Never Trust an Elf

by Robert N. Charrette

  Ryan stared at him, chewing his lip. He fidgeted for a while, then said, "Harry would know what to do."

  "Harry hates magic." Ratstomper turned to Scatter. "Present company excepted."

  "Not excepted. Harry tolerates my presence because he understands my importance, not because he likes me or my magic. You are right, Ratstomper;

  Harry hates magic. He would not welcome you bringing this to him, but that does not mean we should not take the crystal to the Underground. We will be safer in the Underground. And perhaps Harry will have a solution to the problem. Certainly he has survived where younger, more stubborn orks have perished."

  Kham knew the dig was meant to undermine him in front of the others, something he couldn't allow. He whipped out an arm, caught a handful of Scatter's rags, and dragged her from her seat. Of necessity, she collapsed to her knees in front of him. "Dis ain't Harry's run," he growled. "Now, I know ya got good ears, ratface. And I know ya already heard me, but I'm gonna say it one more time anyway. We ain't taking da rock back ta da Underground. It's too dangerous."

  He let go and the rat shaman scrambled back to her seat. They rode in silence for several minutes, Kham aware of the glances shooting back and forth among the orks. He was also aware that the catboy avoided eye contact with any of them. The Weeze was the first to break the silence.

  "Can't ride around forever, either."

  Neko stretched, drawing attention to himself. "So we find a place to rest where we can hide the truck."

  "Where?" Ratstomper slapped the bench seat. "We been riding around for hours and nobody's come up with anything."

  "Kham, you know that I am not familiar with Seattle's shadow world, but when I was conversing with Cog, he suggested that Mickey's Garage on Welbourne was a congenial establishment."

  "No good," Rabo said. "Mickey was hit by the Azzies the other night."

  "What? When?"

  "While we were humping our butts around the Andie dump."

  "How da hell d'ya know dat?" Kham snapped.

  Rabo chuckled. "I told you this baby was a sweetie. Her 'puter's got a little program that swipes realtime updates from Shadowland Headline News. But, you know, I been thinking about it, and I remembered an abandoned warehouse out near the reservoir in Puyallup. The scuzboys from Forever Tacoma been using it for tumbles with the Black Rains. It's nice and quiet when the boys and girls ain't playing."

  Ratstomper guffawed. "Real sudden interest in finding a place to park, Rabo. Could it be your butt's been planted too long, too?"

  "Maybe I just got sympathy for the weak-minded." Ratstomper started to retort, but Kham cut her off. "Anybody got outstanding problems wit da Eff-Tees or da Rains?" Nobody admitted to any, so Kham told Rabo, "All right, den, dat's where we're going." Traffic made the trip long, though they encountered no trouble along the way. The Eff-Tees were in residence when they pulled up, so they had to negotiate. The big troll that was the gang's warlord took one look at Scatter and demanded she do some magic for them as the price of dossing down in the warehouse. "I will do this for you," Scatter said to Kham, clearly implying the need for repayment. She disappeared with the gangers for an hour or so, then came back grinning with self-satisfaction and bearing an armload of bags from the local Voodoo Chili franchise.

  Kham was too tired to care.

  He shoveled in the stuff along with the rest of the guys, and watched them drop off one by one. The Eff-Tees were standing watch as part of the deal. Not the best security, but they'd do because nobody knew Kham and the guys were here. Before long, he too drifted off in a troubled sleep.

  Some time later, he awoke. Something, a noise that didn't belong in the warehouse, had nudged him out of his dark dreams. Whatever he'd heard had stopped, but there were strange scents in the building. Befuddled by sleep, Kham couldn't place the vaguely familiar scents. Wary, he reached for his AK. Better armed than sorry.

  A foot descended on his wrist, grinding it to the floor. The pain forced a snarl from him and he twisted over onto his side, but the effort only brought more pain as something swiped him across the temple. He fell back, the darkness lighting up with stars that weren't there. When he could focus again, Kham found himself staring at metal-armored legs. He looked up, a long, long way to the open maw of a tribarrel and further on to the tiny chrome-plated head beyond it.

