"She’s right. It’s okay," Kellan said. She sighed and pushed herself up off the cot, pulling off her sweater and tossing it on the floor. Orion gave her a concerned glance.
"You all right?" he asked in a low voice.
"Yeah, just tired. I just want to get this over with."
He nodded and went to gather his own gear as Kellan sat down at the table, got out her deck, slipped on the trode net and pulled up the Morningstar file. She glanced over the file information floating on the virtual screen superimposed over her vision. As she had suspected, it was a pretty small file, probably text-only, maybe a few graphics; certainly no video, sim-sense or other complicated data. Maybe it was e-mail or some other kind of correspondence. Kellan looked over at Midnight, getting suited up to go out again, and commanded her deck to run a decryption program on the file.
It only took a few moments. Apparently the data encryption was old. So was the file, in fact. Kellan noted the date stamp and realized the file was last modified nearly twenty years ago! With another glance at Midnight's back, Kellan opened the file, and the first page scrolled up in the air in front of her. She’d guessed right—it was a text file.
Project Morningstar, Kellan read. Dr. Marc Thierault, ThD, Supervisor. A study on advanced applications in conjuring for—
"How’s that file coming?" Midnight asked from behind Kellan’s chair. Kellan nearly jumped to her feet, her head turning so fast that she almost dislodged the trode net.
"Fine! Um, fine," she replied, fumbling to slot a blank optical chip into the deck’s port. She closed the file with a blink, then ordered the deck to burn a copy to the chip.
"Good. I’m going to make a call. I’ll be back in a minute." Midnight stepped out of the room, phone in hand, and Kellan pulled the chip from the deck. As the door closed, she stared at it for a moment, then slotted another chip into the port. Orion came over and sat opposite her.
"So?" he asked quietly, one eyebrow raised.
"So what?" Kellan replied, not looking away from the virtual display.
"So what’s in the file?"
Kellan didn’t bother to deny opening it. "I didn’t get much of a look," she said in a low voice. "Something about advanced applications in conjuring."
"So, spirits and stuff?"
Kellan pulled the second chip from the port, took off the trode net, and powered down her deck. "Yeah. I don’t know how advanced it can really be, though, since the file is twenty years old. Anything in it has got to be pretty out-of-date by now."
Orion’s eyebrows shot up. "Doesn’t sound to me like dirt to embarrass a company rival."
Kellan shrugged, running a hand through her hair. She stashed her cyberdeck back in her bag, grabbed her armor-lined jacket and pulled it on over her tee-shirt. "Maybe it has some skeletons in it that Daddy Telestrian wants covered up from back in the day. Who knows?" Orion shook his head slowly. "I can’t wait to get out of here," he muttered.
"Yeah, me, too." She glanced down at the chip she was still holding in her hand, then took Orion’s hand and pressed the chip into it.
"What’s this for?"
"Insurance," she said simply. "I don’t know what it is about this place, but it gives me the creeps. I’ve been on edge ever since we left Seattle."
"I don’t think it’s Tir Tairngire," the elf replied. "I think it’s—"
Midnight opened the door and stepped back into the room, tucking her phone away. Her glance at their clasped hands and the faintest hint of a smile said she was surprised not to have caught Kellan and Orion in an embrace like before. Orion slipped the hand holding the datachip into his pocket.
"It’s on," she said. "Let’s go, Kellan."
"I’m ready," Orion replied, but Midnight shook her head.
"They wanted me to come alone. I was able to talk them into two of us, but no more."
"Then you should take Orion," Kellan said. "He’ll watch your back."
"It’s much more important to have magical backup," Midnight countered.
"Kel, go," Orion said as Kellan started to protest. "Let’s just get this over with."
Midnight nodded in agreement. "Listen to him. We don’t have time to argue."
