Run Hard, Die Fast Page 10

  Argent jogged through the piles of debris in the direction of Interstate 110. Telma stayed close behind, her pistol gleaming in her hand.

  The bright flare of the material catching fire from the Zippo warned Argent of the impending explosion.

  Two of the helos descended from the dark sky at the same time, racing for the crash site.

  Argent spotted Chandler on top of the plane, saw the vampire drop the flaming bit of cloth into the nearly empty tanks of the Commuter. The tilt-prop plane exploded, proving too much even for Argent's cybereyes.

  By the time they adjusted, only twisted and burning wreckage remained of the Commuter. There was no sign of Chandler.

  "Did he—?" Telma asked.

  "No." a strained voice answered.

  Argent turned, watching as the vampire turned back into flesh and blood from mist form.

  "But I admit that was closer than I thought it was going to be." Chandler said.

  The helos swarmed the area. Argent knew they were going to split up into search patterns, looking for survivors, knowing that the plane could have been set off. But the fire would throw off all the infrared equipment in the immediate vicinity.

  Argent moved out, taking the lead. His thoughts centered on Andi Sencio and the trouble she was now in.

  Getting to her wasn't going to be easy. Not if the combined forces of Nakatomi and Villiers couldn' t reach her. Of course, the chip would give him more intel than either of those men had. But getting her out of her situation was going to put them all in harm's way.

  25

  "I'm sorry, Nakatomi-san, we lost them."

  Clay Ironaxe stared at the vid-feed coming from Cal-Free over the telecom channel to which Nakatomi had linked him. The telecom also held calls on hold from Arthur Vogel and Shikei Nakatomi. The VaulTek CEO felt the pressure of the moment, but the adrenaline surging through him was an accustomed drug of choice, almost drowning out the anger that he felt.

  The vid-feed from CalFree pulsed uncertainly across the telecom screen, showing the depth of the encryption process the Asian Fuchi deckers were using to keep the signal from the secteam inviolate. It displayed the battered remains of the Commuter plane. Flames still licked hungrily at the twisted fuselage.

  The incoming vid-feed had connected with the site in time for Ironaxe to witness the explosion.

  The man speaking to Nakatomi was in charge of the ops unit that had attempted to take Argent. The number of dead hadn't been counted.

  "I do not take failure lightly." Nakatomi was saying over the commlink connecting him to the ops unit.

  Ironaxe had been added to the aud transmission only after Argent's escape, and he knew the events coming now were designed solely to impress him.

  "Hai, Nakatomi-san." the unit commander said. He bowed stiffly, his face ashen. "This I understand."

  "You know there is only one answer I will accept." Nakatomi said harshly.

  "A finger or his life?" Bearstalker asked impassively. He stood slightly behind Ironaxe, gazing over his employer's shoulder. "I'm betting he's going to have the guy geek himself."

  Ironaxe didn't comment. This part of Nakatomi's effort was pure sales job, showing how much control he had over his men. And the lengths to which he was willing to go.

  "Know that I beg your forgiveness, Nakatomi-san." the unit commander said.

  "There is no forgiveness in this matter." Nakatomi said. "There is only weakness and failure."

  The man bowed as a member of his team approached him, carrying a rectangular case. The commander opened the case and took out the short sword inside. The other man fell to his knees, reversing the sword and tearing the tail of his uniform blouse free. He wrapped the black material around the haft of the sword.

  "One of the local trid stations has just arrived." Bear-stalker said.

  Ironaxe glanced at the large trid monitor built into the wall across from the desk. Nine smaller screens framed the one in the center, each a fifth the size of the central monitor. The central screen showed a CalFree channel tagline, and the scene was of the plane crash in the Harbor District. Lines of script ran across the bottom of the monitor because the unit was on mute. The footage was evidently being shot from an aerial unit—either a drone or a helicopter, Ironaxe wasn't sure which.

  The snoop recording the story spoke with a lot of exclamation points in the script, but very few facts.

