Jarek’s heart was pounding. Before Serenein he’d played games of bluff and bravado only with agents and traders. Now he was starting to make a habit of doing it with planetary leaders. He hoped he hadn’t overstepped the mark this time.
He called back five minutes later to the second and was relieved when the com image showed a middle-aged woman in a brightly coloured blouse. She had the broad, friendly face that was the common local phenotype, but she wasn’t smiling. She had similar tattoos to the man who had first answered; Jarek suspected he might be her husband.
‘I don’t generally talk to strangers who refuse to give a full name and then use a scrambler on their com-image,’ she said at once. ‘So you might as well just tell me straight up how much you want for the plans.’
Cutting to the chase was fine by him; despite the assurances of the woman he’d bought it from, this com could probably be traced if the call went on for too long. ‘I don’t want money. I want two favours. The first is for you to rescue Taro sanMalia.’
Her expression gave nothing away. ‘And what would you say if I said I had no idea who you are talking about?’
Jarek wondered briefly if there was a way to answer without accusing her of lying, before deciding there wasn’t. ‘I’d say that I have it on good authority that you do.’ And now it was his turn to lie, or rather to guess, and hope his guess was a lucky one. ‘I also have it on good authority that you plan to return to the location where he’s being held - something you’d find a lot easier if you had full plans and security data for said location.’
‘Well, Sirrah “Sais”, you certainly believe yourself to be well-informed. ’
‘You’d be amazed what I know.’
‘Really?’ She looked hard at him - or rather, at his fuzzy com-image. ‘You mentioned two favours? What was the other one?’
‘Information, in return for which I will withhold certain information myself.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a particularly attractive deal.’
‘I understand you might see it that way. However, the information I’m holding back from release to every media source on this planet regards your business associates. The - what’s the local word for them? - the
hine-maku
, that’s it.’
Medame Ruanuku said nothing, and her face gave nothing away. Jarek breathed deep slow breaths and tried not to dwell on the possibility that by admitting he knew about Ruanuku-
ngai
’s association with the Sidhe he might have just made himself the most wanted man on the planet.
Finally she said, ‘Even if what you claim is true, what makes you think anyone would believe such a bizarre accusation?’
Jarek said, ‘Are you willing to take the risk?’
Again, she was silent. Then, speaking with exaggerated care, she said, ‘I can think of only one person on this world who might have been in a position to claim such a thing.’
‘And who would that be?’ Jarek suspected, even as he spoke, that it was a pointless question.
Her smile confirmed his suspicions. He found himself torn between fear, admiration and irritation. But he didn’t have time for games. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘The person who told me what your company is up to is the one I want information about.’
‘What makes you think I am in possession of such information? ’
Putting more assurance than he felt into his voice he said, ‘I am quite positive you are.’
She paused for a moment then said, ‘What if I were to tell you that this person may well be in the same location as the other individual you referred to?’
‘I’d say that’s unlikely.’ Nual’s last message had said she was trying to raise credit in order to fund a mission to Tawhira-
ngai
’s facility; she didn’t expect to be in a position to try and make the run until tonight at the earliest.
‘Then I fear we may have reached an impasse.’
Was that a hint of smugness? Had she decided it was no longer worth continuing the call because she’d traced it? Were men with stun-batons and heavy boots about to kick his door down? As evenly as he could, Jarek said, ‘Not regarding Taro sanMalia we haven’t. Get him out when you go in on your other business, and I’ll provide the plans of Tawhira-
ngai
’s base to make your little mission go more smoothly. That way we both get what we want.’
‘Agreed,’ said Medame Ruanuku. While Jarek was still mastering his surprise she added, ‘But on one condition: you accompany my team into the complex.’
Jarek had every intention of going in himself; it was the only way to ensure they would also rescue Taro when they went back. However, he understood her own motivation for asking him along too. ‘Yes,’ he said ‘and if I do, I expect your hirelings would be on hand to witness any nasty accident I might have during the mission. So now might be a good time for me to explain about the “insurance” I’ve organised. If I don’t regularly check in with a certain independent party, then the information I have about you and your business associates will go out to everyone I can think of who might be even remotely interested. Getting me killed would be a sure way to find out just what your fellow corporations think about you trading with humanity’s old enemies.’
‘I see,’ said Medame Ruanuku tightly. ‘Then perhaps it might be safer if you didn’t accompany my team.’
‘I think I will come in, if it’s all the same to you. I’m sure your people can keep me safe,’ Jarek said cheerfully.
‘What if I said that having you along would be an unacceptable risk?’
‘Then I’d say the deal’s off. If we don’t do this my way, then I will have no choice but to take my offer elsewhere - and then to release everything I’ve got on you. After which I will simply disappear.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Though he’d been relieved when Medame Ruanuku accepted his terms, ten hours later Jarek was having second thoughts. He’d got nothing like enough rest, and fatigue still gnawed at him. Some of the others in the aircar - all hard-looking mercenary types - were giving him looks that made it clear they weren’t sure what he was doing on their mission. They had a point.
They looked pretty tough, but the local honour system meant they were armed only with heavy-duty dartguns. This
tapu
thing managed to be both anachronistic and adaptable; the locals harked back to a bloody warrior culture back on Old Earth, but attitudes and practices that would’ve resulted in brutal battles between villagers armed with stone axes made for mayhem and genocide once you brought corporate politics and hi-tech weaponry into the equation.
