from the image that presented itself, out of ancient video, smoke billowing from a broken dome, radiation fires smothered in concrete; that wouldn’t be what happened, not quite, but the area would be poisoned worse than it already was. And no one had ever honestly calculated the probable deaths. She looked back over her shoulder at Starling, still standing in the lee of the unmarked police car, conferring with Levy and a man in armor, not knowing whom she resented more, the Mayor or Starling himself.
“You’d still be better off with me running the nets,” she said.
“I don’t doubt it,” Mabry snapped. “But that’s not the deal.”
Trouble took a deep breath. “I want complete immunity, all charges past and present dropped.”
“Done.” Mabry nodded, with decision. “I will see to it personally.”
“And for Cerise as well.”
“Agreed.”
“He’ll fucking kill you,” Cerise said. “Trouble, don’t do it.”
Trouble looked at her, swallowing her own cold fear. “Look. He’s one of us, a cracker, a netwalker. Since when did we start carrying guns?”
“I did.”
“You weren’t exactly representative.”
“Neither’s he.”
“That was a long time ago, and in the city. And it’s not the same. If’s not the Mayor’s style.” Trouble took another long breath, tasting salt and the ubiquitous oil. The air was thickening, fog swirling in from the sea: not a good time for that, she thought, and automatically squinted upward, looking for the helicopter. It was still there, a dark shape against the white sky, but when she looked east, the outlines of the beachfront buildings were already blurred. “He doesn’t gain anything by killing me—”
“Except personal satisfaction,” Cerise snapped.
“Yeah.” Trouble shivered, told herself it was only the first wisps of fog. “But he loses his chance to walk out of here.”
“Do you really think Starling would let him walk?” Cerise asked. “Do you really think he thinks Starling will let him walk? Trouble—” She broke off abruptly, the rest of the sentence unspoken. I’m not losing you now, she would have said, not again, and this was not the time for declarations.
“But if he really can get into the nuke?” Trouble said.
“There’s no way he can,” Cerise said. “No fucking way.”
Trouble looked at her, and Cerise made a face, answered her own question. “Except he’s the Mayor, and if anyone can, it’s him, and we can’t take that risk anyway. Not on this coastline.” She sighed. “All right, do it. But I’m coming with you.”
“He said alone,” Mabry interjected. It was no more than a token protest, but Cerise turned on him anyway.
“So get me in there without him knowing it, sunshine. I thought you people were supposed to be good. And I want a gun.”
“All right,” Mabry said. “Let’s go.”
They followed him down the narrow street, Mabry careful to keep the line of parked cars and runabouts between them and the rooming house. The cops, local and state, clustered in twos and threes behind the inadequate barricades, looked up as they passed, but their expressions were invisible behind the dark-tinted faceplates. Starling came to meet them, Levy and the armored stranger—probably some kind of senior police officer, Trouble thought, just from the amount of braid and badges, but she recognized only The Willows’ insignia among the clutter—following a few steps behind.
“Well?” Starling asked, and Mabry nodded.
Trouble said, “I understand he wants to talk to me. Is that right?” In spite of her efforts at control, her voice came out too loud, uncertain.
Starling said, “That’s right. I gather you’ve agreed.”
“I want all charges past and present dropped,” Trouble said, “for both me and Cerise.”
“That can be arranged,” Starling said.
“I’ve agreed to it,” Mabry said, mildly, and Starling’s lips tightened momentarily.
“All right.”
“Now,” Trouble said. “Just what is it you want me to do?”
“I just want you to keep him talking,” Starling said. “Distract him while we isolate him on the net, so that the rest of our people can move in.” He nodded to the fire engine. “We’ve got a sniper team there. They can take him out as soon as we’re sure the nets are safe.”
“That wasn’t in the plan, John,” Mabry said.
“You’d be better off letting us run the nets,” Trouble said, without much hope. “We’ve beaten him before.”
“No, thanks,” Levy said.
Starling said, “It’s you he wants to talk to. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“But there are some things you can do about protection,” Trouble said.
Starling waved his hand again, a broader gesture taking in not only the snipers but the men crouching behind the lines of cars. “You’ll have backup.”
Except when I’m inside, Trouble thought. But the men in the fire engine’s bucket would provide some cover, as much as she could reasonably expect.
Cerise said, “Yes. Well. I’m going with her.”
Starling frowned, and Trouble said, “It’s not negotiable.”
“He said alone,” Starling began, and Mabry shook his head.
“It can be done, John. It’s better this way.”
“And I want a gun,” Cerise said.
Starling sighed, looked at Levy. “Ben?”
Levy reached into his jacket, freed his pistol from the shoulder holster, and reluctantly held it out butt first. “Do you know how to use this?”
Cerise took it, automatically checking the magazine— full—then cocked it, putting the safety on. “Oh, yes.”
“Then let’s get on with it,” Starling said. “Mabry, you take Ms.—Cerise—around to the front door. Keep behind the cars, he can’t see down into the street too well.” Mabry nodded, motioned for Cerise to follow him. “Ms. Carless—Trouble. We’ll wait here.”
Trouble nodded, not daring to speak for fear her voice would break, watched as Mabry and Cerise made their way cautiously across the street and disappeared finally behind the line of parked cars. At last there was a flicker of movement beside the doorway, and Levy sighed.
“They’re in position.”
“Right,” Starling said, and reached for a handset. “Novross.”
There was a long silence, not even the crackle of static, and Trouble wondered for an instant if she was off the hook at last. Then the machine clicked, and the Mayor’s voice came dearly through the tiny speaker.
“I’m here.”
“We’ve done as you asked,” Starling said. “Trouble’s here, and she’s prepared to act as our representative.”
There was another silence, shorter this time, and then the Mayor said, “About time. Send her up.”
“She’s on her way,” Starling said, and looked at Trouble. “You’re on.”
“Thanks,” Trouble said. She took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the car. She did not believe, in spite of everything Cerise had said, that the Mayor had a gun; it wasn’t his style, was unlike anything else he’d ever done, but even so, she felt an odd, tingling sensation on her forehead, and then between her breasts. It felt very real, so real that she looked down at herself, half expecting to see the bright dot of a targeting laser, but there was nothing there. She shivered again, convulsively, and wished she thought anyone would believe it was from the fog.
Cerise was waiting in the doorway, pressed against the wall under the shelter of the arch, out of the line of vision of the single securicam. It looked broken, blinded by too many nights in the salt air, but there was no point