  It was one of the metal guys.

  He'd seen their strength and knew that struggling wouldn't get him anywhere. He watched helplessly as a second metal man removed the AK. Once the weapon was out of Kham's reach, the first released him, gesturing for Kham to stand up.

  There were only two of the cyberguys this time, but that was two too many, because once again they had the drop on Kham and the guys. In a matter of minutes all of them were clumped together under the metal men's guns. Kham noticed that the cyberguys kept most of their attention on Scatter, but he doubted the rough boys would have anything to worry about from the cringing rat shaman. He also didn't believe that the cyberguys' preoccupation would offer even a halfway decent chance to make a break. There was nothing to do but wait.

  While one of their chrome-plated captors kept watch, the other went over to the control box on the front wall and opened one of the bay doors. A few seconds later a long silver limousine rolled in, followed by a trio of dark vans. Two of the four vehicles had to bump over the bay boundaries into the next one in order to fit; their companion vehicles and the orks' truck pretty much filled the first bay.

  None of the vehicles carried any insignia, but the cleanliness and uniformity screamed corporate. The men and women who climbed out of the vans were as corporate as their vehicles: all wore identical, unmarked coveralls and flak vests and all carried identical weapons. As if those overchromed rough boys needed more goons as back-up. Kham gave his attention to the limo; that was where his future lay. The big shot inside would decide.

  The car had halted with its front bumper nearly touching the gathered orks. Its interior was unknowable behind polarized glass. After a moment, however, its rear doors opened to reveal a dapper norm getting out from the near side. Kham had never seen this suit before, but there was no mistaking the uptown finery and the air of habitual and utter authority that clung to him. The suit smiled pleasantly at him, but Kham wasn't in the mood to smile back. He was looking at the guy getting out the car's other side, somebody who Kham suddenly realized wasn't lined up with the rest of his runners like he should have been. It was Neko the catboy, and still armed.

  23

  "Sticking wit your own, catboy?" Kham asked. Ratstomper growled in accompaniment to the question.

  The suit answered before the catboy could open his mouth. "I suggest that you refrain from admonishing Mr. Noguchi. Your anger is misplaced. He is not my own, Kham. Pardon me if you find it overly familiar of me to address you by name without formal introduction, but you have done so much to aid my enterprise that I feel we should be friends. My name is Enterich, by the way."

  "Mr. Enterich sponsored my trip here." Neko said. "Ya been working for him, huh? Shoulda known no breeder would be a real chummer. Just biz, huh? That why ya led 'em ta us."

  "I didn't—"

  "Please do not view Mr. Noguchi as a Judas, Kham," Enterich said smoothly. "Though it is true that in pursuit of my principal's interests I arranged for his transport to this continent and saw that he was chosen for Glasgian and Urdli's run out to the Salish lands, I did not set him as a trap for you. Mr. Noguchi was placed as part of an insurance policy which, unfortunately, was necessary. Your involvement was. shall we say, unanticipated. Had not a certain impetuous personage sought to hide his deeds completely, you would have gone quietly on with your life without ever knowing that Mr. Noguchi and I had done business. As it was, our interests ran parallel for a time, but that time is over. Now it is time for our ways to part.

  "So now ya take us out of da way,"

  Enterich raised his eyebrows. "Why would you think that? You have been more help than hindrance."

&
nbsp; "Too bad."

  Frowning, Enterich said, "Kham, I don't believe that you like me,"

  Bright boy. Kham spat onto the concrete floor. "Don't like elves dat hide dere faces."

  Enterich's frown vanished, replaced by a faint, patronizing smile. His gold incisors sparkled. "An elf? Oh no. I'm not an elf."

  "Didn't say ya were, Work fer one dough, doncha? Dat Aussie elf."

  "Urdli? Hardly. If you knew Urdli as I do, you would know that he would never countenance working with me."

  All right, so it wasn't the other elf. The catboy had really known what he was talking about when he said that somebody else knew about the rock. "Den who'dya work for? Miltron?"

