“Okay, Talon.” he said. “We’re in. What’s the job?”
“A run on Manadyne for information on a research project headed by one Anton Garnoff, along with any useful personnel files and personal data we can turn up. I can handle anything Manadyne’s got in the way of magical security, but I need some backup, logistics, and transportation people. That’s where you come in.”
“Hmmm.” the big ork rumbled. “Manadyne security isn’t the best, but it’s no cakewalk. They’ve got a contract with Knight Errant.” The Ares subsidiary was one of the best private security providers in the world.
“The trick is going to be getting access to the databanks.” Trouble said, speaking for the first time. Now that we had an agreement, she became part of the team rather than a go-between for me and Hammer. “Like a lot of corps, Manadyne keeps its sensitive R&D stuff in an isolated system. It’s going to be near-impossible to access from the outside. That means I should probably go in with you.”
I shook my head. “Not necessarily. We might be able to get the isolated system on-line so you can access it from the Matrix, and we’ll probably need you on the outside taking care of some of the electronics.”
“It’ll be easier to get at the data from a jackpoint inside their defenses.” Trouble said.
“Shouldn't make any difference.” I returned. “The ice inside the datastore is going to be the same one way or another, and there’s no way you’re going to be able to shut down the other security systems except from the outside.”
Trouble opened her mouth to offer another protest when Hammer's deep bass cut through the conversation.
“I agree with Talon.” he said. “You're going to be the most use to us on the outside, kiddo.”
Trouble flashed a dangerous glance at Hammer and something passed between them for a second, then she backed down a bit and directed her gaze down at the table. “I suppose you’re right.”
“We’ve got some intel on the R&D facility.” I said, changing the subject. “It should give us a good idea on how to approach the place.”
Trouble obliged by rolling out the flatscreen on her cyberdeck and punching up the information she’d acquired. A three-dimensional model of the fenced-in Manadyne research lab appeared on the screen and rotated to show each of the sides. Trouble turned the screen so Hammer could see it.
“Won’t be easy.” he said. “The fence definitely has monowire strung along the top, and I’ll bet there’s some pretty heavy electronics to go with it.”
I nodded agreement. “That’s why we need more detailed information on the security setup and the best ways to get around it. I want this run to go down as soon as possible.”
“I’ve been doing some more checking on Manadyne.” Trouble said. “The weakest point of any security system is always the people running it. I think there may be a way to get the codes we need to get inside, provided”—she gave a wicked grin—“Talon is willing to use his talents to get them.”
She tapped a couple of keys, and the schematics of the facility vanished, replaced by another file. She turned the roll-out display screen of her cyberdeck toward me so I could read the information on it. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I caught the gist of Trouble’s idea. I glanced up to see her grinning, and Boom giving me a quizzical look.
“Perfect.” I said.
* * *
Saturday night, Arthur Waylan came into the Avalon nightclub as he often did. It was something of which his wife never would have approved, if she’d known about it, that is. It was also something that would look bad to Arthur’s hard-working corporate superiors, should they ever find out. But no one knew about Arthur Way Ian’s secret little habits, except for Trouble, and Boom, and now me. Arthur worked for Manadyne, and he had a fondness for the hottest nightclub in Boston, where he found plenty of boys and girls to his taste there. Once we knew that, the plan was simple.
Waylan showed up fairly late, just after midnight. He was dressed in the latest street-wear, but he still looked frumpy and corporate compared to most of the clubbers. The Avalon was dark, lit by a complex of flashing strobes in a variety of colors sufficient to send almost anyone into fits. They certainly seemed to have that effect on the people writhing and moving on the dance floor. The colored lights cast beams through a haze of smoke that hung overhead.
The sound system blasted “Puta” by Maria Mercurial. The music was raw and primal as Maria’s angelic voice sang about dirty people doing dirty things to themselves and each other. The crowd was really getting into it.
After Waylan made his way into the club and had a chance to adjust his senses to the light, the haze, and the noise, I made sure he saw me. He looked across the dance floor and saw his fantasy come to life. I glanced up and there was a moment when our eyes met and he was mine.
I was wearing neo-spandex shorts that fit like a second skin and left very little to the imagination, along with a half-shirt, short leather jacket, and a spiked collar (a nice touch, I thought). I was dancing up a storm, too. All other concerns aside, I’ve always loved Maria Mercurial and I was seriously getting into the music even before Waylan decided to finally wander in the door. Once I spotted him, though, play time was over. It was time to get down to business.
I pointedly ignored him for a few minutes, giving him a chance to wander over to the bar and get himself some courage. I had no lack of willing dance partners, after all, and the music was nova-hot. It would take some time before he was going to make a move, and everything needed to seem as normal as possible.
After downing his first drink and ordering another, Waylan spent some time at the bar nursing it and staring quite openly at me. I looked back in his direction a couple of times and offered a smile of encouragement, enough to keep him interested and keep him wondering. I danced through a club re-mix of a Speed Coma song, then made my way over to the bar when it ended, my skin gleaming with sweat. I remembered all the nights I used to spend in places like the Avalon and Underworld 93 in Seattle, dancing the night away out of the simple pleasure of having survived another day in the shadows. It had been a long time since I’d done that, but I wasn’t too out of shape, as Waylan’s appreciative leer suggested.
“What are you having?” he said as I leaned on the bar.
Already the drink and the atmosphere were making him bolder than he would ever have been outside the club.
I turned toward him with what I hoped was a devastating smile and said, “Laser beam.”
He turned toward the elf bartender, nodded and said, “And another one of these.” raising his glass and downing the contents. The bartender started mixing Jim Beam and peppermint schnapps for my drink. It wasn’t my personal favorite, but it was what Waylan expected of me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.” Waylan said, leaning heavily on the bar.
