Fade to Black

19

"It was too… easy…" Piper said, not for the first time, emphasizing the words profusely. "I can't help feeling like we're doing exactly what someone wants us to do."

Rico took a long drag off his cheroot, then looked back to the mirror and went on shaving three days' growth of beard from around his heavy mustache. "You're right," he said. "We are doing what somebody wants. His name is Surikov."

"That isn't what I mean."

"We're doing everything we can think of to stay alive. What else can we do? We're locked in."

"This is Fuchi we're talking about."

Rico put the razor down on the sink, then slammed his fist into the mirrored face of the medicine cabinet That wasn't enough, so he hit it again. He dented the metal cabinet door, he shattered the mirror, he cut the frag out of his hand. But he didn't care about any of that. Right at this moment, he didn't care much about Fuchi or Piper's instinct about her run into the Fuchi cluster. When he looked at Piper it was to see her standing in the bathroom doorway with her eyes pointed at the floor and her face a pinkish color. That he cared about. He'd finally gotten through to her. He'd stood here and listened to all her explanations and now it was his turn to talk.

"You coulda been dusted," he said. "You coulda been traced. You coulda got Shank killed, too. You both coulda been nailed by Daisaka and interrogated, and then we'd all be dead."

"Please excuse me," Piper murmured.

"This, is supposed to be a team. I'm supposed to be able to trust you." The thought that he ought to be able to trust her more than anyone else on earth burned him enough to strike another match under his temper. He punched the medicine cabinet again. Hard. Piper's face went deep red, but it wasn't anger. It was shame, embarrassment. Rico had seen the color before. He hated himself for forcing her to it, but he couldn't help it

"You're right," she said softly. "I betrayed your trust The shame is mine. All mine. I'm very sorry."

"Dammit, I care about you."

"I'm not worthy."

Rico looked at the shattered mirror, but his anger drained away to nothing. "You shouldn't 'a gone off on your own. You shoulda waited for me. We shoulda had a plan. We shoulda thought about it You ka!"

"Yes, I understand. Please forgive me."

Reality was harsh. Maybe Piper was on her own when she went into the matrix. That was irrelevant. If they didn't work as a team, they were dead. The world was too dangerous a place for any one person to see all the angles, even those involving just the matrix. You had to stop and think. You had to get other perspectives, other input. You had to think it through all the way, not once, but twice, and all the while stay aware that there was a larger world that might, maybe just by accident, get directly between you and what you wanted.

Rico took a deep drag off his cheroot then clenched his teeth and began picking broken bits of mirror out of his hand.

"You got lucky," he said.

"Yes, you're right." Piper agreed.

Twenty minutes later, Piper had no choice but to swallow her shame and get on with biz. She'd been prepared for this: Rico's anger, her own responses. "Inevitable" was the operative term. She had not dared allow time to degrade the prog that had been her key into the Fuchi cluster. That meant no time to plan, as Rico said. No time to consult, no time for considering other options, no time for what might have been a last good-bye. She was quite certain that what had angered Rico the most was that last, no good-bye. It was like a betrayal of love. The semblance of betrayal was only superficial, but that did not mitigate the shame she felt They joined the rest of the team in the living room.

Fortunately, no one asked about the loud banging in the bathroom or what might have caused Rico to cut his hand so badly. That would have been unbearable. Piper jacked her deck into the trid, then used the large screen to display the data she had snatched from the Fuchi mainframes. She had background data, building schematics, security procs and assessments, everything they would need to bust Ansell Surikov's wife out of Fuchi's clutches.

The woman's name was Marena Farris, and Fuchi had a complete file on her. She had originally been an analyst with the Fuchi security unit charged with reviewing corporate personnel.

"That's how we first met, in point of fact," Surikov remarked. "Marena conducted my annual review, perhaps three, four years ago. It was rather a foolish affair, actually. How was I getting on with my staff? That sort of thing. We got to talking, and, well…"

They were soon married. Surikov claimed that Farris had come to despise Fuchi, its labyrinthine security regulations, the Byzantine corporate structure, and the paranoia all that inspired. Farris took the unusual step of going on indefinite leave so that she would be able to spend time with Surikov whenever he was out of his labs. Piper supposed that if a woman cared enough for a man, she might give up almost anything to better promote their mutual happiness.

Farris lived in a luxury condo tower on Manhattan's Upper East Side. The building was owned by Fuchi, but used primarily by execs and other employees of Fuchi subsidiaries. Security was tight.

No matter. They began developing a plan.

In the dark of the bedroom, Rico capped off a bottle of Nutrimax tonic water and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. With his Jikku eyes, he watched Piper grope around at the side of the bed, then slip carefully under the covers. Her face was a grayish mask. She turned her back to lie on her side.

Rico reached out to smooth a hand over her hair.

"You're still angry with me," she said softly.

"Maybe," Rico admitted. "But tomorrow we might be dead meat,"

"Yes… you're right. Please excuse me."

A moment passed, then she turned toward him and snuggled in against his side, laying her head on his chest. Rico ran his hand over her hair some more. It was smooth and soft like silk. "I don't wanna lose you," he said. "That's why I got so burned."

"You were right," Piper whispered. "I was wrong. I'm so ashamed."

"It couldn't be helped."

"Jefe, I don't know…"

It wasn't worth worrying about, not now. "L Kahn ain't gonna be too happy when we give him the news."

"That is true."

"I don't know about this one, chica. I didn't like it from the start. Maybe it's like you said. We're just doing what somebody wants."

"We can think about that tomorrow."

"Sure. Tomorrow."

The van rushed down the transitway, shifting lanes, veering from side to side, bypassing other traffic. Rico glanced to his rear for about the fourth or fifth time, finding it hard to keep his mind where it oughta be.

Piper shared the rear bench with Shank, but she didn't seem any more aware of him than anyone or anything else. She had her axe in her lap, her head down-turned. Her long, curling black hair had slid in front of her shoulders, obscuring her face. She was past yesterday's trouble, the embarrassment he'd caused. Probably, she was praying. Talking to the kami again. Rico wished that didn't make him so uneasy. There had been a time, before he met Piper, when no one he knew paid any heed to gods till death was right around the corner, staring them in the face.

He'd known Piper for almost five years now and he still wasn't used to her praying.

Getting old. Obsolete? Maybe he'd been born that way. A couple of centuries too late. Into a world where honor meant nothing and a man's pride could be measured by the caliber of his gun. He figured he had some life left in him, regardless. Never mind what that slitch Ravage said.

"This gonna be a charity job, bossman?" Shank said gruffly. "Or we gonna get paid?"

"We'll get paid," Rico replied, lowly.

Shank and the team would get all they were due, and not just their share of the up-front money, even if Rico had to reach into his own pockets. Right now, the money was the least of his concerns.

Staying alive, at least a step ahead of the opposition, was the number one priority. After that came money. Somewhere in between staying alive and getting paid came his personal resolve to do what had to be done, find Surikov a new home, get the slag's wife busted out so that neither of them would be trapped in the ferrocrete fist of their corporate overlords. Rico just thanked his luck that he had a team he could rely on. Otherwise, everything went to scag, right out the window.

The transitway surfaced into Sector 10.

Time to get serious.