Choose your enemies carefully s-2

by Robert N. Charrette

  The gunman started to drop lower, trying to use a; i seat and the passenger in it for cover. Jason swung Sanchez around with one arm and shoved his other arm in the direction of the gunman. His movement looked deceptively awkward, almost haphazard. Sam knew that it was anything but. The Sandier TMP had a smartgun adapter, feeding targeting information through the induction pad in Jason's palm to establish a feedback circuit. When the crosshairs appeared on Jason's cybereyes, he could be sure that his weapon rwas effectively aimed at his target.

  Jason fired as he dropped into the seat that had been fSanchez's. The Indian's Sandier shrilled as it spat slugs to rip into the gunman's cover. Blood and polyfoam i stuffing erupted into the air. Jason's line of fire skipped up past the head rest and clipped the gunman in the shoulder as he ducked.

  Fishface's gun chattered behind Sam. Women's wails and screams of pain joined the noise of the guns. The sea of corporate faces that had been staring at the runners vanished beneath the waves of the head rests. The passengers were huddled, praying, hoping, and pleading that no fire be directed at them.

  Slow to react, Sam found himself the only one still standing. He reached for his holster. As his hand fclosed on the butt of his Narcoject Lethe, he knew he i wouldn't be fast enough. The gunman was rising for lanother shot.

  Again, Jason proved faster. The Sandier screamed it pounded slugs into the man. Sam watched as th% [slugs chewed away cloth and flesh to reveal the implanted armor that had saved the gunman from Jason's^ [first shot. The impact drove the man back, spinning Shim out into the aisle. More bullets gnawed at him, pounding their way through his protective plates. He started to collapse, his palm gun firing convulsively, the bullets spanging wildly around the cabin.

  The gunfire stopped as soon as the man hit the deck. With Fishface screaming orders that no one move, Jason rushed down the aisle to his victim. He ran a quick hand over the dead gunman. He found a wallet and, after only a brief glance, tossed it on the man's chest. He spat on the corpse and stood. "Azzie corpcop."

  Sam relaxed a bit. The attack wasn't the closing of a trap. The gunman might have been an air marshal, or he might have been an off-duty officer on his way somewhere. The man had just been trying to do his job and keep some shadowrunners from killing a corporate. Likely, he had seen the confrontation between Sam and Jason as his chance. He had bet on his own skills and lost.

  "Heat's on now, Twist," Jason said. "Pedro's dead weight we can't afford."

  Before Sam could respond to the samurai's latest challenge to his authority, he felt a hand grip the fringes of his jacket.

  "Seftors, you cannot leave me now." Sanchez's fear seemed to have redoubled.

  "The hell we can't," Jason snarled as he shoved past.

  Sanchez winced. His glance darted nervously to the door Otter had opened, then flickered around the cabin. Finally, his panicked stare alighted on Sam. "You have condemned me."

  "They saw that you were not involved," Sam assured him. "Your corporate masters understand this sort of thing. They will know that it was all a mistake."

  Sanchez shook his head vehemently. "The ahman.

  They will not believe."

  "Everyone here saw that he started the firefight.

  They'll tell your ahman what happened."

  "No, senor. The ahman will not believe."

  "Why not? You've got fifty witnesses."

  "No, senor. Look at them." Sam looked around the cabin at the faces that had reappeared. They were all strangers but he knew them. He knew the grim determination and fear that lived in every one of them. These people were already denying that Sanchez was one of them. Sam understood such draconian group dynamics from his years in Japan. There, an entire family or organization took the heat for the actions of a member. The only way to avoid destruction of the group was to deny the membership of the offender. Sanchez's fear told him that the Azzies believed in group responsibility, too.

