The door opened and admitted a blast of noise from the band starting to warm up in the main room. The sound was muffled briefly as a burly ork squeezed through the doorway. Dressed in leathers and fatigues, the metahuman entered and looked around with an air of casual caution that marked a man who was no stranger to dangerous places. Following hard on the ork's heels was the elven Mr. Johnson who Neko had met briefly upon his arrival in Seattle. The elf's clothes were different now, as were his hair and the fashionable face paint. Despite the superficial differences, the frown that darkened the slimmer metahuman's features when the ork put an arm around his shoulders told Neko that this was the same elf. It was not a lover's embrace, more a possessive statement of control. The elf was clearly discomfited by the contact, but the ork was only amused, to judge by his half-concealed grin.
'"Bout time," Greerson grumbled.
The elf ignored him and shrugged away from contact with the ork. Unfazed by his rejection, the big ork joined the others of his kind, with shoulder-slapping and arm-punching all around. The others addressed him as Kham, another name Neko recognized as associated with that of Sally Tsung, a runner and magician of no little reputation in certain circles. Neko had once heard the ork mentioned as muscle for one of Tsung's operations. As he recalled, that run had been successful, but one run did not a career make. Perhaps Kham's presence meant that Sally Tsung was involved in this operation, or possibly Tsung's decker Dodger. That would shift the balance in this muscle-heavy crowd. If one or both of them were on the run, Neko decided it would be a good omen.
The elf walked around the table and took the empty seat at the head. "Good evening, gentlemen, and lady," he said, with a condescending nod to Sheila. A broad-shouldered female ork the others referred to as The Weeze snarled, and the elf amended his salutation. "Ah, excuse me, ladies. I'm glad to see that you are all punctual."
"Unlike some people," Greerson said.
Neko noted that Kham glanced openly around the table, obvious% assessing the gathered runners. The ork stared curiously at Neko for a moment, a slight frown on his face. He seemed puzzled by Neko's presence in this crowd of heavy muscle. Neko offered him a slight smile. Let the ork wonder.
"I have for each of you a paper describing the deal," the elf said, passing a sheet to each of them. "Please read it quickly, as the paper is unstable and will decompose in a few minutes."
Greerson barely glanced at his sheet before tossing it to the table. "Price is too low."
Neko checked the compensation line on his sheet, and surreptitiously compared it to the sheets held by one of the razorguys and The Weeze, on either side of him. Both were the same as his. Likely, Greerson's was too. Though the sum was more than Neko was used to receiving for a simple bodyguard run, he said, "Greerson-san is correct."
The elf's stony expression did not change. "The fee was previously agreed upon, Mr. Greerson, Mr. Neko."
Greerson raised one stubby leg onto the table's edge and levered his chair back until it rested on two legs. "First price is always negotiable, especially when you got this many bodies involved."
"The number involved is not your concern. You were informed of your remuneration for this run. If you had a concern regarding compensation, you could have expressed it earlier."
"If I'd had any idea how many bodies you were talking, I would have. The money's definitely too low for me to play traffic cop."
Kham addressed the elf. "If da dwarf won't play, we can replace him wit anodder of our guys."
"Replace me?" Greerson laughed. "I didn't know you had fifty more warm bodies, orkboy."
"Don't need fifty to replace you, halfer," Sheila growled. She was the ork who had sho'wn blatant dislike upon seeing Greerson. Clearly, the two had a history.
"You're right, orkgirl. If you're a typical example of the quality, you'll need more."
Kham gave Sheila a look that quieted her, then said. "Look, Greerson, ya don't wanna work, dat's okay. Buzz, and let da rest of us get on wit da biz." The dwarf tried to start a stare-down, but Kham turned and addressed the elf. "Look, dis crew's all muscle. We facing any magic in da opposition?"
"Do not concern yourself," the elf replied quickly, having apparently anticipated such a question. "Any magical problems will be more than sufficiently countered."
"Heard that before," said the blond cyberboy.
