Shadowrun: Streets of Blood Part 16

"Okay, I buy that. It does fit. But how did we get the foundations wrong? Our plan worked. No one picked us up."

"But we didn't get what we wanted. We didn't find any sign that the database systems had any answers. That's how the foundations of the enterprise were flawed. We were in the wrong system."

She misunderstood him. "You mean we should have checked Fuchi instead because Transys is after them? But-"

"No, I don't mean that at all. It was the wrong Transys system. We're going to have to hit the central system. That's where the information will be. In the Edinburgh system, where their HQ is. If we're on to something big, that's the obvious place. We'll have to deck into the Edinburgh system."

Francesca was becoming frustrated. "But we don't even know the number of the SAN!"

"You telling me you can't hack that one? Fran, you're the best decker I know. "

"Yeah, well, I suppose I can find it." Honest flattery usually worked for Geraint. "You sure about this?"

"Got a better idea?"

She looked deflated. The buzz, the thrill of yesterday was gone from her. Then she inhaled deeply, dumped the cold croissants into the trash, poured a third cup of coffee, and thumped her fist on the mahogany table.

"Okay, let's do it," she said. "If what I've heard about the TN system is true, it's going to be d.a.m.n tricky. We've just got to hope that its sculpture is configured like the one we saw last night."

"Why would it be any different?" Geraint asked. "They're bound to be the same. It would be too expensive any other way." They smiled at each other, clinking their coffee cups together.

"Well, Master Bard, shall we sally forth and astound the varlets with our wizardry once more?" She was playful, her spirits improving.

"Viviane, my dear, I believe the hour of enchantments is finally upon us." He spoke with mock grandeur. "And I believe we should disguise our sorcerous purpose by downloading a few tidbits elsewhere in the system, perchance from their research files, should we happen by a helpless little SPU that reveals them to us. That way we can also make a few sovereigns into the bargain. Cover our tracks too. Verily, milady, let us sally forth anon."

They got up and went toward the gleaming cyberdecks across the room.

"Ten minutes," Geraint said, then reached for the cannula once more. "Mustn't forget the shot."

They stood outside the system access point, ready for the verdant scene that would greet them upon entry. Geraint-Taliesin stood with an almost fierce expression, a grimoire at his belt, a magical stave in his hand, and a harp at his back. Meanwhile Viviane of Avalon readied herself to pa.s.s through the mystic barrier and head for the SPU beyond. It worried Geraint only slightly that the Viviane icon was clad in a decollete dress today. At the very least it might distract any Black Knights who came their way.

Viviane's mystic utterances dispelled the barrier program and then they were striding through into the green pastures, sending animals scurrying hither and thither across the sward. Data routing, obviously. Just what would be expected.

Geraint saw the quicksand of the tar baby trap immediately, but he didn't need to alert Francesca-Viviane to it. She skirted the edges of the pitfall and he followed, treading in her steps exactly.

Heading through the peaceful woodland, the couple came to another clearing; the first of the subprocessors. Hiding behind the trees was a small gnome who skipped out and asked them the simplest riddle imaginable. What pathetic access defense, Francesca thought. Kindly, she gave the gnome the answer, and the inquisitive pixies lurking behind the older oaks stayed put on their toadstools as the gnome nodded his acceptance. A trace and report program, she guessed. It looked feeble, but that was part of the skill of it. It disarmed a decker's defenses to be faced with something that looked so pathetic. She was all too aware that the system had imposed its reality upon her perceptions, making it harder for her to give the right responses swiftly enough. Well, then, she just might have to leave some of the answering to Geraint-Taliesin. As they strolled across the clearing, she muttered to alert him. He nodded his head sagely, and they strode out hand in hand.

At the far edge of the clearing the fuachan leaped out at them when they tried to open the gate to the path beyond. One-legged, one-eyed, and one-handed, the muscular protogiants hefted their heavy clubs and posed their riddle.

"How may I circle the world in but a second?" The demand for the key, the pa.s.sword, was instant and direct. Access with a heavy edge. The clubs were poised to fall on their necks.

Francesca-Viviane produced a simple blank vellum scroll from the folds of her robe, and a quill appeared in her hand. Swiftly she drew a globe, held it up for the fuachan to see, then drew a line arcing from one side of the sphere to the other. "Like this!" she said and flourished the solution triumphantly.

The fuachan was about to make another challenge, but the playing of Geraint-Taliesin's harp soothed it. With that, the other fuachan laid down their clubs and ignored the visitors, hovering by the gate as the cloaked pair went on their way. Francesca breathed a sigh of relief and moved beyond the gate into a summery meadow ringed with trees. It was like a crossroads offering many possible paths. Francesca-Viviane looked around with her witch-eyes to see where the paths might lead.

