Preying for keeps s-29

by Mel Odom

  "Who gave them Maddock?" Skater asked.

  "Better yet, who gave Maddock the elves?" Trey added.

  "If NuGene found the leak in their own ranks," Archangel said, "they could have learned about Larisa, and through her, learned of Maddock."

  "Another possibility," Elvis said, "is that NuGene's topdogs didn't tell their sec-teams about the Trojan horse and that they'd intentionally leaked the information. If the sec-teams were sold out and figure it out, there's going to be lawsuits galore, and maybe the more personal kilo of flesh demanded as well."

  Skater nodded. "It scans." But he still wanted to know for sure. If the elves were so ready to kill over hijacked files they knew were corrupt-or even if they didn't know-it meant that a lot of nuyen was at risk and NuGene was still vulnerable somewhere. "However else we read this, we were set up. I want to know by who and I want to know why. First up, though, is Conrad McKenzie, and here's how I plan on dealing with that."

  Skater bribed his way into a table on the lower level of the Gray Line, one of Seattle's most elegant eateries as well as claiming the distinction of actually sitting right in Puget Sound rather than alongside it. At high tide the waters of the Sound rose up enough to touch the transparent walls of the lower dining area.

  With a sharp snap of his fingers, the mattre d' directed an impeccably dressed hostess to take Skater and Duran to a large table. She led the way down the red carpeted stairs and through a foyer lined with paintings depicting the history of Puget Sound during the past four hundred years. All of the art centered on sailing vessels, from Indian canoes to American trading clippers to twentieth-century fishing boats to the latest Harland amp; Wolff "Classique" motor yacht, and were rendered in a variety of mediums.

  Skater and Duran were dressed to fit in with the posh crowd, both wearing custom-made Vashon Island suits just as carefully tailored to hide the weapons they carried. The Gray Line sec-teams had no objection to patrons being armed with guns, only against someone trying to use them inside the restaurant.

  The hostess led them through the islands of tables. Floating candles in the shape of flowers burned a delicate incense that sharpened the palate, and the soft glows were reflected against the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass that fronted Puget Sound. Underwater lights and beacons attracted the native marine life. Seals and otters, their biological clocks formed more from the feeding times and the lights put out by the restaurant than anything nature had intended, frolicked within view of the diners. The lights changed the water to shimmering greens and lit up fluorescent-bearing fish in glowing obelisks.

  "Would you like to see a menu?" the hostess asked. "I'm afraid this late at night we don't serve our full line, but the sandwiches are quite good."

  "Thanks, but I think we'll just be having drinks." Skater passed the menus back, then ordered a shot and a beer for Duran and mineral water for himself.

  Duran leaned back casually against the plush cushions of the three-quarter booth surrounding the table as the waitress left. "We're not alone."

  "I count five," Skater said, staring at the wall of glass keeping the Sound out.

  "You missed two," the ork said. "Did you pick up the women?"

  A cocktail waitress arrived with the drinks and set them down on imprinted napkins. In the sea scene, a sea turtle pursued a purple squid that Skater guessed the restaurant management had ordered infoetically altered for enhanced viewing ease, planing through the water like an undersea fighter plane and gaining by centimeters.

  "One of them," Skater answered when the waitress left. "Hot number in pink flirting with the suit at the corner bar."

  "The other woman's holding hands with the slag guarding the entrance. He's gotta be a shaman."

  Skater checked the reflection in the wall of glass and noted the two people the ork had picked out. "You're right. I missed them both."

  On the other side of the glass wall, the sea turtle clamped its sharp jaws on two of the purple glowing squid's tentacles. Although the infoe-coded coloring was interesting to watch, Skater figured it pretty much sealed the squid's doom, leaving it no way to hide. He wondered how many of the creatures the restaurant's owners had to import each week to keep the sport up.

  He accessed the Commlink IV. "Wheeler, where the slot are you?" he subvocalized.

  "Two minutes, chummer," the dwarf responded. "I'll have everything in place." The rigger was supposed to be setting up in a boat anchored at the dock above.

