by Unknown
Festus fired into empty space. Tassilo's shots were too high. Pandur hit. The bullet caught the elf just where his heart was. Organically speaking, since the elf didn't seem to know any other kind. He staggered back. Then he grinned, turned to his side and vanished behind the projecting wall.
"The drekhead's got a darn good armored jacket!" Festus cursed. He loaded a new magazine into the Combat Gun and set off after the fleeing enemy. He reached the projection and fired. But he had to give up in the end. The killers were already in the shelter of the next concrete wall and then they finally swept up the stairs.
The wall of energy had collapsed, had dispersed. Behind them a choked exclamation of dismay sounded. Magnus. Then a sob. Jessi.
"Pandur..." Jessi was close to tears.
Tassilo froze. Festus turned his head. Pandur whirled round. He saw Imogen lying on the floor. Jessi kneeling next to her. Magnus sitting on the floor, Imogen's head in his lap. Pandur ran up. Tassilo followed with heavy step. Festus stayed at the entrance, covering.
"Imogen..." said Jessi in a faint voice. "She's...dying." Pandur gazed down at the young woman who had saved his life. Please, not again! I don't want another woman to die so that I can live!
But he saw with one glance that no power on earth could save Imogen now. The arrow intended for Pandur had gone into her left eye and then at an angle up into her brain. The young mage raised herself up once more. Then she graduated from the Magical Faculty of the University of Heidelberg. She was dead.
Chapter Ten
"(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction"
The Mother Earth Policlub represents one of the few European points of access to shamanist sorcery. Witchery and shamanism, pantheist ideas and feminism, as well as the dissemination of a whole-world ecological awareness, are at the heart of the debates lectures and campaigns of this federation. Membership stands at about 10,000, of whom a good 70% are women. Simultaneous membership of the Mother Earth Policlub, SIE and/or the Green Cells is not uncommon.
The Shock Surfers are an anarchist policlub which grew out of the Chaos Computer Club of Germany - the only policlub incidentally, that exists only in the matrix and holds no events or meetings in the real world. The activities of the Shock Surfers range somewhere between improvements in data protection for individual members of the public and industrial espionage, in which area the group is notorious for disseminating, via news-fax channels, data on the evil machinations of the conglomerates. The core of the policlub remains the half-legendary CCC, whose members are unchallenged as Germany's best deckers. Otherwise the Shock Surfers are a decker relief agency operating on the basis of mutuality, a kind of matrix ambulance for gridrunners in distress. About 4,000 registered members work in the legal part of the organization, and about 50 form the hard decker core.
The Doctor Faustus Association is a circle of hermetic mages operating nationwide and primarily a forum for new and unconventional approaches in the area of theoretical hermetic sorcery. If a mage requires literature materials or colleagues for a ritual team, the Doctor Faustus Association is at hand, but financial assistance for, and encouragement of of the club's social activities are part of the Faustians' program. Membership is conferred only on the recommendation of a member and by resolution of the local circle.
Members of the Doctor Faustus Association are alleged to sit on every faculty council of university magical departments and in many companies and institutes dealing with magical research. It is not necessary to be a member of the Faustians to be given a well-paid post or a lectureship, but anybody falling foul of the association can confidently throw in his job as a sorcerer or disappear into the shadows.
Although the Faustians are little active politically and socially, they are generally held to be liberal and receptive to various social currents.
Dr Natalie Alexandrescu:
Policlubs, Secret Societies and Terrorist Organizations in the AGS,
German History on VidChips VC 23, Erkrath 2051
Professor Magnus appeared distraught. He concealed the girl's head in his lap, had spread his arms over it as if this protective gesture could undo everything and call Imogen back to life. Tassilo gazed on the scene mutely. He gave the impression of being helpless.
"We'll carry her to the elevator," said Pandur. He felt the need to do something. They couldn't stay here. Something practical would bring the men of the Klabauterbund to their senses.
Magnus looked up, shaking his head. "No, you must get away."