  "Still guessing? You should be careful about that. Someone might think you've been looking too deeply into the toys you've had on loan. Much as I like you, Kham, it would be unwise to tell you. You might find such knowledge unhealthy. A family man like you has to think about the future."

  As if their situation wasn't unhealthy already. Enterich's rough boys had been willing to kill Kham and his guys merely for endangering their mission. Talk was the biggest danger to secrets—and it was clear that Enterich had plenty of those, and wanted to keep this crystal business as one of them. Dead men don't tell no tales; neither do dead orks. "Don't look like me and da guys got much of a future."

  "You misunderstand. Your escapade with the truck was annoying, especially since the transport was a valuable asset, but it has also had some benefits. Even now the young elven prince is looking in all the wrong places, searching for you and ignoring my operatives. It is a minor advantage, but one that has already proved useful, and so you have my gratitude. In return, I would like to assure you that if you bow out now, peacefully, I will not hold your earlier interference against you and your friends. As one who abhors unnecessary violence, I will even go so far as to ensure that the hellions will never bother you again."

  "The what?"

  "Ah, yes. You would not know." Smiling, Enterich indicated the metal men with a wave of his hand. "These gentlemen are hellions. Wondrous artifacts of technology, are they not? Elite volunteers—trained to perfection, heavily modified with state-of-the-art cyberware, then, of course, trained some more. Freed from most of the constraints of the flesh, they are tireless, swift, and powerful. The ultimate blend of man and machine, near-perfect soldiers. I have great hopes for them, once the bugs are worked out of the system. The mechanical components confer a remarkable resistance to magic, but the necessarily limited organic-component is sometimes prone to irrationality. But we have safeguards for that.

  "You must excuse me, I tend to wax overly enthusiastic over new baubles. I'm sure my problems with new technologies are of no interest to you."

  Enterich sketched a little bow, as if in apology. Meanwhile, one of his corporate goons had left the group checking out the hijacked truck and had come over to hand Enterich a slim silver chip-holder that she said was from the computer aboard the truck. Enterich gazed thoughtfully at the thing for a moment, then turned back to Kham.

  "Ah, you see. You have been even more helpful than I had originally realized. I am sure I will find these files your decker—Chigger, wasn't it?—removed from the Andalusian matrix to be of interest. However, at the moment I have other matters to attend to and wish to conclude our business. Do I have your word that you will drop all interest in what the truck carries?"

  Thoughts of what he'd be giving up raced through Kham's brain. There was nothing he could do about it right now. "If I don't give ya my word?"

  "That would be unfortunate. For you. As I was saying, the hellions lost their companion in the Andalusian raid. As they blame you and your runners for the death of their comrade in arms, I fear that they would like to pay you and yours back in kind."

  "We didn't do nuttin' ta get dere chummer geeked."

  "They believe your complicity sufficient, and wish to make a response. Their small minds are filled with loyalty to their friends; misguided loyalty at times, but strong nonetheless. The streak of irrationality, I suppose."

  Kham knew a threat when he heard one. And the fact that the catboy knew where his family was hiding meant that Enterich probably did, too. "Don't see anyway ta stop ya."

  "A wise conclusion." Enterich held out one hand. "I do not wish us to part enemies, Kham."

  Kham merely stared into the suit's face until the man dropped his hand. The Weeze muffled a snort.

  "Very well," Enterich said, taking a credstick from his pocket and holding it out. "A business arrangement, then?"

  Kham ignored that, too.

  Uttering a soft sigh, Enterich dropped the credstick. It clinked and clattered on the hard floor.

  "There is a small compensation there, along with a number you can contact if Glasgian continues to annoy you or any of your runners. Like you, I do not wish to see him prosper." Enterich returned to his limo and climbed in. One hand on the door handle, he seemed to have another thought. "You may believe that I have cheated you in this, but it is not so. The crystal is not precisely what you believe it to be, and though I cannot expect that you will take my word for it, you would be wise to do so. The crystal is not for you, or your kind, and you would do well to forget its existence. That would please me, and you would find that my good will can be helpful."