“Oh, I’ve been here a few times. Maybe you just missed me.”
“I definitely couldn’t have missed someone like you.” I could feel his gaze caress my feminine wiles up and down. “I’m Chance.” I said. “What’s your name?”
“John.” Waylan said, after a momentary pause. Gods, could he have picked a lamer pseudonym?
“So what about you?” I asked. “Do you come here a lot?” It was an equally lame gambit, but Waylan didn’t even seem to notice. He was too busy trying not to stare, “Yeah.” he said, “I come by pretty often. I’m a security specialist with Novatech.” It was a lie, but not much of one. Novatech was the biggest and brightest corp in Boston. Obviously, Waylan didn’t want anyone to know who he really worked for and figured he could impress people by pretending it was Novatech.
I pretended to be dazzled. “Really?” I said, as the bartender delivered my drink. I started to reach into my jacket pocket when Waylan took his credstick from a wrist sheath.
“Here, let me.” He paid for both drinks, then slid the stick back into its holder with a flourish.
“Thanks.” I said.
Waylan raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to a great night.” he said.
I gave him a big smile and said, “I’ll drink to that.” He had no idea how great a night it was going to be.
By the time Arthur Waylan invited me back to his hotel room (which he’d booked earlier that evening, according to Trouble) he was seriously buzzed from all the drinks. It occurred to me that the whole plan could come to a very unhappy ending if he simply drove his car into a wall or something, or if we got stopped by a Knight Errant patrol cruiser, but Waylan managed to drive the short distance to the hotel without any problems. Having someone keeping a covert eye on the traffic computers and police bands from the Matrix helped.
He discreetly guided me into the elevator and upstairs to his room, occasionally glancing around to make sure nobody he knew saw us or was following us. He had to fumble a bit with his credstick to get the door open. He leered suggestively as he slotted the stick into the lock and the green light flashed on.
Inside the room, I pushed the door closed. If the intel Trouble and Boom had scanned was right, now was the time to take charge of things.
“You’re a very bad boy, aren’t you, John?” I said, and Waylan turned toward me with a slack-jawed expression
and pure lust in his eyes.
“Yes.” I said slowly, “a very bad boy. I think you need to be punished.”
“I. . he began, but I pressed my fingers to his lips.
“Shhhh, no talking.” I said. “I have this fantasy, and only you can help me make it come true. Do you think you can take Chance?” He nodded vigorously. “Take off your clothes.”
Waylan wasted no time in shedding his shoes, socks, pants, and shirt. When he was down to his boxer shorts, I reached into my jacket pocket and took out a folded-up set of latex strips.
“Lie down.” I commanded, and Waylan obeyed like an eager puppy. Trouble had his psyche profile nailed dead on. It short order I had his arms and legs tied firmly to the four corners of the bed and Waylan was practically panting in anticipation. Using my astral sight, I could see the desire and lust in his aura, nearly all other thoughts and feelings smothered beneath his need. I climbed on top of him and straddled his body, dropping my jacket on the floor.
“So.” I said in a deep and sexy feminine tone. “Are you ready to fulfill my fantasy?” Waylan whimpered slightly and nodded.
That’s when I dropped the mask spell. Waylan’s eyes bugged out as the willowy, blond, elven bombshell with the breasts and thighs of his wildest dreams became a dark-haired man with a very similar smile and disturbing similarities in voice. I could feel him recoil under me as he struggled against the bonds that held him tight. I leaned in close and looked deep into his eyes, but all he saw in mine was cold, steely control.
“Then you can start by telling me everything you know about Manadyne’s security protocols, Artie . . .darling.”
He didn’t resist for long, and soon had babbled out a very clear and detailed picture of what we would have to deal with to get into Manadyne. He also provided all his personal security codes and a few additional details when I pointed out the vidcam concealed in the room and described the pictures it contained of him with me, in both forms. Once I got everything I needed from him, I pressed a tranq patch against his neck. His eyes glazed over and he was out almost immediately.
“Typical man.” I muttered to myself. “Fell asleep right afterward.”
I keyed Channel 1 on my headlink. “So.” I subvocalized over the headware, “was it good for you?”
Trouble’s laugh carried loud and clear over the microspeakers linked to my hearing center.
“The best, baby, the best.”
11
Arthur Waylan “called in sick
”
the next morning, thanks to some well-placed email from Trouble. After discreetly slipping him out of the hotel, we moved him to a nondescript coffin hotel Boom had arranged for on the outskirts of the Rox. It was a place where no one asked any questions and it was well off the beaten path. We kept him doped up enough to be happy and quiet while we made preparations to get into Manadyne.
“It’s a research and development facility located in the Route 128 area on the edge of the sprawl.” I said. My audience consisted of Boom, Trouble, Hammer, and two other members of the Hammermen. One of the latter was Sloane, the big, blond bruiser who’d stood in as Hammer’s bodyguard at the meet. He was as stone-faced as ever, listening intently to every word. The other was Val, a woman with short-cropped black hair and a datajack behind her ear linked to a headware system and the hardware for a vehicle control rig. She wore dark clothes under a bulky black leather jacket. Trouble and Hammer both said she was one of the best riggers in the Boston sprawl. She would be the one to get us in and out of the place smoothly and easily.
I gestured to the modified trideo unit in the room, which showed a holographic model we’d constructed of the facility.
“The main building is surrounded by a ferrocrete parking lot, with a narrow strip of landscaping between the building and the lot. A wider swath of grass and trees encircles the lot itself, and the whole thing is enclosed in a three-meter-tall chain-link fence topped with three strands of monowire. One false move climbing the fence and you can lose a limb, at worst, a hand or finger, at best. The fence is also equipped with pressure sensors set to detect and alert the main security system if anyone tries to climb the thing.