Her a.n.a.lyzing soon told her that there was only one datastore, an arcane library in the far distance, and a path to yet one more woodland. The rest of the paths led to simple villages with working artisans, a sure sign they were mere slave nodes in the system. The library needed checking. She pointed it out to Geraint-Taliesin, who followed her soft footfalls across the gra.s.s.

The librarian stood with the card index clutched to his chest, a mundane collection of works arrayed on the shelves behind him. She rea.s.sured him that she had no desire to steal or even borrow any of his tomes, a.n.a.lyzing the contents of the index as he concealed it. There was nothing here but records of system operations, and only minor-league stuff at that. The books weren't even gilt-edged. The librarian was suitably deceived and didn't ring his handbell to summon a.s.sistance.

Geraint-Taliesin stood and observed the scene in silence, magical stave readied in case a phantom or sorcerous beast should unexpectedly swoop down upon them. They left and made for the path to the woodlands once again.

"That would have been too easy," she said to the old man beside her. "Got to be further in than this."

The woodland path was a nasty decoy. Only at the last moment did she see the slough begin to open up beneath her feet, leaping back from the treacherous terrain just in time.

Tar pit, yuk! Francesca thought. This is getting confusing. I can hang on to the Welsh-Celtic imagery Geraint's generating, but this is a definite whiff of old-time John Bunyan. Whoever sculpted this sure has a sense of humor. In the distance, she thought she heard an owl hoot. Pa.s.sive alert. Geraint would have heard it, too. They'd missed something, obviously. If it was white IC, no sweat. If it was gray, they were in trouble now. There didn't seem to be anywhere to go, either.

Shifting into sensor mode, she saw the concealed pathway between the trees when she returned to the woodland they'd just left. As Francesca-Viviane urged the bard forward, his eyes flashed everywhere, looking for menace underfoot and in the trees. Her intuition told her they were getting hot now. She was right.

Pa.s.sing below the tree canopy they beheld a castle- moat, drawbridge, pennant-topped towers, and all. The central processor. This had to be it. There was nowhere else to go.

As they approached the drawbridge, it lowered and a mighty knight mounted on his thunderous charger appeared before them. In the swirl of his flowing robes, it was almost impossible to perceive his outlines clearly. He wasn't armored, but the robes shimmered with magic. Geraint was becoming worried about the defenses the IC construct might have. It would be hard to focus an attack on him. Francesca-Viviane did her best to hide her form as her companion spoke his words of invocation. She didn't think it was time yet to join the fray.

In his own perception, Geraint called the great Eagles of the Hunt, and drew down the wise serpent to the battlements. The snake's honeyed words seemed to calm and transfix the guards preparing their weapons up on the castle's battlements. Suppressed an alert there, he thought. Now give me strength to defeat this mother. This is serious killer IC.

The Eagles tore at the helm, shoulders, and body of the knight, ripped with their talons at his destrier, and drew blood. As a ripple of intense blue light flowed from Taliesin's staff, the knight raised his shield to deflect it. The bolt flashed incandescent when it struck, reducing the shield to a corroded lump of burning wood. The knight dropped it and galloped forward, lance raised, tip pointed at the offending magician.

Do I attack or defend? Geraint thought wildly. My serpent-frame is occupying the other guards, so I can't use it to defend me. I live or die here. Another spell to destroy this errant knight.

The feathery flames hovered over the knight, then engulfed him as he rode on to the solid ground beyond the drawbridge. The mount faltered and the knight fell from his mount, but no call was heard atop the battlements. The serpent calmed the hearts of those within the castle.

"Haste, Taliesin!" Viviane called. They rushed across the drawbridge and entered the citadel. Within were many towers, a keep, servants scurrying to and fro. Two squires stared at them uncertainly; gray IC not yet activated, they guessed. The enchantress scanned the scene, her inquisitive frame-servants exploring the citadel.

Taliesin grew increasingly anxious, wondering how long the confusion would last. As Viviane pointed in triumph to the far limestone tower, a trumpet sounded. Great, he thought, they're on to us. Work swiftly, my priestess. We have little time left to us now.

Reaching the tower just as the dogs were unleashed in the courtyard, they slammed the door behind them with a crash. She led him up the winding stone staircase to the warded and barred door. He battered on it with his staff, screaming spells to dispel the magical protections. On the stairs, they heard footfalls and clanking sounds. Stuff the organic feel of this, Geraint's panicking brain was howling, these guys have got swords.

