Streets of blood

23

Plans were beginning to form as dusk felt. They had decided from the outset not to contact the Metropolitan Police; their own role in the events surrounding Catherine Eddowes’ staying made that impossible. Geraint needed time to analyze data on the fifty-four Mary Kellys he’d discovered in the capital. The programs wouldn’t take longer than seconds to run. It was the programming that was going to take time. Before then, he would have to deal with his troublesome leg, and that meant a trip out of town.

There was another reason for that, too. Francesca had come up with the link to the British-based corporation. Transys Neuronet. It was into TN’s London system that she had pursued the bizarre, murderous persona that had nearly killed her, and though she didn’t want to meet the thing again she certainty wanted to find out more about it. Furthermore, Transys was the only corp with a facility of any size and importance in Cambridge that Serrin had not been paid to check out. They hadn't much more than suspicion, but it was enough to try some determined system invasion. Geraint and Francesca planned to deck into TN’s London system for a start.

“They may have a file on any of us, and if they do, it would be damn good to read it. Maybe they hired you, Serrin, and you, Rani, for the Fuchi attack. Why they didn’t get decent assassins in, I don’t know. Neither do I know what it was Francesca followed into their system. But I know enough to feel that it’s got to be worth a look. It’s going to be very dangerous, so one decker may not be enough.” Geraint paused for a moment’s thought.

“Francesca and I need to get out of town to penetrate their system,” he continued. But first we have to get in and analyze the structure, just have a look round, find where the personnel files are, the surveillance files, what they may have. You can bet your boots they’ll have trace and report IC to check where we come front Rani, that means that if we enter their Matrix system, they have ways of finding out who we are.”

He did his best to explain matters to the ork, who wasn’t following any of this too easily. In all her life the most complicated deal she'd ever seen was a decker using puny Italian demitech to rip off a Radio Shack. And when she’d asked that decker questions, he’d told her to mind her own business. In words of very few syllables.

“So, we have to disguise our decks. That means a little reconfiguring. The Lord Protector’s Office makes sure licensed decks have very identifiable internal ID codes. We have to change that by fooling around a little with the licenses, like putting fake plates on a car.” Rani grinned, getting the gist immediately. And we have to operate somewhere else. Oxford should do it. I can get my leg fixed there, too, no questions asked. Old college friend of mine”

“Which college?” Francesca asked perkily.

“Didn’t I ever tell you?” he asked. She shook her head. Peterhouse, My father’s doing. I’m afraid.”

I seem to remember someone telling me the only way to get in there was if you were Catholic, or gay, or both.”

He frowned at her. “Not these days. Hell, they’ve even started admitting women.”

Francesca let the jibe pass. Oxford and Cambridge were said to be great centers of learning, but the twenty-first century hadn’t changed them much. She knew that from dating their chinless upper-class graduates.

“That may get us somewhere. At the same time, I can put the Kellys through the mincer.” Geraint winced the moment the words were out, regretting the unfortunate expression. “If we get someone who looks plausible, we can give the police an anonymous tip.”

“Something else. Serrin, your visa runs out at the end of the month, doesn’t it?”

“Yep. ‘fraid so.”

“Wouldn’t you like to go abroad for a couple of days? Look, I know it sounds weird, but here’s the form. You want an extension to the visa, it takes six months for the Aliens section to get around to even considering it. No chance.”

“However, due to one of those weird technicalities that makes British justice the envy of the world, the powers that be will automatically add the days to your visa if you come up with an amazingly good excuse for disappearing abroad, like an illness or death in your family. Maximum of seven extra days. If you make it three, it’ll give us the extra time we need. After all, we’re expecting another killing on the thirtieth. If you have to fly off on that date it’s going to make anything we plan very difficult. Could you get a friend over the Pond to fax notification of a serious family illness to you?”

Serrin was bewildered, but he wasn’t the first person to be startled by the intricacies of British immigration law. “Yeah, sure. For how long?”

Say you go tomorrow, get back Wednesday evening? That’ll give us enough time out of town and a margin of time after the thirtieth.”

Suddenly an old recollection stirred at the back of Serrin’s mind. He'd thought at once of Manhattan, visiting acquaintances, maybe testing the waters for work when this madcap chase was over. He thought of a contact, then he remembered something about a crazy. He began to mentally plan a schedule for his time.

“Yeah, it’s a good idea. I might even be able to get something for us over there. There are always people I can talk to.” His face betrayed concentration as he chewed at his lower lip.

“Now, Rani.” The noble turned to face her, realizing she’d been left out of things so far. “We’d like to find these men, Smith and Jones, the scum who've made fools out of Serrin here and cost your people their lives.” He was aware that he had no leads on them, and that troubled him, but he needed to appeal to a common ground. Can you do some things for us? I can give you money and some equipment if you need it.”

“I’ve got a gun, and ammunition for it, and a good knife. I’m fast, I got wired reflexes. My brother paid for them, to protect me.” She was almost asserting her self-esteem; he smiled and made it clear her competence wasn’t in doubt. “Wish I had the Predator, though. Shouldn’t have sold it, really.” Then she had a flash of insight.

“Hey! You know, they gave my brother a gun. a Predator Mark II, and some armor-piercing ammo. Hard to get, a weapon like that. I sold it to Mohinder-he’s street samurai. Hard man. Needed to get information from him. That was before I met the Uridercity people and everything.”

