"Even so," Devin reflected, "that doesn't seem like a reason to rush ahead with things."
"Two hours can be an eternity in the Net."
"I know. I'm rigged."
She waved aside the obvious. "FlashMan's never this late. Something has gone wrong, and that makes it contingency time." She paused. She wished she could talk to Vask, but without
Flash's intervention she refused to entrust sensitive conversation to their ordinary com link. There was no telling where Harric had his ears in this Net. Talk had to be face to face, or not at all.
Even face to face, Devin didn't seem to be getting the gravity of their situation. "Look," she said seriously, "when things go wrong, you either get out completely or move ahead swiftly, before the opposition expects you to move. Flash out of touch means just that: something has gone seriously wrong. Now: either we leave this for a deal gone bad, and lift out of here right away, or we move, quickly, while we have the initiative."
"Isn't that premature?"
Her expression soured. "I wish it were. Trust me on this. When you lose your netrunner you have bigger problems than you know. If he's not dead, he's being made to talk, and that means even bigger troubles for us."
"That may be, but that's no reason to jump in Harric's direction, much as I'd like to. We don't have the estate layout, security breakdown, nothing. How do you expect to get into his compound?"
"I can do it." Her confidence on that point was unassailable. She could use the Lines as she always had, moving between moments, dodging surveillance and opposition.
"Then I'm coming with you," Devin said.
She shook her head. "You're not trained for this."
"No, but I'm not a bystander, either. I want to help." The big man locked eyes with her. "She was my partner," he added softly. "I didn't bring you here because I like ferrying people around subsectors. I'm here because I want to stop this man."
"You can't help in this kind of work. Stay here. Handle our comms; keep our data safe. Be ready to get us out of here on short notice."
"I can watch your back. I want to go," he repeated stubbornly.
"Not with me, you're not."
"Juro's teeth," he flared, "you can't leave me here. I'll come if I want to."
Not knowing what to say, she said nothing. She merely shook her head, and walked away to her cabin.
"Damn you, Reva!"
His angry shout echoed down the corridors. 'Jammers looked up from their duties.
The assassin didn't respond at all.
CXXXII
FlashMan lay near-paralyzed, dropped like so much baggage upon the virtual floor of IntSec's secure program sector. The white wire-frame sitting cross-legged beside him was complex enough to show disdain in its expression. Flash didn't think that was a good sign.
"So you're the independent I've heard about," the officer said.
"Hi there."
"No terrorist connections, you claim."
"That's what I claim."
The sim-form of Commander Obray frowned down upon the captive. "Don't suppose you can offer us any concrete proof of that, hm?"
"I don't have too many character references you'd believe, no."
The Security commander poked a finger at the blue deck trace flowing from the lightning-shaped sim. "We have a pair of babysitters with your body now. When you unjack, we can get any kind of truth we like from you. One of them's a Mutate."
"A mind-reader?" FlashMan lifted his spiky head from the floor. "Suit yourself, Mr. Bug. That won't get you into Red Hand systems any quicker."
The officer cocked his head. "What does that matter to you?"
The Flash giggled. "I've been running circles around your deckers for two days now. Your boy only caught me because he found the doorways I made into second-level security. And you weren't there because you were looking for me. You want into Harric's systems. I can get you there."
"Why should I let you run point for a Security operation? I want you out of the way, my illicit friend."
Flash rolled his head from side to side. "Bad idea. You need me. Tell me what you're after; I've probably already found it."
"We can take care of our own business. Now—who are you working for?"
Flash exaggeratedly clamped his lips together.
"Don't make this more difficult on yourself," the Security man cautioned him. "If we need to, we'll unjack you ourselves, and start the quiz in person."
He knew they could do that, in spite of the hazard an abrupt disconnect presented to the netrunner's mind and body. Flash was appalled at the situation he had landed in. He was not free to go, yet not free to betray his clients.