The door opened without a sound, revealing a room in which myriad crystals floated airily, each containing a picture and a scroll. Viviane's summoned sprites began to examine and read, a.n.a.lyzing the contents. They had taken one crystal and were looking for another when Nimue appeared before the bard's eyes.

She smiled seductively at him, her hands alive with gelatinous webs. Her voice soothed him, called to him, her eyes alive with poignant sorcery. She cast aside her flimsy gown and stood naked before him. Adrenaline raced through his body at the sight of her, his arousal distracting him from his true task. Feebly he murmured an incantation of self-defense as the succubus advanced on him. Her body brushed his, and he delighted in that instant. He could feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing against his body as she began to wind her arms around him.

"Tell me, darling, where you have been, that I may come with you and rest within your bower and be your lover. I want to bring you my delights," she purred, curling a leg around his, rubbing against him with her thigh, her tongue seeking his. He almost fainted.

"Sorcery! Succubus!"

Taliesin heard the words in time and turned to see Francesca's form changed into the fury of Morgan le Fay, in an instant changing again into the black bird. He changed his own form into that of a dove and escaped up into the airy cupola of the tower, circling around with the raven beside him. As one they dived beyond the furious, clutching maiden and sped down and out of the tower.

They were hunted. They heard the wolves and erinyes, the seductive words of sirens, but they closed their ears and flew through the air, over the rustling trees, across meadows stalked by enraged guardians, past gates and barriers. As they flew toward the exit to the Isles of the Sun, a great fireball came down at them from the heavens, and as they soared over the sea the fire engulfed them in a flash that blinded and disorientated them.

Yet they soared still, and their forms came home at last to the blessed place. Viviane carried with her a tattered bag, the spoils of their foray into the deadly castle. They landed amid a copse that smelled sweetly of lavender and apple blossom, and instantly jacked out.

"Oh, G.o.d." Geraint was coming down from the boosters. It seemed that Edward had significantly downplayed the drugs' after-effects. It was four in the afternoon and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept for a week.

Francesca, however, was jubilant, alive with energy. "I'm not going to download this lot yet. Maybe that lady you were so engrossed in got a fix on your magical home, my Welsh bard. We've got to get out of here fast. They may have our location."

Geraint was seeing double, but they managed to pack their decks, adding them to their other luggage, and made it to the parking garage in seven minutes flat. He couldn't even remember the faked ident.i.ty he'd used to check in.

"Mr. and Mrs. John Smith," Francesca sn.i.g.g.e.red as they closed the car doors. "The traditional alias of furtive lovers. But we've been doing something much better than that. "

It was true, he reflected. Francesca really got off on a good run in a way that she never really did with s.e.x. Perhaps I should have used Edward's little recipe after all, he thought idly.

"Now, you've got dinner tonight. I think we should drive to, um, let's see." She ruffled the pages of the road atlas. "Banbury. That's nice. Those old fakes, the druids, have got some stuff out there. Let's check in there. Ooh, and they've got a Holiday Inn too. Aren't we lucky?" She turned the key in the ignition and pulled away quickly.

"We did it. We got something. The spirits were smiling. Tonight I can get a good look-see at what Transys has got on us."

28.

Arriving home, Rani had to face far stronger opposition than she had expected. Imran had shaken Sanjay out of his usual self-indulgence, and the two brothers confronted her angrily. She'd been out all night, she'd been seen on the street, talking to strange men-none of which she should be doing if she had any respect for the family's good name. She belonged in the safety of the home. They were worried about her. The streets were not safe. All the old arguments came pouring out. Finally, Imran forbade her to leave the house without his permission for the following week.

"Oh, so you can take care of business? And what have you been doing about our vengeance?" she spat out defiantly.

They argued long and hard, yelling at the tops of their voices until the old people trying to sleep upstairs started hammering on the floor. Even then, they ignored the complaint and just went on arguing.

When they finally sank into sullen silence, having reached no agreement, Rani felt only contempt for her brother. He was trying to compensate for his own inadequacy by belittling her, using every shred of emotional blackmail he could dig up. Anand, their father, would not have wished her to do what she was doing, he said. The family would be ashamed of her, being out all night and up to no good. Such conduct would be shameless from any Indian girl, but from an ork it could destroy any hope of a satisfactory arranged marriage. She had deserted her brothers and failed in her duties in the house. She was a Bad Girl.

When the argument flared again after midnight, Rani was in no mood for further antagonism. She turned on her heel, told Imran to rakk off and die, and stomped up the stairs to her room. When he banged on the door, demanding an apology, she jammed a chair underneath the door handle and merely told him again to rakk off.

