The telecom beeped, signaling a datafeed on the second line. Hart split the screen and reviewed the details. They were satisfactory.
"Time to go to work, Jenny."
"I'm gone, boss." Jenny's voice faded out in simulated doppler echoes.
Word of Father Rinaldi's fate finally reached them, and it was not good. In attempting to contact the investigative team his order had sent to the British Isles, the priest had run afoul of agents of the Hidden Circle and been captured. Sam had no doubt that the priest would be one of the victims at the renegade druids' next filthy ritual.
Rinaldi's capture complicated things, and Sam didn't need any more complications. Everything was too confused as it was. He stared at the opened packet that Dodger had brought.
Weighting down the curl of the paper was a pistol holster wrapped up in its belt. The smooth black leather encased his Narcoject Lethe, the same pistol that Dodger had given him and that Hart had taken away after she shot him. The other end of the wrappings was held down by a fossil tooth. "Some kind of Late Cretaceous dinosaur,'' the paleontologist had said when Sam had taken it to the museum open house. Sam thought he had a better idea of its origin but he had been wounded and delirious that night in the badlands when he had broken it free from its sandstone entombment. Whatever it had been, it had become a power fetish for him when he drilled a hole to take a ritually knotted cord so that he could wear it around his neck. Folded neatly between the gun and the tooth was the fringed kevlar-lined leather jacket that Sally had given him after his first solo shadowrun.
What had motivated Hart to give Dodger this packet of gifts for Sam? It didn't seem to be boobytrapped; Sam had detected no residues of spells, and Willie had confirmed that no technological bugs infested the contents of the package. "He'll need it," she had told Dodger. For what? Against her? If it was meant as some sort of apology, why hadn't she contacted him herself? The unlocked for return of his goods only confused him more, raising additional worries. Time was running out.
With Rinaldi needing to be rescued, the runners had to split their already pitifully weak forces. It couldn't be helped. If their attack against Hyde-White went off before they rescued the Circle's captives, there was too great a chance that the captives would be killed out of hand. If they made their rescue attempt before the spoiling attack, the Circle would be alerted that Sam's team was back in action. That surprise element was their only advantage, and a pair of simultaneous operations was the only way to use that advantage. It was also a good way for the runners to be defeated in detail.
They were so pitifully undermanned for what they had to do. Herzog was dead, and Willie's street contacts had told her that the shaman's death had effectively cut off any chance of local help. The word on the street was that the run was suicide. Dodger was still trying to contact some out-of-town friends, but Sam didn't have much hope that they would be able to stand up to the druids. He had detailed them, should they show, to helping Dodger go after Rinaldi. With the distraction Sam's attack would provide, Dodger's group shouldn't face organized opposition. At least they had been able to make connections through Cog to outfit Willie for the raid.
The plan was weak and Sam knew it. But they'd make the run. The split weakened the effort, perhaps fatally; but Sam couldn't abandon Rinaldi, and he couldn't see a way to stagger the operations. It was all at once or not at all.
He tossed his head back and closed his eyes, using the exercises Herzog had shown him to reduce the tension. When he felt his neck muscles relax a little, he sighed and brought his head upright again. Beyond Hart's engimatic gift the telecom screen glowed with a frozen image. The screen showed a hardcover book lying on a rug, half covered by a sheet. Due to the forced image enlargement, the image wasn't sharp, but it was clear enough for Sam to recognize it. While Dodger's electronic delvings seemed to contradict Sam's certainty that the woman who was residing in Hyde-White's residence was his sister, the book argued otherwise. And, to Sam, the book won the argument and spurred his haste.
Only the author's name and half of the title were visible, but Sam knew the book, anyway. It was R. Norman Carter's Queen of Sorceries. The original spine of the cover was gone, replaced by a strip of plastiboard taped down to protect the binding. Sam remembered his father standing behind his shoulder monitoring him as he carefully lettered the name of the book onto that now-scuffed piece of board. He could hear Janice crying in the other room and the soft, comforting tones of his mother as she tried to soothe her frantic daughter. Sam had still been mad and unrepentant about teasing his sister about her fondness for the story. His father had said it had been cruel to tease Janice, but Sam hadn't understood at the time. He had thought that his father would approve of his attitude. After all, the book glorified magic. Sam had thought he was rescuing Janice from the perils of magic.
