Make Me an Offer

In a Hong Kong bar, Dr Newton Geiszler encounters an old foe … and a new ally.

[Author's Note: This series takes place two years before the story Pacific Rim: Iceland, and functions as a prelude to that story. It is a counterpart to the story Your Secret is Safe with Me.]

Dr Newton Geiszler sighed as he watched the ongoing work to reconstruct Hong Kong. It was two years since large chunks of the city had been demolished in the fight between Gipsy Danger and the Kaiju, and ever since then building had been under way, with the people of the island showing their usual dynamism and ingenuity.

From his lab/office on an upper floor of the Kaiju Science Corporation, he had a good view. He could even see the Bone Slums, with the new Sisters of the Kaiju Church rising from the skeleton. In the past two years, the Church had grown large and more militant, spurred on by its shadowy leader, Hyram Forsythe, originally from San Francisco but now apparently based in Hong Kong.

Newton had heard that Hannibal Chau's business, still based in the Slums, was more successful than ever. Chau had, in fact, consolidated much of the global black market for original Kaiju material under his leadership. Newton looked at a shelf in the corner; amongst the clutter was a shoe covered with gold plates. He gave a little chuckle.

But all things considered Newton did not feel especially happy with life. Yes, he had become a rock star, sort of. He was doing important, satisfying work. He was wealthy, well-known, respected by people whose respect he valued. The problem was that it didn't seem to mean much. This, he said to himself, is what happens when you get what you wish for.

The workday was ending, although his position in the company was such that he could come and go as he pleased. He left the office and headed for his favourite bar, Uncle Sally's. It occurred to him that maybe he was drinking too much these days.

He went into Uncle Sally's and took up his usual spot. He noticed a dark-haired woman enter immediately after him; she sat down at the other end of the bar. She glanced at him and then looked away. Newton sighed again. He ordered a drink. He wondered if he should order one for the dark-haired woman and send it to her, like men in spy movies did, but he decided against it. He simply wasn't cool enough to get away with something like that.

"Hello, Dr Geiszler," said a female voice behind him. He looked around … and jumped.

"I … I know you," he said to the woman. She had close-cropped hair, a form-hugging silk dress, and a smile that was half-ironic, half-scary. Very Hong Kong. "You're … you're … last time I saw you, you were pointing a gun at me … you used to work for Hannibal Chau."

"Still do," said the woman. "In a more senior role now. On the procurement side. My name is Natasha, by the way."

"Huh," said Newton. "And what do you procure?"

"At the moment, people like you," said Natasha.

Newton certainly did not like the sound of that. But he had no idea what to do about it. Natasha did not appear to have a gun – and the outfit was way too tight to conceal a holster – but he doubted that she was the sort of person who took no for an answer, or who travelled alone. He gulped. He looked around. The bartender and the other staff seemed to have vanished. Several of the customers – who were obviously not real customers – had moved markedly closer.

But then the dark-haired woman came up to them. She looked at Natasha. She said to him: "This bimbo bothering you?"

"N … n … no," he said. "I mean, yes. I mean … who are you, anyway?"

"Your new best friend," said the dark-haired woman.

"I smell Ranger," said Natasha, looking at the woman.

"And I smell fear," said the woman.

"Uh, that would be me," said Newton. "Oh, I probably shouldn't have said that. Sort of stepped on your line, I guess."

The two women looked at him. They both seemed to shake their heads slightly. Then they went back to their face-off.

"You his girlfriend?" said Natasha. "Unlikely as that might seem."

"Bodyguard," said the dark-haired woman. "I assume you are planning to put a bag over Dr Geiszler's head, take him away in an unmarked van, beat him up, and threaten to torture him until he agrees to work for you. Right?"

"Yes, except for the bag. Should have thought of it, in case he turns out to be a screamer. Specifically, Hannibal Chau wants him to build a device that provides access to the Anteverse."

"Why on earth would he want that?" said Newton in amazement.

"The supply of Kaiju material is running out," said Natasha. "There's only, what, five left from after the Breach closed, swimming around the Pacific somewhere. You Rangers are tagging them, and doing your best to exterminate them. We wouldn't mind that so much if you did it in an accessible place, but you don't. And the cloned stuff simply doesn't move off the shelves as well. Chau wants to access the original source."

"In a very literal sense, don't go there," said Newton.

"We have already tried some experiments," said Natasha. "Not particularly successful. For those trying to do the Drift to see the way, especially. But we believe that you can do it, Dr Geiszler, and we want you to show us how. Open a pathway. We are prepared to make you an offer. Essentially, you get to go on living. So, Ms Ranger, stand aside, if you please."

"Hmm," said the dark-haired woman. "No, I don't think so."

Suddenly, two large men appeared on either side on them, with very large handguns. More 'customers' pulled out guns.

But the dark-haired woman was ready. She moved almost faster than Newton could follow. In a second, she had grabbed one of the goons by his neck and smashed him, face-first, onto the bar. Without looking, she chopped out with her free hand and knocked the gun from the other goon. It went spiralling upwards … and when it came down she caught it. And then the barrel was only a few inches from Natasha's face. The guy who had hit the bar gradually fell to the floor, where he proceeded to bleed onto the carpet.

There were a dozen other guns pointed at Newton and the Ranger.

"Here is how it might play out," she said to Natasha. "I kill you, they kill me. Or I kill you, they run away. Or I kill you, they all cheer and buy me drinks. Do you see the common thread here?"

"So we have a stand-off," said Natasha, looking down the barrel.

"No, no, you don't," said Newton. "Because I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm not going to help you or anyone else create a path to the Anteverse. Because there would be a very tiny possibility that the things that live there would be the first to use it. Very tiny possibility, but there is no way I am taking the chance. I would die first."

"You would?" said the dark-haired woman.

"You would?" said Natasha.

"Without a second thought," said Newton. "So if you want to start blasting away, do so, because I'd prefer to go out in a body-bag rather than even think about doing what you want. Before I would even think about thinking about it."

"Man's got some church bells, underneath the nerd stuff," said the dark-haired woman.

"Huh," said Natasha.

"Which makes it your move, I think," said the dark-haired woman.

Natasha considered. She held up her hand and pointed at the door. All her men holstered their guns and proceeded out, dragging their unconscious colleague.

"Tell Hannibal I still have his shoe!" called Newton after them.

Suddenly, Newton and the dark-haired woman were alone. She offered the goon-gun to him. He merely looked at it. She shrugged and put it onto the counter. Then she reached over the bar and took a bottle of whisky and two glasses. She poured them each a drink. Newton downed his in a moment.

When he had stopped coughing, he said to her: "And just who are you, again?"

"Ranger Elle Castro," she said, offering her hand. "I have been assigned as your bodyguard. Actually, I wanted to check you out before agreeing to it. I think that you might be worth protecting."

Newton shook her hand. He was so stunned that he simply kept shaking it, staring at her.

"Er, that's enough now," she said eventually.

"What? Oh, right," he said. He took his hand away, and poured himself another drink, which he again downed. He coughed and spluttered again.

Ranger Castro took a bottle of soda from the bar and poured him a glass. She raised her own whisky, and he raised his soda. "Here's to church bells," she said. "And here's to … what else?"

"Friendship?" said Newton.

She smiled. "Friendship it is," she said.

END