In the morning she didn't bother with breakfast, but simply headed straight down the stairs with the bag she'd packed. She had a wad of notes, people to see, and business to conduct. She could eat on the hoof. When she got downstairs Sanjay was waiting for her.

"You heard Imran last night," he said, sorrowful eyes averted, but with his body determinedly barring her way to the front door. "You stay here."

"If you don't get out of my sodding way, I'll kick you so hard you'll never be able to rub any white trash again," she yelled. She advanced upon him. He just managed to avoid her knee striking home, but the kick numbed his leg enough to prevent him from stopping her from scrambling out the door.

Monday morning was freezing fog and a shopping list of missions. Precious hours were spent putting the word out for Mohinder, dispensing small change to get some local street kids to learn what they could by scurrying around Fenchurch Street, and then visiting the first Mary Kelly on her list.

The n.o.bleman had found only four women by that name in Rani's patch, so she figured she could check them out personally. This one lived just off Brick Lane itself-or at least she once had. The squinting, rat-faced landlord told Rani that Mary Kelly didn't live here anymore, and his toothless grin said she'd have to dispense some money to learn anything else.

A handful of notes got her access to Mary Kelly's old room in this rancid dump of a flophouse, but the chamber yielded no sign of its former tenant. A vacant-eyed, anorexic trancer stared unseeingly at Rani from the single rickety chair in the almost lightless s...o...b..x of a room. What she finally learned was that Mary Kelly Number One had died on the streets a couple of months back, choked on her own vomit most likely. She had been a wino so hopeless that even this landlord had kicked her out onto the streets.

Rani got her first break in the middle of the afternoon, while sipping her coffee at Beigel's Bake. An ork contact who looked at her with the respect money brings told her quietly that the pimps had cleaned up a mess at their place and dumped some unidentified stuff into the river. One of them had bought enough disinfectant to swab down the public baths. Since Rani hadn't told the ork about the murder, she thought it very likely he was telling her the truth. As expected, the pimps had gotten rid of the evidence and virtually no one knew about the cruel midnight slaying. Life was cheap hereabouts, and n.o.body wanted the baggies knocking at their door. Especially if it was the door to a brothel.

The ork was eager in the way he talked, hoping for a good payoff. She looked at his disintegrating plastic shoes, the trousers with more patches than original cloth, and she remembered having seen him out shivering in the cold in his thin jacket and dirty, discolored vest. She gave him two hundred and fifty and he looked at her like she was some Indian G.o.ddess sent down from the heavens.

"This buys silence, right?" Rani said sternly. "Don't tell anyone about it. I've got others on the payroll who'll know who to box if you get so much as a touch of the gators about this. You know what I mean?" He shrank back in fear, pleading his trustworthiness over and over. She looked at him more kindly.

"Okay, Merreck, I'll trust you. Maybe I'll have something else you might be interested in a week or two from now. I'll know where to find you?"

He was pathetically eager, promising anything she could possibly want. Two-fifty was more than he'd see in a month. He shuffled out the door and dreamed of real American jeans. First, though, he'd get some hot food into his grumbling belly. A really fat, juicy burger stuffed full of onions and chemicals. The kids would also be getting their first decent meal in a week, so it wouldn't hurt if they had to wait a bit longer.

Rani realized the power money gave her and for a time she reveled in it. But she kept cool, knowing not to advertise her wealth. The notes were safely stashed in the locked money belt. Anyone who wanted them would have to kill her first.

Next she phoned Mohsin and arranged to visit London Hospital after work the next evening. She was on a roll, and needed to get her hands on some meaty hardware to keep that good feeling going.

Finally back home that night, having capped a fairly successful day by picking up a good lead on where Mohinder might be the next morning, she found a reception committee in all its splendor waiting for her. There was Imran and Sanjay, of course, and a handful of male cousins as well, all gathered in the front room. In the back room she could see the swirl of saris.

Oh, here we go, she thought. The men are going to put me in my place and then the women are going to tell me how good it is to be there. Stuff this!

Anger boiled up inside her as her cousin Dilip began a placatory speech to which she wasn't even listening. She was livid. How dare they? I'm growing up and I know what I want. Well, maybe I don't, but I like being on the streets. I like talking to the people in Beigel's, I like putting some money the way of street people who need it and who look at me with real respect. Rakk it all, I'm becoming a samurai, I know I am. I've got rich friends who trust me with their money. And I believe they like me. I remember what that funny-speaking n.o.bleman said when I was leaving. If I was just a n.o.body, he wouldn't have told me about that. I mean something.

