Dyson's Drop (13 page)

‘Not very sporting of you,’ said Anneke.

Arvakur shrugged, his handsome face breaking into a grin. ‘Maybe I just wanted to make sure I could find you for that second date.’ just as well it wasn’t activated. It would’ve been found when I went to RIM headquarters. Traced back to you, could’ve been nasty.’

‘My mistake. I hadn’t reckoned on you returning to RIM.’

Arvakur went on to explain his position. An up and-coming favourite within RIM, he had been recently sidelined by Rench and thrown into a backwater desk job, along with others like him. And there they simmered, forced to watch the growing ineptitude and passivity of RIM under the guidance of the new commander.

Unable to stand it any more, and hearing of Anneke’s daring escape, Arvakur had activated his worm. He had put together a team of like-minded malcontents and indebted each of them to their new cause.

And he had brought them here.

‘Great timing,’ Alisk said dryly. ‘You gave us heart attacks.’

‘Actually, I figured the timing was perfect. RIM is in chaos. Nobody knows what is going to happen in the next twenty-four hours. And it’s not looking good for Rench. There’s talk of a confidence vote to have him ousted.’

Anneke shook her head. ‘Somehow, I think the mole will put a stop to that. I don’t know if he’s controlling Rench, but the man is playing right into his hand.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ Arvakur asked Anneke, fixing her with a look that neither Alisk nor Fat Fraddo missed.

‘I want you to go back to your desk. Stay inside RIM. Be our eyes and ears there. And sow what dissent towards Rench you can without jeopardising your own position. I think there’ll come a time when we need vital intel from within RIM.’

Arvakur clearly wasn’t happy with this. He and his comrades had been looking forward to taking action, but all saw the sense in what Anneke proposed. Reluctantly, and after further discussions, they filed from the command centre. Arvakur made a mental note to extend his group’s indebtedness to include the location of Fat Fraddo’s centre.

Before he left, Arvakur told Anneke some disquieting news. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard of the dreadnought found off Orion’s Belt. An F-Class apparently.’

‘Yes?’ Anneke did not correct him about the derelict’s true designation.

‘It’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘Moved. RIM was remote monitoring it and yesterday discovered that the surveillance feed had been looped. We’ve been watching empty space for weeks now. Just thought you’d like to know.’

Anneke said nothing. She would have been more surprised if it was still being traced.

She accompanied Arvakur to the first ‘cleansers’, part of the centre’s elaborate defences. She prepared to leave him, but before she could do so, she found herself being kissed.

Afterwards, breathless, she watched him go.

Still bemusedly confused, she returned to the control room to learn that an assassination attempt had been made on Jake Ferren. Initially, little information was available about what had taken place. But it was rumoured that Esprin Harbage had been involved. Anneke felt herself reeling. Jake was family, what little she had left, and it hurt that she could not rush out to find him and take care of him. Over the next few hours, however, news filtered in that relieved her somewhat. The shot had only winged him and he was recuperating in hospital, under protective guard. He would make a full recovery. Unfortunately, between the fiasco on Heliopolis and the assassination attempt onJake, the confidence vote was pushed back indefinitely.

Anneke, angry and confused, went looking for Esprin. And found him, saving his life.

Knowing Esprin could not remain undetected within ‘normal’ society, Anneke used Fat Fraddo’s networks to locate the agent - or someone who matched his biometrics.

She scoured the underbelly of Lykis - the Draco Quarter - and narrowly avoided being involved m a shootout between two rival local gangs. She then received word of the breathtaking assault on Heliopolis by Myotan forces.

She contacted Fat Fraddo at once, using an encrypted
n-space
comm link, hopefully as unbreakable as the manufacturers promised. ‘You heard,’ said Fat Fraddo immediately.

Anneke could see Alisk bobbing around in the background as she stared at the tiny screen of her e-pad. just now,’ she said. ‘This changes everything. I don’t think the attack was engineered by Myoto.’

Fat Fraddo’s face creased in a frown. ‘You’re so cynical.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘Girl, this is big-time stuff. We’re in the middle of something and I definitely do not like the smell of it.’

‘Me neither, Fraddo,’ said Anneke, her voice tired.

‘Me neither. And listen, find out what the word is on the street, how people are seeing this. If this is Brown’s handiwork, he’ll be using some of the best spin doctors in the business.’

‘You got it, girl.’