What he hadn't known when he was nine. Even with its shoddy repair, or perhaps because of it, the book had remained one of Janice's childhood treasures. Like their father, she had always been sentimental about books. Sam didn't understand the passion she felt for the physical object, but he knew that she would have used her limited weight allowance to take her favorites with her to Yorni.
Now that book sat in Hyde-White's residence, and Sam could not believe that it belonged to anyone other than his sister. Somehow, Hyde-White had rescued her from Yomi and seduced her. For the first, Sam had to be grateful; the druid had done something Sam had been unable to do. But, for the second, the man had only earned Sam's enmity. Janice had obviously exchanged one form of bondage for another, and she probably was more than grateful for the attention the fat druid gave her. Her goblinized form would not be beautiful.
Sam could not leave his sister living a lie. He was all the family she had left, and he would have sought her freedom even if Hyde-White had been no more than a wealthy and jaded corporate with an exotic taste in bedmates. The druid's evil taint made Janice's rescue and Hyde-White's elimination imperative.
Dodger knew that the electronic contact would have been safer. Not that he was worried about physical safety; he had chosen the meeting site carefully. Though elves were uncommon throughout the plex, their presence in this dive of a pub was less remarkable; London's metahumans showed remarkably more tolerance for each other than the norms did for any of the metatypes.
Even though a Matrix connection would have given him less opportunity to screw up, he wanted an inperson meet. It wasn't because he wanted to deal with Estios face to facea151that was a pain on which he would gladly pass. He felt a need to see Teresa again.
He was on this third V-juice when Estios and Teresa entered the pub and took a booth in the back. From his shadowed position at the bar, he waited, watching to see if they had a tail. Satisfied that there were no obvious followers, he flipped a one-band credstick to the ork behind the bar and joined them.
Teresa looked tired and worn down, but she had a smile for him. Beneath the layer of exhaustion, Estios's expression was even more sour than usual. The hand he tapped nervously on the table was wrapped in surgical tape. The exposed flesh at the base of his fingers looked raw.
"Let's get to it, alley runner. I don't like being out in the open like this."
Dodger gave him a smile as wide and honest as that of a megacorp's public relations director. "Indeed, I think 'tis a lovely evening as well, and your inquiries into my health are sincerely appreciated."
"In your pointy ear, smart-ass. We lost Chatterjee the other night."
Dodger swallowed his levity. He hadn't particularly liked or disliked the Indian elf, but he had respected him as a competent runner. "I know. I'm sorry."
"That don't change anything. He's still dead. If we'd had some more muscle on the floor, he might not be."
Dodger's retort was cut off by Teresa.
"There's no need to lay guilt on Dodger. You went ahead with the raid after you knew he couldn't make it."
"Don't start," Estios snapped.
Teresa sat back. Estios's heated reacti
on seemed to assure her that her point had been made.
"Chatterjee knew the risks, alley runner," Estios said directly to Dodger, as if he needed to explain his own responsibility in the other elf's death. "We're not playing games here. But his death costs the team, and I don't plan on losing anybody just to have a chat with you. Make your point quickly, or we're gone."
"Very well. We've gotten reliable information on the itinerary of one of the Circle. There will be an opportunity for a strike."
"I assume your presence here means that Verner isn't going after him."
"Her. It's Wallace."
"Whatever," Estios said, dismissing the correction with an irritated wave of his injured hand. "You had reported that his strategy was to whittle them down."
Dodger tried to sound properly offended by Estios's implication. "I have reported all with scrupulous accuracy. Sir Twist wants to wait for a shot at bigger fish."
"But, Dodger, why pass this information on to us? If we hit Wallace, it'll stir the Circle up," Teresa observed. "That would seem to complicate Verner's plans."
"A successful raid will also weaken the Circle." He turned to Estios. "I think even you can see that an opportunity to weaken them will be to all our benefits."