"Man," he whined, "you know I can't talk. It's worth my neck if I do."
Amusement quirked the framing of Obray's sim-face. "No one can get to you where we'll be putting you away."
Put away? Out of touch with cyberdecks and Net systems, away from the virtual challenges and joys upon which he'd built his fame and career? The thought had barely occurred to him before, but he knew Security could toss him in a small cell in chains if they wanted, and no one would lift a finger to prevent it. He couldn't let himself be cut off from cybersystems if there was any way around it.
"Wait a minute," he wheedled. "Let me finish delivery to my client, then I'll help you out. Get you into Harric's systems. Take you back to Selmun, even, show your deckers my system traces. They can verify I wasn't trafficking with terrorists. After that, whatever you want—"
Obray dismissed him without hearing more. "How about this instead? You tell us who your client is, and we don't unjack you. Then you don't risk losing neurons."
"That's not much of a deal."
"That's all I'm offering."
FlashMan mulled it over. Reluctantly, he began.
"I'm working for a woman named Reva," he said. "She wanted secure files from Harric's private net." He lay braced for the next round of questions about who she was, why she wanted to plunder a crime net—but the questions didn't come.
The Security officer's sim sat with a strange expression on its face, so motionless that for a moment Flash thought the man had left his virtual self. The wire-frame leaned forward suddenly, close enough that Flash gave a little jerk of startlement.
"Is there a Fixer working with her, too?"
FlashMan hesitated only a moment. Obviously Reva was a known quantity to these people. "Yes," he admitted.
"His name is—?"
"Vask."
The officer's sim froze again, returning to virtual life several heartbeats later. No telling what frenzied offline conference had occurred during his absence, but two blue wire-frames were suddenly by FlashMan's side, pulling him to his feet.
Obray faced his prisoner. "I've had a change of heart. Here's what we'll do." He motioned to the taller of the wire-frames. "Nomad here is now your bosom buddy. He goes where you go. You can wrap up that delivery to your client. You won't be mentioning us, of course. When you're done, you can give us a dump on Reva and her friends. Then take us on a guided tour of Harric's. Nomad'll stick by your side and trace pathways as you go. You can work with another netrunner, I take it?"
Flash looked Nomad over. "I find most are too slow to keep up with me."
"Make sure that this one does, or we'll—"
"Unjack me, yeah, right. Enough with the threats already."
The officer's voice hardened. "I don't make threats, decker. One suspicious move, and you're unplugged. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Flash replied in a surly manner.
Obray nodded to the Security netrunners, and the binding field and deck trace dissolved. FlashMan flexed the arms of his newly revived sim-self and twirled once in place. "Alright, bosom buddy," he sneered up at Nomad. "Try to keep up, will ya? We've got plans to deliver."
A white wire-frame hand rested on his jagged shoulder. "Leave us a copy before you go."
Flash grumbled but obeyed. Milliseconds later he was out of IntSec systems and back into the Net,
with Nomad by his side.
CXXXIII
"Any ideas about how to get in there?"
Reva looked at Vask oddly. "I'll use the Lines, Fixer. Like I always do."
"You risk losing track of Mainline that way."
"I'll take pains to stick close. This is the Adahn I want, not some copy a few realities away."
"Mm."
The pair sat in Kastlin's rented rooms. "I want to come with you," he finally said.
"Oh, gods, don't you start, too. I had enough of that from Devin." "I'm different."
"You're not trained—"
"I can sideslip."
Her eyes flicked to his, and a slow smile cracked her determined expression. "I nearly forgot about that."
"So let me come. Walk the Lines all you want; as long as you end up in Mainline with Harric, I'll be there. Your invisible guardian, until you need me."
"That sounds tempting."
Vask looked hopeful, the eager puppy-dog gaze she had not seen in weeks. From somewhere came a desire for support in this thing that lay ahead of her, and that part wanted to say yes; the rest, which worked alone, always alone, hung back.
