by John Helfers
Deke moved toward the front of the building. He’d been in restaurants like this one before—there’d be a little maze of rooms in the back, then the kitchen, then the main dining room out front. He kept the pistol leveled and moved steadily. His boot soles made no noise, not even being wet. Nothing jingled.
“I see you, runner,” a voice said. Deke jerked the pistol around toward the source of the sound, but it was a speaker in the ceiling. “That’s right. I’m watching you.”
“Nice to know,” Deke said, resuming his advance. He came to a junction, turned toward the front.
“I wouldn’t go that way, runner,” the voice said.
Deke went that way.
When he’d been ten his father had gone out to deal with looters or something—his mother was never good with stories—and never came back. All he had of him were memories of the brief times they were together when his father had been on leave. Times when the man had been drinking and spilling his soul to his eight-year-old boy, confessing his sins and passing on a veteran’s wisdom in his catharsis.
“Never do what the blokes want, lad,” he’d said one night, eight or nine deep in his pints. “They say go left, you go right. Nine times out of ten, they was just misleadin’ you anyway. An’ if they weren’t, well…you’ll know where to find them.”
An alert pinged on his AR as Deke passed a junction in the corridor, barely a few meters away from the large swinging door that had to lead into the kitchen. He’s just entered a mesh zone, an overlap. Most of the area around here was dead zone—no Matrix—but a node had just popped up. Deke frowned.
A buzzing in his ears erupted. Jamming. That meant they knew about Lincoln. Deke gritted his teeth and reached around to a small pouch on the small of his back. He pulled out a small canister, twisted the top, and nudged the door open far enough to shove it through. As he expected, a hail of gunfire tore through the door the instant it moved.
The flash-bang exploded. The light was blocked by the door, but the sound carried through like a punch, and even though he’d prepared for it, it still dazed him for a second. And a second was all the bloke needed.
ALERT. Red letters flashed across his vision. “Bloody hell,” Deke mumbled. His overlays started twitching. The hacker was messing with his mesh—with his own bloody network—and although he’d not fully penetrated the OS, he was trying. And he might succeed. Deke was a samurai, not a hacker. He had hackers on retainer that updated his mesh. But he wasn’t one himself.
“Shit.” He shut down all of his unwired network. Targeting crosshairs dropped off his overlays. Reports stopped pinging from the arrows and dots scattered around the restaurant. Deke squeezed the grip of his pistol, cursed the seconds he’d lost dealing with the hack, and charged through the door.
A troll lay on its side just to the side of the door, its thick hide smoking. Bloody fool must’ve grabbed the grenade, Deke thought. He drew back a foot and kicked, but the impact did little more than jostle the giant. He grunted and spun, taking in the rest of the room.
And the three guns pointed right at him, held by the last five gangers.
“I told you I could see you, runner,” an elf said. His eyes were glassy with overlays—he’d been the one speaking in the corridor. That made him the hacker.
“And here I am,” Deke said.
“You’re here for the child,” the elf said.
Deke looked around. He didn’t see any children. “I am. Her father wants her back.”
“Thinks ’e own the place, does he?” a human said from one side. Deke glanced at him. He was almost forty, dirty, with the look of a man who’d done his lazy best to get through life on bravado and cowardice. Deke looked at the gun in his hand, flashed an enhancement through his cybereye, and then ignored him. His pistol’s safety was still on.
“He doesn’t care, Cyril,” the elf said. “He’s just a runner, not a yak.”
“Then let’s shoot ’im an’ be done,” Cyril said.
“Let’s not,” the elf said.
“Wise choice,” Deke said.
The elf laughed. “You’re hardly in a position to negotiate,” he said. “Your sniper outside can’t help you, and we’ve got you covered. I can sense your augments, runner. I know you’re wired—a relic, really, these days—and although I shut down your mesh, you’re still dangerous.” He brandished the Ares in his hand. “You might get me, but not all of us.”
“True,” Deke said. “But…”
“But what?”
Deke smiled. “Now, yak.”