Serrin’s eyes glinted. “Predator Mark II? They’re not easy to get outside of corporate contacts. They all have IDs in the barrel mechanism and in internal nanochips. At least, the export models do.”

Francesca leaped on that. “You mean, if we could get the thing back we might he able to check the ID? Find out where it comes from?”

“Maybe.” Serrin was unsure. “Good corporate guys might be able to dosh the ID around, erase the barrel marker, maybe alter the chip. But if we had it in our hands, we could check it out, at the very least.”

“Reckon you could buy it back, Rani?” Geraint’s voice was urgent. “I can give you money.”

She balked at the thought of trying to persuade Mo-hinder to part with the weapon so soon after selling it to him. But, what the heck, if she offered him double what she’d sold it for, it would be a big profit in a short time. “I can try. He gave me fifteen hundred for it, though. He’d want a lot more to part with it again.”

“Not a problem. As I said, I can give you what you need. Also, maybe you could check out the area where Catherine Eddowes was killed. Look for anything, anything at all. Maybe pay some kids to do some sniffing around. Can you do that?” Her nod said money could buy that, too.

“And, last thing. In a week’s time we might be in a place where a fifth murder’s going to be committed. We might need every advantage we can get. That means, for a start, muscle and firepower. Last night we ran up against an automatic weapon and a combat mage. Next time, who knows? What about those brothers you've mentioned? Can you get street samurai, spies, people we can trust? Again, I can pay. We’re going to need them.”

Rani realized that getting the gun back from Mohinder could be easier than she thought. Especially if these people only wanted to check the ID. Pay Mohinder enough and he can have half of Spitalfields out on the street. She nodded determinedly at Geraint.

“Great. And for us, I’ll set wheels in motion. Weapons and armor are no problem. Surveillance equipment I can rustle up. Slap patches are a little low, so I think I might renew my acquaintance with Edward while I’m in Oxford.”

He pronounced the name with a curious emphasis, deliberately inviting Francesca’s puzzled query.

“Oh. Edward? Professor of biochemistry and neurobiotics. Boy genius. He’s the man I talk to when I have a need for high-grade drugs”

The Indian girl had never seen so much money in one place in her life. She was astonished that he trusted her with it, and said so.

“Rani, you had family die, yes?” Geraint asked. They were in the hallway, out of earshot of the others.

She shrugged, as if to say, what’s it to you?

“When I was a kid, my best friend died. I was an only child, and at the time I had no other friends, really. He was a nobleman’s son, too. When he was twelve, he transformed. It happened while we were out fishing, him starting to scream and me thinking he was having a fit. I ran for help and when I got back with his father, he was beginning to change his form. I’d only seen pictures of orks, but I knew what was happening to him. We were out on the edge of the Dragon Lands, that’s in Wales, west beyond London, Rani.” He could see that she had no idea where the hell Wales was.

“A long way off. When we got him back to his father’s castle, his home! he was almost fully changed. Less than six hours. I gather that’s pretty fast, yes?” She nodded. remembering how long her own agonies had been.

“But he was okay, right? He was weak, and only barely conscious, but he was alive. They sent me home in a car and told me not to tell anyone what I’d seen. I never saw Daffyd again. They told me he was dead, but I always knew they’d killed him. Can’t have orks in the family if you’re a noble, you see.”

“I didn’t tell anyone. Well, I told my father and he told me to keep quiet about it or I’d be disinherited. Daffyd’s family murdered him because of his change. For a long, long time I felt guilty for not telling anyone. Maybe the only reason I have everything I’ve got now is because I didn’t speak up and tell the truth. Maybe, if we can help each other now, it will make up a little for what I didn’t do back then. So, Rani, it’s only money. What does that matter?”

She was defenseless against his brutal honesty. Somehow she knew that not even those other people in there, the elf mage and the smart American woman, they didn’t know about what he’d just told her, and maybe never would. She was an Indian ork, lowest of the low, but here was a member of the British nobility almost begging her to be part of a forgiveness. She felt very strange indeed, thrilled but overawed.

“The car will be here. And here’s my number,” Geraint said, pushing a card into her hand. “Come back Wednesday evening. After seven, yes?” She nodded urgently. “Get them to bring you. I’ll pay for it. They’ll bring you. You can do that?”

Rani nodded again. She didn’t know what she was getting into, but she knew she wanted to come back here again.

He closed the door behind her. Through the security camera he watched her walk down the ball. Serrin came up behind him, putting a hand on the nobleman’s shoulder as he turned from the doorway.

“One thing, Geraint. I want to know who’s responsible for sending me on a wild goose chase, nearly getting killed myself. Rani's got family to avenge. Fran’s had a real bad time and I think those nightmares may start again. But what about you? Why are you investing all this money and effort?”

Geraint sighed and gave a wan smite. He might have said, because it’s real, and I’m tired of nobles I despise, business deals marinated in cynicism, and too much easy living. But one confession was enough for one day. He decided to be facetious instead.

Oh well, it’s something to pass the time, I suppose.” Evading Serrin’s questioning expression he walked off to talk decking with Francesca.

Serrin booked the suborbital to New Jersey’s Newark International. All he could get for the next day was a standby at six-fifteen, unless he was prepared to pay for Deluxe Ripoff Class. At least he had the long-duration residence permit, allowing him a few precious days in Manhattan each year. What the hell, he had a week left on it and Christmas was only a month away. Looking at the huddled pair eagerly discussing the technicalities of decking. he realized that for the first time in a while he had people in his life for whom he might actually want to buy Christmas presents.