Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  Tucking the phone away and kicking her bike back to life, Midnight smiled. "Well, Silk," she said quietly to herself as she lowered the faceplate of her helmet, "let’s see you get Kellan to listen to you now." Everything was going according to plan.

  * * *

  Kellan allowed the hot spray of the shower to wash away the lingering images of her dream, along with the cobwebs in her head. By the time she got dressed again—in her fatigue pants and a clean shirt from her bag—and towel-dried her hair, Kellan could smell something cooking in the kitchen. Her stomach growled, and she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. When a run was going down, in the planning and preparation leading up to the action, she often skipped meals or forgot to eat altogether.

  In the kitchen, Lothan handed her a steaming mug.

  "Coffee?" he asked, and Kellan accepted it gratefully.

  "Thanks," she said, sipping at the hot brew, savoring its taste and aroma. Kellan was incredibly grateful at that moment that Lothan was a connoisseur who hated soykaf. He was willing to spend the cred it took to get real coffee—which wasn’t as expensive in coffee-obsessed Seattle as it was elsewhere, but it still wasn’t cheap. Out of respect for the quality of the drink, she had learned to drink it black, rather than adding soymilk.

  Kellan sat down at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee while Lothan busied himself at the stove. Watching him handle the pans and utensils was like seeing a big man use children’s toys, but he had a deft hand nonetheless. Lothan poured eggs from a carton into a bowl, and whipped them with some soymilk and dried herbs.

  "Are you planning on a lesson today?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his work.

  "Yeah, if that’s okay," Kellan replied.

  "It’s fine. I just didn’t know if your other business was concluded or not."

  Kellan took a gulp of coffee. "Not exactly. Well, I don’t know," she said. Lothan still didn’t look up from what he was doing.

  "Oh?" was all he said.

  "Just a few loose ends to wrap up."

  "I see. Well, I assume none of these loose ends are going to show up on my doorstep like you did last night?" Lothan poured the eggs into a pan, to the accompaniment of a sizzling sound, and began stirring. Kellan stared into her coffee mug. He had a point: by coming to him, Kellan had involved him, which meant he had a right to know at least some of what was going on.

  "We had a run-in with some Halloweeners," she began.

  "I know that much from what G-Dogg told me," Lothan replied, tapping the spoon on the side of the pan, then tipping the skillet to allow the uncooked egg to run to the side. "What he didn’t tell me is why the Halloweeners decided to cause trouble right in front of Dante’s place. G-Dogg and Orion seemed to have no idea. Do you?"

  "The Halloweeners wouldn’t mess with you, Lothan—" Kellan began, but she was cut off when the troll moved the pan to a cold burner and set it down with a loud clack.

  "I realize that," he said, turning to look at her for the first time. "I’m not worried about some gangers, even ones as psychotic as them. What I’m concerned about is trouble from whoever convinced the Halloweeners it was worth their while to risk pissing off Dante."

  "It’s not a problem," Kellan said firmly.

  "Well, good, then," Lothan said, scooping the eggs onto a plate and setting them in front of Kellan. "Then why don’t you eat and clean up the dishes, then meet me in the study when you’re done?" The mage left the room without further comment. Kellan heard the door down the hall close behind him as she picked at the steaming scrambled eggs with a fork.

  As always, she felt bad not telling Lothan more about her potential problem, but, frankly, the less he knew, the better for everyone, including him. He was a professional. He knew the score. She didn’t want to cause trouble by getting the old mage any further involved than he was already—he couldn’t reveal what he didn’t know. That, and Kellan didn’t know if she completely trusted Lothan.

  Drek, Kellan didn’t know if she completely trusted anybody. That was life in the shadows. Everybody looked out for number one, and half of them would frag you just for some extra spending cred. The trouble was telling which half. It was one of the first things Kellan learned in the shadows of Seattle, the most valuable lesson Lothan had taught her so far. On their first run together, Lothan chose not to tell Kellan that he had his own, separate deal going with an employer who was setting them up. She stumbled across this knowledge in the middle of a firefight, and, fortunately for her, Lothan switched sides for his own benefit. It was "just business," after all.