When the aircar picked him up at the harbour, he’d been introduced to the mission leader, a heavily built woman of mixed blood called Quin, and to Yenemer, a lithe, dark-skinned young man heading the team of three who’d been detailed to search for Taro - and Nual, if she really was in there. He’d heard nothing from her since the last rerouted message. It was possible she was dead. He wasn’t sure how streetwise her years in Khesh had left her, but she’d been pretty naïve when he’d met her. Her unnatural advantages could also make her arrogant, and she might easily have fucked up without even realising it.
The aircar was uncomfortably crowded with twenty mercenaries plus him and the driver packed into a space designed for a dozen people. The mercs were professionals, and most of them passed the time napping or in silent contemplation. A couple of the younger ones were chatting to each other, from which Jarek gleaned that though there had been rumours of a mission like this for a few days, in the end it’d come together in a rush. Jarek suspected his delivery of the plans to Ruanuku-
ngai
was responsible for that. There was also a feeling that the gloves were off now, despite the lack of obvious lethal weaponry. One of the youngsters said whichever
ngai
was funding the run must be pretty desperate to go in mob-handed like this, a comment which got him a stern look from Quin.
Shortly after that she stood up. ‘Listen up. Those of you who were on the original mission know how that went down; the rest of you will have read your briefing notes. This time, there’s no storm to give us cover, so they’ll know we’re coming. More importantly, there’s no one inside to turn off the shield, so we’ll have to trash it to get through. Fortunately our transport has had a few non-standard mods, so it’ll be up to the task.’ She nodded at the driver, who flashed her a tight grin. ‘However, remember that we are still subject to the rules of
tapu
. Fatalities must be avoided if at all possible. I hope those of you who follow the Lord of the Sea have prayed for understanding from Tongaroa.’ This last comment was delivered with the same serious expression as her short briefing, and afterwards she sat down again.
Silence fell until the driver called out that they’d been detected. After that, a few of the mercs bowed their heads and muttered under their breaths. Ahead, the island’s shield was a pale dome glowing in the darkness.
The growing tension made Jarek want to fidget. He looked at his hands and practised the simple breathing exercise he sometimes used to calm himself during transits.
Count in, two, three . . . wait . . . count out, two, three.
‘Everyone brace!’ called the driver. ‘Shield impact in five . . .’
Jarek looked up. ‘Four . . .’ The view ahead, filled with silver light, suddenly dimmed as a shade slammed down over the screen.
‘Three . . .’ The mercs hunkered down in their seats, and Jarek followed suit.
‘Two . . .
‘One . . .’
Even through the shade, the screen flared brightly. The aircar veered, then shook. The internal lights went out, and Jarek instantly went from apprehensive to terrified. Without power they’d
crash
- were they still over the sea or were they going to hit the island? It was pitch-dark in here, and it felt like they were falling—
The internal lights came on and his stomach bounced back up to hit his diaphragm. Relieved sighs came from all around.
‘Right, people,’ barked Quin, ‘helmets sealed and active.’
Jarek pulled his visor down and the chin-guard up, locking them together. The cabin was reduced to readouts and heat-signatures. People sub-vocalised call-signs to each other to check their coms. Jarek himself had trouble speaking around the control unit that slotted under his tongue; the thing tasted cold and metallic and he kept having to swallow to avoid triggering his gag reflex.
‘First surface team ready to roll.’
Two men unbuckled and headed for the door. The aircar touched down and the pair of mercs jumped out as soon as the door opened; the aircar took off at once. The fast put-down was repeated a few seconds later. These teams would rig up gas canisters to pump sleep-gas into the surface air intakes; after that they’d make their way inside as a rearguard.
Those left in the aircar formed up, with Jarek near the back. He glanced across at the screen to see a rough mass that his helmet didn’t register as a target - trees, maybe? - and a blocky structure, a building of some sort - that did. Then they were down and the door opened.
Sealed tightly in his suit, Jarek’s only impression of the world outside was darkness overlaid by readouts. He was carried forward in the wave of jogging troops, heading for the building.
After about a dozen steps he felt like he’d suddenly run into mud. His body grew unbearably heavy, and an excruciating vibration sang through his gut and jaw. His ears began to ring. He tried to keep moving, but whatever it was, it was affecting everyone. Then, abruptly, the sensation went from unbearable to merely uncomfortable.
Quin’s voice came over the com. ‘Hold your positions, team.’
He’d just worked out that his suit must be counteracting the effect when Quin added more urgently, ‘Damp visual!’
Unfamiliar with the suit’s controls, he was almost too late: at the same moment as his view went dark, something thin and bright shot overhead. A fraction of a second later a muted light burst into life ahead of him, followed by the rough brush of a concussion wave.
‘Everyone all right?’ asked Quin. Presumably everyone was, as shortly afterwards she added, ‘Carry on!’
They set off again, and this time, as there were no more nasty surprises, they reached the building and the forward team went to work on the heavy main doors.
Jarek used the brief pause to com Yenemer. ‘What just happened back there?’ he asked.