  The cabin stank of death now. The cowering salaryman was righta151it wouldn't stop here if he left Sanchez. An Aztechnology security man and at least two other corporates were dead. Several more were injured. This was no longer a minor matter, and Sanchez's fellow corporate employees would not defend him. The ahman might decide that Sanchez was responsible despite the evidence. If the ahman condemned Sanchez, those who spoke in his defense. would be under suspiciona151if they didn't share his fate. I Aztechnology was not known for its understanding and [forgiveness. These people would not take the chance. ' Sam looked down into Sanchez's face. The man was '1 of fear. He was terrified of staying, terrified by s thought of leaving the corporation, terrified by the •dowrunners, and terrified of his own presumption I desperation. His fears fought their war openly on; face. i understood those fears. He reached down and ok Sanchez by the shoulders, drawing him up. "All right," he said. "Let's go." I The gratitude in the man's face almost masked the

  The room was quiet, but Dodger knew he wasn't alone in the darkened library. His knowledge wasn't anything mystic; spells, conjurings, and astral voyages were not his kind of magic. It wasn't that he heard them, or smelled them, or, as yet, saw any evidence of them, either. His awareness might have been due to some combination of his physical senses, operating below his consciousness. He didn't need to know how it worked; the fact that it had worked was enough. Still, there was no sense of danger. He had been on enough shadowruns to know that feeling. At least for the moment, whoever watched wasn't planning to attack.

  "I told you he would be decking."

  The voice was deep and throbbed with vindication. Dodger knew that voice too well. Estios had never liked him and never would. The black-haired elf had squared off against Dodger from the first time they had met. Like their hair colors, their personalities were opposites. There was no attraction between them save a mutual call to hostility.

  With slow deliberation, Dodger prolonged his disconnection from the Matrix, tapping in a few more commands before logging off. He took the connector from the datajack on his left temple and held it with just enough pressure that the reel wound it smoothly and the plug nestled safely into its niche. Sliding the compartment cover closed, he turned his chair around.

  Estios was glowering at him, as he expected. Professor Sean Laverty stood by Estios's side. That was

  also expected; the officious Estios's words only made sense if he had the professor's attention. Chatterjee stood on the other side of the professor. The Asian elf's presence was not expected but not surprising either; he was a frequent resident of the mansion. Hanging back near the door was the real surprise, Teresa O'Connor. Dear, sweet Teresa. If he had known she was at the mansion, he would never have come.

  The professor waited until Dodger wrenched his eyes away from Teresa before speaking. "Dodger, you know the rules."

  Indeed he did, but when had that stopped him from doing what needed to be done? Sliding the corners and skipping over the bounds were what made life worth living. True as that was, there were some matters best dealt with carefully. "The cyberdeck's running a sidecar copy now, Professor. I didn't break any of your rules."

  "You ran the Matrix without authorization," Estios accused.

  "A decker always runs without authorization. 'Tis what decking is all about."

  Estios's eyes narrowed. "Cut the snow. You've spent enough time here to know that no one connects to the Matrix from the mansion without clearing it first."

  "And if anyone, even you, Estios, can find anything i compromising in the copy of the run, I shall submit I to any discipline that the professor deems proper.''

  1"We don't need to see your concocted evidence, alley runner. You're not welcome here any longer. Leave now.''

  Estios stepped forward, apparently ready to enforce his demand, but Laverty restrained him with a touch on his arm. "Dodger may stay as long as he wishes." Estios turned his head sharply and looked down into Laverty's eyes. "That's unwise." "Technically, Dodger is abusing your hospitality,

  Professor," Chatterjee said. "It sets
a terrible precedent."

  "He should be expelled and banned," Estios said.

  "Dodger is free to come and go as he pleases, Mr.

  Estios," Laverty said.

  Chatterjee inclined his head in acceptance of the professor's decision, but Estios just scowled and stepped back to his place at Laverty's side. Laverty gave the taller elf a rueful shake of his head.

  "Come, come, Mr. Estios. I feel confident that Dodger would never betray this house. He is difficult on occasion and less than mannerly at most times, but his heart is great. I am sure that there is a good and sufficient reason for his actions,"

  "Verily," Dodger agreed. " Tis most assured that

  I meant no disrespect for you and your hospitality, Professor. Circumstances conspired to force me to this end."

  "Don't they always?" Laverty said, then chuckled. "Circumstances seem to conspire against you regularly."

