Shadowrun - Never Trust an Elf Part 3

"Not every ork is as tough as you," she said, breaking free of his embrace.

"Don't I know it."

"Well, you don't know everything!" She ran away, crying.

Kham just stood there, confused and frustrated. He never seemed able to find the words Lissa wanted to hear. He thought about going after her, but what good would it do? After the meet, when he had some money, things would be better.

As he stood there lost in his thoughts, Jord and the rest of the hunters came into the hall, prancing and shouting. "Hey, dad! Look what I caught," Jord yelled, swinging his prize by the tail. A cat.

Kham looked at it with distaste. "Take it inta da kitchen, boy."

"Sure." The victorious hunters continued their parade toward the back of the hall. Jord looked over his shoulder. "You coming, Dad?"

"Ya go ahead, Jord. Dad's gotta do some biz."

Facing Lissa over the table would be bad enough. But cat, too? He strapped on his weapon belt and ripped his jacket from the peg and slung it over his shoulder. He stomped up the stairs to the room his family used for a bedroom. From the locked case in the bottom of the closet he took a skeletal-stocked a.s.sault rifle, an AK-74 special. Working with sure hands, he broke it down and concealed the parts in pockets sewn to the lining of his jacket. He had a meet tonight at ten and he might need a little extra insurance. There wouldn't be time to come back here if he was to make 43 a stop before the meet. He stomped back down the stairs and out into the street. 1 The third pay phone he tried was working. He slipped in his credstick and punched in the telecom code.

The line opened and a recorded voice started speaking. He waited a moment, then tapped in a code that Sally Tsung gave to only a few people. The code patched him through to another line. The voice that answered this time was live, female, but not Sally herself.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Dis is Kham. Sally in?"

"She's not here right now. May I take a message?" '' Gotta talk wit her." JB "Business?" l^ "Looks like it."

A moment's pause, and then, "She'll be at Penum-,bra tonight. Around eleven."

"Club's okay but da time's no good. Need ta see her 'fore dat." "When?" "Nine."

"I'll tell her when she checks in," the voice said, then the connection broke.

Kham slammed the receiver down. Drek! There was no way to know whether Sally would get the message in time to meet with him. There was nothing to do but go to the club and hope she showed.

It was quarter past nine when Sally Tsung walked into Club Penumbra. She strolled in like she owned the place, a common enough att.i.tude for top-rank shad-owrunners. Her armor-lined coat was of real leather, st.i.tched with arcane symbols and fringed along the arms and lower edges. Billowing out behind her, the coat opened to reveal what she wore underneath, which 44.wasn't much: a halter top, cut-off jeans, and knee-high boots. Crossed weapon belts rode low on her hips, a pistol holster on one and a scabbarded magesword on the other. She nodded to Jim at the bar, her shock of blonde hair bobbing over her forehead. The rest of her hair was bound back into a rat-tail braid that snaked around from behind her neck and slithered down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to lie over the constraining strings of her leather halter. She was a street mage, as lean, hard, and dangerous as they came. And she was every bit as beautiful as the day she had first recruited Kham, and more unreachable than ever. Still, he couldn't help grinning at her as she slouched into the seat across the table from him.

"h.e.l.lo, Kham. How's my favorite hunk of ork flesh tonight?"

"h.e.l.lo, Sally. Doing okay. You?" "Living the life, doing the scene." She shrugged her shoulders with casual negligence. "Hear you got a party starting."

As he'd suspected from seeing her in her working clothes, she was in a business frame of mind and not interested in social chat. So, he complied. "Looks dat way. Got a meet fer da job here at ten, muscle only on da spec, but ya taught me shadowrunning too good. I want an ace in da hole, a magical ace."

"I understand the lay of the land, Kham." She gazed off across the bar. "But I'm afraid I can't help. I've got something cooking myself." "Ya didn't call me.'-'

"Nothing personal, Kham." She still didn't look at him. "It's just not your sort of biz." "What about my run?" "Null perspiration, chummer. There's lots of magic children on the streets these days. You can take your pick." Sure there were magicians out there, but she was 45.the only mage he would trust. Without magical aid, he was left to rely on his orks and their mundane fire-power. Magic might not be common everywhere in the world, but shadowrunners had a tendency to run into it, and that was the possibility that worried him. "Maybe I only want da best."