"There will be just the one?" Estios asked, still suspicious. "They been hanging pretty close since we iced Carstairs."
"For this occasion, the Circle will be separated. One druid and a minimum amount of muscle is all there will be. The Circle continues to expand their shadow contacts, and there is to be a meet with an important runner. Since the site is within Wallace's turf, the politics of the situation demand a show of trust. Security will be light." "You've got plans for the meet site?" "Of course." Dodger slid a chip case across the table. "Times and routes as well."
"And you're willing to take Chatterjee's place on this hit?"
Dodger hesitated. "I'll ride Matrix cover." "Some brave fellow, eh, Teresa? Can't get shot or flamed in the Matrix."
"There are dangers enough in the Matrix," she said. Dodger wondered if she was worried about him. Estios made his own feelings clear by saying, "Not when we all know the Circle hasn't got a decker in his league."
"Is that a backhanded compliment, Estios?" Dodger said in mock surprise.
Estios glowered at him and stood. He half-dragged Teresa from the booth. "If you do the job, alley runner. We'll take out the druid."
The abrupt end of the meeting spoiled Dodger's hopes of talking with Teresa. His pique roused him to take a jab at the departing Estios. "What's the matter, Mister Competence. Don't you trust me?"
Wind whistled past the cockpit. The rush of air almost drowned out the moan and hum of the taut fibercables connecting the Fledermaus to its untenanted twins. The cables slaved the autopilots of the other craft, forcing them to duplicate Sam's maneuvers. The dogbrains were left just enough latitude to compensate for slight differences in the air flow.
In the distance, the triple towers of the Brighton
Centrum stood like spires of light against the night. Below and beyond them, the lights of the district dotted the landscape like a mass migration of hopped-up fireflies.
Somewhere down there various radars would be running, watching the skies. The cables ensured there would be no transmissions to unmask them, while the foamed exteriors and composite construction materials masked the metallic contents of the craft. To any vigilant watcher, the vee formation of Fledermaus should look like no more than a small flock of night-flying seabirds.
Sam hoped that was true. Cog had assured him of it, but Cog was safely on the ground. Sam turned the nose of his craft toward the land, riding the predawn seabreeze. Behind him, the other two ultralights turned in his wake like obedient dogs.
Hart tongued the button on the boom mike of her headset, silently acknowledging Jenny's signal. A glance over the edge of the roof showed her the two iiicles carrying the meres moving into pre-assault sitions on the plaza between the towers. It was alst time.
Jenny had managed a reasonable crop, given the constraints of time, and they were every bit as cocky jfas the decker had said. But then most of their breed I were that way; they didn't have enough brains to be otherwise. Still, they were well equipped with untraceable equipment, which she had checked herself at the briefing. More importantly, they were hopped up and ready to go on what they thought was a retaliatory property smash.
Hart had arranged for the bloodballs that they had demanded in their contract. The combat drug would raise their pain thresholds and boost their adrenal functions, making them more effective physically while cutting down on reasoning functions. Just the thing for a shoot-and-scoot where no tactical subtlety was needed. She had sternly admonished them to take only one apiece, but she knew most of them would pop a "few more. In fact, she was counting on it, and had made sure the drug was above average purity. A mere
I who succumbed to its false promise of invincibility probably wouldn't last the fight, but until then he'd be worth two or three straight shooters.
They'd need the edge; she hadn't told them about
I the magic they would be facing.
Hart laid the Conner grapple gun on the parapet and fused the sight to check the opposite roof. It was still clear. She wished she could see inside, but she didn't dare send Aleph or make an astral check herself. Surprise was vital.
She tried to relax as she waited for Jenny's go signal.
"Two doors down on the left." Dodger watched Estios and Teresa move down the corridor. She'd cover while the black-haired elf moved forward. Then, he'd hold until she joined him. They were careful and quiet. If Dodger hadn't been monitoring the hall camera, he would not have known they were there; the sound pickups didn't register their presence due to Estios's silence spell.
The pair reached the designated door. As Teresa crossed in front to take a position on the side of the frame opposite Estios, Dodger switched cameras and checked the room to satisfy himself that all was well.