  Dodger shrugged. "Time is an unreal concept in the forest. I stayed too long and found myself in need of a safe place to conduct my business. Lacking access to any other place where my flesh would be safe while I roamed the Matrix, I came here."

  "You could have decked from your precious forest," Estios said. "You've done that often enough."

  "Alas, I had no transmitter. I had not expected to be gone so long, and so neglected to make such preparations. When I found that time had passed more swiftly than expected, I found myself in an awkward situation. Were it not for my obligations to my fellow. runners, I would never have imposed so."

  "What do you know of obligations, alley runner?"

  "I know mat a person is obligated to follow his conscience rather than the letter of orders imposed from above. Surely, even a grand soldier such as yourself can grasp such a basic concept?''

  "Enough. There have been enough disturbances of the peace in this house. I do not need you two tearing at each other," Laverty said. "Dodger, this run wouldn't be one of Samuel Verner's, would it?"

  Seeing no harm in admitting it, Dodger said, "In truth, it is."

  Laverty was thoughtful for a moment. The other elves waited silently; they knew better than to interrupt the professor's thoughts. At last, he said, "You have shown a remarkable loyalty toward that man."

  ' 'Any loyalty is remarkable for an alley runner.''

  "I said enough, Mr. Estios." There was no harshness in Laverty's voice, but Estios looked stung just the same. Laverty's attention remained on Dodger. "Another data run? Verner is still searching for his sister?"

  "Always that," Dodger replied. The professor's renewed interest in Sam made Dodger a little uncomfortable. "This run was simply business. Even a knight errant needs operating capital."

  "Another theft," Estios scoffed.

  " 'Twas was no theft."

  "Call it what you want," Estios continued, ignoring Laverty's sharp look. "You can't alter its nature."

  Dodger's initial annoyance at Estios's suggestion of larceny eased as he saw the professor's reaction. Estios lost points by being the first to break the imposed truce. Unable to resist, Dodger said, "Some people never change."

  A slight motion near the door caught his attention and he immediately regretted his words. In the exchange with Estios, he had forgotten that Teresa was there. She had been so quiet. Thinking that he had no way to fool the professor, but that he might cover his chagrin from the others, he launched into an explanation of what had happened.

  "Our run was supposed to be a simple extraction. A friendly one, at that. The subject had supposedly concluded a contract with new employers, but had failed to secure release from his current corporation. Mr. Johnson assured us that the subject was not in a sensitive position, so it should have been a clean inand-out. Someone hosed. The pickup apparently had no idea what was going on. He did not even seem aware that Sam and the others were there for him."

  "A deliberate ruse to trap Verner," Chatterjee suggested.

  Dodger wondered just how much Chatterjee knew. The dark-skinned elf had not been present when Sam had been at the mansion last summer, and normally, he would not have been briefed on old business. Perhaps he only drew the obvious conclusion. "If 'twere a trap, 'twere a poor one. There seemed no reasonable chance of closure."

  "A Renraku reprisal, then?"

  Chatterjee's mention of the corporation from which Sam had fled banished any remaining thoughts of innocence. Chatterjee's knowledge was a sign that the professor retained an interest in Sam. "An unlikely circumstance."

  Laverty nodded. "A conclusion based on your research into Mr. Johnson's real identity."

  Dodger tried his best offended look. "A client expects to maintain his confidentiality. 'Tis most unhealthy to inquire into such matters."

  "Dodger?" Laverty smiled, and Dodger knew his ruse had never had a chance.

  "Andrew Glover of Amalgamated Technologies and Telecommunications. Mister Glover is a vicepresident, on the fast track with a bullet. His firm has a pedigree that's about as pure European as they come.

  'Tis not the slightest hint of Renraku influence. Of course," Dodger added with a sly grin, "there does seem to be a connection to Saeder-Krupp."

  Laverty raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Estios did the reacting.