In all his inner turmoil and sadness, he preserved more common sense and vision than Pandur had thought him capable of. " The police will be on their way. There will be an investigation. The dead girl. The burning wreck of the Mandarin7. It can all be explained. A robbery. Tassilo and I will describe the perpetrators. Two elves and a mafioso. Go!"
Privately, Pandur thought he was right. The police would have to believe Magnus. A professor of magic. He would be protected. He and Tassilo had nothing to fear. The elves and Ricul would not dare to return. Anyway, the killers weren't interested in a professor of magic and an arranger for the Klabauterbund. Least of all in the body of a young woman. They had already taken from her everything there was to be taken. Their interest was directed at the three runners and a cyberdeck.
"Can you deal with it?" asked Jessi softly. Like Pandur, she feared that the two men were not up to the situation.
"Go!" Magnus repeated. "We're not in danger. We will do for the body what has to be done. But there mustn't be any shadowrunners here when the police arrive. They would stand out. "
A professor from Heidelberg doesn't travel with outcasts, with people who sometimes don't even possess an SSIN, with people who are wanted. If the police come, we'll have to run anyway. But our flight will raise questions...
Basically, Pandur, Jessi and Festus didn't have to be persuaded. They knew the laws of the shadows. They contained no provisions on contemplation and mourning.
"So ka," said Pandur. "We'll disappear."
"Lots of luck, Professor," Jessi murmured. "And thanks for everything."
"Put your hat on, Prof," said Festus. "The cops like people who wear hats in an official capacity. Might help you to speak your lines before they bash you one over the nut as a preventive measure."
It was the right way to say goodbye. The runners turned away, got into the Mercedes without another word and drove off. Tassilo watched them go. Magnus didn't even look up.
As they pulled out of the parking deck, a patrol car was just turning in at the entrance to the sub-level.
"Didn't get round to buying clothes again." Pandur mumbled. " You'll get over it," said Jessi, who was sitting next to him on the back seat.
Theoretically, they could take some time out, park the car and do some shopping. The police wouldn't link the car driving out with the assault. Or would they? Maybe they would want to collect vidstatements from witnesses. But even if they weren't being sought, none of the three was in the mood for a shopping spree.
There was another reason to leave the station as soon as possible. They knew only too well that the killers were still in the vicinity. The killers had lost a car. They had been forced to to turn tail. All this was correct. Perhaps the shadowrunners' determined attack had taken them by surprise. Maybe they would be more careful next time. But one thing was certain: they would not abandon their pursuit. The runners would do well to get a head start on them.
None of the three shadowrunners spoke much when the Mercedes E160 was back on the freeway. Each of them was lost in his own thoughts. Pandur was silently mourning the girl. He had hardly known her. He owed his life to her. At the bitter end she had died in his stead. Done to death by a damn arrow that had been meant for him.
He had scarcely known Rose either. That time two years ago. She had died as well. Perished for him. And Natalie? Would the elves have hunted her if he hadn't set the whole thing in motion?
Bad Luck Walez! You always thought women brought you no luck. It seems to be the other wa
y round. You bring women no luck. What do you have in store for Jessi, Bad Luck Walez?
The autopilot was driving the car. Festus seemed to be asleep. Jessi was trying to doze, again leaning her head on Pandur's shoulder. Only Pandur kept his eyes open. He knew he couldn't switch off.
Imogen... Pandur would probably never find out much about the woman. In his memory there were long rows of faces belonging to the dead, faces like hers, faces of people he had got to know well and who had died. On a run. Or afterwards.
Died of the life they led. Shadowrunners. Imogen hadn't even been that. She died the death of a runner without being a runner. She had only wanted to help a runner... Because she wanted to help the Klabauterbund. Because she had a dream of a better world... The runner she was able to help. And did help. Saved his life. With a formula she had developed for her final examination, and not even under Magnus, but under a colleague of his who taught combat magic. Imogen, the girl who absorbed herself in the study of the magical structure of stones, a young woman who admired her professor's specialist field, probably revered the man himself, worshipped him, perhaps secretly loved him... This Imogen had, reluctantly, as a burdensome compulsory exercise, learned to erect a strong, powerful barrier, just like that, to pass the exam. And this barrier had saved Pandur's life...
