by Nyx Smith
Enotori catches her shoulders. "Machiko-san," he says, "you should be in the hospital."
This is out of the question. "Status."
Enotori rubs briefly at his brow. His face is smudged with grime. "I notified the SDF teams on standby to respond to our location. Fire and police services also responded. The total damage done by the explosion was not so great, but there was some smoke and the tenants on the fourth floor panicked. Many were injured in the rush down the stairway. The Yoshida-kai executive for this district has just arrived with additional kobun to assist with the situation."
This is good. That uninvolved persons should have been injured is very disturbing, but not the most pressing issue on Machiko's mind. "What of the room? What of Jank?"
Enotori briefly explains that the precinct commander for this area, a Winter Systems officer, has interceded on behalf of Nagato Combine to forestall any unwanted interference. "A Nagato forensics team has just begun examining the room. It appears that Jank was fitted with a cranial bomb. He is dead."
Machiko exerts herself to think. "What evidence has been found?"
"Perhaps among the most significant comes from my headware memory. I downloaded my recorded images of Jank to the Nagato network. I ran a graphic comparison with the partial images of the assassin who killed Mitsuharu-san of the GSG."
Machiko puzzles over this. "We have images of this assassin?"
"Yes, Machiko-san. A few partial images only. One of the security cams at Mitsuharu-san's residence complex is a dunce, a closed-circuit manually operated cam. It cannot be accessed through the Matrix. The Security Service discovered this only this morning, and there was some difficulty processing the images."
"What of your comparison?"
"According to the analyzer I ran, the chance is sixty-seven percent that Jank was the same killer captured on the cam at Mitsuharu-san's residence complex."
The implications are difficult to grasp. "You saw Jank?"
"Yes, I looked into the room just prior to the explosion." Machiko struggles to clear her mind, subdue the pain. "Then we have a tentative connection. A connection between assassins and a mage. Perhaps the mage responsible for sending the bomb to the Open House is the same mage Jank spoke about. Have we found any clues about this mage in Jank's room?"
"We found these." Enotori shows her what appear to be three standard credsticks. "They are registered to a corporate account. The Red Pavilion, Inc. Located in the Bronx."
The name is well known. Its significance is such that Machiko feels a sudden surging of strength. For the first time since she woke, her mind seems to come clear. The Red Pavilion has for many years served as the gathering place for the most influential Triad bosses in the plex. It is the headquarters of the Large Circle League. "Then we are indeed at war, if not with the League, then with one of its affiliates." Enotori's expression turns uncertain. "It is perhaps unlikely that Jank could have stolen Red Pavilion credsticks. However, his use of BTL disturbs me."
"Please explain."
"We have already found some dozens of BTL chips among the debris in Jank's room. The seals on these chips were all broken, indicating that they had been used. Jank's sensedeck appears to have been modified. We have the report on Jank's aberrant behavior, the boasts he made concerning the mage, destroying all corps, and we have the fact of the surroundings in which he lived."
"You suggest that Jank has abused BTL for some time."
"Particularly in light of the way he died. It would appear that Jank suffered some form of convulsive episode, a seizure, brought on by extreme sensory overload, similar in effect to the lethal feedback induced in deckers by killer IC.
This episode was sufficiently disruptive to the centers of the brain to trigger the bomb in Jank's head."
"Are you suggesting that this was deliberate? That Jank was situated here, jacked into a sensedeck, as a sort of booby trap?"
"I am aware of cases where this has been done, but I do not suspect that such could be the case here. The trail that led us to Jank was too tenuous, too reliant on coincidence, on the informants we happened to interview. A mage on the astral could have monitored our progress, but no one could have anticipated that we would be led to Jank."
"Enotori-sart, what is your point?"
The lieutenant bows slightly, perhaps to apologize for being so verbose. "Merely this, Machiko-san. When BTL abuse leads to death, it is almost always a result of long-term abuse. I do not believe that the bosses of the Large Circle League would tolerate one of their soldiers abusing BTL." Indeed.