  "Saeder-Krupp! They're Lofwyr's puppets. If the beast is making moves in Seattle…"

  Laverty's voice was stiff as he clipped Estios into silence. "Mr. Estios, you are being most disruptive today. The dragon's plans are not of importance in this matter. Simple stock ownership is insufficient evidence of the dragon's involvement. Although ATT is owned by Saeder-Krupp, the corporation remains essentially independent, and I think it unlikely that Lofwyr even knows of this operation. Dodger, you did say that your Mr. Johnson was Glover?"

  "Andrew."

  Laverty nodded to himself. "Though I doubt your liend is enmeshed in some dragon's schemes again, I link that he will have need of his budding magical Italents."

  Dodger understood the implied question. He even ad some idea of the offer that was being made. "He^ till won't come to see you."

  "I understand. His rigorous logical training and scintific orientation made a very convincing argument jat his mind would be oriented to the hermetic tratotion. Your report of his vision of the Dog totem was ost startling. I had not conceived of that possibility. was a most embarrassing oversight. He probably rfds me in little respect, since I misdiagnosed his

  "ling." iAh, thought Dodger, if you only knew. " 'Tis not reason. Despite surviving dragonfire, Sam barely iieves in his magical powers. 'Tis unlikely that he aid fault you for thinking him a mage when he him –

  "I had to."

  "Have you come back?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "I see." She pocketed the chip and stepped around him. Pausing at the door, she said, "Come talk to me when you are sure."

  She was gone.

  The darkness and ancient books his only witnesses, he softly vowed, "I will."

  Sam looked down at Sally Tsung. She was a beautiful woman. From her artfully tinted ash blonde hair streaming across the pillow, to her slim and shapely feet poking from beneath the rumpled blankets, she was the stuff of a lonely man's dreams. Only she was no dream, and he hadn't been lonely for months. He just didn't understand what she saw in him.

  Sally was tall and trim, fleshed where a woman should be fleshed. But hard muscle underlay those shape defining curves. A Chinese dragon, vivid in its tattoo colors, slithered along her right arm. The beast's bewhiskered chin rested on the back of her hand, whose slender fingers were half closed into a fist, almost hiding the missing last joint of her little finger.

  She had never told Sam how she had come to lose that joint. Despite what he knew had been an adventurous life, she carried no other scars. Her lack of scars she laughed off, attributing her smooth skin to the power of magical healing. Whenever Sam tried to ask about the finger, she found something more interesting to talk about. If he pressed her, she always had an appointment for which she was late. He had given up trying
.

  The real issue wasn't the history of her finger. As free she was with her body, she had never let him touch her past. He hoped that in time she might open up and trust him, but as yet his hopes were unfulfilled. Sally Tsung remained mysterious.

  A cold nose pressed against his naked back told him that he was not the only one awake in the apartment. Rolling carefully to avoid disturbing Sally, Sam slid from the bed; its ancient springs squeaked only a mild protest. Inu lapped eagerly at his face, and Sam rumpled the dog's fur in an equally happy greeting.

  Sam showered and dressed while Inu waited patiently by the door. Sam grabbed his fringed jacket on his way to the door. He really didn't think he'd need its ballistic cloth lining for his run with Inu. Dark hadn't fallen yet, so most of the predators were still abed. Still, the armor lining functioned as insulation, making the fringed synthleather the warmest coat he had.

  His runs with Inu gave him time to think. Or more precisely, time to worry. Tonight was supposed to be another magic lesson, and he wasn't looking forward to it. The lessons were not going well. No matter how patiently Sally explained the theory, Sam seemed incapable of grasping any but the simplest of spells. Even those only came after he'd had time to work out his own symbologies. The texts he'd gotten from Professor Laverty seemed only to confuse matters more. Sally insisted that he'd have more luck with ritual magics, but so far she had respected his refusal to even try them. Conjuring spirits seemed wrong, almost unholy. Why couldn't it have been target practice night, even if that meant dealing with Ghost? With a magic lesson on the docket, facing Ghost's coldness seemed preferable to Sally's vituperous condemnations of his intelligence. Sam knew that intelligence had little to do with getting a spell right. Even Ziggy, that street kid who dogged Sally's steps, could get the spells going. He had an IQ several points below Inu's. Still, if it had been gun night, he was sure he would have preferred it to be magic night.