Market Forces Part 26

'I guessed. Look, I'm wiring it through on inset. Just take a look.'

Burgess waited, blinked at the screen a couple of times and nodded.

'Nikon shot, yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Give me two minutes. Leave the line open.'

'Thanks, Jamie.'Another yawn. 'Pleasure.'

Burgess was as good as his word. The datadown spat back perfect head-and-shoulder shots ninety seconds later. Chris punched them up next to the two he already had from the lobby and nodded.

'Okay, motherf.u.c.kers. Let's hope you've been to church recently.'

The second forward call picked up on the first ring. A grizzled virtual head above crisp army khaki fatigues. The accent was American, the real-life version of Mike Bryant's Simeon Sands burlesque.

t 'Langley Contracting.'

'This is Chris Faulkner, Shorn a.s.sociates, London. Do you have operational units in the Medellin area?'

There was a pause, presumably while Chris's scrambler code and authorisation cleared at the other end. Then the virtual customer service agent nodded.

'Yes, we can work in that area.'

'Good, I need five extreme prejudice deletions with immediate effect.

Exact locational data and visual ID attached.'

i i 'Very good. Please indicate the level of precision required.'

171'Uh.' This was a new refinement. 'Sorry?'

'Please indicate level of precision required from the following five options; surgical, accurate, scattershot, blanket, atrocity.'

'Jesus, uh.' Chris gestured helplessly. 'Surgical.'

'Please note the surgical option may incur a substantial time delay.

Char--'

'No. That's no good. This is with immediate effect.'

'Do you wish to supersede precision levels with an urgency marker?'

'Yes. I want this done now.'

'Charge card or account?'

Account.'

'Your contract is enabled. Thank you for choosing Langley Con tracting. Have a nice day.'

Chris looked once more at the five faces floating on his screen. He nodded again and pressed a thumb down on each one to make it go away.

'Adios, muchachos.'

When the last face had wiped, he wired the datadown line to his mobile and went out to get coffee from Louie Louie's.

Lopez called him about an hour later. Voice rampant down the line, whooping shrill with delight. Sirens in the backdrop.

'Chris, you're beautiful man!!!! You did it. Hijos de puta, they're all over the street, man! They're all over the f.u.c.king street!'

1.

'What?' said Chris faintly, i'Drive-by, man. f.u.c.king exemplary. They must have used one of I.

those shoulder-launchers. Whole f.u.c.king cafe's on fire. I'm telling you, there's nothing left but pieces.'

Chris sat down heavily behind the desk. He saw it, lit in tones of night I.

and flame. Pastiche newsreel footage, memories of a hundred such 1:t scenes. Bodies and bits thereof, streak-scorched black and red. Screams and blundering panic from the sidelines.

'The hotel.' It was almost a whisper, like words he couldn't be bothered to push out of his mouth. 'The people in the hotel.'

'Yeah, they got them too. I heard the shots. Spray guns.' Lopez made a stuttering machine gun noise. He was drunk on his own narrow escape. 'Just been down to check, right now. See, I was still looking out the window at the fire when--'

'No, Joaquin. Stop. The other people in the hotel. You know, staff.

Other customers. Did they hit anybody else?'

'Oh.' Lopez stopped. 'I don't think so, I didn't see any other bodies.

Man, who'd you call?'

'Never mind.' It was like tasting ashes. He could smell the blast, smell 172the scorched flesh on the scented night air. Over the phone, the sirens sobbed out and he heard screaming in the s.p.a.ce it left. 'You best get out of there. Better yet, get back to Panama City. You're blown down there for now. You'll have to work through someone else.'

'Yeah. What I thought.' Lopez's voice shifted. 'Listen, Chris. I lost it for a while back there, but I know my work. I didn't make one wrong move in the last twenty-four hours. Those hijos de puta, they knew I was coming.'

Chris nodded drearily, for all it was an audio link.

'Right, Joaquin.'

'Give me another two days. We can still make this run. I know the right people. You don't have to worry.'

He squeezed his eyes shut. 'Right.'

'Count on it, man. I'll hook you up, I swear.'

