With an effort of supreme will, Dutch maintained at least a semblance of calm as Muto stepped up close enough that their noses almost touched. ‘It would be worth it,’ Muto said in a half-whisper. ‘Almost.’
Then she threw the sword down, sending it spinning away with a clatter, and stepped towards the side-exit. ‘But don’t think this makes us in any imaginable way even,’ she added, slamming the flat of one hand against a control unit mounted on the wall.
The roll-down door at the other end of the garage shook, then moved upwards, revealing the rain-streaked street beyond.
‘Muto…’ Dutch managed to say.
Muto stared back at her, her expression full of hatred. ‘You have the car. The death notices, however, remain in place. As you said yourself, I have a reputation to maintain.’
Dutch nodded carefully. ‘I understand. And thank you.’
‘Consider it a last request,’ said Muto. Then she snapped her fingers, and her men lowered their weapons. ‘Now go burn in hell.’
Muto stepped out through the side-exit, followed by her men. The moment they were gone, Dutch let herself slump bonelessly against the Coupé, trying hard not to think about just how close she’d come to being gutted like a fish.
‘Dutch?’ Nat called down as he and the rest of his men put their weapons away. ‘You okay?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, trying to sound like she meant it. She pulled the door of the Coupé open. ‘I’ll meet you back at the hotel.’
Dutch slid the keys into the ignition and the engine caught with ease. She let herself sit there for a second, feeling the vibrations roll through her bones, and let her head sink forward until it touched the wheel. Then she brought it back up and drove the Falcon out onto the street, the engine grumbling with restrained power.
She saw a limousine driving away and guessed it was Muto’s. Nat and his men meanwhile exited the building, heading for a black unmarked van parked nearby.
Instead of getting in the van with the rest of them, Nat walked over and got in the Coupé beside Dutch. She didn’t wait for him to speak, turning the wheel and working the gas pedal. The Coupé shot forward like a greased otter, the acceleration pushing her deep into the leather seating. The rush it gave her was downright primal, like she’d merged with the car and become something new, a beast with steel sinews and gasoline for blood.
‘In any fair and sane universe,’ said Nat, ‘you would be dead right now.’
She shot a quick glance at him. ‘Nice.’
‘You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused, do you? First you disappear, then that…message.’
‘This car,’ said Dutch, ‘is my best chance at staying alive on Teijouan.’
She took another glance at him and saw something like resignation. She suppressed a grin and turned onto a busy street where, to her amused shock, the self-drive pods realigned themselves to make way for the Coupé.
She reminded herself it had been Muto’s car for a good long while, and she had enough contacts in the police and government to ensure a permanent traffic override. People pointed and stared as they blazed past.
‘What the hell’s so special about this car you’d risk your damn neck like that?’ Nat demanded.
She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You’re shitting me. Did you even look at this thing? There’s no onboard electronics any more advanced than a vacuum tube. Nothing that could get scrambled by Teijouan’s d-field.’ Dutch guessed there was some kind of fancy override under the hood, but she could strip that out in seconds. ‘It’s a hundred per cent optimised for the Devil’s Run,’ she added, tapping the d-meter on the dashboard.
Nat let out a heavy sigh. ‘So how come Muto had your old car?’
She grimaced. ‘I told you it was a long—’
‘I want to hear it. And why you called her Sally. And about what the hell happened in Lungshan.’
She gave him a long, sideways look, then turned back to the road. ‘Sally Hu’s her real name. She’s about as Japanese as I am. We ran together when we were kids back in New Detroit, stealing and modifying cars. Then along came Jack.’
‘Burton? Your old co-driver?’
Dutch nodded. ‘He and Sally were tight—real tight. They used to drive together.’
Nat raised his eyebrows. ‘In the Run?’
‘I started out working on their car before I raced myself. Third time out, they nearly died.’
‘Lungshan?’
‘That was on my second Run. Sally and Jack’s car had broken down and they were struggling to hold this…thing off while they fixed their engine. I helped keep the Kaiju at bay long enough for them to get back on the road.’
‘You saved their lives.’
‘Yeah, but that was it for Sally and she quit the Run. She wanted Jack to quit as well. And he did, for a couple of years, but then…’
He glanced sideways at her. ‘And?’
‘There’s something about the Devil’s Run that keeps people coming back to it again and again. Or a certain kind of person, anyway.’
Nat gave her a curious look. ‘What kind of people?’
Dutch shrugged. ‘It’s hard to explain. People who don’t…fit.’
His expression became uncomprehending. ‘Fit what?’
The world, she was about to say, but it was hard to explain in words what she felt every time she returned to Teijouan and the racecourse. She’d recognised that same feeling in the eyes of other racers—some of them, anyway, and usually the most batshit crazy ones. ‘The point is,’ she continued, ‘I was looking for a new navigator and when Jack heard about it he offered to take up the position. There wasn’t anyone better, so no way was I going to turn him down.’
‘And Muto? I mean, Sally?’
‘He didn’t tell her. Then he died, and of course she blamed me.’ She stared ahead through the windscreen. ‘Maybe she’s got a point,’ she said in a voice low enough Nat almost didn’t catch it.
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning,’ she said, ‘that I took a risk behind the wheel I shouldn’t have, and that’s how