  There'd been a brawl in El Infierno and several people were dead. Then the vid locked onto Nakatomi's unit commander.

  On two screens, getting two different perspectives, Ironaxe watched the man plunge the short sword into his own belly. The blade must have been equipped with a monofilament edge because the man sliced himself in halves. Both halves jerked as life left them.

  The trid snoop kept filming, describing what his or her viewers were seeing in graphic detail. The vid tried to follow the other members of the secteam, but a hail of bullets smashed into the helicopter, causing it to break off course. The fact that the snoop was filming from a helicopter was confirmed when he dodged back and his cam recorded his own arm dripping with the pilot's brains. Even on mute, the hearing-impaired script prompter captured the snoop's last screams as the helicopter went down, translating them into written sounds as well as showing the decibel level on a graph that flickered into view.

  The vid didn't end immediately even after the helicopter hit the ground, showing the way the snoop bounced. The cam came free and pointed to the downed helo on top of a pile of debris. The dead snoop's face was partially in the view, the single open eye only in fuzzy focus.

  Almost immediately, a window opened up on the trid-cast, framing a female anchor who went on air to continue fleshing out the story. But the window was strategically placed not to cover up the dead snoop's face or the broken helicopter. Background info on the dead snoop was spooned into the tridcast on the spot.

  Ironaxe turned back to the vidlink recording the sec force unit commander's death. Only the body and the Commuter remained in view. He knew Nakatomi would wipe the dead man's records, making him appear SIN-less, another unidentified cipher in the plex.

  "Whoever investigates this." Bearstalker said, "will probably think it was the yakuza fighting another border war with the Seoulpa Rings. They've been having turf battles with each other for years."

  Ironaxe didn't know anything about that, but he knew Bearstalker did. Bearstalker hadn't always lived in the NAN, and he'd worked as a security specialist for smaller corps all along the West Coast. "So Nakatomi has deniability."

  "Yeah. He's a smart fragger." Bearstalker admitted. "Having the commander geek himself like that is going to help the investigators leap to the quickest conclusion. Crime family violence with trid at 2300. Case closed."

  "And by ordering the death of a man in front of me, he assumes he has deniability to me as well."

  "Probably."

  The vidlink ended, closing to an iris of black.

  Walking back to his desk, Ironaxe considered all that he'd learned in the past few minutes. "This man, Argent, is a very capable warrior."

  "From the way he busted out of that box Nakatomi's people had him in, I'd say so."

  "But a man as valuable as that." Ironaxe said, "it doesn't make sense that Nakatomi would give him up.

  Not if Argent was in his employ."

  "That depends on how twisted you think Nakatomi might play this. One man, even an operative as good as Argent, isn't worth more than what he hopes to gain by arranging a merger with you."

  Ironaxe knew that was true. It wasn't just the Matrix-ware that was in development that Villiers and Nakatomi coveted; they wanted the leverage Ironaxe had with the Pueblo Corporate Council. An alignment like that would shore up either of the splintered Fuchis, and would be a hammer blow to the other unless they could find someone else with whom to work out an arrangement quickly.

  Of the two, Richard Villiers's NovaTech was the stronger. At the moment. And that could change with the biz whizzing through Wa
ll Street on any given day. One wrong move could possibly cost Villiers' his fledgling empire.

  Villiers also had the inside track on the merger with Ironaxe because he had more to offer in North and South American markets than Nakatomi. However, to complete the merger they were talking about, Villiers would have to give up some of the autonomy he'd maintained since the break-up of Fuchi. Ironaxe had to ask himself if the man would be willing to do that.

  Nakatomi had never mentioned that Argent had worked for Fuchi in the past, yet Bearstalker had gotten the information readily enough. Of course, Aaron Bearstalker's sources among shadowrunners was quite remarkable. That was another of the reasons Ironaxe had hired him.