"And it was a lie then, too," his dark-haired comjM panion added. JB
The elf gave them a plastic smile, shared it with the rest of the runners, and said, "Gentlemen, and ladies, I assure you that this run has a low probability of trouble."
Greerson spoke for them all. "Then why so much firepower?''
Again, the elf answered rapidly. "Insurance only. My employer is a cautious sort. You are all to be present simply as fire support in case of trouble. Trouble, I might add, that is most unlikely to come."
"And if it does?" asked the raven-haired cyberboy.
"What then?" the blond cyberboy queried. JB
"Then, you perform as per contract." '™
"For which we will receive a combat bonus," Greerson stated.
The elf stared at him. "That is not stipulated in the contract."
Making a sour face, Greerson said, "Maybe you ought to think about putting it in."
Narrowing his eyes, the elf spoke through gritted teeth. "There are other runners."
"Which you won't be able to line up on your short fuse, elf. You've got top talent here." Greerson paused to scan the orks. "Well, mostly, anyway. You won't be able to match this line-up in your time frame."
'.'Your suggestion has the smell of extortion, Mr. Greerson." The elf's voice was low, almost threatening.
"Call it what you want, elf. I'll still only think of it as good business."
"I am not authorized to increase the up-front payment."
"That's fine. I'm not a bandit. Deposit a suitable amount in a secured account and I'll be satisfied," Greerson offered cheerfully.
"I must confer with my employer." "You do that. But confer to a substantial monetary conclusion, otherwise you may find nobody to dance with you when it's time to rock and roll."
"You realize that all participants must share in any increase, Mr. Greerson."
"Sure. I ain't greedy. So long as there's a double share for me, everything will be fine."
Sheila snorted. "Double for a halfer? Seems like that only adds up to a single share."
Without looking at her, Greerson said, "Did I say double? I meant triple. I forgot the charge for excessive aggravation."
Sheila started around the table, but Rabo and The Weeze scurried around to block her. Greerson remained seated, unflappable. The cyberboys watched tensely, though their placid expressions did not change. The elven Mr. Johnson looked on with detached amusement. As the orks restrained their own, Neko wondered if his trip to America was turning out to be what he had hoped. A dead runner had no prospects, and an unstable team made for dead runners.
The fair-haired cyberboy asked for a clarification on One of the points in the synopsis, and Mr. Johnson elaborated. There were a handful of other questions, Johnson fielding each in turn and dismissing the runners' concerns. Sometime in the middle of a discussion of the timing for the rendezvous with Johnson outside the city, the papers started to crumble. The meeting followed suit. After going around the table and asking each runner if he or she agreed to the run, the elf left. Greerson and the cyberboys vacated the premises with identical dispatch, leaving Neko alone with the orks. Neko took the opportunity to approach Kham.
"I thought we might coordinate efforts to cross the border to the rendezvous point."
The big ork looked down at him, the. expression on his misshapen face slightly quizzical. He rubbed the stub of his broken lower tusk. "Ya wanta cooperate?" "That is a wise course, is it not?" Neko said, giving his most polite smile.
"Yeah, sometimes." The ork nodded. "Why ya talking ta me and not dem odder guys?"
"You are the Kham who has run with S
ally Tsung and The Dodger?"
The ork's expression changed to a frown. "Ain't seen ya around town before." "I have only recently arrived." "So how da ya know who I run wit?" the ork asked suspiciously. "I am in the biz."
The ork didn't like that answer, for his eyes narrowed to slits. "You know da dogboy?" "I do not understand your reference." "Verner." At Neko's blank look, Kham added, "His street name is Twist."
So ka. This ork was smarter than he looked, to turn the probe around so quickly. Would the ork prefer an affirmative or a negative response to his question? The metahuman's physiognomy was different enough that Neko could not easily read his expression. Let the truth serve. "I have been involved in some of his biz."
The ork's smile was particularly toothy. "Den maybe ya won't be a liability."
Neko had been thinking reciprocal thoughts about the ork. "You need have no fears in that regard." "Confident pup."
