Hong Kong

by Mel Odom

  “Maybe, but then we’re having a personal conversation.” His little hobby cost a lot of nuyen. He surely knew what my and Duncan’s appearance on the Bolthole meant.

  “Indeed we are. But even in personal conversations, certain topics can be off limits. Truth be told, I don’t feel especially comfortable discussing my side work with relative strangers. Suffice it to say that my freelance activities often fall on the illicit end of the spectrum.”

  “Tell you what,” I said, “I’m just going to guess. You’re a shadowrunner, aren’t you?”

  “I dislike the term, but, yes, I run the shadows. What gave me away?”

  “Nothing in particular,” I lied. “I just get that feeling.”

  “Interesting. Well your intuition is correct, as I said. Now I’m going to use mine: you’re a shadowrunner as well, but you’re new to the profession. Am I correct?”

  He didn’t know me. He only thought he knew me. Or maybe those years in lockdown had taken a step or two away from my game. I shrugged, deciding that letting him think he knew me allowed me a surprise or two in case I needed it. “Yes, on all counts.”

  Racter smiled and ran a hand over his pet murder-bot. “I earn my living in the shadows. I suspect everyone on this boat does. If we were suited for a more pedestrian line of work, we wouldn’t be in Heoi in the first place. At the risk of sounding immodest, Koschei’s aptitude for butchery is quite impressive. He earns me all that I need and more.”

  “Seems like everyone on this boat runs the shadows. Why not pool our resources and work together?”

  Pursing his lips, Racter thought for a moment. “A compelling offer. I’m doing quite well on my own, but I must admit there are certain jobs for which I am unsuited. Magic eludes me, and I am not a decker. My strength comes from material objects in the real world—solid things with mass and heft, things that I can build and operate. Sadly, a great number of clients are only interested in teams that display a mastery over the intangible. This group of yours, do you have people who can cover those bases? If so, then perhaps we can help each other out.”

  “Yep. We’ve also got a former security expert. I guess that’s the best way to describe Gun Show.”

  He smiled. “In that case, I accept your offer on a provisional basis. We’ll do a few runs together and see how we get on. If our association bears fruit, it will continue. If not, I’ll bid you farewell and go back to working alone. How does that sound?”

  I could work with that. The drone impressed the hell out of me, and I was willing to bet Racter could be impressive all on his own. I offered my hand. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Very good. Excellent. When you receive a suitable job, you know where to find me. My skills and resources are at your disposal.”

  I headed back upstairs. I didn’t bother to tell him that I’d be calling on those soon. I had the feeling Kindly Cheng wasn’t going to let us lie around long. Not when we could be earning nuyen to line her pockets.

  Chapter 26

  “They Might Shoot At You”

  The run came through quicker than expected. I’d been right about Kindly Cheng’s greed.

  Back upstairs, I took a seat in front of the deck and discovered there were already six unread messages. The first was from the Straw Sandal.

  >On behalf of your friends at the Heoi Chamber of Commerce and the Swift Winds Mahjong Parlor, I welcome you to the community of Heoi and to our new business venture.

  I have already lined up three jobs for you. The details of each are contained in a separate computer message. Remember to check your messages often, as I will update you with new opportunities as they occur.

  —Auntie C.

  >I’ve set up your computer to automatically collect and collate news reports, information, and media that might be of interest to you. Some of the keywords I’ve got it trolling for are “Raymond,” “Duncan,” and “Walled City,” et cetera.

  I’ve also patched in a permanent linkup to the Hong Kong shard of the Shadowlands BBS. It’s a great place to connect with other runners, sell paydata, get news from the street, and so on. Don’t be shy about taking a look.

  —Is0bel

  I had to admit, the decker was quick. I smiled and kept searching through the mail.

  >I have been instructed to inform you of the various suppliers in Heoi. Auntie Cheng has cultivated a commercial district of well-stocked and trustworthy vendors. Whoever you choose to do business with, you will be in good hands.

  A list of places followed, some of them I had already seen on the streets, and it was signed: Best of luck in the shadows. As new meat, you are likely to need it. —Strangler Bao.

