Peter ignored him. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“What?”
Peter lifted Landsgate by the waist. “I don’t believe you. You’re coming with me, and when I get what I want, I’ll let you go.”
“But I told you…”
Peter slammed the ghoul into wall next to the stairs. Landsgate’s head hit the concrete with a sharp crack. “Listen. I don’t trust you. I came to talk to you, and you fed me to your pariahs. Not only do I not believe you about Microtech, I don’t think for a second you’d let me out of the Shattergraves. By the way, where the frag’s my gun?”
Landsgate’s eyes snapped open and his hand flew for the shoulder holster under his jacket. Peter slammed the hand against Landsgate’s chest and the ghoul cried out in pain. “I don’t want to keep doing this.” Peter reached under the jacket and dug out the Predator.
“Fine. Now, the sooner we get out of here and confirm your lead, the sooner you come back home. Got it?”
Landsgate nodded.
“Great.”
He lifted Landsgate again and placed the gun to the ghoul’s head. He walked up the stairs. “Your boss and f are going for a walk,” he said. “He’ll be back in a while. BACK OFF!”
The ghouls parted, letting Peter and Landsgate pass.
For twenty minutes Landsgate led Peter through the Shattergraves. His ghouls followed and neither Peter nor Landsgate could persuade them to leave.
When me two reached the edge of the Shattergraves, Landsgate turned to Peter. “Please. Don’t make me go out there. I haven’t been out for two years.”
“Too bad.”
“Peter. For your father’s sake… I’m a monster out there. There’s a price on the head of every ghoul.”
Landsgate’s body trembled wildly. Peter put him down and Landsgate dropped to all fours. He reminded Peter of a sick dog. “Please,” he gasped. “Please don’t make me go out there. Please.” He looked up at Peter, pathetic fear in his eyes. “That’s not my place. I can’t face those people. This is what I know. I rule here. It’s good enough. Please. For God’s sake…”
Foam and spittle danced around the edges of Lands-gate’s mouth and dropped into the snow. “I’ll tell you. Please, I’ll tell you. Microtech. It might be… Microtech. But Gen… Geneering in France. Your best bet. That’s it, Peter, please. Don’t take me out. Don’t make me stand alongside the living.”
Peter watched the man and felt a hollow bubble form in his chest. He wanted to believe that the thing groveling on the ground before him was not Landsgate. But it was. There was no way around that. And he couldn’t bear to cause the only friend of his childhood this much pain. If Landsgate was lying, Peter would just have to find another lead.
“Go,” he said. “Go back, Dr. Landsgate.”
Without looking up, the ghoul scrambled back toward the Shattergraves. He slipped twice, then got up on his legs and ran into the darkness.
Peter turned and walked away, stunned by the evening’s events.
When he’d gone but a short way, he heard Landsgate call out to him, the voice once again firm and sardonic. “Peter!” Peter turned to look back, but saw only cold darkness. “Peter! I told you the truth! Geneering, in France. Look them up!”
20
It was full morning by the time Peter staggered back to Zoze’s place. Squatters filled the streets. They’d left the warmth of the Noose’s abandoned buildings and now searched for folks who’d frozen to death in the night. Such corpses might yield a knife or a bit of food in a pocket of their stiff clothes.
A few such gutterpunks eyed Peter as he made his way up State Street, his wounds dripping blood into the dirty-gray snow. He walked with a limp and clutched his right arm with his left hand. His clothes were ragged, but it was obvious they had once been fine.
He was a good mark.
But in his hands was a very large gun and in his eyes the fixed stare of a maniac. It was clear to the men and women—pure humans, orks, trolls—that he would kill if asked the time of day. They let him pass without incident.
When Peter got to the department store building and stepped inside, morning light was pouring in through the broken windows, permitting him to see the first floor clearly. All around were empty display cases, forming a kind of maze. The cases had been painted white to provide a strong contrast with the items they had once displayed. Now the white cases blended with me white floor and the bare white walls. The sight made Peter’s eyes hurt.
“You look like drek!” cackled Changes from the top of the escalator. “Is Zoze up?”
“Not yet. You kept him up pretty late last night.”
“Fine. What about Kathryn? Miss Amij?”
“Zoze gave her a place to sleep in a spare room.”
“Got another place for me to crash?”
“Yeah. But it’s going to cost you.”
“What?”
“Hey, no offense. Your lady is paying, too. It costs money to get Zoze’s protection.”
“He’d said he’d have a new place for us this morning.”
“It’s all set.”
Peter crossed the floor of the escalator. “All right then. Get Zoze up. Get Kathryn up. We’re getting out of here.”
“Hey. I don’t know. Zoze likes…”
Peter moved quickly up the steps of the escalator. When he reached the top, he stepped close to Changes, towering over him. “I just got back from the Shatter-graves. I’m totally bagged.”
The dwarf’s jaw dropped. “The Shattergraves… that’s right. You went?”
“Yeah. Now move.”
“Come on.”
Despite the fact that it hurt to do so, Peter paced up and down the length of the conference room until Zoze arrived.
