She would get online just long enough to get the messages out, then shut everything down again. She typed out the quick message to Galen—Situation changed. Will be in Bern tomorrow with an escort. I’m on the bike. To Vasti, she wrote: I owe you nuyen. I’ll make good our agreement when I’ve got a stable connection.
Makeda marveled at how tempestuous this run had been. Then again, a run could be like that. Stabbed in the back and running for your life from those you thought were friends to relying on the kindness of strangers to get you through to the other side.
Still, this run wasn’t over until Tojo was handed off to his new corporate masters, whomever they were. There were still many kilometers and obstacles to go. Getting to Bern was just one more leg of the journey.
16
Nils may have been an eighty-year-old man, but he drove like a drag racer down the mountain goat trail. It was the one time having eight people crammed into an SUV worked. Makeda was thankful that none of them could move to be bounced around the vehicle. Except for Richter. The poor guy bounced his head against the roof every couple of seconds. He finally put his hand on his head to protect it, saying bruised knuckles were better than a cracked head.
This, and the fact that the Zumthors had been so kind and helpful, kept everyone from suggesting they steal the SUV from Nils. Ollietronic had spun a tale of forthcoming travel that had nothing to do with the Bern airport, which meant that when the authorities eventually caught up to Nils and Nora, they’d tell the story Ollie wanted them to tell.
Getting back to the wireless world was a relief Makeda couldn’t express. Everyone seemed to feel it. Even Tojo, who had lapsed into a sullen silence she didn’t want to understand, perked up. Makeda kept her headware in private mode and was able to get a message back from Galen that included all of the appropriate code words and the promise that the team was ready, waiting, and loaded for dragon.
Once Nils dropped them off, looking askance at the seedy part of town, Makeda and Imre stepped to the side and watched him drive away. The rest of the team stretched and worked the kinks out of their bodies. Tojo hovered nearby, scanning his datapad. Makeda scanned to see who had open PANs. No one in their group—which was what she wanted. Especially Tojo.
“Nice couple. Too old to be a danger when people come looking for us.” Imre gave Richter and Ollietronic a head nod. “We’ll rent or buy a van big enough for all of us.”
“My hacker says me and Tojo need to be at the Bern airport at 1500 hours. No sooner. No later. Means we have about a five-minute window to be there. I’m guessing whatever flight plan he’s got is scheduled to leave at 1500, and it’ll be a close thing. Either way, he’s gone dark for the duration. I’m not sure why. I trust he knows what he’s doing, and it’s needed. There may be a sniffer out there looking for me. Probably is.”
“We’ll get you there on time. Safe and sound.”
She glanced at him. “As soon as we’re on the plane, I’ll e-mail you your payment.”
Imre nodded. “And then I’m going on an actual vacation.”
“What’s that?” Makeda laughed. “No such thing.”
Tojo stepped up to them and touched Makeda’s arm. “We’re listed among the missing. They think we’ve been kidnapped.”
Makeda and Imre gave each other a look. She took the datapad and scanned the news article. Fifty-nine people dead, one hundred and seventy-two injured. Twelve still in the hospital and not expected to make it. Six people still missing. She scanned the pictures of the six. It included both her and Tojo as well as the Saeder-Krupp executive she saw early on, a pair of elven siblings, and another American heir.
“How come you aren’t listed here?” She frowned. “They seem pretty thorough.”
Imre pointed to the American heir. “I put my Party Train band on him. He was dead. Head and face caved in.”
“Isn’t that going to throw suspicion for this whole thing on you?”
He shrugged. “Probably. But they’ll be looking for a mint-haired casino worker.”
She glanced at his mint mop. It had looked so good on the Party Train. It would still look good styled. Though, right now, it looked terrible, and clashed with his dirty clothing. “It does stand out. But, they’re not looking for it right now.”
“Exactly.”
Tojo reached over and swiped to the left. “There’s more.” He pointed to a paragraph near the end of the article. “I know of this guy. He’s not in PR. He’s in one of those divisions you just don’t talk about.”
