Byron popped a grape in his mouth and chased it with coffee. "He's small time. I use him for info gathering, stealing little things here and there. I could never bring myself to put him square against the G.O.D. As rough as he's had it, he's still not like you, me, and Matt."
"Not a near-heartless bastard three steps from being as bad as the Dogs, you mean," Dixie said. "Yeah, I suppose you got a point." And he did. Greg was too open and earnest for all that he was a professional criminal. Didn't need to know the man five minutes to see that. "Has he thought to ask how a Mason Chip can be coded to a person, yet?"
Byron shook his head. "Of course not. He hears 'microchip', he thinks computers and shit like everyone else. It won't occur to him until we tell him exactly where to find it, and I'm not sure I have the heart to do that."
"May not have a choice," Dixie replied. "Someone like him stands the best, if not only, chance of being fast enough to get in and out before the G.O.D. comes down on him like the end of days." He wolfed down a piece of toast. "With us at his back he can get a hell of a lot farther than the front yard. And out again."
"Ideally," Byron said pensively. "Speaking of computers, how are you?"
Dixie shrugged. "If we've got the downtime, it wouldn't hurt to run the full gauntlet so I'm ready once we have the chip in hand, but I'm running fine for now." He reached up to rub his fingers across the back of his neck, causing a sharp tingle to run through his body.
He might not be a super, and he wasn't a genetic experiment like Matt…but he hadn't gotten out of the G.O.D. unscathed either. Bio-Computer 3.1 was what his files said, though it was a bit of an overstatement. He was wired to be able to connect to the G.O.D. computers from literally anywhere in the world. The only thing that had ever stopped him was the lack of a Mason Chip.
Once he had that, there was fuck all the G.O.D. would be able to do to stop him.
Unless they'd already developed a replacement, but Dixie doubted it. He'd done a lot of fucking damage on his way out, and it had taken them decades just to get his father right—and his father had been 2.0.
Version 1.0 was a dark, dirty secret even Dixie hadn't been able to unearth.
"We can do it today," Byron said. "Greg was gone when I woke up, left a note saying he was going to speak to his friend. I'm working out a plan to get a Mason Chip, but there are almost too many angles to consider so it won't be ready any time soon. And you obviously have nowhere to be." He grinned. "Unless you and Greg have a hot date."
Dixie rolled his eyes. "Me on a date—that'll be the day. You know I don't do that crap." He finished eating and pushed his dishes away. "Get back on topic: who do you think this friend of Greg's is, that they'd need Greg to steal a Mason Chip? Someone that close to the G.O.D., shouldn't we have at least heard of them?"
"It's entirely likely we have," Byron said. "I would be willing to wager his friend is a super, after that 'doesn't want to draw attention' comment. And there aren't a whole lot of supers based here. Whisker and Minder are the only ones who ever make the news." He gave Dixie a look.
"You can't think Whisker is friends with Minder. Nobody is friends with Minder. He's the only son of a bitch nobody knows anything about. There's more in Scone's dossier than Minder's. How would Greg and Minder wind up knowing each other?"
Byron shrugged one shoulder, got up to pour himself more coffee. "I could be wrong. Let's face it, the list of people with a vendetta against the Pantheon is probably longer than even we realize. Greg's friend could be a super, could be somehow connected to a super, could even be someone within the G.O.D. settling a different grudge entirely. But I have eyes and ears in a lot of places, and I'm pretty certain I'd know if someone had popped up this close to home who wanted to get their hands on a Mason Chip. Except for the one person even I know nothing about, though I've tried."
"I think I'm a bit afraid of a man who managed to keep hidden from you," Dixie replied.
"Then you should be afraid of Greg, because I didn't know he was connected to Minder until he practically admitted it. And I could still be wrong."
Dixie made a face. "Doubt it. You got an uncanny accuracy rate for these things. One of your dark faerie tricks, no doubt."
Byron's mouth curved in one his all the mysteries of the world smiles. "Speaking of being on the news…"
Dixie groaned, bracing his elbows on the island and resting his forehead in his palms. "I don't want to know."
"Our humble mechanic has definitely been outed as the notorious Turncoat. They're broadcasting some charming interviews, let me tell you. Mostly of the 'he seemed so sweet, I never would have thought he was a crazed murderer' type, but with a few 'I knew there was something funny about him' sprinkled in for good measure. They try so hard to make you look like evil incarnate, but your pictures are all so wholesome."
Getting up, Dixie dumped all his dishes in the sink. "Guess you're putting up with me indefinitely. It was getting risky trying to play normal, anyway. Now that we've compromised Sunrise, fixed Matt, and have