  I moved on to what I assumed was the first of Kindly Cheng’s three run messages.

  >I’ve got a problem, and you’re going to help me solve it. I do a lot of business with the Whampoans. If you’re not familiar with the term, I’ll forgive you. You are an outsider, after all.

  The Whampoans are a tribe of techno-fetishists and deckers who have taken up residence in the Whampoa Garden area of Hong Kong. They make and trade high-tech goods to people from all over the world. A lot of nuyen passes through their pasty little fingers, and I make a lot of money brokering deals between them and the smugglers here in Heoi.

  I’ve hit a snag, though. The Whampoan Elders—their council of leaders—are being eliminated by a serial killer. They’ve asked me to dispatch someone to get to the bottom of it and stop the killings—and they’re not taking their goods through my turf until I do.

  So you’re going to be my proxy, dear. I don’t care how you do it, but I need those murders stopped.

  The Whampoans have a delegate here in Heoi by the name of Maximum Law. Speak with him if you wish to know more about Whampoa. He’s got a big mouth, but he knows very little of importance. Don’t expect much from that half-empty bottle of vinegar.

  Get your ass down to Whampoa Garden and talk to the Elders. Lie, cheat, and steal if you have to—so long as they’re convinced that there won’t be any more murders. I want my cut back, and I want it soon.

  I didn’t bother looking at the other missions. I figured they were all going to be hard and likely to get us killed. I sent a reply letting the old woman know we’d be taking the run.

  The reply was almost instantaneous, which told me Kindly Cheng had been waiting for me to respond.

  >Good. I’ll tell the Elders you’re coming. They don’t like outsiders, and they might shoot at you if I don’t warn them that you’ll be arriving.

  Well, that would be helpful. Not getting shot by the people we were there to help. I went to get the team.

  Chapter 27

  Meet and Greet

  We took the maglev to Whampoa Garden pretty much in silence. All of us were nervous. Duncan was probably the most relaxed. He’d chased killers for Lone Star.

  But this killer had already struck again. The screamsheets were full of the last murder, flashing the news on all the public vendors. Pedestrians were in scarce supply, and I figured that was the reason. The news was thin. Duncan and I both pored over the few details, but local police had no clues, just the body of another Elder.

  It was late when we reached our destination. Rain fell steadily, and I tasted toxicity when it ran across my lips. An ozone stench clung to everything, and I knew it had to come from all the neon signs lining the streets. Every vendor there must have spent a fortune on power to keep the lights on to advertise their wares.

  Even the cart vendors had powered advertisements. Remembering that I hadn’t eaten in hours, I wondered if the food tasted like ozone.

  Is0bel looked around and wrinkled her nose. “Is there a word for feeling nostalgic for a place you want to leave again? I don’t miss this place, but I miss the feelings I had when I lived here.”

  “Saudade, maybe?” I suggested. It was a Portuguese word that reflected their temperament about longing for their home country.

  “No.” Is0bel shook her head. “That’s not it. It’s close, but�
�” She trailed off, and I knew she’d stepped back to those memories. “This place seemed like heaven after the Walled City. Like the whole world had unfurled in front of me, and anywhere I turned there was the promise of a good life. Turned out this place was as crappy as everywhere else. Everyone was still in it for themselves.”

  “That’s a great life lesson, Is0bel.” Gobbet dropped a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

  Is0bel flinched a little and pulled away.

  “I’m serious!” Gobbet said. “At the end of the day, life’s a raw deal. You’ve got yourself and a handful of friends, and that’s it. Nothing else.”

  Duncan shook his head at her. “You’ve got some strange ideas about life. Sure, life’s a meat grinder sometimes, but come on. There’s gotta be more to it than just surviving.”

  “Is there? What makes you the authority on that?” Is0bel waved a dismissive hand at him. “I’m done talking about this. Anyway…” She turned and pointed down the street. “We’re looking for the Whampoan Elders. They’re gonna be in the Whampoa itself. That’s the big ship down the street.”