Machiko considers this for some moments. Enotori's speculation leads her to a single conclusion. "Perhaps Jank was on the run from his own people."
"Yes, and the Security Service is already checking on this possibility. We have initiated a search of all relevant databases."
Unfortunately, broadband searches take time, especially when involving organizations such as Triads, with members numbering in the millions and activities spanning the globe. Machiko does not feel inclined to sit back and wait for search results. She could wait for many weeks to come and gain nothing by it, because nothing will ever come as clear and pure as crystal to her doorway. That is simply the Way of the world. She has been given the authority to act and that is what she must do.
When the sword will not cut, stab at the enemy's heart. Machiko finds the strength to stand, then to walk to the Infiniti E9 sedans. The headman of kobun bows. "How may we serve, Machiko-sama?"
"We visit the Red Pavilion. Drive slowly."
The headman does not hesitate. He orders his men into the cars. They are on the verge of pulling out when another car comes to a screeching halt nearby. Ryokai emerges. Machiko lowers her window.
"I was told you were wounded!"
The expression on Ryokai's face is full of concern and wonder. It is unfortunate. Machiko has no wish to speak harshly to Ryokai, for he has always been loyal, but she can imagine no way around it. "If you were concerned for my injuries, you should have sent a protective detail. You have duties that require you to be elsewhere. Duties that take precedence."
"You are not wounded?"
Machiko summons the strength to take a tone of fellowship, of compassion. "Ryokai-san," she says, "if there is war, many will die. You must steel yourself for this."
"Just say if you are all right!"
It would cost nothing to give him the answer he wants, but Machiko finds she cannot say the words. Ryokai should not be here inquiring after her condition. He should be with his team on Staten Island pursuing their plan. A warrior cannot turn from battle merely because a comrade has been hurt. "Your heart is too great," she tells him. "Return to duty." Then, to the headman, "Drive."
The Infinitis move out. They take local streets to the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, leading to the Triborough Bridge. The sedans settle into the right lane and assume a sedate pace. Machiko closes her eyes and settles her spirit. She gains focus, strives to encourage flesh and bone to heal, to cast off the distractions of pain. She succeeds only to a degree. She has taken an excess of physical punishment in the last two days. Her resources are growing slim. She needs rest.
As the cars ride down onto the streets of the south Bronx, she hears the headman of kobun saying, "Machiko-sama, your action saved this old man his worthless life. I owe a great debt."
Machiko bows. "Please do not speak to me of debts. Duty determined my actions, as it determines yours. Duty must guide our every action if we are to defeat the enemies of Nagato Combine."
The headman bows.
Before long they are gliding to a halt before the broad red walkway leading to the Red Pavilion's main entrance. "Remain in the car."
"Yes, Machiko-sama."
The Pavilion is five stories of classic pagoda-style architecture rimmed in winking neon and accented by the flashing laser displays in the upper windows. A large crowd, trailing away from the entrance and halfway down the block, waits behind velvet ropes along the right of the walkway. Porti
ons of the sidewalk flicker with images from inside the club: people dancing, carousing, partaking of other amusements. The men in red suits, keeping watch over the entrance, the walk, the crowd and the street, begin backing rapidly to the Pavilion's main entrance, some speaking into commlinks, some looking frantically about, as Machiko advances.
She is met at the entrance by a wall of ten or more guards, soldiers in red suits. Several conceal hands inside their suit jackets as if holding weapons. More than a few appear very nervous.
"What do you want?" asks one.
"Lau Tsang."
"He ... he is not here!"
"Then I will wait."
She is not kept waiting long. She has unsettled her enemy's spirit, upset their rhythm. Guards speak to headmen who speak to bosses. A Serpent on our doorstep? It is perhaps unprecedented. It may be insanity. In the space of one step, she has moved from Bronx County to a plot of land controlled by some of the most ruthless criminal bosses to be found in North America. They are the law here. There is no other authority that might act to prevent them from killing her where she stands.
