Kazuma gave him a half-smile, but his thoughts were in turmoil. He knows I’m wounded! Somehow this dwarf either knew he’d been shot, or he knew Kazuma was involved in last night’s break-in. He brushed the building’s datasphere, and knew the doors were locked. He also sensed a familiar presence nearby. Another technomancer. Only…there was a slight…tang to the e-sense of it. Either the TM was an animal, or it was tainted somehow.
The dwarf smiled as he laced his fingers on top of the desk. Kazuma guessed he was sitting on a booster seat. “Well. If your…stomach pain grows worse, all you have to do is request the company’s services, and we can attend to it.”
“Oh. No. I wouldn’t trouble anyone here. I think I should go home.”
“You do.”
“Yes, sir. I shouldn’t have come in today.”
“But you did. And from your record—which is exemplary, I might add—you haven’t missed a day in two years. You take regular holidays. You keep everything very neat, and very…clean.”
“Mr. Black likes that.”
“Yes, he does.” Powell frowned for a second, and Kazuma could have sworn the man was suppressing a smile. “Last night, a host in the Horizon Annex on Boulevard was broken into. A host under your control that was scheduled to be deleted.”
Kazuma kept his features calm as his sprite returned and dumped its files into a protected folder. He didn’t have a moment to look at them and keep a serious conversation going, so he mentally brushed it and his AR aside. “Karl told me about it in the elevator—”
“You didn’t already know? As supervisor over that area, Mr. Tetsu, I would assume you would have come straight into Black’s office, or at least roused him out of bed.”
Drek! Powell was right, and he would have done those things—if he’d had his commlink nearby. But he didn’t know it was missing, and as a precaution to mask his abilities, he always took calls and messages relating to Knight Errant through the commlink.
“Yes, I agree. But I realized in the elevator that I must have left my commlink at home—”
Powell moved then and opened a drawer to his right. He pulled out a commlink, same make and model as Kazuma’s, and set it on the desk between them. It took Kazuma a few seconds to realize it wasn’t a model just like his—it was his. “You didn’t leave it at home.”
A window flashed in his AR. He brushed it aside. “That’s not my commlink.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
“Have you checked the registration?” Kazuma compiled a crack sprite and sent it into the assets database to create a registration file for his commlink. He didn’t have one, as he’d never registered the commlink he usually used. He told it to grab the serial number to the spare he kept in his apartment. It was one of the newer models, the ones with the limitations in place. He silently cursed himself for never registering either of them—but then, this could be a blessing in disguise if he could convince Powell he had a registered commlink with the company and it was in his home.
Pain bloomed behind his eyes, and he narrowed them to keep from wincing or putting his hand to his temple. Two sprites within ten minutes—he was going to pay for this. But not right now.
Ponsu appeared in the periphery. Boss, you want me to turn it on? Have it download all the messages?
That same new window flashed again in his AR. He watched Powell motion for his own AR—hopefully a prelude to looking for Kazuma’s registered commlink—and pulled the window up. He didn’t recognize the persona—that of a black cat—but he did recognize the name.
And he was panicked that that name was contacting him—Kazuma Tetsu—and not his handle. Was this a joke? Or maybe a trap?
He kept an eye on Powell as he mentally ran his own security on the message and opened it. She had the GiTmo passwords.
Kazuma kept his face stoic as he appeared to wait for Powell. The crack sprite reappeared with the information. It was done. And Ponsu would have the commlink on and running with a built-in history.
Powell looked less than happy as he brushed his AR away and sat back. “Apparently you do have a registered commlink. It wasn’t visible before, because it was still kept in Black’s files along with three other commlinks he changed out when the upgrades were activated.”
By upgrades, Kazuma knew he meant the new Matrix protocols the corps had put in place. One of the reasons he didn’t want to use it.
Kazuma’s thoughts churned as he got the instructions and looked at this dwarf with fear and hate. This piece of drek was responsible for technomancer disappearances…and how he was looking at me? Was he responsible for Hitori’s disappearance? Did he know anything about her? He clamped his jaw shut just as an alarm klaxon shattered the silence. The office door automatically clicked open as an automated voice blasted through the speakers.
“FIRE ALERT! FIRE ALERT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!”
Yeah, well…that’s definitely a diversion.
Kazuma stood and headed to the door just as something growled and struck him in the small of his back. He landed on his stomach, and his wound sent up flares of pain that nearly blinded him. He felt hot breath on his neck, heard the creature growl, and felt teeth puncture skin. Yelling at the pain, he tried to push himself up.
“Now now, Mr. Tetsu,” came Powell’s voice to his left. “I’m sure this fire alarm is just a ruse you sent your sprites out to create so you could escape. But you see, I can’t allow that. I have too many things in place, too many responsibilities I have to take care of. And you, Mr. Tetsu, have two things I want.” He knelt down and put his face in Kazuma’s. “One, you’re a technomancer, which makes you the property of my employer, and two, he wants that data you stole.”