  I followed her direction, spotting a hulking structure in the distance. “That’s the mall that looks like a ship, right?”

  “That’s the one. Somebody thought it would be clever to make a uniquely-shaped building.”

  I nodded and headed down the street to the left. The mall was huge, and it looked like a ship had docked right there in the middle of the street. We went through the main entrance.

  At the bottom of the escalators, the corridor was dark. I walked point and Duncan walked slack, just like old times. Is0bel and Gobbet walked between us. Shops on both sides of the corridor wore gaudy neon advertising, and the constant buzz of electric current echoed around me.

  Three people and a security drone stood at the other end of the corridor.

  “Are you the people Kindly Cheng sent?” one of them called.

  I crossed to one of them, an old ork woman, and nodded. “We are.”

  Up close, I took note of the circuits, speakers, and tiny trid screens that lay close to her face. All of them were lit up, assaulting her with vid and audio from different sources. Age had withered her face, but her eyes were keen and lively, and just as hard and cruel as Kindly Cheng’s.

  “Welcome,” she greeted me with false enthusiasm. “Welcome to the Whampoa, my friend. I am Elder Ng, and these are Elders Tang and Ip.” She waved to the elf and human on either side of her.

  Both of the other Elders nodded at us.

  “Thank you so much for answering our request for help. We had nowhere else to turn.”

  “It’s the least I could do.” That was, frankly, the truth. Kindly Cheng wouldn’t have let me do anything less.

  Tattoos formed and shifted across Elder Tang’s face, changing from cranes to tigers to dragons. The elf wore yellow tinted glasses that juiced vid feeds he looked through to see me. “We’re under threat. One by one, we elders are being hunted by some monster. As you may have noticed when you arrived, there’s been another killing just tonight.”

  Elder Ip crossed his cyberarms over his broad chest and gave Is0bel a look I didn’t care for. He seemed too smug and full of himself for my taste. His black hair was cut close and he sported a thin mustache and goatee. Like the others, he wore plenty of hardcore cyber headgear.

  “The prodigal daughter,” he said to Is0bel, “returned once more. I didn’t expect to see you back on the Whampoa in my lifetime. When you disappeared, Elder Yetunde was very put out. I’m glad you’re still alive. When you chose to walk your own path, I was disappointed. But I still understood why you had to leave.” He paused. “I hope my lessons have helped you prosper.”

  “Didn’t expect to be back,” Is0bel replied in an icy voice. “Work takes you places, though.” She dropped her hand to the pistol on her hip. “I don’t cart this around for fun. The lessons kept me alive.” She looked around. “Where is Yetunde, anyway? I expected her to be here.”

  Elder Ng reached for Is0bel’s hand, but the decker drew back.

  “She’s dead,” the old woman said. “So are Gan and Nakamura. And Tong was killed just tonight.” She hesitated, getting control of her emotions. “So much blood. You have to stop this.”

  I remembered the man’s name from the screamsheets.

  Is0bel nodded. “That’s what we’re here for. We’ll stop the killings.”

  Ng nodded. “Thank you, Is0bel.”

  “What can you tell us about the murders?” I asked.

  “They started two weeks ago,” Ip replied. “The first to go was Gan.” He was quiet for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “He’d been…torn apart. His head had been completely ripped off, and most of his skin had been flayed away. There was so much blood it took us a week to clean his apartment.”

  I remembered the spirit of man Gobbet had summoned in the Walled City. Before the image could settle too deeply in my mind, I pushed it away.

  “The rest have been the same,” Tang said. “Always at night. Always dismembered. Each scene is like a nightmare. And every time, nobody has seen anything. The killer is like a ghost.”

  “What happened to Tong?” I asked, referring to the man who had just been killed tonight.

  “The same thing that happened to the rest of the victims,” Ng answered. “Evisceration and dismemberment. We sent a guard to keep people out of his shop, but he will let you in.”

  “When did Tong die?”