* * *
Hacking into Eve’s e-mail was the easy part. Jackie knew some of the system’s vulnerabilities—she’d made a point of studying the Cross system when it became clear that her relationship to Eve was going to develop beyond a casual one. But she’d had no need to exploit those weaknesses until now. Decrypting the correspondence took a bit more work, but it turned out to be well worth the effort.
"Drek," the decker muttered as she finished reading the e-mail. This didn’t look good at all. Not only had Eve been in contact with Cross’ head office more times in the past couple of days than most employees at her level were in the average month, she’d also made arrangements to fly to Quebec immediately for a high-level meeting, promising to present an extremely important document upon her arrival.
Jackie had poked around in Eve’s e-mail before, and she knew that Eve invariably created a draft file of information she planned to present to any level of management. The draft and the final file she created resided together on her personal node at the Cross branch office in Seattle, and Eve would also carry a copy of the file on her pocket secretary. Jackie had no trouble finding the file she wanted. Eve had done a serviceable job of protecting the file, but her efforts were no match for Jackie’s skill and determination.
What Jackie found in the file made her very glad she’d decided to ignore her reservations against crossing her client. The file contained all the intelligence Jackie had provided to Eve, linked to company information identifying Akimura as a former agent of the Seraphim. Jackie had only heard rumors of the top-secret division of Cross corporate security; professional black ops, full-time shadowrunners working for the company, so she didn’t recognize a lot of the organization Eve was outlining. One thing was certain, though: megacorps like Cross didn’t let go of their agents easily, if at all.
Eve’s file laid out a plan for sanctioning Akimura in such a way as to neatly tie up any loose ends involving him and some "unfinished project" in Tir Tairngire. So there is a connection, Jackie thought, continuing to read. Eve planned to present the whole package to her superiors as a fait accompli, probably working under the assumption that it was easier to ask forgiveness than wait for permission, and possibly lose the credit to some other corporate climber.
No wonder Eve was acting like I’d just handed her the find of the year, Jackie thought. She had underestimated the fixer’s reaction. She thought Eve had tried and failed to cover some small excitement over the intel about Akimura. Now it looked more like she had done well not doing cartwheels. This could be a coup to make her career: bringing down a rogue company agent who’d managed to avoid retribution for years, and fixing whatever dust-up he’d been involved with all those years ago.
Apart from feeling like she should have asked for more money, Jackie wouldn’t normally have cared one way or the other about Eve’s plans, or about being outmaneuvered. If Akimura slipped up and Cross was going to come down on him like an orbital mass driver, well, that was life in the shadows. The problem was in the implications Jackie saw in the file, the timetable and the end point for what was clearly planned as a dramatic presentation to the company.
Company assets already in place, said the concluding bullet point, to ensure immediate sanction and to sanitize the scene. Eve meant to hand her bosses a gun, pointed at Akimura’s head, so that they could pull the trigger or authorize her to do it. Corporate assets set up to close in when the order came down, everything neatly in place. They would also make sure there were no witnesses or loose ends, which meant . . .
"Anyone with Akimura will be taken out, too," Jackie muttered. "Damn." The Cross agents would try and minimize what they’d call "collateral damage," but they wouldn’t discriminate, and any eyewitnesses to the operation would be killed as a matter of security.
&n
bsp; "Damn," Jackie repeated. Akimura was a walking target, and anyone with him was going to get caught in the cross fire. That included Lothan and G-Dogg and, if they found her, Kellan and anyone with her. Jackie couldn’t get in touch to warn any of them. Any Matrix communication could be intercepted, especially if they were already under surveillance. If Cross decided she was a loose end instead of a valuable asset, Jackie could count herself right alongside any other "collateral damage" of the operation. For all she knew, things were already underway, just awaiting a final order from the home office to execute, literally, the final stages. There was nothing in Eve’s notes on the actual timing or just how far she planned to reach out, but that didn’t mean these other assets weren’t part of the plan.
"So," she wondered out loud, staring at the text on the virtual display, "the question is, what do I do about it?"