Anneke went to sever the connection, and then stopped. ‘Oh, and call Arvakur. See if he’s heard anything. And maybe Alisk should have a word with Lob Lotang.’

‘Affirmative. And Anneke? You be careful out there, hear?’

‘Loud and clear.’

Anneke, wearing light renovation, trawled the murkier parts of the Draco Quarter for Esprin, though she was not convinced she’d find him there. Esprin, no matter his disguise, would stick out like a sore thumb. He would never fit in, could never hope to go undercover. In an odd way, that was a compliment. Esprin lacked a certain two-facedness essential to spying.

After a couple of wasted hours, she tracked down one of Fat Fraddo’s street informants. An angular weasel of a man, he was gaunt-faced and dark-eyed, with the look of the habitual pickpocket about him. His name was Lung.

Anneke cornered him in a bar where he was using a concealed wireless projector to lift a dattwafer off a dopamined, drunken spacer, who should have known better. Popsynth music blared from the walls; the smell of beer and wine permeated the air. Anneke dragged him through the rear door into the ladies’ toilet where giant screens projected their image onto ‘mirrors’ with command control image rotation, for makeup and hair.

The pickpocket put up a token fight. Anneke had him immobilised so fast it was pointless.

‘Lemme go!’ Lung squealed, trying to shake off Anneke’s hold. ‘I didn’t do nuthin’ to you!’

Anneke leaned close to his ear. ‘You’re a real boy scout.’

He struggled, but Anneke held him tight. ‘I’m a law abidin’ citizen.’

‘That’s what Fat Fraddo told me.’

At once, Lung clamped his mouth. He stared at Anneke in alarm. ‘Fraddo sent you?’

‘Yeah. I’m looking for someone.’ She showed Lung a holopic of Esprin and ran through the range of renovations. Lung squinted at the images, shaking his head. Anneke got tired of the repetition and shook Lung until his teeth rattled.

‘Okay, okay!’

Anneke stopped. Lung continued, surly and resentful: ‘Maybe I seen him.’

‘Maybe isn’t good enough. Fraddo said if you didn’t cough up, I should personally cancel your privileges.’

Lung looked aghast. Without his privileges he wouldn’t last two minutes on the street. He paled.

‘Yeah, I seen him, but I don’t think he’s your guy.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, he weren’t hidin’. I mean, the chunko was just wanderin’ about.’

Anneke frowned. If this were Esprin, what was he up to? Was he sick? Wounded? What? To Lung, she said, ‘Where’d you last see him?’

‘Up by Culpepper Plaza. He was movin’ east. Dawdlin’. Like he was waitin’ for a bus or somethin’.’ Lung hesitated. ‘So we done here?’

‘Yeah, we’re done.’

Lung straightened his tunic, and then fled with as much dignity as a sewer rat. Anneke passed him on her way out, setting up another target for a snatch.

Anneke reached Culpepper Plaza, but saw no sign of Esprin. Following Lung’s information, she headed east, trying to imagine Esprin’s state of mind. His movements sounded aimless, as if he didn’t know what to do next, or as if he’d been cut loose by someone higher up.

Then she caught a break.

A couple of stickball-capped street urchins had seen somebody resembling her holopics. They gave her directions and five minutes later she found Esprin.

Even then, she almost missed him, sitting in a public cafe, sipping a Pixan shake - exactly what they had shared on Se’atma Minor in Obin’s cafe by the water.

Anneke watched him for a time, ascertaining whether he was being monitored. As far as she could tell, he was not under any kind of surveillance. And as she observed him, her anger drained away. Even an untrained eye could see that Esprin was a dead man. Someone who had given up all hope of seeing out the day, an animal caught in headlights.

She dropped into a chair beside him, making him jump. When he’d stopped shaking and blood had returned to his face, he stammered out a question:

‘H-h-how did you find me?’

Anneke looked around the cafe. ‘You call this a safe house?’

‘I’ve been renovated.’

Anneke sighed. ‘Esprin, you haven’t been renovated. If you had, I probably wouldn’t have spotted you. But by the look of you, I’d say you ‘ve had cosmetic dermal reconstruction. Fine for deceiving the untrained, but not a RIM agent, as you should know. Mind you, I did nearly miss you -’

‘I’m all washed up anyway.’

‘-but only because it never occurred to me you’d be sitting in a public place.’

