Choose your enemies carefully s-2 Page 5

  "Trying to scare me, Mr. Shiroi?" He laughed. "No. The outside world holds enough terrors for our kind. We need not prey upon ourselves. And I do wish that you would call me Dan."

  "Dan. You say 'our kind.' / know you and Garcia are like me, but your employees don't know it because you hide behind illusions, or whatever it is you do so that they see you as norms. Why? Why do you hide what you are?"

  "Why?" he asked. All trace of his humor sank beneath an expression of seriousness. "You should not have to ask that. You have seen yourself in the mirror, Janice. You have seen how the norms react to you. That is the answer. Do you wish to deal with the unreasoning fear all day, every day?"

  Of course she didn't. Who would? She had felt the fear and hate too often when she was just an ork. Orks were common. She didn't like to think what was in store for her as a rare, more monstrous metahuman. Against that dread, her objection seemed petty.

  "I don't like pretending to be something other than what I am!"

  He swiveled his chair ninety degrees, presenting her with a profile. She watched his chest rise and listened as he let the air out in a long sigh.

  "We all wear masks and pretend to be something other than ourselves, do we not? The norms do it. Even you did it before your change." He swiveled back to face her, cutting her off before she could object. "Were you not a different person with your peers than when you were with your family? How about when you dealt with your corporate superiors? Every set of people with whom we interact sees a different person, a different facet of ourselves. This magical disguise is like that, a mask of necessity. In our case, it hides the physical reality. Beneath the masks we are still ourselves. The illusion is simply necessary grease for the machine of social interaction. Nothing more. Having spent so much time in the Imperial Japanese Empire, surely you are familiar with the need to smooth relations between people."

  At the mention of Japan, she shivered. The chair shifted in response.

  "I am sorry. I should not have mentioned Japan."

  He watched her for a while, saying nothing. She was glad; she didn't know what to say. He was right, of course. It still seemed.. . odd that someone could make the metaphorical masks a reality. If a magical spell could be called reality. She taxed the TendaiBarca, seeking to get into a physically comfortable position, while it was her mental state that unsettled her. He, of course, noticed.

  "If you will be more comfortable, I will drop the spell. You are among friends here."

  "I don't know. I don't know what I want. It's been so confusing. I just want to get things under control." "I want to help you do just that. Here. Look." He had dropped his spell. He was huge, bigger than she was. His Tendai-Barca flowed to support his increased size; panels expanded, slumped, and thickened as the chair reshaped itself to accommodate him. His fur was stark white, as pure as polar snow. The skin of his broad face and powerful hands was dark and glossy with health. Once she might have shrunk from his visage, but now she was as monstrous as he. But then, he didn't consider himself monstrous. Or did he? He hid beneath a spell. Or was that true, either? What did he see when he looked in a mirror? The smooth Oriental features of Mr. Dan Shiroi or the wide nose, deep-set eyes, and fangs of his metatype?

  "Now that the mask is down, anyone can see that I am of the same metatype as you. Believe me when I say that I understand what you are going through. Between us there need be no false fronts. Illusions are for the norms."

  A sudden stir of bitterness swirled across her mind, rippling through what she realized had been a growing sense of fellowship. He might be her metatype, but he was still something she was not. "Even if I accepted your philosophy, Dan, I couldn't do what you do. I'm mundane."

  "And how do you know that with such certainty? You cannot be totally without talent if you pierced our illusions."

  Once again his expression held a hint that he knew something that she did not. She felt uneasy under that knowing gaze. She felt more disquieted by the growing belief that he meant her well, that he really was interested in her.

  She heaved herself up out of the chair, staggering a little when it released her more easily than she had expected. Pacing around the desk, she made her unsteady way to the window-wall. Beneath her spread the panorama of the towers of Mexico City. The spires of man's arrogance, lofting above one of the largest cities on earth while the bases of those towers lay hidden in smog. Hidden too were the people who thronged the Atzlan capital. People.. . she wasn't one of them anymore. This city couldn't be her home. Cities were places for people and people had cast her out. Would she ever have a home now?

  She had been beginning to think that she might find one with Shiroi… no, Dan. But now she saw that slipping away as well. He thought she was just like him, but she knew better. She was incapable of doing what he could, and she knew it all too well.

  She owed him for his kindness. His manner was so accepting, his interest in her welfare so clear. The least she could do was to tell him how she knew that she had none of the magic. She turned around to find that he had risen from his chair. He stood a step away, concern and anxiety plain on his face. She smiled sheepishly.

  "I've never told anyone, Dan. None of my friends. Not even my brother. I was embarrassed to tell anyone." He reached out a long arm and rested a hand on her arm. She drew strength from the comforting touch. "I was tested for magical ability once."

  "By whom?"

  "The Hoboken Institute. They are a very reputable firm."

  "Perhaps they made a mistake."