However, the soldiers before her do not seem eager to make the attempt. Their eyes keep moving to the grips of her swords.
A short, slim man, a norm, with white razorslashed hair and a dark blue suit, steps through the wall of soldiers. His face like a wall of stone reveals nothing. His chrome eyes dart up and down Machiko's front, then he says, "What is your business with Lau Tsang?"
"I bring him a gift."
"What gift?"
"An item from a dead man."
The one with chrome eyes gives no immediate response. Perhaps he makes use of headware communications. "I will take you to Lau Tsang. This way."
The Pavilion's ground floor is half restaurant, half club. A posh womb lined in velvet red. Music rampages like a factory raging out of control. Lasers flicker incessantly. Hostesses in revealing electro-bodyware parade around with chrome-mirrored trays, necklaces of sensechips diving into incongruous depths of augmented cleavage.
Yet, in spite of all this static, Machiko notices many heads turning, people looking and gaping at her. The trappings of the Guard make her an outsider, a foreign enemy. Her genes make her kawaruhito, less than human. Machiko notices no other metas, nothing but norms, Asians, primarily Chinese. Even the tallest look no taller than her.
The man with chrome eyes leads her into one of a bank of escalators. At the second floor, they enter an elevator. This ascends to the fourth floor. A few steps along a corridor furnished all in red bring her to a private office paneled in red satin. She is left here alone for some minutes.
Then a side door opens and in steps a man, a norm, Chinese. Machiko knows him as Lau Tsang, the League's chief of enforcement. He looks rather like a corporate finance officer. His suit is gray and black and conservatively cut. He comes alone to show that he is not afraid. He moves to the side of a desk that appears hewn out of black marble and, affecting a casual manner, lights a cigarette. He hold Machiko's gaze for the space of two long drags on the cigarette, then says, "You're the chief Serpent now."
"For the moment."
"I hear it may be permanent. As permanent as these things ever get."
The sense in which his words might be construed as a threat seem incidental, but they give Machiko a thought. Just briefly, she considers taking the man's head. She could certainly do it. The man would be dead and growing cold before the guards in the corridor outside knew what had happened. She would probably be killed before she could fight her way out of the building, but Lau Tsang would still be dead.
The thought that keeps her sword in its scabbard is that killing Lau Tsang would not serve Nagato Combine. Wars are rarely won by killing the general, for there is always another general. It is the army that must be defeated. It is the ability to wage war that must be destroyed. It is the will of the ordinary soldier to fight that must be crushed.
She takes one of the credsticks from Jank's room, holds it up for Lau to see, then places it on his desk.
"Some gift," he says.
"Scan it."
Lau takes another drag of his cigarette. He moves around to the rear of the desk and slots the credstick into a port on the desktop telecom. His expression reveals only mild curiosity. "Where did you find this credstick?"
"On the person of a man called Jank."
"I do not know the name."
"Yet he had the credstick for a Red Pavilion account."
Lau shrugs. "Credsticks may be stolen. Account data can be forged. Why do you bring this to me?"
"To ask if you seek war."
Lau takes a drag of his cigarette. He appears very calm and cool. He opens a drawer of the desk and then lays a heavy automatic on the desktop and then quietly closes the drawer. He waves briefly at the automatic. "I have many guns," he says. "If the competition wants war, they will have it. The current troubles between your Toki-clan yakuza and my League will seem like minor disagreements compared to any war, if it comes."
Machiko watches the man. He does indeed seem prepared to make war. Machiko doubts he would fight it personally. "We have drawn a connection between this man Jank and the bombing attack on the clan headquarters in Newark. We have also identified Jank as one of the assassins who attacked members of the Guard."
"Is this to justify a threat of war?"
"Warriors do not make threats. They make war. If I had come here to make war, your head would be lying on the floor."