Behind Lopez, someone started using an ampbox to yell down the noise of the crowd. Chris reached out and cut the link.

Bryant and Makin got in about the same time. Chris went down to the car deck to meet them. Mike grinned when he saw him.

'Hey, Chris! Jesus, what time did you get in?'

He ignored the greeting and went straight for Makin. Right fist in under the rib cage with the full force of the last stride behind it. Makin doubled up and vomited a spray of breakfast. Chris stepped back and hooked into his face from the side. The gla.s.ses flew. Makin hit the deck and rolled, retching. Chris got a single kick in, and then Mike had him pinioned from behind and was dragging him out of range.

'That's it, Chris. Time out.'

'f.u.c.king piece ofs.h.i.t. Sell out my agents, youf.u.c.k.'

'I don't,' Makin got to one knee, holding his face. 'Know. What the f.u.c.k. Youah talking about.'

Chris renewed his efforts to break Mike's hold. Makin straightened, wiped his mouth and looked up. He raised his free arm.'I'll see you on the f.u.c.king woad for that, Faulkner.'

'tteyi' Mike loosened his hold on Chris's shoulders. 'That's enough of that s.h.i.t, Nick. n.o.body sees anybody on the road in this team. n.o.body. You save that s.h.i.t for the tenders. Chris, I'm going to let you go now, okay. Now you behave. No brawling on the car decks, it's undignified. This isn't the zones.'

He let go of Chris and stepped away, carefully poised-between the two men, arms spread slightly upward from the waist, ready. Makin prowled sideways and spat. Chris felt the reaction twitch through him from the fist back to the shoulder. Mike Bryant drew a deep breath.

'Okay, guys. What the f.u.c.k is going on?'

173'This piece of s.h.i.t,' Chris was still adrenalin fired, thrumming with the need to do violence. 'Wired through our detail on Diaz to Echevarria.'

'Yeah, so?'

"I.

Bryant blinked. 'You did that, Nick?'

,t 'Jesus, yes. You said to light a fiah under Echevaia's a.r.s.e.'

Chris felt the fury drop out of him to make room for disbelief. He {.

saw the same in Bryant's stare. The big man shook his head.

'But '

t 'Christ, Mike. I want the axe over his head by Monday, that's what you said. What was I supposed to do?'

Chris flared. 'That's f.u.c.king bulls.h.i.t. You weren't in here at the weekend.'

'How the f.u.c.k do you know wheah I was? What are you, my f.u.c.king mother?'

'I didn't see you Sat.u.r.day,' said Bryant quietly.

'I took the stuff home, Mike. Look, Echevaia was holding rallies for the faithful all weekend. It seemed like a good time to shake him. The uplincon is tomorrow, what was I going to do? Wait and then twy and paste it all together today? I've got Cambodian logistics to think about, a palace wevolution in Yemen. The Kashmiah thing. Guatemala's coming apart again. I don't have time for this s.h.i.t.'

Chris surged forward a step. Fetched up with Mike Bryant's armacross his chest.

'I sent Joaquin Lopez down to the ME, f.u.c.khead, asking after Diaz.

He nearly f.u.c.king died today.'

'That's supposed to be my fault?'

Bryant sighed. 'Diaz was off-limits, Nick. He was our holdout if old sc.u.mbag didn't fold.'

'You knew that/'

1.

'Oh, what am I? A f.u.c.king telepath? No one told me not to use Diaz, and he's the stongest theat we've got.'

'Alright.' Mike rubbed at his face. 'Maybe we didn't make it clear enough. But you should have checked with Chris first. Same goes for you, Chris. You should have run it by Nick before you sent Lopez down there.'

'But.' Chris couldn't identify the sudden feeling in his chest. 'You told me to send him.'

'Well, yeah, but not without consultation.' Bryant looked back and forth between the two men. 'Come on, people. A little communication.

A little cooperation, for Christ's sake. Is that too much to ask?'

Neither of the other men even gl.anced at him. Chris and Makin were either end of a hardwired stare.

174"'People died, Mike, because of this f.u.c.king clown.'

Makin snorted.