  "That's what I told myself at first. When I was growing up, I always wanted to be a magician. I never told anyone, of course, because my dad was dead set against magic. He called it all nonsense and tricks. But I was a kid, and I knew better. I knew that I had the magic in me. So I saved every nuyen I could, took an after-school job clerking in a Soy Shack for the extra creds. I didn't have enough before… before the accident, and I wasn't able to save much for the next year, till my brother got his stipend from the Renraku grant. Once he was in the university, things got easier and I wangled a corporate temp job. It was boring and deadly dull, but I knew I could last it out because it would give me the credit to get tested and once I was certified as trainable there would be no question. I was going to be a high circle mage. I was so sure.

  "Finally I saved enough creds, and I went to the Institute. I was hell to live with for two weeks until the test results came in. My brother never knew why I was such a bitch, and I lost a couple of my few friends. I even risked corporate censure, skipping my work assignment that afternoon in order to run off and find a private place to read the report. It was only one word, but it smashed my dreams. 'Negative.'

  "I was crushed. If living with me had been hell while I was waiting, the next two months should have qualified anyone for sainthood. But I didn't have any friends who wanted to stick around for the final exam. I was queen bitch of the Wash-Bait Metroplex Education Center. I really didn't shake off the depression until I met Ken at Tokyo University. He made me feel special. He always said I had enough magic for him." The memories were too much. She couldn't help it, she started to cry. Her body shook with her sobs. Dan gathered her in, enfolding her with his arms. She buried her face in his fur, feeling it go damp with her tears. He stroked her back, saying nothing until she quieted. When she regained control of herself, he released her and took a step back as if fearing to impose on her. She felt chill without his warm fur meshing with hers.

  "Ken is your boyfriend?"

  "Was." The pain was old but she still felt the ache. It was duller now, but it still hurt. "He doesn't deal well with kawaru. "

  He nodded with understanding. "Ken refused to see you after your change?"

  She sniifed and shook her head. "He wouldn't even talk to me or answer any letters."

  "He sounds like so many people I have known. The prejudice and fear attached to the metamorphosis is very strong. I think perhaps even stronger now that it is not so common. Do not think too badly of him
. As a product of his environment, he was hostage to his society. Given time, he might have come to accept your change… if he truly loved you.

  "You need not worry about acceptance here. We all know what you have gone through. We have seen the fear. Some of us have felt it turn to hate and violence. We have banded together for mutual aid and support. I speak for all when I say that we want you to join us.

  "I will not be shy in saying that your joining will make us stronger, something we all devoutly want. But do not think that we only think of ourselves. Well, some of us do. But, Janice, I did not invite you here just to strengthen the organization. I felt something when I found you in that hovel in Hong Kong. I don't really understand it myself, but I know it's there. I want you to prosper. I want you to gain the strength to stand on your own feet and take a well-deserved place among us, and I am willing to do whatever is necessary to see that happen."

  She turned and stared out at the skyscrapers and megastructures. They reminded her of the guard towers and bunkers that ringed Yomi.

  His words were tempting, freely offering what she had longed for in the long months of exile on Yomi. There was a hint of more than fellowship, a hint of something that had been torn from her life by the change. Did she dare believe that he was honest? Did she dare reach out for it? She had been spurned so often. What if she changed again? Would his concern change along with her body? The questions made her head spin.

  He placed his hand on her arm. Her muscles locked for a moment, leaving her frozen like a small animal in a spotlight. He waited until she relaxed to make his tentative contact more firm. She felt the warmth of his palm and the prickly touch of his nails through her fur. When she didn't shrink away, he encircled her again in his broad, strong arms. She turned within that enclosure and stared into his face. She found only concern.

  "Can I trust you?" she asked.

  "As much as you can trust anyone."

  "That's not a comforting answer, Dan."

  "It is not a comfortable world, Janice. I am fallible like anyone else. Sometimes the best of intents yield terrible consequences and the finest of feelings sour. I will not start our relationship with lies and highsounding promises, but, by all the lights of heaven, I will vow to help you become all you were meant to be. If you let me, I will be your strength now. When you are strong, we can speak of the future."

  "You'll wait?"

  "I am patient. I will wait for you at each door until you are ready to step through."

  "No pressure?"

  "No more than the press of life demands."

  His eyes were sincere. She wanted to believe. Wanted desperately to believe. But she was afraid. "Just hold me."

  And he did. His arms were strong, and she felt safe.

  Harry Burke was a former member of the Special Air Services, an organization known for its efficient and multi-talented personnel. To Andrew Glover, he was an unparalleled asset.

  Without orders, Burke moved quickly along the macadam and took up a position flanking the alley mouth. If he made any noise, it was lost in the jumble of sound from the busy street. It was barely after midnight, and the Hong Kong Free Enterprise Enclave was still very much awake. The dark alley held no interest for the throngs who surged along the carnivallit street. No simple passerby would notice the darkclad man crouched against the building. But ordinary pedestrians did not concern Glover.

  Glover reached out and tapped the elf on his shoulder. "Have you broken their codes yet?"

  The elf was slow in answering. When he shook his head, the datacord clacked softly against the cyberdeck he cradled in his lap. "Not yet. Invisible work takes a modicum of effort."

  "Then get on with it." As dark as the alley was, Glover felt exposed. He wanted to get through that door and into the Mihn-Pao facility. Waiting inside was the boat that would take them across to the mainland. He would be glad to leave Hong Kong behind; he didn't like the city or what it stood for.