"And if I told you that the League has nothing to do with any of this, the attacks on your headquarters, on the Serpents, what then?"
"I would ask how this man Jank obtained a Red Pavilion credstick."
"Perhaps, at one time, I knew this man, under a different name. I have not heard of him for many months." Lau takes a deep drag of his cigarette and gazes briefly at Machiko, and says, "Men develop bad habits. They utilize excessive amounts of chrome. They grow unstable, and unreliable."
"And you let this man live?"
"We do not kill every person who fails us. It would be inhumane." Lau again pauses, gazing steadily at Machiko, then says, "Allow me to put this in perspective for you. My problem with the Nagato Combine involves only your Toki-clan. They tread on League territory. We have competing interests. I would not order these attacks you mentioned because I see no profit in going to war with the whole Nagato Combine. Small skirmishes can be useful in determining market position. A war would involve other interests that are currently content to leave us to our business. A war would have no true winner. Do you see?"
A gangster speaking of profit. Machiko can imagine nothing that would seem more natural. It is as natural as a gangster describing another's territory as his own. As natural as murdering one's competitors, assassinating entire families, in order to steal lucrative businesses, in order to amass power and wealth. The Large Circle League, like the other Triad organizations, has been many years rising out of the bloody gutters of the plex. Only in recent years have they managed to finally eclipse the Seoulpa Rings, formerly their closest competitors. Only now, as they finally become significant, as they reach a position where they may confront a potentially dangerous opponent such as the Toki-gumi, does Lau Tsang grow cautious, and in this he is indeed very wise.
Were the Yoshida-kai to extend the aid offered to the Toki-gumi, they would begin by sending enough kobun that Lau Tsang's "League" might well be smothered. Were the complete forces of Nagato Combine to be marshaled in the effort—including the military-grade units of the Security Defense Force—Lau Tsang would beg for peace, peace at any price.
But of course the need would have to be very extreme before Honjowara-sama would allow SDF units to roll on the Bronx. It would have to be morally just—a necessity to defend honorable working people from the violence of murderers and other vile felons. For any true military-style response would have inevitable consequences, not the least of which might be the loss of innocent lives,
"How did Jank fail you?"
> Lau shrugs. "A small matter. He failed to complete an assignment. It does not concern yakuza."
Machiko struggles to maintain a settled spirit. Being referred to as "yakuza" by a gangster such as Lau Tsang is no compliment. It is very near to an insult that cannot be ignored. Indeed, the ancestors of the clans of Nagato Combine could only be described as yakuza, but in this context Lau's remark is a statement of pure arrogance. It shows only contempt for the fact that the days have long passed when the three clans worked like vicious gangsters. It shows only disdain for the fact that Honjowara-sama exerts himself relentlessly to see that such times do not return. Machiko lets this insult pass only with great difficulty. She tells herself that the type of "assignment" Jank is likely to have failed probably involved murder and therefore is absolutely antithetical to the ethics of the Chairman's New Way.
And thus the distinction between the Large Circle League and Nagato Combine becomes plain. And thus Lau Tsang is revealed as the arrogant, vile criminal that he is.
"What do you know of Jank's current associates?" Machiko asks.
"They attract Serpents to the Red Pavilion." Lau takes a quick drag of his cigarette. "This I do not like."
Neither does Machiko like it.
The man disgusts her.
20
When she wakes, the Infiniti E9 is parked on a dark street she does not immediately recognize. To the left, a row of low commercial structures like warehouses. To the right, a brick wall and an ornate iron gate. The characters beside the gate read, "Plum Festival Teahouse," and then the memory comes. A teahouse in Brooklyn, maintained by the Yoshida-kai.
"Machiko-sama . . . please."
She finds the headman of kobun leaning in through the open door at her right, inviting her with a gesture to emerge, to follow him to the gateway. She has no reserves of strength with which to argue. She remembers walking out of the Red Pavilion, getting into the car, struggling against the rise of fatigue. Apparently, the battle was lost.