Mirrored Heavens

way too smart to try to play dumb with me.”

“Where’d you find this information?”

“Never you mind where I found it. But I’ll tell you where I’ve put it. Out in the zone. With orders to grow some legs and start moving unless I keep reminding it not to.”

“And you think you can use this to control me?”

“I had in mind a little influence.”

“Please.”

“Was lucky you were home, Spencer,” says Linehan, looking around. “You’re often not. I said to myself, probably a fifty-fifty chance he’s here. When I found myself in the Midwest in the middle of it all, I thought, let’s see what Spencer’s up to. Good old Spencer. But not so good if he’s up north on one of his junkets for some surveying operation. Hell of a cover, Spencer. Does it really get you good information?”

Spencer doesn’t reply.

“Pretty far north, Spencer,” says Linehan. “What’s it like up there? Flitcar all the way to Hudson, mining tractors rumbling, fires through the Canadian night, American military bases everywhere—you can see a long way out there, can’t you?”

“Sure you can,” says Spencer.

“Well, see—that’s my problem. I can see a long way too. I can see it coming from a long way. I can see it. But I can’t move.” He paces to the window as he’s talking.

“Stay away from that window,” says Spencer. Linehan turns. “Listen,” says Spencer. “I’ve had about enough of this. You’ve done nothing but threaten me, you’ve told me nothing, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you keep talking without saying a thing. What’s this all about?”

“A bargain.”

“This I can’t wait to hear,” says Spencer.

“A deal, Spencer. You’re gonna get me out of this country. And if you don’t, I’ll turn you in to the authorities. What I hear, they got a real hard-on for limey data thieves rummaging through their Dumpsters.”

“That’s your bargain?”

“No, that’s my stick. I also got a carrot.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’s in my head.”

“What makes you think I care about what’s in your head?”

“Could be very valuable to your career, Spencer.”

“My career? What the hell do you take my career to be?”

Linehan smirks. “Not that that career needs any help. Senior consultant at defense contractor TransNorthern. Make managing director in another couple years if you hurry. You’re one fancy guy, Spencer. Your road’s lined with rose petals. Maybe even ones that have been grown. I’m surprised you’re living in a place as small as this.”

“I have a larger one up north,” says Spencer.

“Of course you do,” says Linehan. “Now look. Let’s get some things straight. I don’t give a shit why you’re making like a suit. Why you’ve been worming your way up the TransNorthern hierarchy. I don’t care what kind of cover it serves. I don’t care what Priam’s doing here. None of that interests me in the slightest. What interests me is that you can get me across the border.”

“I can get myself across the border,” says Spencer. “What am I supposed to do with you, put you in my fucking luggage?”

“Pack a big enough crate and sure. Listen, Spencer. I don’t care what the plan is, as long as you convince me it’s a good one. It had better be creative, though. It had better be resourceful.”

“And in return?”

“Told you that already. Information.”

“Of what nature?”

“It’s very difficult to explain that without telling you everything.”

“So tell.”

“So no. Your motivation to help me would be at an end.”

“It may be already.”

“I doubt it,” says Linehan. “Listen, Spencer, all I can say for now is that it’s worth it. That it’ll pay off your stint in the States and then some.”

Spencer looks at him. “Does it involve Autumn Rain?”

“Everything that’s anything involves Autumn Rain right now. I’m hardly gonna claim distinction for what I’ve got on that basis.”

“You and everybody else,” says Spencer. “Anyone can say they have something if they don’t have to show a thing. This is nothing. And you’re even less.”

“Easy, Spencer. Easy. I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking that if you killed me now, and got inside my head for real, you might be able to keep the feds from learning about you—and learn whatever it is I’ve got cooking. You’re wrong on both counts. First of all, you couldn’t kill me. I’m tougher than I look. Second, even if you beat the odds, you wouldn’t beat the acid that’s gonna nail my brain the moment my blood stops showing up. You wouldn’t salvage a thing. Least of all my codes.”

“You’re thinking I’m thinking a lot.”

“So here’s something else to think about. A present. Just to show you I’m serious.”

“Namely?”

“Namely this.” Linehan reaches into one of his pockets—“Easy,” he says as Spencer tenses. He takes something out, places it on the table. Spencer can see that it’s a chip.

“What’s on it?”

“What’s on it,” says Linehan, “is the production outputs for the United States’ farside mining operations. The real ones, Spencer. Not the ones they publish. Not the ones they claim. The genuine article.”

“If that’s true, that’s worth—”

“A fortune on the neutral markets? For you, it’s free. Check it out, Spencer. See for yourself.”

And Spencer does. He keeps the gun trained on Linehan, picks up the chip as though it will turn hot and burn at any moment. He slots it into a space that suddenly opens in his index finger. He downloads it into secure storage: a part of his software that’s modularized from the rest, thereby allowing him to see the readouts without compromising himself with a download that’s potentially tainted. Numbers stream through his skull. He can’t see if they hold everything that Linehan’s promised.

But he can see enough.

“Alright,” he says. The numbers fade out, replaced by Linehan’s mirthless grin. “Looks like you’ve got something here.”

“More than just something, Spencer. I reckon that little chip will get you most of your remaining distance to the quota Priam’s set for you. Maybe more.”

“You know about the quotas?”

“Of course I know about the quotas. I know they’re all your masters care about. I know your quota’s the difference between your being set up for life in Europe and trapped forever in the States. But what you need to know is that if you play ball with me, no one will ever talk to you about quotas again.”

“Where’d you get this, Linehan?”

“Looking in places I wasn’t supposed to.”

“I’m sure. My answer’s still no.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What more do you want?”

“How about something realistic? Look, you’ve got something going on here. I’m convinced. I’ll do what I can