Sam shook his head in disbelief at her callousness. “Don’t you feel any loyalty to her? To the others?”
“As much as they feel for me.”
“In other words, none.”
She looked away, then said softly, “They’re getting paid.”
“Just like you.”
“No credit, no fun in this world,” she laughed.
Sam didn’t hear much joy in that laugh. “Then you’re only in this for money.”
“Why not? Pays better than doing it for free.”
Sam’s disappointment surprised him. He should expect no more from her.
The feathered serpent unfurled its wings, arching its neck upward in a sudden burst of motion. The ebony talons of one hind paw scraped gouges in the cement floor as it sent waves of resentment tinged with something else. Sam thought the emotion felt a little like fear. Roe was up in a flash, searching the darkened end of the building toward which the serpent gazed.
At the far end of the bay, one of the great doors rumbled upward. A black limousine purred into the building, its polished paintwork, chrome, and dark windows reflecting the dinginess of the surroundings as it rolled to a stop. Protective guards snapped automatically into place over the tires.
The rear door opened, and after a moment, a man emerged. Lean and dark, he moved with elegant grace. His clothes, too, were impeccably tailored, showing neither wrinkle nor spot. Scanning the chamber once, he strode purposefully toward the van.
Roe met him halfway, and the two talked quietly for a few minutes. Sam couldn’t hear much, but he did make out Greta’s name. The man seemed pleased. He spoke briefly again, and Roe responded, once gesturing toward Sam and Hanae. Within moments, she was escorting the visitor in their direction. Sam stood as they approached, stepping away from Hanae so not to be disturb her.
“Sam, this is your benefactor, Mr. Drake.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Sam offered his hand.
Drake ignored it as he looked Sam up and down. “Ms. Roe has told me of the modification to the plan. I trust you understand your position.”
Sam was confused by the reference to a modification. “Excuse me?”
“Ms. Roe’s arrangement with you was done without my knowledge. I would never have approved.”
Sam didn’t know whether to be startled or apologetic.
“But I am not heartless, Mr. Verner. And I know this kind of business requires a certain flexibility. You and your lady friend may take advantage of our guest’s transportation arrangements so long as you do not endanger his reaching his destination. I will impose no additional costs or obligations on you beyond requiring that you swear not to interfere with Ms. Roe’s execution of her contract with me. Is this satisfactory?”
What could Sam say? Roe doing her job for Drake only helped him and Hanae. “Yes.”
“Very well then. Both you and Ms. Roe must understand that, from this point on, you are her responsibility.”
Sam nodded.
Drake smiled his satisfaction. “Since we understand each other, Mr. Verner, I wish you and your lady friend a pleasant journey.”
With that, Drake returned to his car and was gone again in less than a minute. Roe had drifted back to the feathered serpent. Reluctant to go near the beast, Sam refrained from confronting her about why she had pretended that Drake was part of the offer to extract him from Renraku. Had she wanted to increase her status in his eyes? Or was it just a petty lie, indicating that he couldn’t trust anything she said? He didn’t understand what would motivate such behavior, but the increasing suspicion that he was surrounded by duplicity made Sam uncomfortable and very, very nervous.
Shadowrunners were dangerous. Living outside the law, they had little respect for it. If he got in their way, it was doubtful they would search for a legal solution. The other runners he had met, Tsung’s people, had seemed to have a code. Rough and selfish perhaps, but still a standard of behavior. Roe’s crew seemed less... finicky.
And Drake, their master, was as hard as any of them. But that wasn’t really surprising. He was likely a shark in the corporate world. His easy expectation that everyone around him would jump at his call told Sam that Drake’s toughness was no facade. The dark man showed even more assurance of his power than Kansayaku Sato. The man obviously had control over his runners, which was saying a lot. Sam may not have seen it all, but he’d seen enough to know that nerve and grit were almost sacred among those who dwelt in the shadows of the corporate world.
Drake had warned him not to interfere with Roe. Did he think that Sam and Hanae’s presence might jeopardize his carefully laid plans? If so, why was he willing to settle for the a pittance that would be his share of the finder’s fee for Sam? Wouldn’t he want an increased return from an increased risk? Drake would expect something in return for his generosity. Sam didn’t like not knowing what Drake’s game was, but he hadn’t dared question the man’s offer.
Other things about the deal bothered him even more. No matter what story Roe gave him, Sam thought it likely that Mr. Drake’s “guest,” the unconscious man in the truck, was leaving Renraku involuntarily, the victim of a kidnapping. For their own reasons, the runners did not want Sam or Hanae to know that. The two of them would probably be safe as long as they never questioned the story. Perhaps the runners wanted someone to attest that the extraction had been voluntary rather than hostile.
He and Hanae would have to go along, with no questions asked. These runners had shown no reluctance to use their weapons.
The prospect of that sort of violence was frightening enough, but people’s violence didn’t hold the elemental terror of the Dragon. Sam knew too many documented cases of dracoforms making meals of people. The thought of Hanae’s tender body being chewed to a bloody pulp in the serpent’s toothy jaws nearly brought his meal back up.