  He looked at Bearstalker as he took his seat again behind the desk. "So which of them." he asked, "has betrayed me? Nakatomi or Villiers?"

  "We'll find out." Bearstalker replied quietly. "Knowing you've been lied to is the most important part.

  When we find this Sencio, we'll find the truth."

  26

  "How do you want to handle this?" asked Miles Lanier.

  Richard Villiers' impassive face gave nothing away. "Keep the coverage on Nakatomi and Argent going, but pull your team way back in CalFree. I don't want any repercussions from our involvement there."

  Lanier phoned his unit commander and relayed the orders. He scanned the continuing trid coverage of the running gunbattle taking place in the Harbor District. The Lone Star helo had touched down within seconds.

  Ground units had arrived on the scene where the Commuter VTOL plane had ripped her guts out, then exploded. Sec-clad Lone Star High-Threat Response Team personnel fanned out along the ground, sifting through the burning debris that could be approached for evidence.

  "Argent will go to ground after this." Villiers said. "He'll investigate whatever Sencio's told him."

  "I'd think so. After the telecom call I made to the private eye, Argent knows you're a player. Maybe he made some of Nakatomi's people while he was at it. And the information Sencio sent might name Ironaxe.

  Argent's too professional to miss an opportunity to learn more that might help him."

  "Back when he worked for us in the Desert Wars." Villiers said, "he set up a communications system."

  "Through the personal ads sections of the local scream-sheets." Lanier said. "I remember."

  "Since he knows we're involved, maybe he'll be ready to talk to us. Taking on Ironaxe or Asian Fuchi isn't something he's going to be ready to do. Possibly we can establish some kind of bargaining position."

  Knowing Argent to be the kind of man he was, Lanier also knew that if Argent decided to try to make the save on Sencio and her people, he'd put their safety first. Even over the bad blood that had come from working with him and Villiers all those years ago. "You want to offer to help him?"

  "Yes." Villiers said. "But only you and I are going to know about this. I want a position of deniability maintained on this whole operation. Whatever help he takes from us I want to lead straight back to Nakatomi. Pay him out of one of the bank accounts of Nakatomi's that we've penetrated if you have to. It'll expose some of the resources we've developed for keeping an eye on Nakatomi, but it'll be worth it."

  "All right."

  "And keep me apprised of anything that happens the instant it does." Villiers pushed up from his seat and walked across the room.

  "There is the possibility." Lanier reminded, "that Argent may write Sencio off after this."

  "No." Villiers replied. "We know Argent and this is exactly the kind of op he won't be able to walk away from. The man has a conscience. It's the only thing that ever kept him from being perfect."

  27

  [Chip file: Argent

  Security access: ******—01:37:26/10-11-60]

  BEGIN UPLOAD Location: CalFree Safehouse

  Before I'd gone down into California Free State, I'd made sure of two things. One was that we'd have a safe house if we needed it. And the second was that I had a street medico that would be ready and trustworthy if we needed him.

  Either one of those was expensive. I'd paid no-return deposits on both, the balance due at the time the services were rendered.

  Chandler helped me get Telma and Beedle to the medico, then vanished into the night. Beedle was in serious condition, requiring an immediate operation. If he hadn't been a mage, patching him up could have been made easier by artificially replacing some of the damaged bone instead of knitting it with vat-grown materials made from his own DNA. The medico guaranteed me that Beedle would make a full recovery.

  Telma hadn't been as banged up. But after the medico got her back on her feet, she had a regular assignment to get back to. She'd arranged a bye on it to cover my back in CalFree, but she couldn't go any further.

  I went to the safehouse alone. Except for Peg, who kept trying to draw me out into a conversation I didn't want to have. Or maybe didn't want to is too strong a declaration. I knew I needed to have that conversation with her, but I wasn't ready.

  The safehouse was a flop based in Gardenia called Pierson Place where a shadowrunner could doss down into relative obscurity. The upper floors of the flop offered only conventional security. The basement levels, though, offered the max in sec ware and a shielded jack.