It took Pandur a long time to free himself from these sad, lethargic thoughts. Only to fall prey to other solemn thoughts. The car had crossed the border to the Council and was moving along dark country roads on which there was very little traffic. Pandur was grateful for the darkness. There was too much to remind him of that drive two years ago, of the drive with Natalie...
But the images came anyway, however dark it might be outside. They passed Eger on a by-pass. Konigsberg Castle was not far away. Somewhere out there Natalie's mother lived, maybe she was sitting in the castle, among the people of her clan, still cursing the day Walez had appeared and taken away her daughter for ever. That's how she saw it. Now she would never succeed in fetching her back to the clan.
Maybe she was out at the cave, invoking her totem, the wolf, assensing in Astral Space and looking on Pandur's aura, consumed with hatred. Or full of satisfaction? Because the unknown mage had cast out his net again, had perhaps tagged him anew?
Is it actually not Ricul at all who hates me and wants to kill me? Is it Manda who wants to punish me for Natalie's death? She has power over Ricul. If she has ordered him to kill me, he'll do it.
And somewhere out there, near the castle, near the cave, perhaps even in the cave itself, there was a grave. Natalie's grave. There lay the remains of the woman he had loved. Who had betrayed him. Who was killed. By the same elven hitman who had driven an arrow into Imogen's brain.
It's time I stopped this monster from killing my chummers. He don't want him to get Jessi! He mustn't get Jessi! He won't get Jessi!
They crossed the border between the Czech part of the Council and the CFR at Karlovy Vary. Karlsbad. It went without a hitch. Pandur couldn't even make out whether there were border guards standing in the shelter. Nobody showed themselves as they slowly drove up to the brick building, the Mercedes moving into the breach of light from the floodlights. Faint, pounding music could be heard from somewhere. They drove under the pedestrian bridge, which actually marked the border, at the ordained speed. There was no barrier to be seen anywhere. On the other side a vehicle came towards them from the opposite direction. The driver or the autopilot he had programmed didn't even feel it necessary to slow down, but swept under the bridge and past the shelter at a constant speed.
An hour later they reached Prague. The expressway led through a complex of concrete jungle towers that had the makings of a megaplex. Drab, grey, dimly shining concrete pyramids cowered on the Moldau. They passed Praha8, Praha5, Praha2, three of ten satellite towns, each cut off like a ghetto, inhabited by wage slaves, the unemployed, the old and the destitute. With their own shopping centers, vidcenters, bars, sports arenas. The authorities wanted to keep them out of the chrome-sparkling downtown area; they had proportioned poverty and subworld to prevent them from coming together and proliferating. The success was highly questionable. The population in the pyramids disentangled itself. The wage slaves lived by choice in Prahal, Praha3, Praha4 and Praha10, the other pyarimids went downhill. Settling between the complexes in tents and shanties were the illegal immigrants, mostly Asians, the outsiders, the beggars and the anti-social, characters who had fallen through the social screening, but above all the kids that had no parents or had run away from home.
The car neared the center of town, the laser light facades of the high-rises and arcologies of the megacons in the New Town, which surrounded both the historical Old Town and Kleinseite, with the Hradschin, like a crater rim.
"MCT," Festus grunted, pointing to a semicircular tower with outcropping side wings on which the company logo ran in endless chains of glittering red laser light cascades from their ends to the point of the tower and then ceased. "Just you wait, Krumpf, you're gonna get your balls shaved. Like real soon."
Their destination was the Old Town. Pandur still had memories of the town's historical sites from his early days. He took over driving the car. Jessi moved into the passenger seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They could have made use of the Prague Dataservice and, for a charge, provided the autopilot with the latest city maps. But the runners preferred not to feed the traffic computer with their car's data.