  "Good enough." Skater watched as the turtle tried to pull the squid in closer, only to have the remaining tentacles suddenly wrap around its shell. With the tangle of tentacles and the hidden strength in the squid, the turtle was in trouble as well. If the squid could hold out long enough, Skater knew it would drown the turtle.

  "Gutsy little fragger," Duran said appreciatively, then glanced over at the entrance. "McKenzie just made the party.”

  Skater glanced at the approaching group, recognized McKenzie from files Archangel had accessed for him, then glanced deliberately back at the neon clock hanging above the bar. It was two-thirteen.

  Conrad McKenzie was in the lead, a solid, blocky man several centimeters taller than Skater, and weighing at least twice that many kilos more. Even at this hour of the morning, his face gleamed like he'd shaven only moments ago. His salt and pepper hair was cut long and swept back from his high forehead. His suit was obviously real silk, and he carried a long raincoat over one arm.

  Ellard Dragonfletcher was at McKenzie's left looking almost military in his own crisp, immaculate garb. At his side was a young female elf in wraparound nightshades and Zoe exec wear.

  "She's razored," Duran warned.

  "She goes," Skater said. He stood, not wanting anyone to mistake his seated position as a sign of weakness or over-confidence because either was deadly.

  "Mr. Trump," the hostess said, "your party has arrived."

  'Thank you," Skater said, slotting her a tip. He remained standing, squaring off against McKenzie and Dragonfletcher as they came within a few steps of him. "The woman goes." He didn't offer to shake hands or make any other gesture to relieve the tension of the meeting.'

  McKenzie locked eyes with him and Skater returned the stare.

  "Mr. Dragonfletcher?" McKenzie said.

  Skater never took his eyes off the Mafia man.

  "Might I suggest to you," the elf said to Skater, "that you're in no position to be making demands at this point."

  "Sure. Suggest away. But you're going to be doing it to my back."

  McKenzie's half-smile was cold and calculating. "You don't leave until I say you do."

  Skater reached inside himself and turned off the feelings, letting the adrenaline take over. He went to that place where fear didn't exist and anger wasn't even a memory. "I noticed the torpedoes and yabos you've got stationed around this place. I count seven. But you need to reconsider your own position. If I don't think I'm getting out of here, why should I let you?"

  There was only a moment's hesitation before McKenzie spoke. "Ellard, do you still wish to deal?"

  "I don't call it dealing if I'm listening to terms," the elf said gruffly.

  "The razorgirl sits at another table," Duran stated. "I'm not going to have a knife at my throat while I'm sitting here."

  "Yet your man stays," Dragonfletcher said.

  "He's a full partner in this," Skater said. "His vote counts. And while you're thinking that over, here's something else you can consider if we don't walk away from this tete-a-tete tonight, copies of those files get dumped straight onto the Shadowland network for anybody to download and sell wherever they can."

  "You can't do that." Dragonfletcher's voice was hard.

  "Your choice," Skater said. "But I'd decide soon. Standing here like this, we're losing whatever anonymity we started out with."

  Dragonfletcher nodded curtly at the razorgirl and she walked away. He and McKenzie took seats across the table from Duran and Skater.

  "It's ready. Jack." That was Wheeler's
voice coming over Skater's headlink.

  Skater lifted his glass to drink and subvocalized over the link before the water touched his lips. The glass masked his response. "Stand by."

  The turtle's corpse drifted lazily through the green waters behind McKenzie. The squid was a pastel purple haze drifting away, wounded but alive.

  "There are just the two of you?" McKenzie asked.

  "Here," Skater replied, "yes. On the operation, no."

  "I'd heard you'd lost at least one of your people, perhaps more."

  "You hear pretty good for someone just walking into the deal," Skater said,

  McKenzie smiled. "I like to look over any interesting proposition before deciding to get in."

  "You have the credstick?" Skater asked Dragonfletcher.

  "Yes. Provided you've got the files."

  Carefully, knowing there were at least eight guns on him. Skater reached inside his jacket and took out the chip Archangel had prepared. He laid the chip-holder on the table in front of him, not offering it to either man,

  Dragonfletcher reached inside his jacket, slowly pulling out the credstick, gradually unveiling its length. He held it between his forefingers, then handed it to McKenzie to pass over, as if touching Skater was beneath him.