Kazuma was panicking even as Netcat’s window remained open. Her constant messages of escape helped him boost his own confidence. So did Silk’s insistent need to make himself physically capable. He closed his eyes as he listened to the data-whispers of the active system in the office. The fire alert had overwritten anything Powell might have put in place, which gave him an added option of a quick hack. He needed to see where he was.
Using the same idea he’d used in the Annex, he slipped into the cameras—through the same back door he’d worked into the system months ago—and drilled down to this office. He saw himself inches from the cracked door, with Powell kneeling beside him, going through his pockets, and a huge gray wolf on his back. As if knowing what it was doing, it clamped its teeth on his neck, but didn’t close its jaw.
If it did, the wolf would sever his spine.
He gathered a copy of the image, encrypted it, and sent it to Netcat.
Within seconds she would see what was happening. He heard voices outside the door, and recognized Karl’s. He was making sure each of the offices were empty per the evacuation plan. Kazuma watched from the camera as Powell went to the desk, retrieved a weapon, and moved back to the door. The bastard was going to shoot him!
Anger replaced panic, and Kazuma took a deep breath as he extended himself further into the security system. He assumed he was flagging all kinds of spiders, but he was not going to let Karl get hurt or have his own head bit off—not to mention the danger Netcat was putting herself in by helping him.
Boss! Let me do it! You ta
ke care of the dog!
Ponsu! He smiled as he felt her presence. He gave her a few ideas before he pulled himself back from the system, away from the soft whispers of the datasphere, and readied himself, despite the pounding migraine behind his eyes. On cue, he heard Karl at the door, saw Powell move himself behind the door, and counted to three.
On three, the door moved on its own, bashing hard into Powell. The impact smashed the dwarf into the wall as Karl came through. The technocritter let go of Kazuma’s neck as he faced down the ork.
“Karl! Help! It’s a technocritter!”
The security officer brandished his weapon and fired at the wolf before it could pounce. Kazuma pushed himself up as fast as he could—though his knees gave out as he staggered to the door. Karl caught him and slipped an arm under his shoulders.
“Kaz—what happened? Why was a technocritter in Black’s office?”
“There was a dwarf in there…” he said as they made their way through the lobby along with the other stragglers. He had to shout over the klaxon. “I think he killed Black. Need to check on him. He told his technocritter to kill me because I walked in on him.”
“You kidding me? You think he was a technomancer too? The dwarf?”
“Could be.” They reached the open door as several fire trucks and more black security vans pulled up. Netcat said she was across the street. A black Honda. He didn’t spot the car, but he spotted a delicate elf with short hair, dressed in a kilt, jeans, and boots.
He knew that was her.
“Hey…let me get you over to that DocWagon. Your neck is bleeding.”
Kazuma straightened himself up and patted the ork’s arm. “I’m okay, Karl. Thank you. I owe you. I really do. But I think the others could use your strength.”
Karl gave Kazuma a half-smile around his tusks. “All right, omae. You get cleaned up. I’ll tell them about the dead technocritter in the office.”
He waited a beat as he watched Karl lumber away, then moved as fast as he could through the throngs of people, the newsfeed drones, and the vans to the parking lot across the street. The closer he got, the more he was certain this was Netcat.
Her eyes widened as he neared and she went to him and started tugging on his suit jacket. “Get this off. Your KE pin acts as a SIN, right?”
The pain behind his eyes hurt even worse now in the semi-bright light of the Los Angeles morning. He did as she said and watched as she wadded it up and shoved it into a nearby trash can. “Get in the car.”
He got in the passenger side and managed to buckle himself in before Netcat put the car in reverse and maneuvered the old POS through the back and out a side entrance. Once on the road, they passed more trucks and people headed toward Knight Errant.
Netcat held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Soldat.”
“Nice to meet you, Netcat.” Her hand was warm and delicate. “Now…if it’s okay with you…I think I’m gonna…”
And he fell over the side of the world.
Chapter Twenty
Local High School
Los Angeles
Friday afternoon
Blackwater mentally patted himself on the back as he tossed the last piece of Maria into the school’s roaring incinerator. Luckily, none of the local PCC offices monitored the schools on the lower east side. No one cared. This was Blackwater’s territory. This incinerator had been good to him over the years. Gotten rid of a lot of enemies in this little piece of hell.
The hardest part of the job had been flash-freezing her body so he could run the saw through her limbs. Luckily the morgue hadn’t started the autopsy yet, which meant they hadn’t taken her blood or any fluids. It was all here, going up in smoke. Other than the blood left at the Annex, there would be no other way to trace her. Getting rid of that evidence would take up the rest of his day.
The bell to switch classes sounded, and Cole sat back on the cold concrete of the school’s boiler room. He turned on his commlink and easily slid into the school’s PAN, only available wirelessly during the class change. There wasn’t much security—the student’s grades and records weren’t kept on any hosts at this physical location. They were kept secure by Renraku technology.
This PAN was mostly set up as a communication device between the school board and the students. Announcements, schedules, syllabi, and e-text were kept there, available for students to pull down and use. It was their responsibility to govern their own lives, not the school’s. If they wanted to learn, and get on a path to employment with a megacorp, here was the opportunity. If not, then the local Stuffer Shack a half-kilometer down the road was hiring.