All he could do now was keep his word to Drake. Interfering with the extraction would only put Hanae in more danger. He would keep his eyes and ears open, and they would escape the runners, soon as he could find a way. Delivery of Drake’s guest was the runners’ primary concern; they wouldn’t bother to chase him and Hanae down. At least, he hoped they wouldn’t.
Sam moved back to the niche where Hanae slept, always so sure that he would protect her. How could he betray that trust? He had to see her to safety if he could.
He sat down where he could see her face in the lessening darkness. She looked so peaceful. He leaned his head back against a crate; it was hours before sleep finally came.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Crenshaw stood by the door for a few minutes, watching the activity in the room. Most of the work stations were occupied. A quick glance at the duty board showed that the personnel belonging to the empty slots were out on assignment. Everyone was busy, or at least busy looking that way. Marushige presided over the room from his operations desk. She took the dark circles under his eyes as confirmation that the security chief had been up all night watching events develop on the situation screens that filled one wall.
Despite her personal interest in the case, she had slept. Let others do the groundwork and the back-checking. This one was not going to be a hot pursuit. She didn’t care much for the chase any more, but she intended to be in on the kill.
She crossed the room to the ops desk, avoiding several collisions with scurrying staff. She would normally have resented that they didn’t watch where they were going. When she had worked in such a room years ago, she had always been aware of what was going on around her. But today was different. She felt good, knowing that she had been vindicated.
“Told you he was a problem,” she said, coming up to Marushige.
He glanced at her, letting his mouth quirk up in an expression of annoyance. “Yes, you did. Do you feel that you have accomplished something?”
“If you had listened to me, this all could have been avoided.”
“Is that what you’ve told Sato?”
“I haven’t told Sato anything.”
Crenshaw ignored the sarcasm. She was really feeling expansive today. “He does want a full report, though. He seems concerned that your lack of security will reflect on him. He doesn’t like that sort of thing.”
“So speaks the great Lord Sato’s new mouth. I’ll make a report when I receive a request through channels. He’ll have to get in line behind President Huang.”
“The president has forsaken his computers and taken an interest in this? How fascinating.”
Marushige shot her a sour look. “Look, Crenshaw. I don’t need this right now. Huang’s interest is purely routine, just like this extraction. Verner was only a minor researcher and the woman was only an office lady. They are no loss to Renraku.”
Crenshaw chuckled. “All of this interest on your part is hardly routine.”
“As you said, Sato doesn’t like security problems of any kind.”
Crenshaw knew that Marushige was aware of Sato’s power. Hadn’t he assigned her to the Kansayaku, hoping that she would screw up in front of him? Sato’s presence was a two-edged sword. Marushige’s own performance was in the spotlight now. He desperately wanted to keep his job, and Crenshaw was in a position to slant the Kansayaku’s opinion. Sato’s displeasure would be enough to get Marushige sacked, which the security chief knew as well as she did. All he wanted to do was to tie up the loose ends and put this problem to rest. But there were too many connected with Verner’s extraction.
“The Dragon that scared off our pursuit craft suggests some real muscle behind this run,” Crenshaw said.
Marushige grunted noncommittally as he tried to read a report just handed him by an aide.
“Verner must have lifted something important.”
The security chief slapped the flimsy down. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“Just trying to understand what has happened, General,” she responded with false innocence. “Kansayaku Sato might ask me some questions. I would hate to have to tell him that the arcology security chief doesn’t know what happened or why.”
“I’ll bet you would.”
“I’ve told you before that I don’t want your job.” She was used to his disbelief on that point. “But I do want to see that thief Verner get what’s coming to him.”
“We’ve found no indication that he left with anything other than himself and his lady friend. Nothing reported missing from any of the labs and no Matrix security breaches. With his limited access, the likelihood that he carried off any significant data is extremely low.”
“Maybe his benefactors thought his connection with Aneki would be worth something.” She brayed a laugh. “They’ll be disappointed.”
“Yes, well, it won’t be the first time someone lost an investment in a speculation.”
True enough, she thought. But she was still convinced that Verner was involved in something more than a simple escape. He had shown himself too stupidly loyal to Renraku, too obsessed with his goblinized sister. Getting Sato to tell Verner that he could write letters to her should have kept him in the arcology. The wimp wouldn’t have run out. There was another angle to this operation, and she was going to find it.
“What about the guy on the gurney?” she asked.
“What about him? No other personnel are reported missing, so he’s not one of ours. We have several reports of some Rumplestiltskin’s customer getting sick just before the DocWagon aerial ambulance got there. That guy vanished only a few minutes before the runners came through with their gurney.”
“So you think he was the patient?”
“Our rooftop cameras recorded the extraction, and the sick man matches the physical description of the body on the gurney. Seventy percent certainty.”
“But not one hundred.”
“One cannot expect much better from only verbal descriptions and trideo surveillance of a masked and shrouded person.”
“That’s true.” So Verner wasn’t selling someone else out. Still, there had to be more. “Pity about the Ork dying. She might have told us something.”
Marushige gave a predatory smile.
“Oh, but she did,” he said, waving the report he had been trying to read.