  There was still no sign of trouble, but his stomach kept getting tighter. He wanted to urge the elf to hurry, but knew that he would get the results he wanted sooner if he left the pointy-eared Matrix runner alone.

  Elves were rarely reliable, especially for serious work, but this one had proven himself competent. Glover would have preferred a human decker, but one had to use what was available.

  His eyes drifted again to the mouth of the alley. Even knowing where to look, he had a hard time spotting Burke's crouched figure. The former SAS man waited patiently for whatever would happen. Patience was a lesson that Glover had never learned very well. It had been his own impatience that had nearly gotten them caught. That squat little sector guard had been so insufferable. Understandably exasperated by the guard's glacial survey of their papers, he had insisted that they be passed through the checkpoint without delay. Apparently that had set off alarms in the half-pint's miniscule brain, causing him to demand that they exit the vehicle. Corbeau's nerves wouldn't have taken the inspection, although Glover had no doubts that their documents would withstand whatever scrutiny the guards could bring to bear. Burke's rapid departure had left the moronic guard capering and screaming imprecations while he ate the dust their car kicked up. The moron hadn't fired on them. Instead, he set the EPA Patrol Force on their heels, forcing them to abandon their original plan to leave the Enclave.

  At least they had slipped the pursuit. Or had they? Burke's action told him that the veteran feared that someone would come to disturb their illicit work. Perhaps his sensitive cyberears had detected a hint of danger to their group. If Burke had been sure, he would have said something. Abruptly, Burke made a chopping motion with his right hand.

  "Down, everyone," Glover ordered as he crouched himself.

  Two caricature silhouettes stopped at the alley mouth. Padded jackets bulked the shoulders wide, and round helmets made their heads bulbous. Tinned in signia gleamed, confirming that they were Enclave Police Agency officers. The two bought-badges were chattering to each other in the distorted mishmash of English, Cantonese, and Japanese that was the common language of the streets here. Glover couldn't make out a word, but Burke was fluent. He would know what they said and act if they were a threat.

  They stood at the entrance, apparently indecisive. The flow of traffic adjusted for their presence. Pedestrians swerved around without seeming to notice them, but no one passed between the bought-badges and the alley.

  Trading comments back and forth, they readied themselves. Both drew weapons, and one unhooked the heavy cylinder of a flashlight from his belt. They stepped forward, the flashlight's harsh xenon beam blasting away the cloaking shadows. Within that illuminating cone of light, everything was rendered in a curiously flat starkness.

  Glover heard the soft click of a weapon safety at his side. A glance confirmed that Twist had his pistol readied. Commendable initiative, but not the best response, since the weapon did not appear to be equipped with a sound suppressor. Their situation would not be improved by attracting attention. Besides, Burke was on the job.

  "Wait," he whispered.

  The second bought-badge trailed his companion by a meter or two as they entered the alley. They advanced cautiously, probing the darkness with the light. It had yet to sweep deep enough to discover their hiding place. And it would not. Burke's black-clad shape rose from the shadows and slipped behind the second man.

  One arm encircled the bought-badge's throat, elbow cinching his throat tight. The second pistoned a fist into the man's kidneys. Burke lowered the limp form to the pavement. A slight clatter from the equipment on the man's belt alerted his partner.

  The remaining cop started to turn. Without time to straighten, Burke dropped lower and swept a leg out into the back of the man's knees. The cop's legs buckled. Burke uncoiled and directed a kick to the man's gun hand. The snap of the cop's trigger finger breaking was audible as the weapon spun away. The boughtbadge started to howl. Burke's stiff-fingered thrust caught him in the throat, cutting off the scream.

  The patrol
man was tough. Gasping, he raised the flashlight behind his head, wobbling into a stickfighter's en garde. His form was ragged, hardly dangerous. Burke settled into guard as well, his left hand protecting the high line. Unseen by his opponent, Burke's right hand curled in toward his wrist. Seven centimeters of razor keen steel slid from its forearm sheath.

  They stood, each assessing his strategy. Burke shifted slightly and the bought-badge must have seen a chance. The flashlight whipped around, its beam cutting a wild arc. Burke's maneuver had been a feint. He stepped away from the incoming blow, spinning inside the cop's reach. His right arm flashed up, the extended blade bisecting his opponent's arm. Flashlight and hand separated as they continued to arc past Burke. He twisted and passed his blade through the cop's neck. The bought-badge's head tilted back, but the flashlight shattered and plunged the alley back into night before the blood fountained.

  Twist grabbed Glover's shoulder and spun him around.

  "He didn't have to do that, Glover. I could have tranqed them. Those were cops he murdered!"

  Glover slapped at the offending hand. "And we're robbers, old chap. Are you aware of the penalty for aiding a contract jumper here in Hong Kong?"

  "Enforced restitution labor for a period of not less than one year per salary grade of the apprehended party. Compliance shall be enforced with osteo-bonded monitor and time-release mycotoxin implant. Toxin counteragents only available upon completion of certified production quotas," Sam quoted in a cold voice. "The penalty for being an accessory to murder is worse."