If there was one thing Blackwater had been in school, it was a straight-A student. No one in his present life would ever believe that. But he’d been in the top of his class. Voted most likely to head a corporation.
Yeah.
And then the Crash happened. His only parent had gotten caught online. Turned his dad into a meat sack. And with it went his small family’s income and status. There wasn’t anyone left to take care of Blackwater. His mother had disappeared over a decade ago.
He’d survived the best way he knew how by using his intellect and his skills. He’d done pretty well for himself in making a name. And he’d never lost a hack, not in five years.
Until that asshole had gotten him. Appearing in the host out of nowhere like that. Blackwater hadn’t even noticed him coming. Damn ghost. The only consolation he had at that moment was knowing he’d capped him good. Made him bleed.
And as Blackwater sat on that cold concrete floor, he made a deal with himself to get even with that motherfucker.
Even if it killed him.
As the last of Maria turned to ash, Blackwater logged into his AR. Several messages appeared, a few from Wagner. But it was the three from Shayla that caught his attention. Apparently Mack wanted him back as soon as possible.
Screw him. Blackwater logged out of his email and skimmed the news headlines to see if there had been any mention of the missing body at a local morgue.
No missing bodies—but a headline just released a few minutes ago from Reuters dropped his jaw.
HORIZON OFFICER MURDERED. KNIGHT ERRANT TECHNOMANCER SUSPECTED. — Reported, Vid [Link] 2:34 (6 minutes ago)
Blackwater turned up the volume in his earbuds and touched the link to pull up the article on his AR.
A human with little to no visible augmentation appeared on the screen. She stood in front of the Horizon offices, their glass pyramid the scene of dozens of black vans, hovering news drones, and milling metahumans. She mentally counted to one and smiled.
“Good morning, Los Angeles. One hour ago, the body of a high ranking Horizon employee was found dead in his office, the victim of what PCC security is calling a technomancer attack. The name of the official hasn’t been released yet to protect the family and the official’s immediate staff. Knight Errant had warned the public that it was only a matter of time before technomancers would retaliate for the so-called Technomancer Massacre in Las Vegas. As you can see behind me, all efforts to identify and find the person or persons responsible for this brutal attack are underway, though at this time, no leads are forthcoming. Stay tuned for more updates.”
Blackwater chewed his lower lip as he re-watched the report, then logged into a few hacker boards for information as to who the official was…even though he had a pretty good idea.
When Shayla pinged him, he took her text and opted for audio. Within seconds her online persona, a vivacious elf with long legs, big tits, and thick lips, appeared in a third window. “Hey, you really need to call Mack back,” her persona said in a sultry voice.
He made his own persona smile. “I’m kinda busy right now.”
“You looking for Maria?”
Blackwater glanced at the incinerator as the second bell sounded.
“What was that?” Shayla asked. “Sounded like a bell.”
“Nothing. Yeah, I’m looking
for her. What does Mack want?”
“He wants you back here. He needs a hacker he can rely on in case we get hit about who that other hacker was.”
“Screw him.”
“Yeah, well, he’s been in a mood since he met with the Johnson this morning.”
Blackwater paused. “He did? Told them we lost the data?”
“I guess. You know I don’t listen in on Mack’s conversations. I did get a good look at her though. Tall, blonde, and elven.”
Now that was an interesting piece of information. “Dressed to the nines?”
“Yeah.”
It would be a stretch to assume that Mack had met with Wagner’s assistant directly—there were only maybe a hundred thousand blonde elves on the planet. Artus Wagner had originally contacted Blackwater to retrieve the data from the host a day before Mack got the same job. Of course, Blackwater had contacted Wagner, more than a bit put out the jack-off would hire him, and then show nil confidence and hire the same mission out to a team. The same team Blackwater ran with on occasion.
But Blackwater hadn’t hired Mack. That hire was still as mysterious as the hacker who actually stole the data away from him.
Given the description, was it possible the one who hired Mack was Wagner’s assistant? And if it was—why? What would that elf want with the data?
He knew the only way to get answers—and maybe a larger payday—would be to get that data.
Blackwater watched the vid again, but without the audio this time. This time he sharpened up the scene and started looking at the people in the background. “Shayla, you hear anything on the guy that got ganked at Horizon?”
“Yes and no. Mack’s been in his office since we heard about it. But I don’t know who it is, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her icon laughed. “Looks like Horizon’s got all kinds of problems. Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of drekholes.”
“Yeah,” Blackwater replied absently. He narrowed in on a few people, tracking their movements behind the vans and the PCC cops. He spotted an interesting-looking woman in a long black dress. Which itself was a bit odd. Her dark hair hid her face and she seemed to know where the drones were at all times—and avoided letting them get a good lock on her. He captured a few images, encrypted them and sent them off to a few omae who might be able to identify her. He wasn’t sure yet, but if the dead guy was Wagner, Blackwater had to make sure whoever ganked the asshole didn’t come looking for him, too.
Shadowrun: Dark Resonance Page 8