Makeda read the paragraph aloud. “‘Ralph Petry, Saeder-Krupp PR representative, had this to say about the missing S-K personnel. “You must understand, Saeder-Krupp is a huge company with many subsidiaries. The two Saeder-Krupp employees had nothing to do with each other. We do not believe this was an attack on our company. That said, we are doing everything we can to find Tojo Isoshi and Aki Nakamura and bring them home.” Mr. Petry would not state what resources the company was using to rescue their people.’”
She looked down the street as she considered this. “Do you think the train attack was meant to capture Aki Nakamura?” There were people walking about. After the isolation of the mountains, this many people made her nervous. None of them were openly armed. Some walked like they were. It made her glad that she had her back to a wall and Fatima as obvious muscle.
The two men shrugged. “Maybe. I can have Pongolyn take a look around the Matrix for rumors.” Imre frowned. “But really, it’s none of our business.”
Makeda nodded. “Point conceded. Just curious.” But even though she conceded, she couldn’t get the idea out of her head that Aki Nakamura’s disappearance was somehow linked. She just didn’t know how. She gave herself a mental shake. It was her lack of control again, looking to make patterns and conspiracies where there were none.
A beat-up van trundled toward them. Makeda stepped between Tojo and it, her hand in her jacket. It stopped a couple of meters away. Ollietronic opened the sliding door and jumped out.
Pongolyn said what they were all thinking. “This is our ride?”
Grinning, Ollietronic nodded. “No one would suspect it.”
“That’s because no one in their right mind would ride in it.”
Richter clambered out of the driver’s seat. “She’s better than she seems. Besides, it’s temporary, and it fits all of us. No one’s going to look sideways at it except to sneer. That’s what we wanted.”
Pongolyn shrugged. “If you say so.”
Makeda relaxed and checked the time. “Well, we have a couple of hours until we need to be there. Now what?”
“Food. I’m hungry.” Richter looked at everyone as they blinked at him. “What? Look. Bern airport, or Flughafen Bern as it’s called, is tiny. It’s got all of one airstrip and parking for maybe four planes. We’re gonna drive up to one end, they’re gonna walk a hundred meters to their plane,” he gestured to Tojo and Makeda, “then we’re gonna wait five minutes while our plane taxis in. If Pongo gets on the comms with our guy, we can have them line the two planes up and take off two minutes later instead of ten. Okay?”
Everyone stared at him. Makeda wondered when he’d researched the Bern airport. She decided it would be one of those mysteries she’d never know. It also made her wish he was on her team.
“Okay. I’ll comm our pilot.” Pongolyn got that same faraway look she had when she was on the comms.
Richter scowled. “It’s handled. Now, I’m gonna go find the Bern equivalent of a Stuffer Shack. Anyone want anything?”
It was as good of a plan as any. There was literally nothing Makeda could do to improve on it, especially with Galen in radio silence mode. He knew the other team was flying out from the same place. With Pongo’s warning to their pilot, Saladin could line up the planes. She trusted him to do what needed doing.
Also, you ate when you could on a run, because you never knew when or where your next meal was coming from. So, food it was. “Shmoozies and a FantaZack. Or whatever they have tha
t seems closest.” Makeda glanced the question at Tojo. He shrugged. She nodded. “Times two, Richter. Thanks.”
Makeda regretted her snack choice more and more as they drove toward the airport. Her stomach roiled and sloshed with every turn of the ramshackle van. She hunched deep within her armored jacket, grateful for its roominess and warmth. The van rattled like it was on its last legs, but Ollietronic and Richter assured everyone that it was stable enough to get them where they needed to go.
When they stopped at last, Makeda was second out of the van after Fatima. The street samurai scowled at her. “Next time, you wait until I give the all clear.”
Bent over and breathing in slow, deep breaths, Makeda only thought the words, “There won’t be a next time. We’re done here.” She nodded. “Sorry. Motion sick.” Straightening, she looked around.
The Bern airport really was tiny. They were parked at the southeast end of the airstrip. There were small buildings between the official parking lot and where they stood. A single private plane sat, ready to go. As soon as they pulled up, it started its engines in pre-flight readiness.
Pongolyn and Ollietronic walked around the van. She had all her gear stowed in her backpack. “That’s our plane.” Pongolyn looked at Makeda. “Where’s yours? Why are they late?” Ollietronic kept walking.
