Glover joined Sam and Dodger in watching the two leave. 'Your muscle is flighty. Such an abrupt exit might tempt an ungrateful employer into minimizing his expenses. How can they be sure I will not cause problems now?'
Sam wondered that himself. Not that he thought that they'd care if Glover decided to smoke Sam and Dodger. They had their nuyen and were satisfied to let the future take care of itself. Sam had never been so cavalier about the future, so he hadn't been counting on the lame-brained muscleboys to kept the meeting friendly.
'It was never their problem,' he said. 'This is a public place where we're well-known. You'll find it difficult to make trouble here. Besides, we all got what we came here for, didn't we?'
Glover pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows slightly. 'It would appear so. Yet I wonder, would your associates have performed any differently had this meeting taken place somewhere else?' 'We have friends in lots of places.' 'You are commendably cautious, although some of your associations may not be wisely chosen.' 'There are always constraints.' Glover nodded knowingly. 'Quite. I apologize for my earlier abruptness, gentlemen. Your style is unfamiliar to me and I was slightly discomfited. Having become acquainted with some of the constraints under which you work, I realize now that your conduct was competent and professional.'
Sam inclined his head. He wasn't sure what Glover was leading up to, so he thought it best to say nothing. ' 'I have certain endeavors still uncompleted and find myself somewhat short of competent help. Which is to say, I have another job suitable for professionals of your caliber. It is a similar to this recent operation, which has been concluded with such admirable results.'
No thanks, Sam thought. 'I think things will be a little warm in Seattle for a while.'
'Which is a good reason for you to consider my offer. The job I have in mind is out-of-town work.'
'I'm afraid that's not the sort of thing we do,' Sam said.
' 'I assure you nothing like the little mix-up that occurred here will happen there. Having taken your measure, I can also assure you that I can convince my principals that you are worth greater compensation.' Sam started to repeat his rejection of the offer, but Dodger elbowed him in the ribs and said, 'We'll give your offer some thought, Goodman Johnson. Mayhap you can provide us with a way to contact you?'' 'Certainly, my good elf. But I will need an answer soon. I have schedules to keep and must leave the metroplex by tomorrow evening.'
Dodger took the card Glover offered. 'We shall take counsel with our associates anon and you shall have our decision by tomorrow afternoon.'
As soon as the ATT man and his bodyguard had left the club, Sam rounded on Dodger. 'What did you think you were doing?'
'Looking out for our future, Sir Twist.' 'I don't want that guy in our future. Communications slipups like we had are trouble, deadly trouble, waiting to happen. Especially if there is any chance he's connected to Lofwyr.'
'I hesitate to suggest that you speak in haste, but I fear that I must. There was something I thought you should see before Friend Glover arrived, but he was so prompt that opportunity fled.' 'And what is that?'
'A mere tidbit that fell into my hands during my research. It may mean nothing, but it may have some significance. I had thought that you would be the best judge. 'Tis a file I found among the datastores Goodman Glover had transferred to Seattle ATT.'
Dodger tapped at the minicomp, bringing up a list of seven names. He highlighted item number three: 'Raoul Sanchez, Seattle.' The line was marked 'In progress.' Two of the other names were marked 'acquired.'
'So, Glover is collecting people. Nobody we know is on the list.'
'So sure, Sir Twist?' Dodger highlighted item seven: 'Janice Walters, Yomi.' 'Is it not a custom of the Japanese to change the names of the changed?' Sam nodded, his mouth dry. Most Japanese considered having metahumans in their family a disgrace. The unfortunates were shipped to Yomi and their names changed, thereby removing the shame from their family. Could Janice Walters be Janice Verner, his sister?
Sam didn't know if the Yomi officials would have allowed Janice to select her own new name. If so, she might have chosen Walters; it was their maternal grandmother's name. Janice hadn't been born when she had died, but their mother had regaled them constantly with tales of Grandma Walters' world travels. She had been the star of many a bedtime story. Janice had grown up idolizing the woman. When faced with the bureaucratic demand that she cease using Verner as her surname, she might have chosen Walters.