The comment seemed uncalled for. "Pup is slang for a young dog, is it not? My name means 'cat' in English, so that makes your remark inaccurate. And if I understand the contextual use correctly, it is doubly inappropriate."
"No need ta get in an uproar, catboy." In a bewildering shift, the ork's mood changed and he laughed. "Why'd ya wanta know if I know Sally and da elf?" "A personal matter."
With another mercurial shift, the ork became serious. "Look, kid. I may not like da elf much, but I ain't gonna set him up, and if yer looking ta make trouble fer Lady Tsung, yer gonna be lying in da streets instead of walking on 'em."
There was no mistaking the ork's fierce loyalty to Sally Tsung. Perhaps it was even more than loyalty. In any case, mollification was in order. "It's nothing like that, I assure you. I just want to meet them face to face."
"Don't know where da elf is. And da Lady's busy." The last was said with a frown. Kham was obviously unhappy about something to do with his relationship with Tsung.
Further elaboration might be enlightening. "I would especially like to meet Lady Tsung."
That earned Neko a sidelong glare from the ork. "What are ya, a fan?"
"After a fashion."
, "Yeah, well, she don't like fanboys." "I assure you, it is not like that." "You do an awful lot of assuring." "I merely meant to be polite." "She's still busy."
"Perhaps after this run?" Neko suggested. "Yeah, maybe." Kham's mood shifted again, going pensive. "If we all survive."
Neko accepted his response with a bow of the head. There was always the matter of survival. The ork took the gesture as a sign that the conversation was closed, and told his group to meet him at a specific time and place. Neko was not specifically addressed, but he was allowed to overhear, suggesting that Kham expected him also to show up on time at the named location as a test of his suitability and reliability. The move was neither unexpected nor unacceptable.
Neko watched Kham and his orks leave, then sat down at the table. Idly he blew the ashes of the decomposed briefing across the table. He would sit and wait a while to see how long it took before the proprietor evicted him. If he was going to operate here in Seattle, he was going to have to learn all the finer points of its shadow world.
Kham slipped loose bullets into a spare magazine as he scanned the woods around him. With clouds scudding along on the night wind, the moonlight was fitful. Not that he really needed it; he was used to the slightly greasy feel of the caseless ammunition, used to loading by feel. But tonight the slickness of the ammo made him think of other slippery things. Like Mr. Johnsons who sent you out on runs in which they didn't have to risk their own necks, and runners who had better things to do than get ready for a run.
So far, there had been no problems. He and most of his guys had made it across the wall and into Salish-Shidhe territory without a hitch. By going over the wall, they had avoided the roadblocks on the highways leading to and from the Seattle metroplex, points where a bunch of orks with heavy weaponry would attract a lot of attention. Climbing the wall had been a sweaty and nerve-wracking effort, but they had gone over it without incident. In some ways, the wild lands out here were just as sweaty and nerve-wracking. The lack of concrete under his feet made Kham nervous.
He could tell that the guys were nervous, too, but nervous runners were alert runners, so maybe it wasn't all bad. The guys would keep their eyes open, and trouble was never as bad when you saw it coming.
The border between the Seattle metroplex and the S-S Council was too long, and the Salish tribes too shorthanded, to watch all of it all of the time, but there were still occasional patrols to worry about. None of Kham's team had travel passes for the tribal lands, so their guns would be their only tickets home if they ran into any Injuns. There had been no trouble so far, not even when Greerson had come sneaking in from the woods. Even Sheila had stayed chill.
Kham wouldn't be happy until Rabo and the Jap kid arrived with the Rover, however.
"Ra'bo's late." The Weeze coughed when she made her comment, sounding like she had some deadly lung disease. The cough came from a genetic defect, the same thing that made her voice a breathy squeak, but she was a good hand in a fight and that was what counted.
"He'll be here," Kham assured her. Sheila fingered the stock of her AK, absently tracing the woodgrain pattern. "That Jap kid probably tipped off the Injuns."
"Why do you say that?" asked John Parker. "Dunno. That kid gives me the creeps. It's like he knows something you don't, ya know? How come he's along anyway? He ain't muscle. Ain't magic or a Matrix runner neither.''
