thought. Emanating menace, the intruder closed the distance between them in four quick, long strides. Dodger tried to move out of the way, but his flesh, the poor abused meat, betrayed him. The norm caught Dodger easily as he tried to slip past to reach his gun.
Pain shot through Dodger's spine as he was slammed into the edge of the kitchen counter. The norm forced him into the counter, grinding the edge into Dodger's arched back. The cold muzzle of a gun forced his chin up.
'So confident that you didn't even bother changing your base of operations? Should I shoot you now or let you try to lie your way out of it again?''
Dodger was shocked to recognize the voice.
'Sam?'
Sam grinned with surprising savagery. 'Surprised, aren't you? She couldn't hold me.'
Sam wrenched Dodger upright and shoved him against the refrigerator. Dodger's right elbow caught the edge of the door painfully. He cried out and grabbed for it with his other hand as he struggled to stay on his feet. Sam took two steps back and leveled his weapon at Dodger's chest. The gun's muzzle seemed far too large for the pistol's size. 'Sam, that's not a tranq gun.' 'No, Dodger. It's not. Give me a good reason not to use it on you.'
'Use it? What are you talking about? What happened? We've been trying to find out what happened to you and Hart for a week. We were really worried. Who's the other guy? Where's Hart? Is she okay?'
Dodger knew he was babbling, but the words just kept pouring out. Sam's face was stony. His lack of reaction and warmth rattled Dodger almost as badly as the gun his friend was pointing at him.
'Hart's in deep drek with her friends. Excuse me, your friends.'
' 'My friends? What are you talking about?''
'Dump it, Dodger! I've had enough of your lies,' Sam shouted. His hand was shaking with the violence of his emotions. 'Look at you! You're pathetic. What's the matter, chummer? Drinking away your sorrows? Or are you trying to get up enough courage to sell Willie into captivity, too? Why don't you just have her killed? It'd be kinder than putting her into some elf zoo. See the halfer rigger and the crazy wildman from Seattle! Amusing! Entertaining! All courtesy of Dodger and Hart Enterprises. You've conned me for the last time.'
Dodger let go of his bruised elbow and drew himself to his full height. If this was going to be the end of the flesh, he wouldn't cringe. He didn't know what had set off his friend, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it. Sam was obviously confused, maybe mind-controlled, and he wasn't listening. But talk was the only weapon Dodger had.
'You're wrong, my friend. Whatever happened to you, I had no part in it.' 'You're a liar!' Sam raised his pistol.
The muzzle pointed directly between Dodger's eyes. Death was a finger twitch away. Sam's hand began to shake.
'Drek! I can't do this!'
Sam threw the gun across the room. His companion stretched out an arm to catch the weapon, but its trajectory took it just out of his reach. The pistol hit the wall, gouging the wallboard, and rebounded onto the mattress Dodger had been using for a bed. For the first time, Sam's companion spoke.
'It's just as well, Sam. I don't think the elf is lying.
His aura indicates that his confusion is real.'
Sam turned away from both of them. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Sam's companion stood silently watching him, an expression of concern on his face. The companion turned to look at Dodger, his eyes full of curiosity.
Dodger didn't know what to do. He was shaking himself. While he dithered, Willie's voice burst from the radio receiver.
'Twist! Is that you, Twist? What's going on?' There was a pause. 'Frag it! Somebody answer me!'
Sam walked to the radio, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
'I'm here, Willie,' he said shakily.
'Frag, but I'm glad you're back. Where ya been?'
'Took an involuntary vacation.'
'Hell of a time to go sightseeing, but you could've come back sooner.'
'Would have if I could have, Willie.' Sam took a deep breath and released it. When he spoke again, his voice was steady. 'My tour guide had other ideas.'
'What counts is you're back. You ready to run again, chummer?'
'All cylinders.'
Dodger thought it sounded likle false bravado, but
Willie obviously took it at face value.
'Good 'cause the ante's going up and you're the last magicker on-line.'
'The last… what's happened?'
'Just had a drone in for a meet with Herzog. He's dead. Somebody raided his sanctum, but he put up the good fight. Made 'em pay. Took out four or five, my count on the body parts was a little iffy.'
'The Circle?'
'Neg. Not unless they've got a lot broader of mind while you were gone. The hitters were all elves.'
Sam turned to stare at Dodger. 'Say again.'
'I said the guys who took out Herzog were all elves.'
'Elves,' Sam repeated softly. 'Talk to me,
Dodger.'
Jenny's check on the power draw for the squat confirmed that either Dodger or Willie was still operating out of the apartment. There wasn't enough usage to supply both the elf's cyberdeck and the rigger's board. One of them had moved out. The broad-band receiver Hart carried didn't show any unusual broadcast activity, so she assumed it was the elf. As far as she knew, Willie didn't use booster stations to hide her location.
Hart's surveillance hadn't picked up any activity for over an hour. Jenny confirmed power draw, so that meant Dodger was decking and the others asleep. It was time to move.
She left her perch and made her way down through the building, exiting around the corner and out of sight from the runners' lair. Timing her crossing to coincide with traffic, she crossed the street screened from the apartment's window. Once on the same block, it was easy to move unseen through an adjoining tenement and up onto its roof. She leaped across the gap between the tenements and landed with satisfactory silence. Crossing the rooftops, she hesitated only a moment near the brick shack that Sam had tried to use for cover against her shots. She shook off the thoughts that threatened to upset her centering and proceeded to the cornice at a position above the flat's biggest window, where she set her bag down. In a few minutes, her gear was rigged, and she sat down to do an astral scout of the squat three floors below her; she didn't want any surprises. She got one.
The flat was astrally warded! Unable to penetrate the protection to view the interior, she returned to her body. She would have to go in blind, relying on the mundane reconnaissance she had already performed. There was no reason to delay. She shed her long coat and clipped the drop line to her harness. Satisfied that it was secure, she went over the side, walking the wall past darkened windows.
The winter air was chill, but she barely felt it. Her doubts kept her warm. Was she doing the right thing? With a swiftness born of familiarity, she squirted lubricant into each side of the window frame. She let it penetrate for two minutes, then tried to lift the sash. It moved smoothly and silently; as she had remembered, there was no lock.
With the kitchen window open, the blackout curtain was the only impediment to entrance. She folded her legs, then straightened them, pushing off from the wall. The extra force from her right leg angled her return so that she would pass through the aperture. Her feet brushed aside the curtains and as her hips went through the frame, she hit the friction clamp and released its tension. She hit the floor and tucked herself into a forward roll. The soft clack of harness buckles against the floorboards was the only sound she made. She came up into a crouch and froze, listening.
The apartment was silent save for the soft background hum of an active computer system. The soft glow from a terminal screen was the main room's only illumination. No one moved in what she could see of the room.