"All clear," he sent on the tight band. "Bonding charge is off. Only the panel lock left.''
Estios nodded once to Teresa. He barely waited for her to signal her own readiness before stepping away from the wall. He faced the door and kicked. A portion of the frame tore free. Estios used the recoil of his kick to drop back in a crouch. Teresa cut through the door and rolled to the left as Estios aimed into the room, ready to take out any threat.
As Dodger had known all along, there was none.
A dazed Pietro Rinaldi awoke with a start. He blinked sunken eyes into at the gun-wielding elves facing him. Like any intelligent person, he made no extraneous movements.
Estios released he left-hand grip of his Steyr and slammed a fist onto the floor. Furiously, he shouted into his microphone. "What kind of drek you pulling here, alley runner!"
"Please, noble rescuer. Lower your voice. I think you're disturbing the good father. As well as possibly alerting ATT-Multifax's sluggish but still present security forces.
"Father? This guy's amp; priest?"
Dodger was inordinantly pleased with himself. Seeing Estios lose his cool was so gratifying. "Now, now.
Don't let your prejudices show. It's bad for public relations. Times are difficult and 'the enemy of my enemy' and all that. The good father opposes our mutual foe and is their prisoner." "That's his problem."
"You are being short-sighted, Ice Eyes," Dodger chided. "This gentleman will have information we can use."
Estios began to bristle, working himself up for a blistering retort, but Teresa touched him on the arm. "Dodger's right," she said softly. Her words made Estios flinch, but at least he stopped sputtering. "Besides, since he has seen us, we can't leave him for them."
"And leave you should. I've got activity on the motion detectors in the cross-corridor at junction three." "Frag it!" Estios exclaimed. "I don't like being used, alley runner. I'll get you for this."
Despite his comment, he helped Teresa get Rinaldi to his feet. An elf on either side, the pries
t was able to shuffle fairly quickly down the passageway.
Dodger guided them through the building, steering them past guard stations and roving patrols. His best information said that the staff of ATT-Multifax weren't part of the Circle's conspiracy, but their building security was still charged with apprehending intruders. Two elves escorting an emaciated priest would definitely attract their attention.
Once the elves and the priest were in the elevator and on their way to the roof, Dodger decided to switch back to the level where Rinaldi had been held. It wouldn't do to have a hue and cry go up. He switched to the zone in time to see a group of four people moving toward the now-vacant holding area. "Drek! It really is Wallace." "What did you say, alley runner?" Estios's query made him realize he had broadcast his surprise.
"Nothing," he responded quickly. "Just get in the veetole and go."
Estios made some kind of response, but Dodger was too busy studying the druid's party through the security camera. He couldn't see any transmitters, which was good; he would have a chance to slow them down. He started isolating the floor by activating all the telecommunications circuits for the zone. As the druid's party discovered their prisoner was gone, he was unleashing an expert program that would flit about the system causing mischief. Until someone isolated the bug, it would look as though a bush league hacker had broken through the building's ice and was flexing his muscles by messing with the telecommunications lines. By then, Dodger would be long gone. He hoped.
As he expected, the first move of Wallace and her goons was to use a telecom to alert the rest of the Circle. While they struggled with the phones, Dodger continued his guerrilla tactics. His ground team had exited onto the roof, so he shut down the elevators. He tensely waited for the veetole to lift before initiating the next sequence.
Finally frustrated with the telecoms, Wallace led her goons toward the elevators. He had only seconds before they decided to use the stairs. One by one, he cut off the security cameras in the sub-basement, starting with the one commanding a view of the elevator lobby. He was rewarded when the ATT-Multifax security triggered the building's intruder alarm. The alert status let him tweak the response and initiate the magnetic locking of the stairwell doors, to completely trap Wallace and her flunkies on a level about to be assaulted by security teams. As a parting shot, he programmed the sub-basement's sprinkler system to function in random bursts and set off the fire alarms throughout the basement levels. The noise and discomfort, would go a long way toward distracting Wallace from using magic to solve her dilemma.
Choose your enemies carefully s-2 Page 27