She approached the subject from a different angle. "There might be an easier way in," she volunteered. "I'm not sure I want to take it."
"Tell me about it."
"I have a net account under a contact name. Someone left me a message today. Harric."
Vask's mouth opened.
"It came from his lieutenant, actually. We talked. He says Adahn regrets his angry words with me and wants us to create a new working partnership. I can write my own ticket; come in and talk about it. As gesture of goodwill, I'll have clearance all the way in—no guards, no checkpoints, no locked doors."
Kastlin made a rude noise.
"Yeah. Too eager. We could talk over a com link, if he's that interested. Though Janus says they're letting defenses down around me to extend a courtesy, to show they're sincere. They trust me. I wouldn't be scanned or searched."
"Do you believe that?"
"It stinks like a beached beldy. How'd they know I was near Bekavra, Fixer?"
Kastlin sighed.
"But it all comes down to this: do I want to say yes, anyway? I'm walking through the same building, whether I'm expected or not. This way, at least, the doors are open and guards out of the way, at least going in. And no matter what this trap is they think they've cooked up, they don't know I can move between the Lines."
"But," Vask reasoned, "if things get ugly in all the nearby Lines, you're caught up in it, no matter which Line you're in."
Reva dipped her chin.
"It sounds too risky, then. Say no and go in like you were planning to, unannounced."
"That means going in blind. Not knowing where Harric is." She shook her head. "If they think they're luring me, then I go right to him—or close enough, anyway. Less uncertainty about his location. I won't have it that good if I make a blind run, and with limited Nows to choose from, I'm more likely to wind up in a real dead end. Unlike you, I can't float away through a wall when that happens."
His face sobered and she punched him in the arm. "Come on. He refuses to leave his estate for a meeting. This is the next best thing to Adahn putting his neck on the block for us. You want to come along, ghost-man?"
Reva seemed confident of her abilities. He couldn't say no. "I'm in."
"Good. Then come on."
"Right now?"
"Let's go before they can make themselves too ready for us. I'll call Janus on the way."
CXXXIV
"Here's your data," FlashMan chattered unannounced. "Hot off the Net."
The voice roused a brooding Devin from his reverie in the privacy of the flight deck. The spacer looked to the com module, blinked in astonishment at the monitor trace that showed data streaming into the Fortune's comp core.
"Flash?" He fumbled for words. "What are you—where've you been? Are you alright?"
"Had some delays. Got the goods for you thought as promised. ''
"Look—Reva thought you were dead, not delayed. She's gone to—"
"Spare me the tale. I'm late for a date."
"Flash—"
"Later.''
The grating hiss of static filled the channel. "Lords of Ice!"
Shiran slammed hands down on the arms of the Captain's chair. "Can't anybody stick around here long enough to talk?''
He stabbed the disconnect angrily, then glanced at the illicit files. It was all there, what Reva should have waited for. Floor plans. Service entrances. Security scanners. Even the codes and passwords for the day's security patrols at Harric's estate.
Devin reviewed the files with growing dismay. Now what good will this do us? he thought. Reva's sudden strike is bound to fail, and worse, she'll tip Harric off to his danger.
He rubbed his eyes. Reva's plan was born of an urgency that the FlashMan's reappearance made pointless. Her ill-considered initiative would ruin the chances for a more organized assault to work, besides getting her killed in the process.
That was not the memorial to Lish's death the Shiran Trader had planned on. He put his anger aside and thought about it logically, calmly.
He'd been unable to stop Reva from leaving the freighter, set on this self-appointed mission of confrontation and death. Her death, most likely. Yet Devin owed her roi'tas e senje'tas, on Lish's behalf. He was honor-bound to help preserve her life. And now he held the key to a successful operation in his hands— though it would be useless if he waited too long to use it.
Maybe she would listen to reason yet.
He punched up her com link code, but the call tone continued for long minutes, unanswered, and Devin cursed as he terminated the connection.
