She sat quietly for a moment, apparently weighing the offer, then she said plainly, “I don’t know. I don’t know where he is.”
Peter’s body went a bit slack, and the barrel of the gun slipped down toward the floor. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You helped him escape from Cell Works and you don’t know where he is?”
“I was double-crossed…. I don’t know where he is.”
“Wait a minute….”
“I said I don’t know!”
Peter drew back. It was as though his goals, his dreams, all his choices for the last fourteen years were withering away. “Please, you must have a clue,” he said softly. “You must have something.”
She looked at him carefully. “What is this to you? This doesn’t sound like work.”
“It isn’t.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeated. “Please, something. You helped him escape…. You must know something.”
“No, really, I…” She raised her hands to her forehead as if a headache were coming on. “I thought he was going to Fuchi Genetics. The people I contacted crashed the plan. He’s… gone. They got me.”
“You contacted someone? To get Clarris out? You weren’t approached?”
She stared at the gun for a moment. “Are you going to kill me? I mean right now, because if you’re not, could you just… not point that at me?”
Peter glanced at the gun. He felt that this was the moment. To not kill Kathryn Amij meant to leave the gang, to leave Billy, to leave everything he’d built over fourteen years. The safety and power he’d attained. He looked at her and knew that he couldn’t do it—he couldn’t take another Jenkins. He lowered the gun. “I won’t kill you. If you help me find him, I’ll let you go. I’ll help you escape.”
She sat silently for a moment, then said, “I wanted him to continue a line of research that he’d been working on for years. My board wanted it cut. I was going to get secret reports back from him.”
“And you hired people to track him down. Your own freelancers, shadowrunners from outside your own corporation?”
“Yes.”
“Have they found anything?”
She remained silent for a moment. “Whoever got him, it wasn’t Fuchi. They laughed—said they’d have loved to end up with him…”
“Anything positive?”
She shook her head. “That’s the problem with hiring shadowrunners. They’re basically outlaws without legal IDs—no accountability.”
“All right.” Peter searched his thoughts, looking for questions that might uncover other information. “What he was working on…?” A thought slammed into his head. “Was it… Was it on halting genetic transformation? Goblinization? Was Cell Works working on that?”
She stared at him, curious. “Yes. We were, but it was canceled.” She paused. “Who are you?”
“Just a troll with a peculiar hobby.”
Peter’s mind raced to come up with a plan. His work was done. He wanted out of the gang. He wanted to get to his father. A rich CEO also wanted to find him. She could come in handy. He decided to take her into his confidence. She might say no—and then the options would narrow quickly. He could kill her, after all, stay in the gang, look for his father on the side. His mind bucked at the plan, but everything was moving quickly.
“I know that Clarris might have been working on a project like that because … I think I’ve got it. I think I know how to do it. Or, at least, I’m very close.” He put the gun into his holster under his jacket. “I want to compare notes with Clarris. I think he’d be able to tell me where I’m right and where I’m wrong.”
“You?”
He grinned. “I’m an exceptional troll.”
“But…”
He stepped closer to her. “I think we can work together. If I don’t kill you, I’m in trouble. I’m willing to accept that trouble if I get your help in looking for Clarris. You’ve got resources. You also set up the deal for Clarris.”
“I really don’t know what to say…”
“Think about this: someone at Cell Works has dug up enough goods on you to get you kicked out of your own troop. A contract is on your head now. If you want Clarris, it won’t be any use to you to show up for work tomorrow. How bad do you want him? Now’s the time to choose.”
He saw her eyes glaze over as she started thinking again. It was palpable activity—the air felt heavier in the room as her mind sorted through her options. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I’ll tell you this, however. If you have found the cure, I won’t need Clarris anymore.”
“But I need him.”
“I’ll help you find him if you have what I want.”
“We’ll need him anyway. He’ll have to confirm my work. He’s the most qualified, neh? That’s why you sent him out to continue the research.”
“Yes, we should find him.” She looked up. “But I don’t even know if you’ve really found the cure. Why should I believe you?” She sighed and leaned back in the chair, her eyes closed.
“You’ll read it,” Peter said as soon as he had the idea. “My research. I want you to look it over. I think I’ve done it. I’ve been working on it for over a decade. You’ll at least be able to see that I’m serious.”
“Do you have it on you?” He could tell she was trying to humor him. Furious, he pulled the gun out again. “Get up!” She gasped and stood, her eyes shut tight, hands on her belly. “You’re coming with me. Back to my place. You’re going to read my work.”
She didn’t move. “Your boss doesn’t know about this.”
“Nobody does. Nobody knows about my research.”
She tilted her head to one side and looked at him carefully. “This is very strange.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll still want me dead. Your boss.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I go with you? You can just kill me later, when you’ve gotten what you want from me.”
“I could kill you now.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
He stared at her, fascinated. It wasn’t a ploy, just a direct command. She was telling him simply how she negotiated. “All right. No threats. When I shoot, I’ll just shoot. But the truth is, my life would be simpler if I killed you.”