  Still, Lothan was the most experienced mage and shadowrunner Kellan knew, and he was teaching her how to expand and control the magical talent she’d discovered she possessed. She’d learned plenty about the magical arts from him, and now could do a lot more than just throw fire around. Like Midnight said, in the Awakened world people with magic were a valuable commodity, and spell-slingers were in demand in the shadows as much as anywhere else. Kellan owed Lothan something, didn’t she?

  She glumly pushed the food away and admitted to herself that there was no way she was going to be able to concentrate on anything Lothan wanted to teach her today—not until she knew more about just what she had stepped into. It should have been easier to let Midnight take care of things, but Kellan just couldn’t wait around for something to happen. She needed to find out more on her own. She needed to do something, and she knew just whom to talk to about it.

  Kellan got up from the table, dumped the eggs in the garbage, rinsed her plate and fork and grabbed her gear. She pulled on her jacket and threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she headed down the hall to Lothan’s study. She knocked, then waited for Lothan’s response before opening the door to the dimly lit room. The troll mage was ensconced in his massive leather chair, scrolling through some document on the small fold-out computer screen on his desk. He swiveled the chair around to face the door.

  "Lothan?" she said. "I’ve changed my mind and decided to pass on the lesson today. I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of."

  There was a pause as he regarded her, his face unreadable.

  "Very well," he said, turning back to his work. "Will this be another extended sojourn?"

  "I don’t know. I’ll stay in touch." She turned to leave, but Lothan’s voice stopped her just outside the door.

  "Kellan? Don’t do anything foolish, and be careful."

  "Yeah," she replied, shifting the strap on her shoulder. "I will."

  As she was heading out the door, Kellan hit a button on her phone and held it to her ear.

  "Jackie?" she said after a moment. "It’s Kellan. Are you busy? I need some information about somebody...

  * * *

  Anyone who didn’t know her might mistake Jackie Ozone for a corporate businesswoman, with her casually stylish clothes, carryall for the essentials of twenty-first-century electronica, and the sleek chrome datajack at her right temple. She looked like just another of Seattle’s many corporate execs and employees taking advantage of a pleasant afternoon to get away from the fluorescent lights and recycled air of their offices for a few minutes. When Kellan approached the bench where Jackie sat, she looked up from her pocket secretary, stowing it away in her bag and favoring Kellan with a welcoming smile as she moved over to allow her to sit down.

  "Long time no see," she told Kellan. "What’ve you been up to?"

  With a shrug Kellan said, "I’ve been busy."

  "Mmm-hmmm," Jackie said, taking a sip of whatever was in the paper cup sitting next to her on the bench. "Making friends all over the place." Kellan looked at her and saw a sly smile.

  "You heard."

  "Let’s just say word is starting to get around."

  "Then you know why I’m looking for more intel."

  "About a gang?" Jackie asked innocently.

  "About whoever is behind them."

  "Then it wasn’t just random."

  Kellan shook her head. "No, it was personal."


  "Personal? Or business?"

  "That’s what I need to find out."

  Jackie nodded. "Done any digging yourself?" Kellan shook her head again. "Not yet. First I want to find out more about what I might be digging up."

  "How serious is this?"

  "I don’t know."

  "Okay," Jackie said. "Why don’t you tell me about it from the beginning."

  So she did. Leaving out the details of the run and Midnight’s involvement, Kellan related the incident outside Dante’s Inferno—in particular what the Molotov-throwing Halloweener had to say.

  "And you’re sure that’s what he said?" Jackie asked. When Kellan nodded, Jackie mused out loud. "Toshiro Akimura."

  "Who is this guy, Jackie? G-Dogg said he was some big-time fixer or something."

  "He is—or at least he was."

  "Was?"

  "Well, last I heard he had dropped out of sight for a while. There were rumors, but . . ."

  "What kind of rumors?"

  Jackie shrugged. "The usual—that he made a bad deal or crossed the wrong person—nothing definite." Something that might have put him in a hospital? Kellan wondered.