It seemed a slim chance that the woman Glover sought was his sister. But could he afford to take the chance that Janice Walters wasn't Janice Verner?
What did Glover want with all these people, anyway? If one of them was his sister, Sam needed to know. What better way to find out than by becoming part of Glover's organization? It was always easier to snoop around from the inside. But what if he was working for Lofwyr? All the more reason to keep his sister out of the dragon's grasp.
He didn't like it, but it looked as though he would be working for Glover a while longer.
Janice thought she understood comfort and easy living. Before her exile to Yomi, she had lived the life of a corporate dependent. It was a comfortable, cozy life complete with all the easy conveniences of civilized society. Renraku took care of its dependents. She had felt safe and secure. Yomi had taught her just how fortunate they had been.
Her corporate comfort had been due to her brother. She had often wondered what would have happened to them after their parents were killed if Sam hadn't caught the eye of old Inazo Aneki, the master of Renraku Corporation. Sam was five years older than she was, and he was only eighteen at the time. There had been no money and few prospects, but Aneki had taken an interest in Sam and seen to it that her brother finished his education. Under the distant but benevolent patronage of Aneki, Sam had gotten started on the fast track at Renraku. Aneki's charity had been like a gift from God, an offering of a long, comfortable life. They certainly wouldn't have been able to make it on their own. Her brother's position was exalted, for a gaijin, and she had been proud of him. His salary and position should have ensured congenial accommodations for both of them for life.
Now, her thoughts of Sam's success were less kind. He had abandoned her to keep his sinecure, unwilling to be tainted by her goblinization. Kawaru the Japanese called it, a pretty euphemism for an ugly thing. The English word, with its harsh syllables and awkwardness, was so much more fitting.
Sam would call it kawaru. He had always been so enamored of things Japanese, aping their attitudes and manners. The Japanese corporate society liked to pretend that metahumans didn't exist, casting them away to rot on the edges of society and to dwell in the polluted shadows of those gleaming corporate towers. The pure stayed home, safe from taint. Secure in their bastions, they ate their regular, balanced meals, slept in their soft, warm beds in their precisely controlled climates, watched their approved entertainments, and ignored what they wished did not exist. Those hypocritical overlords spoke of financial aid, readjust out. A short, dark man in a white suit waited at the foot of the stairway. As her eyes settled on him, he smiled.
'Welcome to Atzlan,' he said in accented English. 'I am Jaime Garcia. I offer Mr. Shiroi's apologies. He was unavoidably detained by business and has asked me to entertain you until he is available. I hope you had a good flight. You have no complaints of your treatment?'
Shivering in the sunshine, the pilot tensed. He relaxed only a little when she said, 'Everything was fine.'
'Most excellent,' Garcia said. His dazzling smile vanished as he turned away to speak rapidly in what she assumed was Spanish. The people to whom he spoke were short and dark like him. Their eyes never left her.
Most of the crowd wore loose-fitting blouses and pants, but a few wore tailored coveralls or suits like Garcia's. He finished with an obvious command, scattering the blouses and coveralls. Minions, jumping at his word. She had seen such feverish obedience once when some important Aztechnology officials had visited the Renraku compound. Was it a universal trait of the underlings in Atzlan-based corporations? She didn't like it.
After a few softer exchanges with the suits, he turned his attention to her again. The brilliant smile returned as if it had never been gone. 'Please, senorita. Come down and join us.'
She wasn't sure it was a good idea, but she stepped through the hatchway. There was something about this Garcia that she didn't like. She ran her tongue across her lower lip, wishing she knew what he hid behind his smile. Her eyes were still hurting as she walked carefully down the stairs. She squinted down at Garcia and realized that he looked different. He was no longer a small man in a suit but a long-limbed, furred metahuman like herself.
In her surprise, she nearly stumbled. He was up the stairs to meet her before she could recover her balance
