Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  A hard glance from Midnight, entirely out of character with the appearance she wore, allowed Kellan to tear her eyes from the guard and turn back to the terminal. She tapped commands into the cyberdeck to give the appearance of the proper code to get the system to delete the files, and to overwrite the areas where they were stored, to make sure it wouldn’t be easy to recover them.

  Midnight dragged the guard to the side and quickly moved back to cover the door. Kellan noticed that she had drawn her slim automatic pistol and held it at the ready. The sound of the keys seemed incredibly loud as she strained her ears for signs of any other sound. There was no response to the guard’s strangled cry, no sound of alarm, nobody rushing to check.

  The terminal finally responded and deleted the selected files. Kellan double-checked to make sure they were wiped from the system before she disconnected her cyberdeck and powered it down.

  "It’s done," she said quietly, stowing the deck back in its carrying case.

  Midnight nodded in response, indicating with one hand that Kellan should remain where she was as she opened the door and cautiously looked out into the hall.

  The beep from the guard’s commlink made Kellan jump.

  "Station One," the voice over the link said. "What’s your status? Over."

  "Go . . . now!" Midnight hissed.

  "Station One, do you copy?" the voice said. "Station One . . ."

  Kellan bolted out the door headed for the exit, with Midnight close behind her. She could hear booted feet on the tile floor, and—just as she hit the crash bar on the door, sending it flying open—she heard a shout from behind them.

  "Halt!"

  The shadowrunners didn’t even slow down, dashing out the door and into the steady rain, running out of the alley. Kellan nearly collided with a knot of people splashing through the rain, heads down, wearing disposable translucent slickers over their street clothes. They came up short, staring in surprise at the women running past them, then scattered at the banging of the metal door and the yells of the security guard, who was brandishing a heavy pistol.

  Two shots rang out, sending the pedestrians scrambling for cover. Kellan heard one bullet ricochet too close for comfort. Cars blared their horns and squealed, slamming on their brakes as Kellan dashed across the street. She and Midnight reached their bikes at the same time, mounting up and kicking them to life. Midnight turned and fired a shot in the direction of the guard as he rushed toward them. It went wide, but forced him to seek cover against the corner of a building.

  "Go!" Midnight said, and they roared away from the curb as two more shots from the security guard splashed in the street nearby, cars swerving out of the way as the motorcycles dodged around them. Kellan nearly lost control of the bike on the rain-slick pavement, but managed to right herself as they put on a burst of speed heading down John Street.

  By the time they peeled around the corner to Western Avenue, Midnight gave Kellan the thumbs-up. There were no signs of pursuit, but still they kept their speed up, and an eye out for Lone Star patrols as they headed down the waterfront. When the sides of the massive reconstruction of the Renraku Arcology loomed high overhead in front of them, Midnight took a left turn into the heart of downtown Seattle, heading uphill away from the waterfront. Traffic thickened, and they merged into it as Kellan allowed herself to breathe a small sigh of relief. The ran was done, and they’d gotten away clean.

  Chapter 5

  They pulled up outside Dante’s Inferno, just a few blocks from the arcology. As usual, the Inferno was packed with would-be club-goers. There was a line stretching down the block, under a temporary tarp tunnel bounded by porta-barriers. Midnight pulled her bike into the alley alongside the club, and Kellan followed. They parked their bikes in empty slots at the rack, which automatically locked them down when they inserted their credsticks in the slot at the top of the rack and keyed in their parking slot number. Kellan had dropped the disguise spell once they were out of sight of the clinic, and Midnight shook rainwater from her hair, grinning widely.

  "How about I buy you a drink?" she asked Kellan, who smiled in response.

  "Best idea I’ve heard all night."

  The two of them headed past the line of hopefuls waiting to get into the club and right up to the massive troll barring their way at the door. He topped three meters, and the tailored tux barely contained his bulging muscles as he stood with arms folded across his massive chest, looking down from his post. Curling horns like a ram’s swept back from a shaved pate that showed faint black stubble.