“What’s the big rush?” Zoze demanded when he opened the door, but his indignation vanished as he looked Peter up and down. His round face bore a striking resemblance to a surprised grape. “You made it.”
“Yeah. And I’m really cooked. So let’s get the last details down. I need some sleep. Changes said you’ve got a safe house for us. I’m also going to need a decker…”
Kathryn walked into the room bundled in a thick green bathrobe. Before he could shut down the thoughts, Peter imagined how soft she would feel to the touch, almost as though the sweetness of pressing against her body would heal his wounds. “Peter! My God! are you all right?”
Coming to stand before him, she raised her fingertips to his face and gently touched a bloody gash under one eye.
Peter froze, nervous. The touch of her fingertips stung, but he did not flinch.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
She turned and pulled her hand away, but remained beside him. Peter suddenly realized he was holding his breath, and willed himself to start breathing again. “We’ve got to get him healed,” Kathryn said to Zoze.
“You said you wanted shadowrunners,” he told her. “I can put a mage or a shaman on your team. She’ll fix Profezzur up as a matter of course.”
Kathryn turned back to Peter. “Are you sure you’re all right?” His lust melted, replaced by a wave of gratitude for her concern.
He held his feelings in check. “Yes,” was all that came out.
But their eyes met, and despite Peter’s best attempts to hide from her, she locked her gaze with his. At that instant Peter suddenly saw his father’s critical, judgmental eyes instead of Kathryn’s. Awkward and embarrassed, he turned his eyes away.
“Where are we going?” Peter asked, seeking the safety of important matters at hand. “Where’s the safe house?”
“The Byrne Projects.”
Peter and Kathryn stared at one another, then at Zoze. As one they said, “The Byrne Projects?”
Zoze shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got right now. That is, all I’ve got that can house a troll without attracting the mention of the neighbors. I greased somebody at the Housing Authority. I’ve always got a room available in the projects. It’s perfect. If you wish, Miss Amij can be housed som
eplace better, and Profezzur can head to Byrne alone…. But really that’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”
Peter wanted to be generous and a gentleman, insisting that Kathryn stay somewhere else, but he knew it was impractical. It’d be easier if they stayed together. Cheaper, too, and they wouldn’t have to move around town to get together.
Besides, he wanted to be with her.
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense to split up.”
“But it’s a metahuman housing project,” Peter said, feeling safe in demonstrating his chivalry now. “A run-down, dirty, dangerous, metahuman housing project.”
“The Byrne Projects are probably the best place to hide, at least for me, because it’s the last place anybody would look for me.”
“She’s got a point,” said Zoze.
Peter admired her pluck. “Fine. We still need a decker.”
“And someone who can heal Peter.”
“Leave that to me,” Zoze said. “How about you get up to the projects and I send them up?”
“What about the girl who brought us here?” said Peter. “The girl with the purple hair?”
“Liaison,” said Zoze, with surprise. “Why her?”
“She asked us to keep her in mind if we were looking for a decker.”
Zoze reflected for a moment. “She’s good, but she hasn’t go a hot rep. It’s got nothing to do with her skill—or lack of it—she’s simply not a hot-dogger. She hasn’t gone out and made a name for herself.”
“But she’s good?” asked Kathryn.
“She has fun in the Matrix and she gets by. That’s what I’ve heard. I know I could get you better. Or I think I could. I really haven’t seen her in action. But Liaison will also come cheap because she doesn’t have a rep. That’s important right now, with your funds limited. And, her girlfriend, Breena, is a mage. They’re used to working together. That’s a plus, too.”
“Contact them, then,” said Peter. “See if they’ll take the job. We’ll get to Byrne.”
“All right. Somebody will arrive later today. And I’ll have Changes pack up a basket for them. They’ll be armed for Bear. With Itami after you, no telling what you’ll need.”
Zoze supplied a driver and a Ford Totem to take them up to Byrne. The man was steady and cautious and didn’t twitch at all, which made Peter miss Fast Eddy’s style terribly. Turning off Old Orchard Boulevard, the driver took one of the small side streets that led into the Byrne Projects.
After all Peter’s years of trying to avoid living in a metahuman project, here he was, now voluntarily taking up residence in one. A small part of him welcomed the opportunity. Up ahead he saw ork and troll children playing in the street. They threw snowballs at one another, but also tackled their opponents and slammed them into the snow-covered asphalt. It looked marvelous to Peter. This might be heavy rough-housing for pure human children, but to the powerful, solid bodies of the metahuman children it was innocent fun. Pure human kids often got quite banged up when they tried to join in on the metahuman children’s games. They simply couldn’t keep up, but that didn’t stop some people from claiming that the metahuman youngsters were crude in their play.
Adult orks and trolls clustered in tight groups to keep watch on the children, the trolls in one circle, the orks in another.
“Here we are,” said the driver, pulling up in front of one of the nine buildings that made up the projects. From his pocket he pulled out two sets of keys. “Here you go.”
Peter glanced at Kathryn. She stared out the window, looking stiff and a little afraid. When Peter followed her gaze, he saw adult orks and trolls staring back at them from across the street. Even a few of the children stopped playing to watch the people sitting in the car in their projects.