* * *
It was getting dark as Kellan and Midnight got into the car and pulled out onto the street. She didn’t ask Midnight where they were going; odds were she wouldn’t say, and Kellan didn’t really know Portland well enough for the answer to mean much, anyway. She just had to trust that Midnight knew where she was going and what she was doing, and that the run would soon be over.
"When we get there—" Midnight began.
"Yeah, I know, you’ll do the talking," Kellan replied.
"I was going to say, I’m counting on you to keep an eye out for any magical trouble," the elf said. "That’s not one of my talents."
"Sorry."
Midnight shrugged. "Don’t worry about it. This’ll all be over soon."
They turned smoothly and accelerated onto a main street. The traffic was heavier, but still light compared to Seattle at the same time of day. Probably more traffic and emissions restrictions here, Kellan thought idly.
A faint pop from the tiny commlink in her ear caught Kellan’s attention, and she sat up in her seat.
"I think I might have some company here," Orion said, "and it doesn’t sound like the usual dinnertime rush."
"Get out of there," Midnight said, indicating she’d heard the broadcast, too. "Get out right now."
"No drek," Orion replied, "I’m—" a dull whump interrupted the transmission, and then all they heard over the link was the sound of a hacking cough.
"Orion? Orion!" Kellan said. There was no reply except for a loud thud, followed by silence.
"Orion!" Kellan repeated.
"Kellan, stop," Midnight said. "Turn off your link. We don’t want anyone else to pick up on the signal." Kellan turned to look at the other woman in shock and horror. "What are you talking about?" she cried. "Orion is in trouble. We have to go back!"
Midnight only raised an eyebrow and gave Kellan a look of pity. "We can’t go back," she said like she was explaining to a child. "We couldn’t possibly get back there in time to do any good."
"I could astrally project—" Kellan began, but Midnight shook her head, changing lanes and heading for an upcoming exit.
"And do what once you got there?" she asked.
"You wouldn’t be able to affect anyone. All you could do is watch, and there’s a good chance they brought along magical backup."
"They . . . Telestrian?"
"Odds are. You’d just get fragged yourself."
"But how did they find us so fast?"
Midnight shrugged.
"You said it was taken care of!"
"It appears I was wrong," she said with an air of icy calm, turning off the main road.
"Where are we going?" Kellan asked.
"We need to get out of the city, then out of Tir Tairngire," Midnight answered. "This deal is blown. Our meeting could be compromised, too."
"But we can’t just leave! Orion—"
"Orion is on his own!" Midnight snapped. "There’s nothing you can do for him! Going back now would be suicide and you know it, Kellan! He knew the risks, and I don’t think he’d want you throwing your life away to come after him."
"But . . ." Kellan began, then the words died in her throat. Midnight was right. The one thing Orion wouldn’t want was her doing something stupid to help him. She would never hear the end of it.
"He’s dead, Kellan, you can’t help him." The image from her dream came rushing back: Orion’s limp, bloody body, lying in her arms.
"No!"
"You can’t help him, Kellan. Let go .. ." Her dream was true. It had come to pass.
"I still have some contacts," Midnight was saying. "They should be able to supply us with a safe way out, though it can’t be the way we came in." Kellan wasn’t really listening. She looked at the buildings and streets of the city flashing past, painted purple and red by the last rays of the setting sun, and blurring as she blinked back the tears at the thought of all the things left unsaid and undone because of the reality of life in the shadows.
Chapter 15
Orion wanted to put his fist through the wall in frustration, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He wished he’d had just a few more minutes to talk with Kellan, to tell her . . . Well, a lot of things, but he’d been about to tell her that he didn’t think it was Tir Tairngire or the run that was giving her the creeps— it was Midnight.
