. And cheap. Feel like I might start thowin' up any time."
His expression transformed like magic, he looked downright alarmed, " Her name's Anaic Cariot! Here!" He took out a notebook and scribbled an address, ripped the paper off and practically flung it across the table, "Now, out! Out!"
I left.
((Part 3))
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