  "Hoi, Newt," Kellan said, and the troll answered her smile with one of his own, showing his tusks. "Hey, Kellan," he rumbled. "Midnight. Zappinin’?"

  "Business is good," Midnight answered, brushing one hand along Newt’s massive forearm. She rested her fingers near his wrist for a moment. "Very good, and we’re looking to celebrate."

  Newt smiled again, this time slow and sly. "Well, then, you came to the right place." He stood aside and lifted the velvet rope for the two of them to enter. "Right this way, ladies," he said with a bow. Midnight favored him with a dazzling smile and swept past like royalty given her rightful due. Kellan paused for a moment, as always, to savor the jealous looks from the wannabe clubbers, who must be wondering who these women were and how they rated.

  "I might be meeting some friends . . ." she told Newt in a low voice.

  "No problem," he said. "Just have ’em tell me you’re expecting them."

  Kellan nodded, doing her best to keep the swelling pride she felt from showing too much. She remembered when she couldn’t get a bouncer at the Inferno or Underworld 93 to give her the time of day. Now her name was opening doors for other people. She really felt like somebody, like she was putting past mistakes behind her.

  She caught up with Midnight in the foyer of the club, decorated in lush wine-dark velvet and gold, just as she hit the steps leading up to the main entrance. Reddish light pulsed from within, and the flaming letters over the doorway warned all who entered to abandon hope. Kellan found it ironic tonight, since she felt more hopeful than she had in a while.

  Beyond the main entrance, Dante’s Inferno was laid out as a showplace and spectacle for the in-crowd of Seattle. The central area was a giant cylinder, seven stories tall, with spiral ramps and floors made of transparex, so you could look up or down through them to see the whole of the club. Down the hollow core burned a column of holographic fire, where images of nude figures writhed—in pleasure or torment, it was difficult to tell. Surrounding the transparent dance floors were bars and seating for patrons to drink and people-watch.

  There was plenty to watch, as usual. Dante’s attracted a young crowd with money to burn. Corporate sararimen looking to ditch suits and ties and blow off some steam mixed with elves in the latest designer fashions; club-kids decked out in synthleather, body latex and holocloth; and exotic changelings, or maybe just humans with cosmetic modifications. Kellan spotted several unusual shades of hair and skin color, scales and horns, along with at least one dancer with a swaying furry tail.

  Midnight led them up the ramps to the second level, which was decorated predominately in gold, with Roman-style statues set in alcoves in the walls, some of them bearing coffers and jars overflowing with golden coins that seemed to spill out endlessly—a clever holographic projection. This level was devoted to Greed, just as the first level of the Inferno was dedicated to Envy (for those waiting to get into the club surely envied those already inside). Each of the other levels reflected another of the seven deadly sins in an orgy of overindulgence.

  They ordered drinks at the bar. When those arrived, Midnight lifted her glass and favored Kellan with a smile.

  "Here’s to a good night’s work," she said. They clinked glasses, and Kellan relished her Forbidden Apple martini (one of Dante’s specialties). Midnight took a sip of her own drink, then held up a hand to speak as she swallowed.

  "Mmmm, speaking of which," she said. "We should make sure business is taken care of. Is th
e data all set?"

  Kellan opened her cyberdeck’s carrying case and popped the optical chip out of the deck’s drive, holding it out to Midnight.

  "Right here."

  "Good," she said, plucking the chip from Kellan’s fingers and turning it over in her own. She slipped it into one of the pockets of her jacket, producing a credstick in return. Kellan took out her own credstick and touched it to Midnight’s. The sticks swapped bits, and funds were transferred into Kellan’s account.

  "Now I can buy the next round," Kellan said.

  "Sorry," Midnight replied, taking another sip of her drink. "But I can’t stay. We still have to conclude the deal."

  Kellan looked crestfallen. She’d been looking forward to celebrating their good fortune. "I’ll come with you," she said, but Midnight shook her head.

  "Sorry, but this is a one-on-one meeting. It’s what the Johnson wants. Maybe next time. You have fun and I’ll let you know when everything is squared away. Maybe I can swing back afterward."

