Shadowrun 01 - Never Deal With A Dragon (32 page)

"Quiet?" Sam shouted. The concept seemed absurd. The panzer's engine noise was deafening as it echoed off the walls of the warehouse. Even in the open, someone would hear it coming a klick away.

"It's all relative. No machine with muscle is ever gonna be sneaky silent. Still, ain't no need to run an advertisement for the next valley over. Time any dust-eater hears
T-bird
and figures out where and what she is, we've long flown past."

"I'll take your word for it."

The Navaho said nothing, just stared at him. The pressure of the deep brown eyes began to make Sam nervous. "You come highly recommended."

Still no response.

"Cog says you're one of the best running the northwest routes. He says I'm lucky you were available."

Begay hacked and spat on the ground. "Cog's a good fixer, but he's got a White tongue." When Sam looked blank, the Navaho wiggled two fingers in front of his mouth. Forked, you know."

Sam gave the joke a nervous laugh and was relieved to the ghost of the former smile return to Begay's face.

"Chummer, you're lucky that I'm going where you want to go. Lucky that I got room for a second hand. Lucky there ain’t nobody in town who knows how to ride shotgun and who I'm willing to ride with. Lucky I ain't got time to wait ad till I do find somebody." He spat again. "I like that kind of luck. It's contagious.

" 'Course luck had nothing to do with it. My being available is pure money. From what I heard, you couldn't afford it. But you got friends who can, and that's lucky, too."

"What do you mean? I thought I was working for my passage."

"Oh, you will. Cog says somebody likes you enough to boost the Tir border patrol roster and post a couple of incentives for some old friends of mine to be elsewhere when slide the border."

"We're going through the Tir? Wouldn't it be easier to cut around it through the Ute Council?"

"Don't run Ute territory," Begay said shortly. "Don't worry, though. We'll do most of the Tir by day and, with the fix in, it's gonna be a smooth scorch. Then we blast through the Rockies where the Salish-Shidhe Council dips down and cuts the edge of Sioux territory. Then on through the Algonkian-Manitou Council till we slide into Quebec.

"Got a resupply stop up by the Dworshak Reservoir before we cross the divide. Stop again in Portage-La-Prairie after we cross the old Canadian border. Last lay-over is Hearst, just before we try the Quebec border. Once we slide the line, I dump you and you're on your own."

"You said you were already hired so you must have a cargo, too. What are we carrying?"

Begay spat. "Cog said you was a curious one. It's bad luck to ask too many questions."

"Got it." Sam smiled in what he hoped was a disarming manner. "Wouldn't want to spoil my luck."

"Cog said you was smart, too."

Sam didn't say anything to that, apparently winning Begay's approval. After a moment or two of silent evaluation, the Navaho clapped him on the shoulder. "You smart enough to learn a few things about riding shotgun on a panzer run?"

"Try me."

Begay swung up the side of the vehicle, scrambling like a rock ape across molded grips and convenient protrusions. Sam followed more slowly, the weight of his pack shifting his center of balance enough that he was cautious of some of the handholds Begay used. By the time he reached the top deck, Begay was vanishing down the hatch into the panzer. Sam tossed his pack through and followed, snagging his holster on the hatch coaming. He had to pull himself back up to free it. The holster and the Narcoject Lethe pistol it held were a parting gift from Dodger. The Elf had wanted him to take something more lethal, but Sam resisted. Having a gun at his hip was strange enough. That the weapon was his own was even stranger. Inside the panzer, Begay showed him how to strap into the gunner's couch and started a simulation program that would let Sam get the feel of the controls. Shooting the computer targets was easy. Just like a game.

Hart unfurled the hood from the collar of her black windbreaker and snugged it down with the drawstring. She hated what it would do to her hair, but the hood was a better alternative than an invisibility spell at the moment. She didn't want the distraction of maintaining the mana flow to power the spell. It was going to be two against her one, and she would need her wits about her. Verner might be a corporate softie, but the other was an experienced runner of unknown combat capabilities. Like her whole life, this would be a calculated risk. San Francisco wasn't one of her towns, and so she'd had no time to check out quality backup. Her quarry was about to leave town, and that meant she had to be quick and fast. Good thing she'd completed the transaction for her working equipment before she'd gotten the word of their location.