Someone walked on his soul. Power wafted through the mana, wrapping itself around the weapons of the gangers like ethereal fists and ripping them from unyielding hands. Deke brandished his pistols as all the gangers’ guns slammed themselves against the wall behind him and clattered to the floor. A moment later the yak ork sorcerer walked through the hallway door behind Deke. His eyes and his tattoos were alight with unholy fire. He’d been watching through the small vision slit. Or at least, that had been the plan.
“You should not have taken the child,” he said.
“Couldn’t come yourself?” the elf spat. “Had to get gaijin help?”
“When a need arises, one secures an expert,” the mage said. “Where is the child?”
The elf snarled a half-heard curse. Deke swallowed.
“Where. Is. The. Child?”
“Sod off, yak,” Cyril said.
The mage looked at him. His lips moved with silent words, and suddenly Cyril was screaming, was writhing, and then was on fire. Deke stepped back, pistol leveled, but the yak was only interested in Cyril. After a moment the body collapsed and stopped screaming, but didn’t stop to burn. The scent filled the small space.
The yak turned back to the elf. “The child?”
“We sold her.”
“You sold her.”
“To Tamanous.” The elf looked at Cyril’s corpse and then back at the yak. Deke had to give him credit. If he was scared—and by all the dragons in the Sixth World Deke was scared—he didn’t show it. “Got a good price, too, a young thing like that. Had just the right blood type.”
“Why would you do that?” the mage asked. “You knew we would come after you. You knew who she was, who her father was.” He frowned, which made his tusks more prominent. “Why would you do something so foolish?”
“Because this is England,” the elf said. He spoke the best Queen’s English. “And you’re just an import. And it’s time you remembered it.”
Deke looked at the mage. The ork raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. Deke swallowed, and rebooted his mesh. It came back up clean, but there was a waiting message from an unknown sender. He looked at the elf. The elf looked at him. “What’s the plan?” Deke asked.
“We renegotiate,” the ork said. “Let’s go?”
Deke turned toward him. “What about them?”
There was a strange, wet noise behind him. He turned, saw the bodies lying on the floor, faces frozen in distended caricatures of horrible pain. Blood leaked from their eyes.
“What about them?” the ork asked, and walked through the door.
Outside, Lincoln came down to meet them. He had the hood of his now-soaked ghillie suit thrown back and his rifle cradled in his arms. He looked at Deke, elf’s ears upturned and a smile on his face. “Payday, mate?”
“Not yet.” Deke slipped the safety on his pistol and slid it into his holster. “You said renegotiate,” he said to the mage.
“I must contact the oyabun,” the mage said. “Please do not leave.” He sat down where he stood, into a puddle, black skinsuit splashing muddy water. His face went blank.
“What happened?” Lincoln asked. Deke filled him in. Lincoln looked at the mage, his hand unconsciously stroking the receiver of his rifle. “Bloody hell, mate.”
“Yeah.” Deke looked at the ork on the ground. He didn’t seem to be there. He called the message up on his screen. It was text only, but he recognized the elf’s hand on it. The way it sp
oke was the same.
>I don’t blame you, runner. Nuyen is nuyen. But beware the yakuza. We’ve stained their honor, and they’ll want that hidden. You know. Be wary. As the man said, you are an expert. But you’re not yakuza.
Deke read it twice, then deleted it. The ork had not stirred. He was communing, or something. Deke caught Lincoln’s eye, then set up a link through the mesh. Text only. He glanced down.
>Can the yak get on our mesh?
Lincoln glanced down, then shook his head.
>He killed everyone in there.
>YOU TOLD ME THAT.
>Yeah, but he did it without blinking. He didn’t ask which harvester they sold the girl to. He just gakked them. Deke looked back at the building. There was a bit of smoke rolling out of the open door. Perhaps Cyril had spread.
>One of the gangers left me a message.
>WHAT?
>On my mesh. He tried to hack it—succeeded, I guess—but I shut it down. Told me to be careful. Said we’re not yaks. Said to watch out.