She faced him, a wide, warm smile on her face. "Ooh, flattery. You tempt me, chummer, but a girl has to honor her commitments and I've already got one. Tell you what, though. Just for old times' sake, I'll run cover for you at the meet."

"No cost?"

Her smile was sweet. "I could ask for a percentage, but you're a chummer. Besides, I have to be here anyway."

Kham's guys arrived in a bunch only half an hour after the time he had told them. Not bad for them: they were only ten minutes behind the time he wanted them there. Punctuality before a run was always a problem with them. Fortunately, that problem disappeared when things got warmer.

They joined him and started drinking. Just beer, nothing to queer the meet. With each round, Kham watched the tab go up, but the job would pay for it, he hoped.

Sally was hanging out at her usual table in the back, screened from most of the noise of the dance floor. It was still early and the crowd was light. Big Tom the sasquatch was doing the warm-up show, all instrumental pieces that he could imitate with amazing facility. The club's real action wouldn't start until later.

A pair of rough boys walked in. They were real hard cases, razorguys with lots of obvious cyberware.

Both wore patches from a half-dozen mercenary units, implying that they'd seen action in some of the corporate 47.fracas of the last ten years. One was a blond and the other a brunet, but otherwise they were identical.

Cosmetic surgery probably. Something in their body language also made Kham wonder if they were lovers. The razorguys looked around, scanning the place. The blond said something to Jim at the bar and Jim nodded toward the back room. Kham was sure these two weren't the employers, so they had to be other applicants. Was there to be a bidding war for a place on the run?

A dwarf was the next runner Jim sent to the back room. Kham recognized him at once. The dwarf was Greerson, a West Coast heavy-hitter who spent most of his time down in California Free State. His presence definitely meant that others had been contacted about this run, and raised the odds of a bidding war. But any Mr. Johnson who wanted it discreet would be making a mistake to start taking compet.i.tive bids. The losers would have word of his run on the streets in nanoseconds.

Kham nodded to Rabo. Time for the guys to go in and show the flag. He hoped Sheila wouldn't let Greerson goad her into causing trouble before Kham was in there to keep her temper cool. There had been trouble between the two of them before.

Kham waited a while longer. He was almost ready to go in himself when another stranger approachedJim. This one was a small Asian, j.a.panese maybe, who was no taller than the dwarf but slighter by a wide margin. Young, too, for a norm shadowrunner. The Asian had a whispered conversation with Jim, who then sent him on back. Another runner, definitely, but what sort of specialty? Maybe a decker? He sure wasn't big enough for a frontline fighter and he didn't have the look of a magicboy.

"Your Mr. Johnson's an elf," Sally's voice whispered in Kham's ear a few minutes later as a tall man in a long trench coat approached the bar.

48.Confident that she would hear, Kham whispered his thanks and rose from his seat. He caught up with the elf before he reached the door to the back room. He didn't surprise him, though, because the elf turned as Kham approached. With a wide, toothy grin Kham said, "Evening, Mr. Johnson."

"You're Kham."

"Right."

The elf looked over Kham's shoulder. "You are alone?"

"My guys are waiting inside. Along wit a few other people. I wasn't told dis was a joint venture."

"You cannot expect to know all the details. I was informed that you were a professional. Professionals understand that secrecy is a necessity of business."

Kham leaned toward him. "Professionals expect fair deals, too."

The elf turned his head to the side as if offended by Kham's smell, but he didn't retreat. "I am prepared to offer a fair deal. To all. However, I am not prepared to cut separate deals with overly pushy persons of inflated ego. You will hear the deal along with the others, or you will not hear it at all."

Pulling back and allowing the elf his personal s.p.a.ce, Kham said, "Yer gonna be late fer yer own meet, Mr. J."