  How could Kham forget the crystal, especially in trade for nebulous promises of nonexistent corporate good will? No matter. He knew better than to reveal his evaluation of the worth of Enterich's compensation. "Maybe I will."

  "If you do not, I think that my principal will be less lenient than I have been."

  The suit shut the door and the limo started up. A squad of the uniformed goons boarded the truck, while the rest of them scurried back to their vans. All but one of the vans pulled out with the limo and the truck. The hellions waited, covering the departure of their boss. Then they too took off in the last van, the sound of the vehicle's engine echoing hollowly off the warehouse walls.

  24

  Once the hellions were gone, the orks were free to recover their weapons. Most of them did so at once, but Ratstomper turned to Neko instead.

  "Your suit friend didn't say we couldn't take our frustrations out on you."

  Heedless of his weapon, she charged the catboy. Fortunately for her, he didn't use it. He sidestepped, his hands touching her briefly and sending her crashing into one of the beams. Moaning, Ratstomper collapsed to the floor. The rest of the gang wasn't so reckless. Once they were armed, they spread out and surrounded the catboy. Kham's regulars were careful to keep out of each other's line of fire, but Kham had to adjust his own position to avoid hitting Ryan, who wasn't too bright. He knew he wouldn't hit the kid if he fired, but he couldn't count on Ryan being as good a shot.

  The catboy was cool about it, not making any sudden moves. Kham almost wished that Neko would try to use his SCK. The submachine gun was perfect for such close quarters, even better than Kham's skeletal-stocked AK, but the catboy was too smart to try to shoot it out against so many guns. Or maybe too stupid; the guys would make a point of taking their time if they killed him with their bare hands.

  "I did not betray you," Neko protested. "It was the truck."

  "Trucks don't talk," Kham said.

  "That one did. Enterich said it had a homing device."

  Kham had to concede the possibility. But a homing device in the truck was one thing, the catboy's coziness with the suit was another. "What about it, Rabo? Ya find any squealers on dat rig?"

  "Naw."

  "Gonna hafta do better, catboy."

  Behind Neko, Ratstomper pulled herself to her feet. Taking in the circle around the catboy, she bared her tusks in a smile. Then she pulled thirty centimeters of steel from the sheath at her hip, and tested the edge with her thumb. Kham had seen her use that knife with great precision in the past.

  The catboy cocked his head slightly as she approached; Neko knew she was there, but he didn't move. She slashed with the knife, cutting the strap on hi
s weapon and slicing through the outer layer of his windbreaker. Kham recognized the sound of steel slithering along ballistic armor-weave. The SCK clattered to the floor.

  "You are making a mistake," Neko insisted.

  "You're the one made a mistake," Ryan said.

  "We're gonna see just how many ways there are to skin a catboy." Ratstomper chuckled evilly and flourished her knife.

  Everyone held still for a moment. Then Neko spun and the knife went whirling away, nearly skewering The Weeze. The little Jap was crawling all over Ratstomper. The two of them went down, the ork squalling. Kham cursed and put up his AK; there was no clear shot while the two of them were tangled. He stepped in, ready to club the catboy with his weapon's butt.

  The warehouse suddenly lit with a harsh flare of light and everyone, even the two combatants, froze. A mocking laugh drifted down to them from the catwalk servicing the overhead crane.

  "My, my, my, squabbles among thieves. And I'd heard that shadowrunners were supposed to have more honor than common backstreet burglars."

  His long coat emphasizing his height and lean angularity, Prince Glasgian Oakforest glared down at them. Rabo spun and lifted his weapon, but a flash of fire from Glasgian's hand struck the rigger's assault rifle, and he dropped it with a yelp. The weapon fell to the floor, glowing cherry red. Rabo jumped back in time to avoid the explosion as the ammunition cooked off. A fragment cut through Kham's pants leg and scored his thigh. He hissed at the pain, but held his ground; the wound was only minor. It didn't look like anybody else had caught any of the shrapnel.

  "I have no time for your foolishness," Glasgian shouted down to them. "Where is my property?"

  "Ain't got nuttin' dats yers," Kham told him. Glasgian smiled wickedly. "Then you won't mind if I verify that."