Lincoln glanced down at the zoned-out yak mage. He still hadn’t moved. >SO YOU’RE WORRIED.
>Yeah.
>KILL HIM?
Deke shook his head. >Not yet. We need to find this little girl, get paid. We need more information. He looked down at the ork. >And a better plan.
Lincoln shrugged. >I’LL BACK YOUR PLAY. He disconnected.
Deke looked around, trying to ignore the taint in the air of cooking meat. It wasn’t the first time he’d smelled it, not even the first time he’d smelled it in the Barrens. He dropped an overlay and looked around, watching for mesh telltales or odd dots or arrows. Nothing. The shack was right down the road.
“We’re leaving now,” his mother had said, a couple months after they’d gotten the word about his dad. “We’re not coming back here. We’re never coming back here.”
Yet here I am.
The mage stirred.
“We’re going back toward town. The girl has been sold to the Leaf gang, and their harvesting center is ten kilometers that direction.” He climbed to his feet and looked between Deke and Lincoln. “This is acceptable?”
“Our contract was for the gangers,” Deke said.
“Your contract was to retrieve the oyabun’s daughter.”
“From the gangers.” Deke jerked a thumb over his shoulder. The rain was keeping fire from spreading outside the building, but the smoke was still there, and the smell. And, Deke knew, later that night there’d be a moment where his hand would spasm and he’d see the face of the ganger he’d punched to death. “That’s done.”
“I said we would renegotiate.” The ork returned Deke’s gaze evenly.
“Now.”
“Very well. I will increase your payment by forty percent for the added labor.”
“Sixty.”
“You are haggling?”
“We could walk away now.”
“You haven’t completed your contract,” the yak said. Lincoln stepped a step to the side, away from Deke’s side, adding some distance between them. The ork looked at him, then back at Deke. “Even if you did, the oyabun would hunt you down.”
“Fifty percent over the previous amount,” Deke said. His palms were sweating inside his gloves but he kept his voice even. “And you deposit the first amount now, into our numbered accounts. Before we take another step.”
The ork smiled. It was not pretty. “Done.” He turned and walked back toward the slope they had come down. Their vehicle was waiting there, and as Deke drove at the ork’s instructions he had Lincoln check the status of their accounts. They’d barely gone a klick when Lincon sent a message through Deke’s mesh.
>MONEY’S THERE. NICE PLAY.
“How do you know it’s the Leafs?” Deke asked.
“That was the information I was given,” the mage said. He stared out the side window, but his fingers moved every so often in intricate movements and his lips moved as he subvocalized words. Deke watched him out of the corner of his eye.
“Given?”
“By those with the information,” he said.
“You know, you could start trusting us,” Deke said, after a short period of silence. “We’re doing what you want.”
The mage turned his head and looked at Deke. “Trust is not necessary, runner. Your skills are needed, and so you are employed. More information would not make it any easier for you to shoot people.”
“I need to know about the Leafs.”
“There are six people in the facility as of six hours ago. When we get there I’ll be able to update that number.”
“Update?”
“I can sense it.”
“So you can lead me right to the little girl?” Deke smiled. “That’ll make it easier. Might even be able to get in and out without killing anyone.” He made an indicated turn and slowed. The flashing neon sign of a tree branch was blinking ahead in the distance, and his overlays were starting to pick up more lively dots and arrows—current ones, even. Not leftovers.
“I cannot tell you where people are,” the mage said. “Only how many.”
“Seems rubbish, to me.”
“Everything has limits, runner. Even in the Sixth World.”
Deke didn’t slow down as he passed the Leaf organ harvesting center that masqueraded as a private care facility. He just rolled past, not even looking. Lincoln would be looking, he knew. He’d cross-load the feed through his mesh later. And the yak was almost glowing as they went past.
“There are twelve people in that building,” he said.
Deke drove to the next side street, signaled the turn like a normal driver, and took it. He pulled into the first alley he found and parked the van, then opened his mesh up while Lincoln transmitted what’d he’d seen. Deke watched the replay at double-speed, watching for anything that would indicate he should slow down, but saw only what he expected: a harmless-looking building, unfortified, hiding in plain sight.