  Nolly showed me to my room, taking me through one of the hidden passages to the lower levels. I'd never been able to verify how many rooms were in the basement. I took that as a good sign. If Peg and I hadn't been able to find the answer, I felt certain it would be difficult for anyone else to.

  "Your fee pays for the room." Nolly said, "and guarantees anonymity while you're here." She was a thin wisp of an ork, wearing a peasant-style dress that fit the decor of the upper rooms. Her gray hair was pulled back in a bun that was counter-balanced by her thick jaw. "If you draw attention to yourself while you're here, or attempt to invade the privacy of anyone else in these rooms, you'll be evicted."

  "I understand." I said, scanning the room. All I carried with me was the duffel containing my back-up gear.

  She excused herself and left the room. I heard the door lock behind her. It wouldn't open again unless she opened it. I had the combination to another hidden door in the closet that led to a passage I could use to get outside the safehouse, but it was a one-time use.

  The room was Spartan in furnishings. There was a small kitchen area and creatively stocked larder. An uncomfortable-looking bed pulled out of the wall.

  I plugged in the encrypted telecom unit from the duffel and plugged it into the shielded jack. Then I brought Peg on-line and she ran a diagnostics on the uplink.

  "We're secure here." she announced.

  "Good. Give me a few minutes more." Although the chip Sencio had sent by way of Chandler was locked away in the hidden compartment of my arm and weighed only a few grams at most, I remained sensitive to its presence. I finished searching for vid and aud transmitters but found none. Nolly's reputation was well deserved. I'd used the safehouse twice before, never the same lower basement room, and never the same way out.

  Thankfully, Peg followed my lead and didn't talk much.

  I finished setting up two of the minicams I had in the duffel. After placing them on the walls so they'd have overlapping fields of view, I tied them in through the encrypted telecom.

  "The minicams are on-line." Peg told me.

  Taking the motion-detector wands from the duffel, I set them up to cover the door I'd entered through, and the one inside the closet. Only then did I take the chip from my cyberarm and slot it in the telecom.

  "Do you want me here for this?" Peg asked.

  "Yes." I replied. But, in truth, I didn't know. I wasn't thrilled about having so much of my past life coming into her view. And Andi Sencio was a very confusing part of it. "I want you to upload the chip's contents to your deck." I said. "When I'm done here, I'm going to destroy this copy."

  "All right."

  I slotted the black chip into the telecom and punched UPLOAD.

  "It's passcoded." Peg anno
unced. "The copy's done."

  I pulled the bed out and sat on its edge, willing myself to be calm. I turned out the lights, making the room dark except for the green glow of the telecom. One-handed, I tapped out the password Andi and I had agreed on the last time we saw each other.

  Chrysalis. A time of change. The word had represented events that had been going on around us at the time, and the changes that had been taking place between us then as well.

  The telecom screen flickered, then came on. The vid was sketchy at best, too dark and the chromatint jumped, causing tidal waves of explosive colors. At first I thought the vid had been shot inside a dark building, then I saw the rough stone around Andi and realized it had been shot while underground.

  "Examine the files." I told Peg. "I want to know if they've been tampered with in any way."

  Andi looked back at me from the telecom screen. She still wore her black hair hacked off street-short, a holdover from our military days. Her skin was dark and burnished, tight over supple muscle. Every now and again the chromatint got her eye colors right: a turquoised hazel with a cyber sheen. She wore a black synthleather midriff shirt, black synthdenim jeans, and the go-ganger square-toed boots she favored.

  She smiled, and maybe the casual observer wouldn't have noted the tightness behind that smile, but I did.

  Andi was nowhere near comfortable.

  "Since you're getting this." Andi said wryly, "and you know how things were left between us, I assume you know that I'm probably in the worst drekpot of my life." She shrugged and paced, shoving her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "And if I'm not, then I'm flatlined. Some choice, huh?"

  UPLOAD TO CONTINUE