  "Why would Akimura want to sic a gang on you?" Jackie asked, and Kellan shrugged.

  "I don’t know."

  "Kellan . . ."

  "Jackie, it’s business," Kellan said stubbornly. "I’m just trying to figure out where all this is going."

  "Sounds to me like the question is what have you gotten into," Jackie replied wryly. "But okay. Akimura started making a name for himself maybe eight, nine years ago. He operated out of New Orleans, managed a pretty big operation there."

  "Shadow biz?"

  Jackie nodded. "But his real business was information."

  "Decking?"

  "Dealing. He had a huge intel-gathering network, but he also seems to be one of those guys who has a knack for learning things and understanding their importance or potential value at the time he gains the knowledge—even when it’s not obvious to anyone else. He earned a lot of favors and cred by passing information on to the right people at the right time. And, he worked for a dragon."

  "What?" Kellan said, a bit loud in her surprise, and Jackie looked around to see if anyone noticed, giving Kellan a look that told her to keep her voice down. "A dragon?" she whispered, and Jackie "nodded. "Yeah, and not just any dragon, the great dragon Dunkelzahn. After the Big D bought it, word got out that Akimura had been working for him, and people naturally assumed that the dragon had known everything Akimura had known—and that earned Akimura a lot of trouble. No matter how philanthropic Dunkelzahn turned out to be, people didn’t like the idea of someone spying for a wizworm.

  "But Akimura still had his greatest asset— information—so he stayed in business. But things happen."

  "That’s it?"

  "Kellan, fixers know better than anyone that information is valuable. They keep a low profile. When they don’t—well, anyway, that’s all I know." At Kellan’s crestfallen look, she added, "I’m guessing you want more."

  Kellan smiled. "Thanks, Jackie. You’re the best."

  "I’m not promising anything," the decker replied. "There might not be anything else to find. You sure there’s nothing else you can give me to go on?"

  "I can’t," the younger woman said. "I’m sorry, Jackie, but . . ."

  "It’s not just you involved in this, is it?"

  Kellan bit her lower lip for a moment, then shook her head.

  "Got it. I’ll be in touch." They got up to leave, and Jackie let Kellan go first, as she got her things together. As the other woman slipped past her, the decker spoke quietly over her shoulder.

  "Watch your back, okay?" she said.

  "I will, and thanks."

  Kellan had nearly reached her bike when her phone trilled.

  "Yeah?" she said into it.

  "Kellan," Midnight’s voice replied. "I need you to meet me right away. We’ve got trouble."

  Chapter 7

  They agreed to meet in the U-District, and Midnight refused to elaborate any further over the phone, so Kellan kept glancing over her shoulder all the way there, fighting the uncomfortable feeling that there was a target painted on her back. She fidgeted in the parking lot near the Chinese restaurant Midnight had named, waiting for her to arrive, and feeling increasingly exposed every minute she stood there. She took a little comfort in the fact that she looked very similar to the university students who apparently used the parking lot as a regular shortcut on their way to or from classes.

  When Midnight pulled up, she parked her bike next to Kellan’s, pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair, setting the sleek helmet with its mirrored faceplate in front of her without dismounting.

  "What’s going on?" Kellan asked. Midnight looked grim.

  "Akimura’s on to us," the elf said flatly. "A couple of orks tried to introduce my head to the pavement not too long after we talked this morning. They found out it was a bad idea, but one of them mentioned Akimura’s name."

  "How did he find out?"

  Midnight shook her head. "I don’t know, but I think our client might have sold us out, or simply got careless. It wasn’t anything we did."

  "And now he’s coming after us?"

  "It looks that way."

  "But why? It was—"

  "Just business," Midnight concluded. "I know, but for some reason Akimura is taking it personally."

  "Because we erased some data?" Kellan asked. "Maybe, or maybe because he thinks we have the data. Do you still have a copy?"

  Kellan nodded. "Maybe we can make a deal with him for it," she began, but Midnight shook her head.

  "No way. If it’s the data he’s worried about, there’s no way for him to know we’re not double-dealing, that we won’t sell the data to someone else after we take his money."