“You can still go somewhere else, you know,” Peter said. He tried to make it sound friendly and helpful, but it was a lie. Suddenly he didn’t want Kathryn hiding in Byrne with him. He realized he was embarrassed being seen with her by all the metahumans around them. He thought they’d assume he’d turned his back on his kind by shacking up with a human.
But wasn’t that part of Kathryn’s appeal?
“No,” she said firmly. “I want to be with you.”
She really meant it. He was sure of that. As he continued to look at her, his self-imposed distance diminished. He cursed inwardly that his life was so complicated.
“All right.”
He opened his door to get out, and Kathryn did the same.
The apartment reeked. Both Kathryn and Peter reflexively covered their noses, but it helped very little. Kathryn went to the windows and opened them, letting cold air slice through the stench.
“God, what is it?” she said. “It stinks like something’s dead in here.”
Peter thought the source of the smell came from the bathroom. He went in, expecting to find a decaying cat or dog in the tub. A dozen cockroaches raced down the sink’s drain, but that was all he found. He located the source of the stench, however. It came from the toilet. “Down the pipes, in the basement. Something died down there and it’s stinking up the pipes.”
“How can people live like this?”
“Do you mean, how do they endure, or how do they let it happen?” Realizing how angry he sounded, Peter wanted to take back the words immediately. “I don’t know,” he put in quickly. “I don’t know the answer to either question.”
“Isn’t this their home? Don’t they want…?”
“It is. But it isn’t. They’re all here according to how much money they make. This ‘home’ is defined by its poverty. No one wants to live here. Everyone wants to get out. If you’re succeeding, you get out. If you’re failing, you’re here.”
Three cockroaches scuttled in tight formation across the wall of the main room, then disappeared through a wide crack in the plaster. Kathryn first jumped, then stared at the spot where they’d gone. Without lifting her eyes from the crack, she said, “But to let things…”
“Kathryn, who is going to invest in something that they want to leave, that reminds them how poor they are, that they’re failures?”
“Have you ever lived in place like this?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Just being here now… It makes me think somehow I should have been here earlier. I’ve spent so long trying to hide from these people.”
“Really?”
“I just didn’t want to be part of them. To be identified with them.”
“But you’re not one of them. Or, at least, that’s not the impression I get from you. You want to be pure human again. That’s what you were first. This is just-something in between.”
“I don’t know about that right now. I’m having my doubts. At least, right now, while I’m a troll, I AM a troll. Maybe I shouldn’t try to deny that.”
She looked down, thoughtful.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She changed the subject with a smile. “So who are you now?”
He pulled his fake IDs from his pocket, and she did the same. “I’m Jordan Winston,” he read. “Though, of course, as a shadowrunner, I’ve got to have a handle: Profezzur.”
“I’m Sarah Brandise. How will these do against DNA and retina scans?”
“Should do just fine. They took the original scan data for our real IDs and pasted them into these.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“The idea of our ‘real’ IDs. They’re not only wiped out, but our DNA is now linked to these IDs. We aren’t those people anymore. We’re these people. These are our real IDs. We might as well never have been our previous selves.”
Peter’s back stiffened.
“I was just joking,” she said. “Kind of.” Apparently the same sensation suddenly overcame her, for she glanced at the ID, then quickly put it away. “Who are we going to be by the time all this is done?”
“Kathryn, why are you look
ing for my father?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you looking for him? You could leave town. Or you could have fought for Cell Works. You could have gotten Cell Works to continue the metahuman research. It would have taken time, but you could have done it. Why the rush? Why do you need so bad to find my father right now?”
Kathryn put her hand on her stomach and her face tightened. “Peter. My son… he’s got the metagenes. He might well become a metahuman.”
The statement startled Peter. “The chances are astronomically small. Most metahumans are born of metahuman parents today. I was a freak case…”
“But the possibility is still there. I don’t want that hanging over my son’s life.”
Peter reeled. He wandered over to a chair and sat down. It was a massive, solidly built chair, and in the midst of his confusion he found himself congratulating the CHA for at least getting the proper-sized furniture into the projects.
“Peter, what is it?”
“I don’t know. You’d go through all this on the chance, on me nearly insignificant chance, that your son might become a metahuman?”
“Peter, he’s my son. You make it sound as if being only a chance means it doesn’t matter. Well, it does matter. To me. I want to know! I need to know he’ll be all right.”
“And?” He glanced sidelong at her, unable to face her.
“Look around you!” she said. She pointed at the walls, at the stained carpets. “Look at this place! This is where metahumans have to live. Look at yourself! I barely know you, but I know you haven’t been very happy with your life. Spirits, you’ve devoted your whole existence to becoming pure human again! Why should I wish this risk upon my son?”
Peter didn’t know, but deeper than ever sank the feeling that his goals were askew. He thought of Thomas telling him to leave his quest behind.
“He might become an elf. They’re accepted now. There’s no way today to know for sure…”
“And he might not….”
05 - Changeling Page 18
