Artemis

Billy threw a towel over his shoulder. “Good morning, Ammar. Fancy some juice? I’ve got a few powder flavors back here. Grape is the most popular.”

“Do you have cranberry?” Dad asked.

“I do indeed!” Billy pulled out a pint glass and reconstituted some cranberry juice.

Dale raised his glass. “Mr. Bashara.”

Dad gave him a cold stare. “Dale.”

“I forget,” said Dale, “do you hate me because I’m gay or because I’m Jewish?”

“I hate you because you broke my daughter’s heart.”

“Fair.” Dale polished off his beer.

Dad sat next to me.

“So a Muslim walks into a bar…” I said.

He didn’t laugh. “I’m here because you said you needed me. If you’re just having a drinking party I’d rather go back to the imam’s.”

“I’m not—”

“Mr. Bashara?” Svoboda popped his head between us. “Hi, we haven’t met. I’m Martin Svoboda. I’m a friend of Jazz’s.”

Dad shook his hand. “One of those ‘friends with benefits’?”

“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t do that, Dad. This may shock you, but I haven’t had sex with anyone in this whole room.”

“Well, it’s a small room.”

“Burn!” Svoboda said. “Anyway, I just wanted to say you did a great job raising Jazz.”

“You think so?” Dad said.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s get started.”

I walked toward the white screen. Svoboda got it to work, of course. He always got shit to work.

I took a breath. “A lot’s been going on and some of you have questions. Like Bob, who wants to know who did an unlicensed EVA to blow shit up. And Dad, who wants to know why I’ve made him hide out at the imam’s house for the last week. Settle in, I’m going to tell you everything I know….”

So I told them the whole sordid tale. All about the Queensland Glass fire, how Trond hired me, how the job went wrong, and how it connected to the murders. That led to O Palácio, Lefty, and Jin Chu. I told them about Sanchez Aluminum’s oxygen contract and Trond’s plan to take it over. I turned the floor over to Svoboda to explain ZAFO and how it worked. Then I finished up by telling the sea of shocked faces that dozens of mobsters were on their way to Artemis.

When I stopped talking, a general silence fell across the room.

Dale spoke first. “I think we can all agree this is pretty fucked up. But a couple dozen mobsters can’t just take over Artemis. I mean, we’ve had bar fights bigger than that.”

“This isn’t a gangster movie,” I said. “They’re not going to waltz in and start bashing skulls. They’ll just guard Sanchez Aluminum to make sure they keep the oxygen-for-power contract. We have a short window of opportunity before they get here.”

“I assume whatever you’ve concocted will be illegal,” Dad said.

“Very.”

He stood from his stool. “Then I won’t participate.”

“Dad, this is my only chance to stay alive.”

“Nonsense. We can go back to Earth. My brother in Tabuk could take us in—”