Orion didn’t trust Midnight at all, and he didn’t know why Kellan trusted her so much. Well, that wasn’t quite true. It was obvious Kellan admired Midnight’s experience and her style. She wanted Midnight’s approval; she wanted someone who knew the shadows to tell her she was doing a good job. She certainly didn’t get that approval from anyone else, especially not Lothan.
Kellan told him once that she never really knew her mother. He figured that in some ways, Midnight must be like the mother she never had, and Kellan wanted to live up to her example.
Orion blew out an exasperated breath. Some example, he thought. Though if he was honest with himself, he would admit that he’d felt the same way when he first joined the Ancients. He remembered how he had admired guys like Green Lucifer, omaes who seemed to own a room when they walked into it. He had wanted to be just like them, to have respect—their respect. Now, more than anything, he wanted Kellan’s respect. He wanted . . .
With an explosive sigh, Orion got up and started pacing the confines of the small room like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair and pulling it out of the ponytail. He just wanted this run to be over! He wanted to get ten minutes alone with Kellan so they could talk—really talk—about what had happened between them. He wanted to get her away from Midnight’s constant supervision, just for a little while.
He picked up his commlink and fit it over his ear, thinking that he would call Kellan—to tell her what, though? To be careful? She already knew that. He turned and picked up his sword from where he had laid it on the table. Maybe cleaning and checking his weapons would take his mind off of—
A noise caught Orion’s attention—more precisely, a lack of noise. The continuous hum of activity from downstairs had died away, and now the building was unusually quiet. Odd, since the restaurant was still open, and he should have been able to hear the murmur of customer conversations and the sounds of the employees working in the kitchen. Orion cocked his head and listened carefully.
For a moment there was nothing. Then he caught the sound of shuffling, brief movement—difficult to place. He drew his sword from its sheath, reached for his pistol, and keyed his commlink.
"I think I might have some company here," he said, "and it doesn’t sound like the usual dinnertime rush." There was a crackle and a pause on the other end.
"Get out of there," Midnight replied curtly. "Get out right now."
"No drek," Orion said, "I’m—"
He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Something came crashing through the window to hit the floor of the room, trailing a cloud of white smoke. Gas! Orion turned his head, coughing as the acrid vapors stung his eyes and made his throat and lungs burn. The broken window was out as an escape route, so he headed for the door.
A booted foot kicked in the door as thin red be
ams of laser light swept the gas-filled room. Dark figures, their faces obscured by the insectlike features of gas masks, leveled rifles high and low.
"Drop your weapons!" an electronically muffled and modulated voice shouted from behind a mask. "Down on the floor! Now!"
Coughing and choking on the gas, Orion hesitated for only a second before letting sword and gun slip from his fingers to clatter to the floor. He fell to his knees as the dark-clad figures approached, methodically sweeping around the room.
"Orion? Orion!" came Kellan’s voice over the commlink.
He tried to say something, to warn her, to tell her what was happening—anything—but coughing was consuming all his oxygen. He looked up just in time to see the butt of a rifle as it connected with the side of his head, and everything went black.
* * *
Rough hands slapped Orion awake, and he was aware of voices growling at him as his head swam.
"Avano! Avano, versoniel!" someone said, and Orion opened his eyes. The hard-eyed elf looked at him with contempt, letting him slump back onto the hard cot once it was clear he was awake. It took a moment for Orion’s vision to clear. His throat felt like someone had scrubbed it with steel wool.
"Ni. . . ni hengar Sperethiel," he managed to croak. I do not speak Elvish.
"Humph," the elf snorted derisively, as if to say, "Of course not."
"Get up," he said.
"Who are you—?" Orion began, but the elf lunged forward, grabbing his shirt in both hands and hauling Orion to his feet.
"I said get up, makkanageel You will stand respectfully when you address your betters, gutter trash."
"That’s enough, Javin," said another voice, and Orion turned to see the only door in the room open to admit two others. They were both elves, but quite different in dress and manner from the elf called Javin. He wore military-style fatigues matching those of the men who broke into the safe house.
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