  Skater knew the elf didn't see McKenzie switch the credstick for another, taking his ten percent from the team's fee. The original credstick disappeared and McKenzie extended the second one.

  "I think you'll find everything here," McKenzie said.

  "Will I?" Skater asked.

  "Yes."

  Skater took the credstick, but before his fingers could close around it, Dragonfletcher placed a restraining hand on top of his.

  "We need to address a few things first," he said.

  "I'm listening," Skater said as he flicked his gaze to the elf. He raised his other hand to warn Duran off. The ork had bridled and bared his fangs.

  "The other copies of the files," Dragonfletcher said, "I'll want them destroyed."

  "They will be," Skater said. He didn't fight against the restraining grip.

  "I want to be able to trust you."

  Skater nodded, but it was McKenzie who spoke. "I told him we could deal with you," he said, flipping open a gold case and taking out a French cigarette. A built-in lighter ignited the tip and he put the case away. He narrowed his eyes against the smoke as he exhaled. "I had you checked out."

  "When?" Skater asked.

  "This afternoon."

  Skater turned the information over in his mind. He didn't trust McKenzie at all.

  "Like I said," McKenzie told Dragonfletcher, "for a shadowrunner, I think you'll find Mr. Skater has scruples."

  Reluctantly, the elf withdrew his hand.

  "Since we're clearing things up," Skater said, "I've got a few questions myself" He turned his hand over and let the point of the credstick touch the table surface. He focused on Dragonfletcher "I know you had Maddock killed. I want to know why."

  "He's part of the reason you and I are here now," Dragonfletcher answered.

  "He leaked information about the NuGene files?" Skater asked.

  Looking puzzled, Dragonfletcher glancsd at McKenzie, who shrugged.

  "The way I heard it," the Mafia boss said, "Skater was doing business through Maddock. But there could have been a cut-out along the way. I also heard he's the guy who tipped the yaks."

  Dragonfletcher's gaze hardened as he stared at Skater. "Now that you've got that credstick in your hand, are you trying to squeeze a few more nuyen out of us by selling out your contacts? If so, I question my judgment in dealing with you."

  "No. This chip represents all the dealing I'm going to do with NuGene." Skater tapped it, reminding them that he hadn't pushed it across. "I want the name of whoever's responsible for Larisa Hartsinger's death."

  "I don't know," Dragonfletcher said.

  Anger coiled inside Skater, as restless as a deathrattle. "I don't believe you."

  "You wound me," the elf replied.

  "I want the name of her killer," Skater said, leaning in and making his voice harsh. "And I want to know where her child is." He was conscious of movement around him, including Duran, who was shifting for a better field of fire.

  "I don't know, I tell you." Dragonfletcher's voice was calm, pitched low.

  Skater knew it was possible that the elf had merely assigned some wetwork specialists to the hit without knowing a name. "You can find out."

  "Why should I?"

  "Because without that name," Skater said, "you've only got half a deal." Deliberately, he let the credstick drop, then pushed it back at the elf with a forefinger. From the comer of his eye, he saw that McKenzie's reaction was subtle, but the crime boss definitely didn't like the way things were shaping up.

  "What are you doing?" Dragonfletcher demanded.

  "Leaving," Skater told him. He picked up the chip-holder and slipped it back into his inside jacket pocket.

  "You do and you're a dead man," McKenzie warned. "Nobody fragging tries to make me look like a slotting nitbrain. We've got a deal."

  "I'm a dead man," Skater said fiercely, "and those files hit the Matrix the heartbeat after."

  For a moment, McKenzie held his gaze. Then, "I don't believe you."

  "McKenzie," Dragonfletcher interrupted.

  "Let me handle this." McKenzie said. "That's what you're paying me for." He shifted his attention to Skater. "You move another muscle, drekhead, and I'm going to take that chip off your corpse."