"Rakk off!" she shouted at the men before her. "I've got my own life. I'm not going to be a good little girl.

Be like them?" She pointed to the back room. "Tied to the sink and allowed, honored, to pander to every wish of my menfolk when they care to come home? That is, when they aren't rubbing white girls like Sanjay does, or if they aren't spineless slints like my own brother, doing nothing to avenge dead family."

"As for you, Dilip, why don't you tell Kriss there how you cheated him on those chip deals last March? Kriss, those chips weren't worth half what you paid for them, and Dilip and Imran had a really good laugh about that. I wasn't supposed to hear because I was in the kitchen cooking supper like a good little girl. We women can't hear anything in the kitchen, right? They were too steaming to care anyway. So who are you to lecture me? Honor and duty? There isn't one of you who wouldn't kill the other to save sixpence, and you b.l.o.o.d.y well know it!"

The men were thunderstruck. Kriss looked at Dilip, who tried to avoid his gaze. Her revelation had set the men against each other, while Imran was looking away from everyone in shame. Silence descended on them. She seized the initiative and delivered a parting shot.

"You're pathetic! You make rakking pennies from little deals, and half the time you're swindling each other. Or like my brother, you're stupid enough to let people sell you as fools and dupes, and then have family die because of it. But the world isn't only losers like all of you. I'm eighteen years old. Old enough to get out of here and that's just what I'm gonna do before you make me toss my dinner." Rani turned and walked out, not daring to look behind her. When the men finally recovered their wits enough to chase after her, she was already far enough down the road to elude their pursuit.

Of course it was crazy. She knew already that the family would disown her-after they'd tracked her down and made some vain and insulting attempt to bring her back. They'd never succeed. Maybe she had no real skills, nothing she was especially good at, but she had youth and energy and a heart beating fast inside her chest. Tonight, that seemed plenty. The money would rent her a room for the duration. She was on her own now.

Rani finally tracked Mohinder down at Grits the next afternoon. She was edgy now, unhappy about what had happened with her family. Waking from her restless sleep in the cold light of dawn she realized that she might well have burned her bridges. But if she could control her fear, she'd be all right. Maybe it wouldn't show. Just don't be too eager, girl, don't give too much away.

"Like to do business with you, big man," she chirped as she approached his table.

Mohinder's chest puffed a little with pride. He chewed at his burger and eyed her coolly. "More business, huh? Well, what are you in for this time?" He sounded faintly amused.

Rani tried hard not to get riled. "A few things, actually. I know you don't come cheap, Mohinder, not someone with your reputation. So let me say straight off, I can pay you what you're worth." Flatter him, Rani, her common sense was insisting. He looked suitably happy. "First thing, you know that Predator I sold you?"

He gave her an almost friendly look. "No problems, girl. Lovely gun. Thank you for that one." He devoured the last chunk of the soyburger, which to Rani smelled like something had rotted to death inside the bun. Why didn't some slint come up with an artificial scent that wouldn't affect the greasy taste of those things? They could make a fortune.

"I can pay you double the price to get it back." She gazed at him without blinking. Her expression said, I want this and I can pay. I have money. No kidding today.

She saw some respect in the way his cybereyes gazed at her, but he shook his head. "Rani, you can't get Predators over here. I don't know where you got this one, but it's a precious thing. I haven't even sold it. I kept it for myself. I can sell you someting almost as good for your money, and I won't rip you off, but that Predator is too good to let go. Sorry." He slurped a great mouthful of scalding soykaf and almost had to spit it back into the cup.

She had her reply ready for the refusal. "Three times. I'll pay you three times what you gave me for it. That's my final offer." She really didn't want to go that far-it took out too much of her funds-but she knew how much the elf wanted to check out the gun.

"You're persistent, huh?" He smiled at her, not taking offense. "Honestly, Rani, no way. That gun's mine now. Not for sale. Just the sight of it can make people back down, you know? Big people. It gives me a real edge. And money can't buy that. Not the way a Predator II can when you're pointing it into the face of some snakeboy."

She had half-expected as much. She dared not push the request any further, for fear of losing the other things she wanted from him.

"All right, Mohinder, so be it. But I need to get my hands on some good weapons. I mean good, the best. If I can't get the Predator, I want the best pistol I can get by, say, Friday night. Best ammo, too. A crossbow wouldn't go amiss either. Say a couple of each.

"Also, I heard a news report that some baggies lost their stun batons in one of the Squeeze checkpoints south of the river last week. And, well, I would be terribly interested in any that may have found their way down here."

He laughed until he realized she was serious. "Where you getting the money for this, little gopi?" he scowled at her.