"Perhaps you would care to precede me," the elf suggested.

Kham shrugged. "Ain't worried about having you behind my back, Mr. J." Yet.

Kham opened the door and entered the room. The elven Mr. Johnson followed.

4.

The runners gathered for the meet were a mixed lot, but that was no surprise to Neko. Mr. Enterich had said that this was to be an ad hoc team. He surveyed each runner carefully, trying to a.s.sess his or her role and potential value to the team. Many showed obvious cybernetic enhancements and all carried weapons. All the orks, save for one, seemed to be muscle types, too. The odd ork, Rabo, had datajacks in his head and a variety of logo patches on his jacket, most advertising manufacturers of automotive or aeronautic equipment. There seemed little doubt that the ork was a rigger, a vehicular technomancer.

Neko found the preponderance of orks curious, even a trifle unsettling. Until now his contact with runners of that metatype in Hong Kong had been only the most cursory; the less beautiful metahumans were not much welcome in the island's corporate enclaves. It was not that Neko himself felt any distaste; he had dealt with far less savory metatypes in his shadowy business. He watched the orks curiously. Their easyfamiliarity with one another led him to conclude that they had run together in the past.

The orks named the dwarf for Neko: Greerson. Though they obviously didn't like him, Neko could see that they knew him, possibly had even worked with him in the past. Greerson's name was not unknown to Neko, and he knew that a runner with the dwarf's reputation within the international shadowrunning community would not come cheap. Mentally, Neko raised his own price for any upcoming bargaining; one could 50.not afford to be seen as of less value than one's fellows.

The other two runners were a matched pair of heavily modified norms, "razorguys," in common street parlance. One was a blond and the other dark-haired, but the faces beneath their thatches of hair were identical. That need not be natural; Neko thought it more likely that they had chosen to have their features altered to match. Such artificiality would seem to be to their taste. Neko found their reliance on machinery more distasteful than the brutish forms of the orks, and so, like the others, he mostly ignored the razorguys. Such division would not serve on the run, but neither should he be forced to accept unpalatable companions in circ.u.mstances unrelated to the biz.

The door opened and admitted a blast of noise from the band starting to warm up in the main room. The sound was m.u.f.fled briefly as a burly ork squeezed through the doorway. Dressed in leathers and fatigues, the metahuman entered and looked around with an air of casual caution that marked a man who was no stranger to dangerous places. Following hard on the ork's heels was the elven Mr. Johnson who Neko had met briefly upon his arrival in Seattle. The elf's clothes were different now, as were his hair and the fashionable face paint. Despite the superficial differences, the frown that darkened the slimmer metahuman's features when the ork put an arm around his shoulders told Neko that this was the same elf.

It was not a lover's embrace, more a possessive statement of control. The elf was clearly discomfited by the contact, but the ork was only amused, to judge by his half-concealed grin.

'"Bout time," Greerson grumbled.

The elf ignored him and shrugged away from contact with the ork. Unfazed by his rejection, the big ork joined the others of his kind, with shoulder-slapping and arm-punching all around. The others addressed 51.him as Kham, another name Neko recognized as a.s.sociated with that of Sally Tsung, a runner and magician of no little reputation in certain circles. Neko had once heard the ork mentioned as muscle for one of Tsung's operations. As he recalled, that run had been successful, but one run did not a career make. Perhaps Kham's presence meant that Sally Tsung was involved in this operation, or possibly Tsung's decker Dodger. That would shift the balance in this muscle-heavy crowd. If one or both of them were on the run, Neko decided it would be a good omen.

The elf walked around the table and took the empty seat at the head. "Good evening, gentlemen, and lady," he said, with a condescending nod to Sheila. A broad-shouldered female ork the others referred to as The Weeze snarled, and the elf amended his salutation. "Ah, excuse me, ladies. I'm glad to see that you are all punctual."

"Unlike some people," Greerson said.

Neko noted that Kham glanced openly around the table, obvious% a.s.sessing the gathered runners. The ork stared curiously at Neko for a moment, a slight frown on his face. He seemed puzzled by Neko'spresence in this crowd of heavy muscle. Neko offered him a slight smile. Let the ork wonder.