  "Null sheen," Kellan replied. Midnight finished her drink and stood to leave. As she stood, she leaned in to Kellan, resting a hand on her arm.

  "You did a good job tonight," she said.

  "Thanks," Kellan smiled. "You, too."

  After Midnight left, Kellan thought briefly about calling it a night, but then reached for her phone. Frag that, she thought. I don’t get to celebrate a big payout that often. She started calling around to see if some of her friends were available; after all, there was no point in having clout at a place like Dante’s if you didn’t use it.

  Liada and Silver Max weren’t around, but Kellan did get hold of Tamlin and invited him to meet her at the club.

  "Hey, Tam, I’ve got another call, I’ll see ya soon," she said as the call waiting on her phone beeped. She glanced at the ID on the screen before answering.

  "G-Dogg," she said. "I was just about to call you."

  "Kellan, where you at?" he asked.

  "Dante’s, you wanna come by for a drink? I’m buying. . . ."

  "Hey, sounds good, and I’ve got some news."

  "What’s up?"

  "Tell you when I get there. Later."

  Kellan pressed the end button on her phone, wondering about G-Dogg’s news.

  Orion showed up at the club first, dressed for a night out, and Kellan’s face lit up when she spied him down on the first floor of the club heading for the ramp.

  Tamlin O’Ryan was an elf, like Midnight, and carried himself with a similar catlike grace. But where Midnight was a panther, disappearing into the shadows,

  Tamlin was a lion, fierce and proud. He’d been a member of the Ancients, the biggest elven gang in Seattle, until Kellan discovered someone was using his gang as pawns, setting them up for a fall. She’d managed to convince Orion of the facts, but he couldn’t convince the gang’s leader, and got kicked out for his trouble. Even though Kellan was eventually proven right, Orion was through with the Ancients. He still carried himself like a street warrior, though, always ready for a fight.

  He wore the same leather jacket he’d always worn, the Ancients emblem long ago removed from the back, but the ballistic cloth lining as serviceable as ever. Part of his dark hair was pulled back in a high tail like a samurai, the rest allowed to fall free to his shoulders, partly covering his pointed ears. Black jeans covered the tops of heavy motorcycle boots. The only real color was his forest green shirt, decorated with Celtic knot-work around the square collar.

  "Hey, Kel," he said when he reached the bar. "What’s going on?"

  Kellan patted the stool next to her. "Pull up a seat and have a drink," she said. "Business was good tonight."

  "Yeah?" he inquired as he sat down. "How good?"

  "Good enough that I’m buying."

  Orion grinned. "That’s all I need to know."

  As good as his word, Orion didn’t ask Kellan about the details of the job she’d just pulled. It was better not to ask your friends questions they might not be able to answer.

  "Glad biz is good for you at least," he said after the bartender took his order.

  "Hey, things will pick up for you, too," she said, and Orion shrugged.

  "Hope so. Too bad your job didn't need any more muscle along."

  "You know . . ."

  "Yeah, I do," he said. He knew if Kellan could have included him in the job, she would have. "I didn’t mean anything by it."

  "Null sheen."

  "There’s G-Dogg," Orion said with a nod, glancing down through the dance floor.

  "Wizard. I called him, too."

  G-Dogg was Orion’s opposite in many ways. He was an ork, one of the metahuman races not blessed with grace or beauty. Instead, G-Dogg was more than two meters of muscle packed into a tee-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and over his bulging arms. The blue-gray shirt bore the logo of the Big Rhino, an ork restaurant downtown, and G-Dogg wore a black leather vest over it, along with a Native-style bone-and-rawhide collar. Black jeans, combat boots and leather wristbands completed the outfit.

  If it were just his size and clothes, G-Dogg might be mistaken for a human biker who’d gotten muscle replacement surgery, but you only had to look at his face to see he wasn’t human at all. He had the sloped forehead, beetled brow and pointed ears common to orks. His long black hair was a mass of dreadlocks, decorated with bits of metal and pulled back into a bunch at the nape of his neck. Metal gleamed from his ears as well. Small, yellowed tusks jutted up over his upper lip, giving him an underbite and a jutting jaw. Still, the dark eyes didn’t miss a thing, and G-Dogg held that chin up with pride and attitude, as if he were the most glamorous simstar. He walked like he owned the place, and people treated him accordingly.