  "Frag," Kellan muttered. "What are we going to do?"

  "I’ve got an idea," Midnight began, but Kellan’s phone rang. When the elf nodded for her to take the call, Kellan pulled out her phone and checked the ID before answering. It was G-Dogg.

  "Kel," he said.

  "Hey, G-Dogg," she interjected, "I’m kinda busy ..."

  "Null sheen. I just wanted to tell you, Akimura reached out directly to me to say he’s looking to set up a meeting with you."

  "What?" The look on Kellan’s face made Midnight cock her head in curiosity.

  "He wants a meeting."

  "G-Dogg, he got the Halloweeners to try and burn me and now he wants to meet? Forget it!" Midnight’s eyes narrowed a bit as she realized who and what Kellan was talking about.

  "Yeah, it has ambush written all over it," G-Dogg said, "but I figured you should know. Funny thing is, Akimura pretended not to know anything about that biz with the Halloweeners."

  "Did you believe him?"

  "Nah. But I don’t know what his game is. You in over your head, kid?"

  Kellan thought about how to answer that, but realized she really wasn’t sure. She looked at Midnight for a moment.

  "Thanks, G," she said. "It’s frosty. Let me know if you hear anything else, ’kay?"

  "You bet," he said, and Kellan hung up.

  "Akimura wants a meeting," she told Midnight quietly. "He contacted G-Dogg."

  "And what does G-Dogg think?"

  "That it’s a setup."

  Midnight’s mouth quirked in a hint of a smile. "No kidding."

  "You said you had an idea?"

  Midnight nodded. "Yeah. Let’s get the frag out of town for a while."

  "Run?"

  "Hell, yeah!" Midnight said. "Do you want to wait around while somebody lines up another shot?" When Kellan shook her head, Midnight continued, "While I was trying to find out more about Akimura, I ran across another job I think we’d be perfect for—one that gets us out of the metroplex for a while, maybe long enough for things to cool down and for Akimura to give up and head back to New Orleans."

  "Where and for how long?"

  "Tir Tairngir
e," the elf said with a smile, "for at least a few days, maybe longer. What do you think? Feel like a visit to elf-land?"

  * * *

  Jackie Ozone settled comfortably into her reclining chair and pressed the connector cable into the jack at her temple. It slid easily into place with a faint click, and she rested her cyberdeck on her lap, within easy reach of her fingertips. Already she could feel an electric tingle of anticipation, as well as the initial synching of her nervous system with the simsense interface.

  She tapped the go key, and a wall of silver-gray static momentarily engulfed her senses. She felt weightless, formless in a mysterious void. Then, just as suddenly, the world came back into focus, even sharper and clearer than usual—more real than mere reality.

  In Jackie Ozone’s place stood the cartoon image of a young girl of Japanese heritage with large, liquid eyes and dark flowing hair held back by a headband etched with circuit diagrams. Her flowing white dress fluttered and shimmered in a nonexistent wind.

  She stood under an ebony sky crisscrossed with neon lines, and spangled with lights like stars. High overhead orbited pyramids, pagodas and whirling satellites. The land to the horizon was like smooth black glass, etched with glowing lines and circuit patterns. Cubes and polygons of pure white and in a rainbow of colors hovered just above the ground. They represented the myriad host systems of the Seattle Matrix, familiar territory to Jackie. The virtual reality of the Matrix was the decker’s playground, battleground and home. With the cyberdeck’s systems interpreting computer inputs as sensory data, a decker could interact with the virtual world as if it were real, but without the limitations of the real world.

  Jackie stepped onto a dataline and, in a rush of movement, zoomed at the speed of pulses of light through endless kilometers of spun fiber-optic cable. In seconds, the vista of the Matrix shifted and she found herself elsewhere, standing beside a small, spinning white pyramid. There was nothing to distinguish it from any of the endless other systems, which was just as it was supposed to be. Jackie’s virtual persona brushed a hand across the pyramid’s smooth surface, her cyberdeck communicating a complex encrypted key to the host system. The pyramid opened, unfolding into a doorway, and she stepped through.