“Plan?” Lincoln asked.
“Depends,” Deke said.
“On?”
“On whether one of those twelve people is the little girl.” He looked to the ork. “You realize we may be too late.”
“She is still alive,” the mage said. “She must be.”
“Then the smart money is some of them being doctors.” Deke took a deep breath. “That means fast.”
“Fast is more dangerous,” Lincoln said. A ping sounded in Deke’s head. >WHAT’S PLAN?
“Yes, it is,” Deke said. >Insurance.
“The girl must not be harmed.” The mage was looking in the direction of the building, but his attention was still on the small team. “Can you extract her?”
Deke smiled. “That’s what you’re paying me for.” He glanced at Lincoln, thought for a second, and then shrugged. “Life’s dangerous.” He shifted his weight, then directed his attention to the ork. “You and me need to talk.”
“We are speaking.”
“Tell me about your mojo.”
“My what?”
“Your magic. You can sense people. And I know you can kill people. I’ve seen that bloody well up close.” Deke swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. “Can you just knock everyone in there unconscious?”
“Perhaps,” the mage said. “If I could see them. But the spell for that is very dangerous to small children. I would not chance it with the oyabun’s daughter at stake.”
Deke opened his door and climbed out. They were parked behind a small suite of offices—all seemed deserted, and all the arrows were reading closed. He clicked through several overlays, but there didn’t appear to be any security related to the Leafs directed at them. The rain hadn’t changed, but there was more light. This close to London—or this far from the Barrens—there was the beginnings of a dedicated zone. If he’d been so inclined, Deke could have probably accessed the Matrix.
“When I go in, will you know who I am?”
“Only if I can see you,” the mage said.
Deke nodded. This m
ight work. “If I were carrying the little girl, would you be able to tell? Without seeing us, I mean.”
“Only if I can see you. Magic is not like a vid camera.” The ork climbed out of the other side of the van. He paused a moment, turning his face upward to the rain. When he looked down, Deke saw calculation in his eyes. “What is your plan?”
“I will go in. I will find the little girl. Once I have her, I’ll either carry her out or put her on my back.” He beckoned at the mage. “Once you see us, you put everyone else down for a nap.” He snapped his fingers. “We walk out.”
“Seems simple enough,” Lincoln said. >HOW DOES THAT HELP ME!?
>Patience.
The ork considered for a moment. Then he climbed back into the seat he’d recently vacated and closed the door. The window rolled down enough to let sound out. “I can do this,” he said. He rummaged for a black skullcap and climbed back out. “I must get on the roof. There are skylights.”
“Well…” Deke went to the back of the van and rummaged around until he came up with a dingy old peacoat and slipped it on. It was large enough that it hung to below his waist and halfway down the backs of his hands.
“You’re going in like that,” Lincoln asked.
“That’s right.”
“Through the front door.”
“That’s right.”
>ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF?
“That would seem unwise,” the yak said.
“Against other runners? Absolutely. Those gangers we just left? Get me nicked and sold off without a second thought.” Deke shrugged his shoulders to reseat the peacoat over the bulge of his subgun at the small of his back. “Here? Just what the doctor ordered.”
“You’re insane,” Lincoln said.
“They have to have a front,” Deke said. “People must wander in off the street, arrows or no. They’re a medical office, for dragon’s sake. I’ll just walk in for a consult.” He grinned a nod at he ork and started walking, head down, hands deep in the peacoat’s pockets.
>HE’S GOING TO KILL US.
>Not before we get the kid.
>RIGHT AFTER.
Deke snorted. >Probably. He glanced around the sidewalk as he came around the building he’d parked behind. There was no one else on the streets, and a quick flicker of his overlays confirmed no active sensing. He shut back down as quickly as he could, content to do more than zip-squeal text with Lincoln. It was maybe a hundred-meter walk to the clinic.