“This identifies her as Greta Wilmark, a freelance runner. Her regular associates include Harry Sloan, Black Dog Sullivan, Kurt Leighton, and another Ork, Chin Lee. Sloan and Sullivan make an eighty percent match with the two paramedics on the landing pad, and analysis of the ambulance’s flight pattern suggests strongly that Leighton was the rigger in the pilot’s seat.
“That accounts for all of Wilmark’s regular team except for Lee, but runner teams are notoriously mutable. The female “doctor” was probably a substitute for Lee. All in all, it looks like a small-time operation.”
“Except for the Dragon,” Crenshaw insisted.
“That may have been an unrelated occurrence,” Marushige said with a shrug. “Our pilot did not stay around long enough to establish a link between the runners’ escape and the dracoform’s presence. It seems unlikely that such small-potatoes runners could have arranged such back-up. As soon as the report is prepared, we’ll close out the case.”
Crenshaw frowned. Marushige might be satisfied that he had all the answers he needed, but she was not. Even if everything was as simple as Marushige thought, she wanted Verner to be caught and punished.
“What are you planning to do about Verner?”
“Unless something new turns up, nothing. The costs of hunting down such petty fugitives are high. Past experience indicates that such an investment isn’t worth the yield.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sato won’t like you doing nothing.”
“You mean you don’t like it.” He recovered his composure as she lost her own. “Sato is a businessman. When he sees the reports and the cost estimates for any retaliatory operations, he will agree with me.”
Crenshaw’s day had gone sour. This should have been the opportunity to take down Verner for good, and legally, at that. Instead, it had twisted around. Marushige was going to let him get away.
Well, there had to be something she could do about it, and she would find it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“She’s stopping,” Kurt announced.
“About time,” griped Sloan.
“Whuzamatter? Your bottom sore from the ride?” Black Dog asked.
“At least I got something down there to be inconvenienced.”
“You’re looking for trouble, Sloan.”
“You wanna give it to me?”
“Dump it, you guys,” Kurt ordered, without bothering to look at them.
Sloan and Black Dog had been sniping at one another ever since they’d left the hideout, stopping only long enough to get through the border check station. Sam was relieved when they did, sure that their bickering would draw unwanted attention from the guards. Roe had assured him their travel passes through the Salish-Shidhe Council lands would pass inspection, but Sam was nervous the whole time the tribal representative examined them. The SSC cop apparently thought the group looked harmless enough because he didn’t give any of them a second look.
Before they left the metroplex, the runners had traded their panel van for two Chrysler-Nissan Caravaners. They ushered Sam and Hanae into one, while Roe and Chin Lee loaded their guest into the other. Once past the checkpoint, the two vehicles drove south separately, meeting occasionally at rendezvous points along what used to be Interstate 5. Only half an hour ago, they had linked up in the middle of nowhere and struck out cross-country. The vehicles were traveling without lights. Roe, being an Elf, could see quite well by moonlight. Kurt, the rigger, had to rely on the vehicle’s sensors feeding information to him through his link with the Caravaner. The ride was bumpy, but not as bad as Sam expected. Caravaners were built for this sort of thing.
When Kurt stopped their vehicle and popped the door, the fugitive moonlight revealed Roe standing beside her Caravaner. Its drab green paint and simulated wood
paneling blended well with the surrounding trees and bushes.
“Something wrong?” Kurt asked as Roe approached.
She shook her head. “Tessien is supposed to meet us here. Let’s break for awhile and rest. This cross-country driving is tough.”
“Get a rig,” Kurt suggested, tapping his datajack.
“Sure will. As soon as a car is the only thing I want to talk to.” Roe laughed lightly. “All right, chummers. Bail out and stretch your legs. Soon as he changes bottles on our guest, Chin Lee will be setting up the stove. We’ll grab some food before we move on.”
The runners responded quickly. Kurt enlisted Sloan to help him pull a pair of lanterns out of the back, and Black Dog trotted off to the bushes to take care of some personal business. Sam and Hanae were left standing with Roe.
“Katherine.”
“Yes, Hanae.”
“Where are we?”
“Near the Tir Tairngire border.”
“Are we going into Elfland?” Hanae eyes went wide with wonder.
Tir Tairngire encompassed the old U.S. state of Oregon and a bit more. The territory had been awarded to a powerful coalition of the Awakened in return for the help they had given the Native American Nations in their struggle to regain the land. It was not long before Tir Tairngire split off from the Sovereign Tribal Council that ruled NAN, declaring their independence. No one knew much about what went on within Tir Tairngire, for the Elves who conducted its business guarded its privacy. The only fact they broadcast was that much of the land had been returned to its natural state. Tir’s official policy encouraged all other nations to do the same, offering Elven magic to aid such efforts.
“Straight across the Tir is the shortest route to San Francisco.”
Sam cleared his throat. “It’s obvious you plan a surreptitious passage. I’ve always heard that the border is closed and well-patrolled.”
“Yuh, the suit’s right. They got Dragons and Griffins and stuff. And them fragging paladins. Nobody said we were gonna have to mix it with them paladins.” Sloan’s voice was angry, but Sam detected fear. The runner softened his tone. “I heard that if they catch you trying to run the border, they steal your mind.”
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