Esprin snorted. ‘That was my strategy.’

Anneke looked about the cafe. Everyone appeared to be who they should be. Esprin was what was known in the trade as a loose cannon. ‘You need help, Esprin. And right now? I’m all you have.’

Esprin’s haunted face darkened. ‘You’re no friend of mine.’

‘Because you shotJake? Depends. Why don’t you tell me what happened?’

Esprin took a deep breath and began. Because of the oath and Black’s conditioning he could not reveal, directly or indirectly, the identity of his ‘captor’, but he said enough for Anneke to confirm what she had suspected. Esprin Harbage admired Colonel Ferren enormously and had not tried to kill the man of his own volition. Indeed, Anneke guessed that Esprin had made sure he missed. In doing so, he had effectively closed out his own life insurance.

‘How long have you got?’

Esprin swallowed. ‘I got my last antidote five days ago.’

Anneke nodded. ‘So you’ve got about a day?’ Looking scared, Esprin nodded quickly. Anneke patted his hand. ‘You better come with me.’

As they stood, Anneke heard the tiniest of sounds. A soft
phtttttt.
She felt a pinprick. Her hand flew to her neck where she found a small robotic minicopter dart, barely two centimetres long, protruding. She plucked it out. Too late.

‘Esprin, you’re good ...’ she managed before the
n-doze
flooded her system and paralysed her. A moment later a black hover-van slammed to a stop beside them. The side door flew open, and four black-hooded figures leapt out and dragged the two RIM agents inside, another holding up a formal document to the onlookers at the outdoor cafe.

‘I declare kill rights in the name of the Ekud Clan.

All legal requirements have been observed. Any who have issue with this matter may take it up with the Judge-Attorney, the Honourable Josevus.’ The man slapped a copy of the legal document on the nearest table and jumped back into the van that roared off into a side street. The whole event took less than a minute.

Anneke could not figure out the time. Was it three in the morning or three in the afternoon? Paralysed as she was, the clock on the wall lay within her field of vision, though little else did; hence her fascination with it.

Despite this reminder, time seemed to stand still. A part of her brain knew this was the effect of a drug; the rest drifted, unchained from the moment.

But all good things come to an end and, step by step, reality - in time with the flicking of the old-fashioned clock display - re-infiltrated her mind, shredding the timeless place she had been hibernating in since the fast-hovering dart hit her.

As she became aware, and could turn her head, she discovered Esprin nearby, along with a beautiful woman with Asiatic features.

‘The drug will destabilise at an exponential rate,’ the woman was saying. ‘Within a minute you will be back to normal.’

She was right. Anneke stretched, felt full sensory input return to her, and realised she was sitting in a chair, unbound.

This woman was very confident.

Anneke eyed her. As the last vestige of the
n-doze
de-activated from her system through the antidote, a picture clicked into her brain. ‘You’re Sasume. Myoto.’

‘Correct.’

‘You’re working with the Ekud Clan?’

‘They operate an embassy for us.’

‘So you’re collecting on the fatwa?’

‘On the contrary, we bought the fatwa some time ago and had it annulled. That’s why no attempts have been made on your life.’

‘Then I owe you my thanks. Mr Brown, however, mustn’t be very happy with you.’

‘He doesn’t know it was us.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

Sasume shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, Anneke.’

‘How long have I been out?’

‘Eighteen hours.’

‘Why so long?’

‘There have been . . . developments. At first, we intended to rouse you immediately. Then certain matters arose that needed my personal attention.’

‘The raid on Heliopolis.’

Sasume nodded. ‘A most unfortunate affair.’

‘I assume that wasn’t you?’

‘Why would we raid the financial and computing centre of this galactic sector? Much of our business is transacted through the Netic institutions and emporiums of Heliopolis. A great deal of our cash flow has been impacted in this attack. There was also significant loss of life.’

‘Brown can’t hate you that much.’

‘You are perceptive. But Mr Brown is a genius at multi-tasking. Why solve one problem when you can solve two - or three - at the same time?’

‘You said there had been developments?’

‘The outcry from this incident has been out of proportion to the damage, as awful as that is. But it has been fanned, expertly, into a conflagration. The Companies and Clans are crying for blood. The Confederation of Trading Worlds has rediscovered old fears and older vulnerabilities. Everywhere, people demand something be done, that these renegade pirates be severely dealt with.’