Makeda checked the time. 14:59. “They should be here.” As she debated over whether or not to poke TechnoGalen for an ETA, two large SUVs arrived with a screech of tires. They stopped one hundred and twenty meters away. Men and women in Saeder-Krupp corpsec uniforms came tumbling out of the vehicles.
Ollietronic, halfway between the van and the plane, had no cover. He took off running toward the plane and was shot. He crumpled to the tarmac as everyone took cover.
Pongolyn pulled two pistols and fired. Her smartlink made sure she didn’t miss. Two of the guards went down.
15:00.
Makeda grabbed Tojo and pulled him behind the van’s back tires. They were next to Imre. He lay on the ground, firing at the enemy from beneath the van. Before she could say anything, her comms came alive.
“Coming in hot. Get to the chopper. Down in sixty seconds.”
Makeda had never been so relieved. “Under fire. Corpsec. If you’re armed for dragon, use it.” All around her, weapons were fired. Pongolyn fired two more times, and two more of the corpsec guards went down, headshot. The beaten-up van would never drive again.
There was a pause. “Acknowledged. Where are you?”
“Grey van, south end.”
“Make a run for us as soon as we get there.”
Pongolyn holstered her weapons. She looked at Imre. He nodded to her before firing a rapid set of three-round bursts in covering fire. Pongolyn sprinted to Ollietronic. He was still moving, but blood was everywhere. She picked him up and kept going, running to the plane. “Acknowledged. I’ll have Tojo ready.” Makeda looked at her client. He had his shoulder bag clutched to him and his eyes shut tight as he hunkered next to them. “The helicopter coming in is mine.” A large silver-and-black helicopter with no markings came in fast.
The side door was open. Makeda could see HiddenPlath and Obscura tethered to keep them from taking a header out the door.
“Mana wall coming in.” That was Obscura, her mage.
“Keep your head low.” That was HiddenPlath, her street samurai.
She wanted to leap for joy. Her team was here. Makeda saw the Gatling gun seconds before its unmistakable sound split the air. Weapons fire from the Saeder-Krupp side of things paused as corpsec personnel dove for cover. A moment later, the SK rifles started up again, this time focused on the helicopter as it landed.
Imre rolled to his feet, dropping an empty magazine and ramming another in his pistol. “I’ll escort you two, running interference.” He raised his voice. “Fatima, Richter, evac!”
Makeda nodded. She grabbed Tojo and yanked him to his feet. He blinked at her with wild eyes filled with fear. She pointed at the helicopter landing near the plane. “When I say go, you run. You get to the chopper as fast as you can. Your life depends on it. Do you understand?”
He gazed at her with those fear-filled eyes and winced at the roar of the Gatling gun.
She shook him. “Do you understand? Tojo!”
“Run to the chopper.” His voice was very calm. “Run when you tell me.”
The helicopter touched down.
Obscura took a bullet to the head. The glowing wall between the helicopter and the Saeder-Krupp people disappeared.
Makeda sucked it a breath and watched her friend fall backward into darkness. She grabbed Tojo and turned him to face the helicopter. “Get ready.”
Richter’s back exploded. He stumbled but kept going.
Fatima backpedaled behind him, firing her HK 227-X until it ran out of bullets. She pulled the next weapon in her arsenal, an Ingram Smartgun XI.
HiddenPlath screamed as the meaty part of her thigh exploded, but she kept firing the Gatling gun.
“Run!” Makeda shoved Tojo forward. She followed, keeping her body between the enemy and her client. Imre did the same for her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fatima shove the troll up the short stair and into the plane.
Imre continued to lay down covering fire as Tojo scrambled aboard the helicopter. Makeda looked at the plane. Fatima was in the doorway. She waved the street samurai off and grabbed Imre. “Get in. You won’t make it to the plane. Do it.”
He nodded and shoved Makeda into the chopper, following suit. Galen, keeping an eye on things, shut the door and took off hard, sending the helicopter straight up into the air.
“I thought we weren’t going to have an extra passenger.” Galen sounded irritated.