  G-Dogg received waves, nods and shouted greetings from people as he passed. He spotted Kellan and Orion at the bar as soon as he hit the second floor, and headed right for them, nodding and acknowledging his other friends and acquaintances briefly. Though he seemed as friendly as always, Kellan didn’t think he seemed in his usual high spirits, and she frowned in concern.

  "Heya, Kel," the ork rumbled in his deep bass voice when he finally got over to them. "How’s things?"

  "Just celebratin’ a job well done."

  G-Dogg nodded. "Good for you. Let me give ya the news, then we’ll get down to it." His eyes shifted to Orion for a moment.

  "It’s frosty," Kellan said, and G-Dogg shrugged slightly, as if saying it was Kellan’s business whom she trusted.

  "I got word there’s somebody looking for you," he said.

  "Who’s that?"

  "Guy named Toshi Akimura. He’s been asking around real quietly, but the word came to me, just like it always does."

  Kellan felt like G-Dogg had just reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. "What?" she said dumbly, unable to comprehend for a moment.

  "Akimura," G-Dogg repeated slowly. "He’s this big-time fixer, been round fer a while now."

  "Akimura?" Kellan repeated, more to herself than anyone else. "That can’t be."

  "You know him?" G-Dogg asked.

  "Do you?" Kellan countered. He shrugged.

  "I’ve heard of him. Like I was sayin’, Akimura is a big-time fixer—least he was a few years ago. Haven’t heard much about him lately. He operated out of New Orleans for years, but I heard he has some old connections in Seattle."

  Kellan swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Must be why I’ve never heard of him," she said as casually as she could. "Did you hear anything about why he’s looking?"

  G-Dogg shook his head. "Nope, just that he’s lookin’ to talk."

  "Did you . . ." Kellan began, her palms starting to sweat.

  "Tell him anything?" G-Dogg asked. "C’mon, Kel. You know me better than that."

  "Right, right, natch," she replied, wiping her palms surreptitiously on her jeans.

  G-Dogg wasn’t the type to give away information, especially on his friends. When Kellan first met him, she had been looking for him because she heard G-Dogg
knew people in the shadows. He hadn’t even admitted to knowing himself at first, since he didn’t know who Kellan was. She had no reason to think he’d be any freer with information about her—at least not unless there was serious cred involved, and if that was the case, she didn’t think G-Dogg would be at the Inferno telling her about it.

  "Maybe he’s looking to hire," Orion suggested helpfully. G-Dogg shrugged and cocked his head in a noncommittal gesture.

  "Could be," he said. "Only way to find out is to talk to him. If he is hiring, it’s probably pretty hot biz." He didn’t indicate whether or not he thought Kellan could handle that.

  "You know what he’s doing in Seattle?" the elf asked, and G-Dogg shook his head again.

  "Nope. Hadn’t heard he was here until tonight." Undergoing treatment at a top clinic, Kellan thought to herself. Akimura asking around for her couldn’t be a coincidence, but how could he possibly know about the run on Nightengale’s so quickly, and how could he know she was involved? Did someone spot them and see through her spell somehow? Did he know about Midnight, too? Could she have told him, sold Kellan out somehow? Why?

  "Hey, Kellan."

  G-Dogg’s voice brought Kellan’s glance up to meet the ork’s, interrupting her out-of-control train of thought.

  "What?"

  "I said, do you want me to pass on a message to Akimura? Maybe put out some feelers and find out if he’s hiring or something?"

  "Yeah . . ." she said. "Yeah, sure, sounds like a good idea. Like you said, it’s probably pretty big-time, right?"

  He nodded. "Let me make some calls—"

  "Hey, doesn’t have to be right now. I invited you guys over for some fun. I just finished a job—I don’t have to start looking for another one tonight."