She stood before him, breathing heavily. Spots of sweat began to show on her expensive suit. “Don’t.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Please, just don’t. Don’t.”
“Just read what I’ve written. That’s all I ask.”
“And then…?”
“We’ll… I… don’t know… I know this is… Your life is on the line. I know that. But in a way my life, too. I need you at this point.” He dropped all pretense of toughness. “Miss Amij, I need to find Dr. Clarris. I’d like your help.”
She weighed the statement. Peter saw her reach the same decision he had made only a few hours earlier. “You’ve got the gun. Lead on.”
14
Peter called Eddy on his wristcom, saying to meet him out front. Stepping out of the door, he saw his old friend driving up the street at a speed usually reserved for a raceway. Suddenly Eddy hit the Westwind’s brakes just so, and the car slid on the snowy ground for some six meters, then came to a perfect stop directly in front of the path to Kathryn’s door.
When Peter opened the car’s front door, Eddy turned in surprise, for Peter always sat in the back. Then he saw Kathryn, and his face ran the gamut from concern to sadness to fear. Fear eventually won out.
Kathryn took a seat beside Eddy, and Peter climbed into the back.
“Profezzur Profezzur Profezzur,” Eddy stuttered angrily, “What gives? Gives? Gives?”
Kathryn looked back at Peter, obviously curious about Eddy. Peter gave her a slight shrug. To Eddy, he said, “Never mind. Just get us back to my place, quick.”
“I don’t know, I don’t know, Profezzur,” Eddy raised his hands high, then wav
ed them around like someone doing semaphore. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I saw her go in. Go in.” He held up a photo of Kathryn. “Saw her go in. Long time. Prof, long time. And now she’s not dead. Not even dead.”
“Eddy, go.”
“What’s up, Prof? What’s up? This is your science stuff? Is there some science going on here?”
“Yes.”
“FRAG! I knew this would happen. I knew this would happen. Happen. Give you your biology, and the next thing you know, you’re trying to pick up the stiffs.”
“Eddy, she’s not dead….”
“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT! What do you think I’m worried about? You think Itami’s going to like it when I have to tell him, ‘Yeah, well, my buddy the Prof, he lays off the slots, I’ve never seen him with a woman, even though I told him he better get some action, cause it’ll drive him crazy, and I was right right right, ’cause he just picked up the slot he was supposed to ice!’” He turned to Kathryn. “No offense.”
Peter knew that if his flesh could blush, it would have done so. Instead he reached over and placed his frighteningly large hand on Eddy’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell him, Eddy.”
Eddy’s face exploded with surprise, as if Peter had presented him with a new and astounding possibility. “You’re right!”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
When Kathryn looked at Peter again, he opened his mouth to explain, then realized the world was far too complicated for that.
The car’s momentum threw them all back against their seats, and they were off.
Peter’s studio apartment was a monk’s cell; a mattress lay in one corner, a shelf packed with chips stood against a wall. In the center of the room was a large kitchen table with his portable on it, as well as some dirty dishes. The My Cure chips sat beside the computer, where he had left them that morning.
No pictures decorated the walls. Peter had decided years ago that he would only introduce colors when he was pure human again. But now, with Kathryn in the room, he was embarrassed at how the place revealed the sparseness of his existence.
He wanted to say something, to fill up the emptiness of the room with words and excuses—“I move around a lot, so I keep my possessions to a minimum,” or “As soon as I’m back to my life, then you’ll see, I’ll fill this place with colors. I’m not really like this, this isn’t my life…” But he knew such phrases would come out sounding as pale and lifeless as the walls. He said nothing.
“You like to read,” Kathryn said, walking over to the bookshelf.
“Yes.”
She leaned down to study the titles on the chip casings, her hands folded behind her back, safe from accidental contact with anything in the room. She pulled back sharply and stared at him with complete surprise.
“The Cal Tech Metahuman Genome Appendices! Where did you get those?”
“Stolen,” he said sheepishly, but inside very happy, for he could tell she was impressed.
“Cal Tech said it wasn’t releasing them for years, if at all.”
“I’ve built contacts… over the years.”
“Contacts?”
“Never mind. I need you to read something I’ve been working on.”
Her face revealed nothing. “All right.”
Peter swept his arm toward the personal computer. The gesture was harsh, lacking either the politeness or the awkwardness of his movements when he’d opened his apartment door for Kathryn. She noticed the difference and moved quickly to sit down at the table.
“Open the file labeled My Cure.”
She looked up at him. “My Cure?”
“Yes.” He picked up one of the chips from the table and slipped it into the portable.
“You’ll know if I’m on the right track. I’ve never shown this to anyone. I want to bring it to… Dr. Clarris. We have him in common.”
Her expression softened as she continued to look up at him. Peter discovered he was flattered, though he didn’t know why. He didn’t want to be flattered by her. Being with her at all was becoming very confusing. She threatened too many of his habits.
She powered up the portable. “All right. I’ll read.”