Kham had wondered the same thing, but hadn't thought it politic to come right out and ask Neko. The elf hiring the runners had obviously thought Neko worth including, and the kid had kept up with the guys in the one drill they'd been able to manage. At least the kid had worked out with them. That was good, wasn't it? None of the others had been interested in working with Kham and his crew to get ready for the run.
Kham hadn't been able to track down Greerson or the cyberboys after last night's meet, so they never made it to the drill. But they probably wouldn't have come even if he'd been able to find them. Kham didn't like going out without knowing how they would play it if the drek hit the fan. Without knowing their styles, he might position his guys wrong or shoot one of them by accident. Too dicey not knowing your team. It was true that Greerson was a pro, but Kham had never worked with the dwarf before, and the razorguy twins were total strangers. This kind of random mix wasn't the sort of thing Kham would have worried about in the past, but leading his guys had made him think about things like that. The elf had assured Kham that only seasoned professionals were involved, which was good. If trouble came, professionalism was the only thing they had going for them. Maybe it would be enough to keep them from screwing up. Maybe it wouldn't.
The sound of a vehicle engine drifted through the woods. Kham signaled for his guys to take cover, and they scattered into the darkness under the trees. Greerson and the cyberboys faded on their own, raising Kham's hopes that the run wouldn't be a disaster after all.
The wait was short and their precautions proven unnecessary when Kham recognized the battered green Chrysler-Nissan Rover bouncing its way up what passed for a trail. While Rabo was shutting down the vehicle and jacking out, Neko slipped out of the passenger side and reported no problems crossing the border.
Rabo was grinning when he climbed out of the Rover. "Good idea the kid had, making like a tourist. The Injuns scanned the disk he gave them and waved us on through. Smooth quicklike. We coulda had all of you guys in the back."
"Then what took so long?" Sheila asked.
Rabo looked sheepish. "Got lost."
"The link to the Navstar was out," Neko offered in Rabo's defense.
Kham was unhappy. "I tought I told ya ta check everyting out before ya left."
"I did," Rabo protested. "It's not the Rover. It's the fragging sat."
"The Navstar's down?" Greerson asked.
"Ain't broadcasting," Rabo said.
"Gonna be a lotta unhappy people," John Parker
opined.
"That is not your concern," said a voice new to the conversation.
The voice was Mr. Johnson's. The elf had turned up without Kham hearing him approach. From the surprised reactions of the other runners, no one else had heard him either. Kham noticed that one of the razor-guys was tapping his ear as if to check its function, but Neko was already looking in the direction of Johnson's approach. The kid had seen Johnson, or heard him, or known he'd be there, and he had said nothing.
Annoyed, he growled at Johnson. "So what's da deal?"
"All in good time, Kham. Gentlemen, and ladies, my role in directing this affair is nearly complete. I will leave any further instructions to the principals for this run."
With that remark, two tall, thin figures emerged from the growing gloom. They stood silhouetted against a pale rockface, but Kham could have sworn they hadn't been there a moment before. From the height and build of the newcomers they were elves like their Mr. Johnson, but that was the only clue to their identity. Also like Johnson, they wore nondescript camouflage coveralls but, unlike Johnson, they had no recognizable features. Above the upturned collars, there were no faces, only shimmering ovoids of flickering colors, a magical disguise to conceal their identities. One or both of them would be the promised magical support.
Kham had been around enough magic to know that they could easily have disguised themselves totally, looked like anyone they'd wanted. Hadn't Sally arranged numerous magical disguises for Kham on their runs together? He also knew that such magic took effort and concentration. No magician had an inexhaustible supply of either, so they often skimped. He remembered Sally saying that a partial disguise or a false face based on a person's real one was less taxing, a good choice when there might be other needs for her magic. With their nothing faces, these elves were totally unrecognizable. If holding the blanks was easier than maintaining a made-up collection of features, the magician might be hoarding his power the way Sally did.
Never trust an elf s-6 Page 5