“I don’t know what he is. But he wouldn’t have made it back to the plane.” Makeda mentally shrugged. “We have an extra person. I need to figure out what to do with him.”
“Think quick. I don’t like an armed stranger in my helicopter.”
“Stay calm.”
Saladin, watching Makeda as he followed the conversation over the comms, slapped a patch on HiddenPlath’s leg. The ork let out a half-gasp before relaxing. Saladin moved to the downed Japanese woman, checking her over just to be sure.
Makeda reached over and took Imre’s Fichetti off him. She locked eyes with him as she did.
Imre didn’t argue. He did furrow his brow. “Am I a prisoner?”
“No. Not yet, at least.” Makeda shrugged. “Host’s prerogative. You’re a stranger in his vehicle. He’s uncomfortable.”
“Can’t argue with that. May I become a client?” Imre moved his hand slowly up to his breast pocket. He tapped the credstick there. “Escape from a hostile country?” He gave her a half-smile.
Makeda returned it. “What’s your life worth?”
Saladin covered Obscura’s face with a tarp, then answered for him, “50,000 nuyen.” His voice was flat with anger and grief.
That same grief slapped at Makeda, trying to overwhelm her. She forced it away. At least one of them had to stay calm, and it had to be her. Makeda looked between Saladin and HiddenPlath. The ork nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin white line. When she spoke, her voice was rough from the suppressed emotion. “I’m gonna need new ’ware after this.”
“Concur,” Galen said over the comms.
Imre looked at Saladin’s face. “Agreed. 50,000. Right here. Right now. You get me to a safe place that isn’t in the middle of nowhere. And if I can choose, I’d like Spain.” He slid two fingers into his inner pocket and pulled out his credstick. He handed it to Makeda.
Saladin handed Makeda a credstick reader. She transferred the 50,000 nuyen. “Done. Welcome to being my client, Mr. Dahl.”
“Please, I prefer Imre or Rabenhaupt.”
Before she could respond, Galen’s voice erupted over the comms again. “Makeda what in the fragging hoop of a hoser are you doing wearing a Saeder-Krupp corpsec jacket? What is this, amateur hour, or are your hormones
beating the drek out of your survival instinct?”
17
The team’s reaction was immediate. HiddenPlath grabbed a pistol and held it at the ready. Saladin’s head snapped to Makeda. “Where’d you get that?” He gestured to the jacket. At the same time, he subvocalized, “What’s wrong with the jacket, Galen?”
“It’s a Saeder-Krupp corpsec armored jacket.”
“So?” Makeda spoke aloud, ignoring Imre’s quizzical look. She pulled everything out of the jacket before she shucked it off.
The helicopter’s side door slid open. HiddenPlath held onto her tether. “What the drek, Galen?”
“Throw it out. Now.”
Makeda did as she was told, grabbing HiddenPlath’s tether to keep from going out after it. Plath grabbed her wrist to keep her steady. As soon as Makeda dropped the jacket, watching it spin in the air, the helicopter’s side door slid shut. She shifted back into a steadied stance before sitting down again. “Right. Now what’s the big deal?”
“A lot of Saeder-Krupp corpsec jackets have trackers in them. Like the one on your bracelet. It’s not well known, and it’s a very narrow band.”
“Well, that explains why they were there at the airport to meet us.” Makeda scowled. “They knew where we were the whole time. At least, in theory.”
Imre looked between Saladin and Makeda. “What does? My team was discreet. We didn’t trip any alarms.” He grimaced, then admitted, “Not that I know of. Don’t lay this on my team.”
Makeda shook her head and gestured to the side of the helicopter. “The jacket. Apparently Saeder-Krupp tracks their personnel.”
“That’s new.” Imre frowned. “Why didn’t they jump us up in the mountains?”
The pilot chair turned around, revealing it to be a wheelchair and the short Hawaiian man within. He was jacked into the chopper through the chair. “Two reasons. One, that costs money. You were headed toward them anyway. Why spend the resources? Two, there was no signal out there to get. You need to be close to that kind of tracker. Without wireless, drones are damn near useless for communication. They’d go out, find you, come back, report your position, but by then, you would have moved on.”
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