  “Sometime early tonight. He’d locked up his shop, but Ip stopped by to ask him about some skillchips he had. The door was unlocked, and inside—” The ork woman’s breath caught, and she couldn’t talk any more.

  Ip picked up the story thread. “It looked like a bad horror sim. Just like all the other murders. It had to have happened after sundown, because his shop was open when I was on my way to get some noodles for dinner.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “The Hong Kong Police Force isn’t welcome here,” Tang said. “They’ve tried to force us out several times before, or come hunting for someone to pin a crime on.”

  Evidently nobody had any love for the HKPF.

  “We do a lot of favors for gangs and triads,” Tang said. “Handle their Matrix security, fix up their gear, and make sure they have access to the Hong Kong Shadowlands hub.”

  “We’re too valuable a resource for them to lose,” Ng said, “so they protect us when the HKPF or anyone else decides we’re an easy target. They handle our physical security, and we make sure to send the message via the Matrix. The last time the HKPF made any trouble, we started airing the Assistant Chief’s dirty laundry over the trid and screamsheets. They got the picture and backed off.”

  “Have you made any enemies lately?” I asked.

  “Not that I can think of,” she answered. “We keep to ourselves. We buy and sell technology. We’re not mercenaries or criminals, we’re merchants and deckers. And even if someone was cheated in a deal, this kind of response is unthinkable.” She shook her head. “Whatever did this, it wasn’t human. The violence and savagery…whatever it is, it’s a monster.”

  “Plenty of metahumans are monsters too, Ng,” Tang said. “Just because it’s horrible doesn’t mean it’s supernatural.”

  “What else do the Elders do?” I asked.

  Before they could answer, Is0bel spoke up in cold anger. “They make the rules and kick people out who don’t obey them. They’re a bunch of petty tyrants, that’s what.”

  “You’re being unfair, Is0bel,” Tang objected. “Our laws are for the good of the community.” He shifted his attention to me. “We keep the Whampoa and its residents safe. We review trade agreements with outsiders, to see if they’re for the good of the community. We provide a guiding vision.”

  “I can respect that,” I said, seeking the most neutral response. I didn’t want to piss them or Is0bel off.

  “I’m glad you understand,” Ng said. “This community is fragile, and the auth
orities bear us a lot of ill will. A single misstep could spell our end.” She paused. “I am the Invoker of Spirits. I commune with the spirits of machines, ask them for blessings, and pass them on to the people here. I heal the sick and ensure the feng shui of our habitats is as good as it can be, given our confines.”

  “She’s a shaman, that’s all,” Is0bel said. “She’s just got some kooky spin on it. Claims her totem is some sort of all-encompassing machine god that lives in circuitry.”

  I gathered Is0bel wasn’t a believer.

  The decker patted her machine as she met Ng’s eyes. “Ancient gods and ancestors are one thing. My deck? It’s mine. I built it. The only spirits it’s got in it are the ESPs I load it up with.”

  Ng looked like she’d bitten into a sour lemon. “Just because you cannot see or touch a thing does not mean it does not exist. Just because you do not believe in it does not mean it does not protect you from afar.”

  “I can’t touch programs either,” Is0bel countered, “but at least I can prove they have an effect on the physical world. Your superstitions are just that: bullshit.” She looked at me and jerked a thumb at Tang. “This guy treats drones like they’re living things.”

  “Is that right?”

  Tang shoved his arms out imperiously. The tattoos there swam and morphed, becoming mathematical formulas that were unintelligible to me. “I am the First and Glorious Servo. I study patterns, repair machinery, and teach others how to attune themselves to the wonders of automation. The Blessed Autofab is my shop and purview—where we make the drones we use and sell.”

  I wondered what Racter would make of this guy.

  “As for me,” Ip said, “I serve as the Resplendent Voltage Spike.” He grinned. “It means I shoot people who try to screw with us. It’s a fancy title for ‘head of security.’”

  “It might be wise to speak to the residents of Whampoa Garden if they’ve seen or heard anything,” Ng added. “After you’ve gone to Tong’s Sensory Carnival. They may have seen or heard things we have not.”