Pandur's lethargy fell away like a heavy duster that hampered movement. He was relieved to see the unpredictable rigger consigned to the back seat. And he was glad the drive was coming to an end. Without incident. Without a new attack by the killers. The solution to their problems was moving closer. Although it was only one stage on their journey. He had no illusions. Even if Vladek could free the cyberdeck from the magic's grasp, there was still a long path ahead of them. With the liberation of the data, the difficulties weighing down on them were only just beginning. But Pandur was confident they would walk that path. The essential requirement, however, was that they got their hands on the lever which would move things. And the lever was the data, with which they would smash AG Chemie. This act seemed like a symbol to him. If he could force a megacon down on its knees, he would also succeed in settling the score with the drekheads who were out to get him and those who had planted the maggots in Festus's brain.
"We shouldn't even try to drive into the Old Town in the car," said Pandur. "Most streets will be closed to traffic. We'd only stick out like a sore thumb."
"I don't care," the rigger answered. "If we hadn't reached an agreement, I'd be with Krumpf now, bashing the K out of him."
"And then?" asked Jessi. "You going to feed your maggots with the K? You'd better come up with something better. How about bringing your charm into play?"
"What for? Execs only understand tough talk."
"You're hardly likely to find Krumpf in the MCT tower at this time," said Pandur.
"Why not? The thing's big enough to function as an autonomous arcology. I'll bet most sararis only leave the tower when they wanna go visit the cathouse in the Hradschin or piss into the Moldau off the Karlsbrucke."
"I didn't think you knew you're way around here." said Pandur.
"Did I say that, chummer?"
"No, " Pandur admitted. He had assumed it because Festus had let him take the wheel. Apparently he had been wrong. "I still think an MTC exec could find himself a nicer place to live in Prague than this tower. But it doesn't matter, we'll find out once we've got the data out of the cyberdeck."
He guided the Mercedes onto the Na prikope, Moat Street, and parked it. They were on the filled-in moat of medieval Prague. From here it wasn't far to their destination. Through the arched gateway of the illuminated Pulverturm, he led the chummers into the alleys of the Old Town. Although there was an accumulation of luxury restaurants, wine cellars and expensive shops housed in the historical buildings, the more out-of-the-way, dark alleys provided sufficient cover.
They had hidden their weapons in their clothes. This didn't spare them the indignant glances of chicly dressed nighthawks with extravagant hairstyles and painted and tattooed faces. Added to this was the suspicious scrutiny of bodyguards, their hands moving surreptitiosly to their belts. But the runners paid no heed. They sought out the shadows and quiet nooks, and they found them.
"We'll skirt round the Old Town Ring," said Pandur, keeping to the right. "Too many dudes, too much light."
"So ka," Jessi agreed.
The rigger said nothing. He seemed detached. Probably he was a few moves ahead already in his mind. With Krumpf. With a recipe for his brain maggots.
They reached the former Jewish ghetto. It had been completely cleared as long ago as the end of the 19th Century. Only a few synagogues and the City Hall had been spared. The upper middle class houses dating from this time had fallen victim to a further clearance barely thirty years ago. Now multicolored structures of aluceramics and glass rose up in the area. They had been conceived as part of a glittering world of shopping and amusement. But giving the Hradschin over to the amusement business had sent the district downhill. The metahumans discovered it. The glass was painted black or replaced. In a certain sense the quarter had become a ghetto again after a gap of two hundred years.
"Magnus was right," said Jessi. "This place exudes magic. I sense it without being able to say what it is exactly."
Pandur nodded. "That's why the elves, ores and trolls are here. They sense it too."
"Drek," was Festus's contribution. "What's supposed to be so magical about what was once a ghetto for the Jews? People used to pin black magic on the Jews because they wouldn't integrate and held fast to their traditions and religion. Kabbala, the burial of Tora scrolls, circumcision, kaftans, kosher meat -for dimwits who'd grown up with other symbols and traditions, all this was reason enough to associate those who were different from them with devilish powers."