novice decker. What chance would he have against something that stymied Dodger? Jenny wouldn't be much help. She was good, but, as much as Hart hated to admit it, not quite as good as Dodger. Sam might trust Jenny on Hart's recommendation, and he might not. It would be a gamble that she'd keep him out of the Matrix, but the only way to make sure Sam stayed safely out of cyberspace was to make sure that Sam had a decker he trusted running the Matrix for him. Unless she came up with an alternative, that meant babysitting Dodger.
If only she could be with Sam in Denver to keep an eye on him. She'd keep him out of the Matrix, and using his magical abilities like he should. But she needed to be elsewhere, and she was feeling the grip of time. Her babysitting the decker might cost them all more than they wanted to pay. But she didn't know for sure, and she wouldn't find out sitting around. The ^ investigation she wanted to make needed her personal touch. She couldn't leave it to an agent. But getting someone to watch over Sam was another matter. She thought about who she knew in Denver.
If she covered that angle, maybe she could do something here that wouldn't betray Sam's trust. There had to be; she couldn't wait any longer. All she needed was to find someone suitable to babysit Dodger, someone of whom Sam might approve. It would help if Dodger trusted the person, too, but she didn't know enough about his friends. The decker seemed to trust Ghost, but the samurai was busy watching Janice out in the Council lands. The only one of the decker's associates still in town was Tsung, and she wouldn't do Hart a favor, even if it was really for Dodger. Stupid cow.
There was one other possibility. She looked over at Dodger. From his activity level, she decided that he wasn't likely to come up against anything serious for a few minutes. Well, maybe he would, but how could she know? She had too damn little data, and time was passing. Sometimes one just had to gamble.
She tossed her Scaratelli jacket over one shoulder and slipped on a pair of B amp;L mirrorshades. She took the stairs down to street level and walked a couple of blocks to the monorail. A few stops later she left the train and found a telecom. Slipping a certified cred-stick into the slot, she waited while the system pinpointed her location and acknowledged her credit. It meant the location of the call would be recorded, but she didn't worry. She'd be gone before anyone could arrive. She placed her call, hoping to remember the number correctly. She smiled in satisfaction when an elven woman's familiar face appeared on the screen.
'Hello, Teresa. Friend of yours needs a little private counseling.'
Janice Verner was not very happy with herself. She didn't like to think she was stupid, but what other ex- planarion was there? Once more she had let herself believe in promises, had trusted someone else. How many betrayals did it take for her to learn?
When her body changed the first time, she should have known that her life was changed forever. That was the first betrayal. Like a good little norm, her boyfriend Ken had pretended she no longer existed once he heard of her change. Where had his much-professed love gone? She was the same person inside. Had he only loved her body? If so, why had he lied and told her she was a beautiful soul?
She should have let her heart die then, but she had been stupid again. Hugh Glass had come to her in that horrible place of exile. His elven features had been so beautiful, and she had been naive enough to believe he meant what he said. She had still wanted to believe she hadn't changed inside, that she was still a beautiful soul. He had let her believe that he saw through her lumpish exterior to that beauty. They had planned an escape from Yomi, laughing about how they would build a life away from the norms in the Yakkut, or Amazonia, or his native Ireland. He had laughed all right. Laughed at her, making his own plans to degrade and humiliate her. The moment they had weathered the harrowing escape from the island, he had abandoned her in Hong Kong.
Then she had changed again. It had come so soon after Hugh's abandonment that she might have thought it punishment for her stupidity, atonement for her cupidity. She might have fallen into self-pity if not for Dan Shiroi. He had found and rescued her from that awful Hong Kong tenement. He had given her back a sense of worth. Of all the men in her life, only Dan had been true.