  Skater faced McKenzie, but he spoke to Dragonfletcher. "Is that how you want it? You want the files on that chip spread all over the Matrix?"

  "No. McKenzie, sit down." The elf glanced around, aware that they were attracting unwanted attention.

  McKenzie's expression was cold and calculated. Anger burned deep in his dark eyes. "You're making a mistake here. I just want you to know that."

  "Depends," Duran said softly. "Could be you're the one making the mistake." His posture remained loose, but his tone left no doubt about his readiness for action.

  Suddenly. McKenzie sat. "No sense in fragging up a perfectly good deal when all I've got to do is sit here. Right?" He shook out a fresh cigarette and lit up.

  Skater sat down too, but held himself ready to move in an instant.

  "What if I can't get the name of the girl's killer?" Dragonfletcher asked.

  "I'll give you till ten o'clock tomorrow morning," Skater replied. "If you can prove to me that you spent time and effort on the search, we can deal then."

  "Ten o'clock." Dragonfletcher stared at him.

  "Another eight hours isn't going to make a major difference to whatever you're involved in," Skater said.

  'Ten o'clock is acceptable," the elf said. "Anything after that, we hunt you down and you can try to make good on your threats."

  "It's no threat," Skater said. He took a card out of his pocket. "Here's a number where you can leave a message for me. It'll be operational in the morning, from nine-fifty-five to ten-oh-five a.m. You can't trace it, you can't find it. The number and the exchange won't exist until then, and it'll disappear forever afterwards." Archangel was redirecting the com-call trail.

  Dragonfletcher put the card in his jacket pocket. "Why the interest in this woman?"

  "She was a friend," Skater said. "I don't have many of those."

  The elf nodded.

  "Take care of this," Skater said, pushing the credstick toward the elf again. "We'll be wanting it back." He could tell from the way McKenzie shifted that he wanted the credstick back himself to make the switch again, but there was no way to ask for it. He knew that Dragonfletcher would check the credstick over, especially since Skater had held it for a time. When the elf did, he'd find the ten percent missing. It wouldn't make sense for Skater to take it and leave the rest, so Dragonfletcher would jump logically to the conclusion that McKenzie had tried to cut himself in for a bigger piece of the biz. Skater wondered how the partnership would weather that revelation.
>
  Dragonfletcher pocketed the credstick but didn't say anything.

  Skater stood up and looked at McKenzie. "Maybe we'll be seeing each other again."

  "Count on it," the Mafia boss said.

  No matter what else happened. Skater knew he'd made a dangerous enemy by double-crossing McKenzie.

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a fusillade of gunshots suddenly exploded the quiet decorum of the restaurant. Skater ducked immediately and palmed the Predator II from the streamlined holster on his belt.

  "C'mon!" Duran roared, grabbing the back of Skater's jacket and hustling him away from the entrance to the lower dining room. He had a Ceska Black Scorpion in his hand spitting flame and thunder.

  At first, Skater thought that one of McKenzie's gunners' had opened fire. Then he spotted the grim faces of what could only be yakuza marching into the room, systematically setting up fields of fire and burning down anyone who tried to stop them. The yaks were easy to spot, dressed in black suits and wearing enhanced sunglasses even at night.

  The Mafia gunners held their ground, overturning tables to set up makeshift gunports. Bullets chewed into the furniture, but the noise level was low as the snarl of silencers wound through the restaurant.

  "Wheeler." Duran called over the commlink, "get ready."

  "Call it," the dwarf replied, "and I'm there."

  Skater brought up his pistol and fired two rounds at a yakuza who was moving into the main dining area and sweeping the diners mercilessly. He aimed for the man's chest, not wanting to chance a headshot.

  The bullets crashed and knocked the dark-suited man back. Skater wasn't sure if the bullets actually struck flesh or just flattened out against Kevlar. Duran released Skater's jacket, evidently satisfied that he was keeping up.

  They reached the corner opposite the entrance at the same instant someone cut the power to the dining room. Darkness swallowed the recessed lighting in an eyeblink. Only the floodlights outside the glass wall and the uncertain scattering of muzzle flashes trapped inside the room provided any kind of illumination.