An hour passed. Kathryn read and Peter paced. At first his insistent fidgeting bothered her, but soon she seemed totally unaware of his presence. She leaned in toward the screen, her gaze glued to it. Once in a while her eyes would open wide and she would smile, while other times she would shake her head in silent disagreement. Either way, Peter knew his text had captivated her.
When he was assured of her interest, he relaxed and took a position next to the door to his apartment, leaning against the wall. From here he could study her freely. With her attention so focused on the screen, it was almost as if the real Kathryn was not present. Peter could view her almost as an image, an image that couldn’t look back and judge him.
He found that he loved the way she read. It reminded him of a sniper waiting for his target to come around the corner; her eyes always alert, on the move, her body poised, ready for any action that might become necessary. She was an active reader. Her eyes seemed to virtually eat up the ideas.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Peter whipped out his gun, then saw Eddy top the landing, his arms full of Japanese take-out.
Peter’s shoulder’s sagged as he relaxed. “What took you so long?”
Eddy twitched a bit and then said, “Got stuck stuck stuck in traffic traffic.”
“You?” Peter said with a deep, bellowing laugh.
Eddy laughed too. “Yeah, well well well.” Before he could say more, Peter raised his finger to his lips to silence his friend. Kathryn must have heard their voices out in the hall, but was already back to her reading.
As quietly as possible, Peter took a cup of coffee and an order of fried fish over to the table. The floorboards creaked loudly.
Kathryn looked up at him when he reached the table, her lips pursed into a smile.
She thought he was cute. Or so he thought she thought. He couldn’t be sure.
Ignoring the food Peter set down for her, she went back to the screen.
Taking Eddy by the arm, Peter escorted him out into the hall and closed the door behind them.
“Think it’s a good idea to leave her alone like that?” Eddy said.
“She can’t go anywhere. The door’s locked. And I don’t think she wants to leave just yet, anyway.”
“What you mean? What you mean? And what’s she reading? She an AI like you? You showing off your library?”
“No. She’s reading something I wrote.”
“That stuff you’re always talking about?”
“Yes.” Peter smiled down at his friend. Over the years, Eddy’s interest in Peter’s “stories” had waned. Except for trying to stay useful enough to maintain his place on the Itami gang payroll, Eddy wasn’t interested in much of anything but simsense ever since the technology had come on the scene. Like most people, he was content to “experience” life through other people’s recorded sensations.
“You know, I still don’t understand why you spend so much time reading.”
“Eddy, when you read… I get to understand things.”
“I’d rather just feel it. And besides. I understand things.”
“But words give you perspective. You can step outside a situation and see what it’s about. You can find the shades of meaning…”
A creak came from the stairs, followed by a faint shadow poking up from the landing below.
“Peter listen to me…”
Peter clamped his hand over the lower half of Eddy’s face to shut him up.
Eddy struggled to speak, and Peter finally removed his hand. “Peter,” he said in a harsh whisper, “You can’t go against the gang. We got to finish her.”
Peter couldn’t believe his ears. “You….” he said, but he knew he could never be truly angry at Eddy.
He had to get Kathryn and get out.
Peter opened the door, then shut it quickly behind h
im, leaving Eddy out in the hall.
Turning around, he saw Kathryn by the window, trying to force its heavy latch. She was going to try an escape after all.
“Get down!” Peter shouted, but the warning came too late. A bullet punched through the glass, sending shards flying across the room. Kathryn screamed and fell back.
“Frag! Frag!” Another detail popped into Peter’s brain. Without needing to ponder the situation, his mind produced the hard facts—both exits were blocked, and that was that. Moving with Kathryn in tow would make getting out the window the weaker of the two options. Although they might run into more firepower on the stairs, it was the way to go.
“Come on!” he shouted.
“What!” she screamed. “What is going on?” She wasn’t speaking to him, it was a shout of fear to the world.
Peter was frightened, too. He’d protected people before. But nearly everyone he’d dealt with in the business was in the business. When the bullets started to fly, everyone always knew what it meant. He watched Kathryn on the floor, her fingers pressed tight against the wood as if it might drop out from under her.
He bolted the door, then went over to her. “Listen,” he said softly. “We’re in a lot of trouble. Those people who wanted me to kill you… they’re here now. They’re here to ice both of us.”
She said, “Don’t talk to me like a child. Bullets frighten me, but I think they should.” Despite her tough tone, fear shone in her eyes.
“We’re going out the front door, down the hall. At the stairway turn right and keep going down the hall. You’ll come to another stairway that leads to the laundry room. There’s an exit…”
Someone slammed against the door. Peter drew his pistol from its holster and jumped across the room, throwing himself prone before the door. He fired three shots up into the door, cracking the wood. From outside came a short shriek.
With a start, he wondered if it was Eddy. If so, Peter knew he couldn’t allow himself to care.
Shots penetrated the door. They flew over Peter’s body and slammed into the wall behind him.
05 - Changeling Page 13