So why did she resist becoming as he was? She didn't need to look at her talons and fangs to know. She could feel the beast and its terrible hunger within her. The hunger was there all the time now, an aching h^llowness. She felt it even in her dreams. Sometimes, when the craving was strongest, Hugh came to her. Smiling his perfect elven smile, he urged her to satisfy herself. He offered her a choice of bodies, but they all had Ken's face. At least at first. Just when she was ready to rip out his traitorous throat, Ken's face always changed into someone else's. Sometimes it was her father's, sometimes her mother's, and occasionally it was one of her brothers'. Most often, though, the face was unfamiliar, just the terrified visage of a harmless norm. The faces she recognized took longer and longer to change to strangers now. But so far, she had resisted. Maybe she hesitated because, in the dream, Hugh urged her so fervently to do it; she saw no reason to please him. Maybe she remembered Dan's last words. But each day, she grew closer to satisfying her hunger.
Why had she left the fastness that had been Dan's shelter?
For another empty promise, another broken dream. Her brother had come and told her that she could be changed yet again. Changed for the better, back to what she had been. Was that a worthy desire? Dan had been happy with what he was. Shouldn't she be as well?
Or was she being stupid again? Stupid she might be, but dull she was not. The shifting breeze that carried the soft rustle also held a faint man scent that told her who approached. He had been following her for two days. She was too tired to hide from him again.
'Go away, Ghost. I don't want to eat you.' He abandoned his stealth, but his approach was only barely louder. He crouched down, just out of reach of her arm. He hadn't abandoned caution. For a man, he was honest.
'Don't much like the idea,' he said. 'Then go.'
'He asked me to watch you for him.' She laughed bitterly. 'He's off learning new magic. What has that to do with me? Norms don't need fuzz-balls.'
Ghost turned his head and spat into the bushes. 'He's Dog. He won't give up on you. Why are you giving up on yourself?'
Why, indeed? Why did it matter? To anybody. She was what she had become, wasn't she? 'Suppose he does care. Why are you here?'
'Dog and Wolf have much in common.' 'Not really. Wolf is a predator.' Ghost grinned raggedly at her. 'Of course.' 'And predators have to eat.' She let her fangs show, but he didn't move a muscle.
'There is plenty of meat in the woods.'
She threw back her head and sighed. 'Animals taste bad. Besides, they don't fill me up.'
He grunted in acknowledgement, and then was quiet for several minutes. 'While undergoing their spirit quests, my ancestors would go for days without food. Their spirits were strong enough to bear the burden. And now we know the magic they sought in those days could not really be found. But that never stopped them. So what hardship is a fast when now there really is magic to be found? Or if it isn't found, you would face no more disappointment than the ancestors. Less, if your brother succeeds in his own quest. Are you strong, Wolf shaman?'
She stared at him. He was human, a norm. For all his cybernetic enhancements, he was just a man. He had no insight into the half worlds of the spirit. He knew no magic. His body could never know the exquisite pangs of this hunger. Who was he to question her?
Was she strong?
She wished to God she knew.
The Renraku arcology was a city under one roof, a giant pyramidal house that was home to forty thousand people and with visiting parlors of malls and businesses hosting thousands more. Like all houses, it had its neglected corners that went unnoticed by the bustling inhabitants. Using his special executive power as kansayaku, Hohiro Sato knew many of those forgotten corners very well. He had arranged for some of them.
The Office of Localized Segment Augmentation: Oversight, Screening, and Actuarial Review Division was one. Normally Sato also ignored it, save to review its activities when his loyal watchdog reported something of potential interest. Today, the manager of OLSA: OSARD had requested an interview.
As kansayaku, Sato was the living and local embodiment of the dictatorial power of Inazo Aneki, founder and patriarch of Renraku Corporation. In all the ways that counted, the position made Sato more powerful than Sherman Huang, president of Renraku America. Huang was king of the arcology, but Sato was the power behind the throne. The corporation's organizational structure gave such a lowly office manager the right to request an interview with the kansay-aku, but such a thing rarely, if ever, happened in practice. When it did, the lowly manager came as a suppliant to the office of his superior. But today, it was Sato who stood at the door to the