"I have for each of you a paper describing the deal," the elf said, pa.s.sing a sheet to each of them. "Please read it quickly, as the paper is unstable and will decompose in a few minutes."

Greerson barely glanced at his sheet before tossing it to the table. "Price is too low."

Neko checked the compensation line on his sheet, and surrept.i.tiously compared it to the sheets held by one of the razorguys and The Weeze, on either side of him. Both were the same as his. Likely, Greerson's was too. Though the sum was more than Neko was 52.used to receiving for a simple bodyguard run, he said, "Greerson-san is correct."

The elf's stony expression did not change. "The fee was previously agreed upon, Mr. Greerson, Mr.

Neko."

Greerson raised one stubby leg onto the table's edge and levered his chair back until it rested on two legs. "First price is always negotiable, especially when you got this many bodies involved."

"The number involved is not your concern. You were informed of your remuneration for this run. If you had a concern regarding compensation, you could have expressed it earlier."

"If I'd had any idea how many bodies you were talking, I would have. The money's definitely too low for me to play traffic cop."

Kham addressed the elf. "If da dwarf won't play, we can replace him wit anodder of our guys."

"Replace me?" Greerson laughed. "I didn't know you had fifty more warm bodies, orkboy."

"Don't need fifty to replace you, halfer," Sheila growled. She was the ork who had sho'wn blatant dislike upon seeing Greerson. Clearly, the two had a history.

"You're right, orkgirl. If you're a typical example of the quality, you'll need more."

Kham gave Sheila a look that quieted her, then said. "Look, Greerson, ya don't wanna work, dat's okay.

Buzz, and let da rest of us get on wit da biz." The dwarf tried to start a stare-down, but Kham turned and addressed the elf. "Look, dis crew's all muscle. We facing any magic in da opposition?"

"Do not concern yourself," the elf replied quickly, having apparently antic.i.p.ated such a question. "Any magical problems will be more than sufficiently countered."

"Heard that before," said the blond cyberboy.

V.

"And it was a lie then, too," his dark-haired comjM panion added. JB The elf gave them a plastic smile, shared it with the rest of the runners, and said, "Gentlemen, and ladies, I a.s.sure you that this run has a low probability of trouble."

Greerson spoke for them all. "Then why so much firepower?''

Again, the elf answered rapidly. "Insurance only. My employer is a cautious sort. You are all to bepresent simply as fire support in case of trouble. Trouble, I might add, that is most unlikely to come."

"And if it does?" asked the raven-haired cyberboy.

"What then?" the blond cyberboy queried. JB "Then, you perform as per contract." '

"For which we will receive a combat bonus," Greerson stated.

The elf stared at him. "That is not stipulated in the contract."

Making a sour face, Greerson said, "Maybe you ought to think about putting it in."

Narrowing his eyes, the elf spoke through gritted teeth. "There are other runners."

"Which you won't be able to line up on your short fuse, elf. You've got top talent here." Greerson paused to scan the orks. "Well, mostly, anyway. You won't be able to match this line-up in your time frame."

'.'Your suggestion has the smell of extortion, Mr. Greerson." The elf's voice was low, almost threatening.

"Call it what you want, elf. I'll still only think of it as good business."

"I am not authorized to increase the up-front payment."

"That's fine. I'm not a bandit. Deposit a suitable amount in a secured account and I'll be satisfied,"

Greerson offered cheerfully.

i ____J 54."I must confer with my employer." "You do that. But confer to a substantial monetary conclusion, otherwise you may find n.o.body to dance with you when it's time to rock and roll."

"You realize that all partic.i.p.ants must share in any increase, Mr. Greerson."

"Sure. I ain't greedy. So long as there's a double share for me, everything will be fine."

Sheila snorted. "Double for a halfer? Seems like that only adds up to a single share."

Without looking at her, Greerson said, "Did I say double? I meant triple. I forgot the charge for excessive aggravation."