He sat upright, tense with renewed determination. He was no commando, but he had those on board who were. Here were the plans they needed, and soon, Reva would be providing a distraction for them. If they were quick, if they were good, if the gods smiled upon them—-they could strike Harric in the most effective way, and save the assassin from her own rashness as well.
"Skiffjammers," he said over ship's intercom. "Assemble in the crew compartment. We have work to do."
cxxxv
Yavobo contemplated the security monitors with an unseeing eye. Harric was in his thoughts, and the man's heavy-browed face hung before him, an obstinate visage that stirred anger in the warrior's heart.
The man has no honor, the Aztrakhani realized belatedly. His word is not to be trusted.
It was even possible that he had been used, in the matter of Lish's execution, but Yavobo did not dwell on those thoughts, lest they put him into a killing rage. There was no time for such a diversion, not now, when his long-sought prey was about to give herself into his hands. Thanks to the efforts of Janus, and the gods who had prompted the assassin to call.
After he had dispatched Reva, he would turn his attentions to the man who had failed his sworn word. Meanwhile, it would be best to center himself, preparing for the combat that was soon to come.
The lanky warrior interlinked his fingers and began a small wailing chant, invoking ancestors, sending his unreasoning fury out to the desert expanses of his homeworld. He resolved to be left with a core of determination—the commitment to slay his enemy and thus redeem his tarnished honor.
He waited patiently in a small room, chanting to himself before monitors that displayed the antechamber and hall beyond one door. A featureless chamber, stripped of furnishings at Yavobo's request, for he wished no obstacles to come between him and this thin-skin. The chamber had become a dueling arena, like one of the barren red-rock amphitheaters of his homeworld.
His chanting stilled as he felt a tautness grow within him, the keying to tension that heralded changes in his metabolism, Aztrakhani adaptations to combat hormones that raised pain thresholds, increased lung capacity and stamina. It was always better to fight thus, with the body and mind properly prepared. Not as he had met her before, in strange environments, with t
oo little combat readiness in his blood. This time she would know what it was to contend with a truly battle-ready warrior.
He smiled thinly, pulled knife and whetstone from their sheaths, and sharpened his blood-rusted blade with slow, caressing strokes.
"Too near?" Adahn sneered at his lieutenant. "If you're afraid, go hide in the Net. I've got a four-way locking blast door. Guards. A force screen. I've got business to do while we wait, and I can do that best right here." He laid a beefy hand on his desk, computerized command center and com unit in one.
"Besides," he added coldly, "this bitch screwed me around and helped lose us a fortune on Selmun III. Or several fortunes. I want her to know she has me to thank for her quick trip to hell. It'll be a pleasure saying hello, then watching Yavobo gut her."
Janus stepped away from the desk. His boss' pleasures were something he'd rather not have to see. "I'll be next door, then, if you need me."
He let himself into a smaller adjoining office and made certain the door was closed before shaking his head over Harric's folly. Adahn's interest in bloodletting would put him in harm's way yet—
"Sir?" A voice spun him about. "We found something for you."
A MazeRat darkened the far doorway; inside stood two more derevin muscle, holding Karuu between them.
"We thought Mr. Harric would like to know right away," continued the Rat. "We were shaking down tourists at Interglobal, searching for that woman you want—and we found him instead."
Janus nodded slowly, put a welcoming smile on his face. '"This is unexpected." He motioned to a chair, and made a show of pulling a needle gun out of one pocket. "Sit him down there. Thanks for the good work. I'll tell Mr. Harric as soon as he's available."
Karuu shrank smaller in his seat; the MazeRats grinned congratulations at one another.
"I expect you'll keep this quiet for now, understood?" Janus said.
"Yes, sir!" they reassured him, and left, exchanging pleased looks. When the door closed behind them, Janus could hear the Dorleoni's nervous panting in the quiet room.
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