She made her selections from the satchel and placed them on the rooftop before caching the bag under a rusted-out air-conditioning unit. Returning to her new toys, she tucked the sheathed stiletto into her belt, under one of the supposedly decorative ornaments that were actually her custom-styled throwing stars. Then she slipped the band of thermal goggles over the hood and glanced around the rooftop once to confirm their quality. Satisfied, she pushed the lenses up onto her forehead, where she could pull them down a hurry. Running gloved fingers over the Beretta Model 70, she confirmed that the serial numbers had been seared out with a laser, as specified. She initiated the self-test and nodded once in satisfaction as the LEDs signaled the laser sight in full true, the sound suppressor at ninety-seven percent efficiency, the magazine full, and the trigger pressure at a hundredth of a pound less than she had requested. The fixer who supplied this gear was reliable; she wanted to remember him in case she had future business in the city by the bay. Having checked the Beretta, she slung it over right shoulder. The weapon would enable her to finish the business quickly and without a trace. Once she was gone, it would be just another crime of random street violence.

She sat down cross-legged on the roof and composed her mind. From that calm pool, she called out. The summons took the form of an odoriferous scent wafting on the breeze. It was not long before the first rat showed up. It snuffed the as though slightly confused, then scampered closer. It was no bolder than many city rats she had seen, but no less bold either. It circled her once, then stopped in front of her and stood on its hind legs. The tiny forepaws patted at the air as its whiskers quivered to the motion of its overactive noise.

Her hand darted out and pinned the beast to the roof. Her grip behind its head held it helpless despite its violent squirmings. She touched the back of its skull with the index finger of her free hand and intoned the spell of preparation.

Aleph!

Affirmation of attention entered her mind.

Take this one as a body
.
I want you to spy below
.

Acknowledgement touched her mind, then the rat stopped twisting in her grip. She released it and it sat back on its haunches to stare at her with suddenly intelligent eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

The rat squeaked once and dashed away.

Hart closed her eyes in order to better comprehend the inflow of data from the rat's senses. Her Ally Spirit Aleph had taken control of the animal, which would let her see and hear what the rat saw and heard through her link with the Spirit. In this part of town, a rat made a very inconspicuous spy.

It took Aleph only a few minutes to guide the rat through the byways of its kind and down onto the floor of the building. The reek of oil was almost overwhelming and the dark-adapted eyes of the beast showed her what she didn't want to see. The warehouse was empty. She had arrived too late.

"Frag it!"

The panzer, with Verner in it, was gone.

Release it, Aleph
.
We've got to hit the road
.

Acknowledgement from below and she was alone on the rooftop, all dressed up for a party that was already over.

As Begay had promised, the run through the Tir was easy. Except for the border crossings, they had traveled by day, which gave Sam a chance to see some of the magically restored forest. Beautiful as the land was in its natural state and vigor, the thought that powerful magics had made it so disturbed him. It was still more evidence he could not deny. As lush and cool as was the forest, Sam seemed to notice only the pools of shadow and the dark spaces under the trees, as though some danger or precarious instability hid within the leafy canopy. Or was it only his doubts?

Begay assured him that travel by day was a practical matter rather than for sightseeing purposes. Less local wildlife was active with the sun high in the sky, he said, leaving Sam to ponder what kind of animal could threaten a panzer. All Begay would tell him was to watch the target screens, which he did, though his datajack connection to the sensors brought on the usual headache. Strain, he told himself. Magic had nothing to do with it.

Once through the Tir, they traveled by night. "Sure, the IR signature's easier to spot," Begay said, "but watching an IR screen is like watching any screen. Ain't easy to do for long. People get tired and forget to watch their screens." Sam trusted his judgement. After all, Begay was the professional.

Crossing through what used to be Idaho, they had a run-in with a Salish-Shidhe helicopter, but Begay found a hiding place in the canyons along the Snake River. After that, he launched the
T-bird
's remotely piloted ultra-light aircraft to fly overwatch so that it might spot any telltale activity. Later, while pulling the RPV back as they bivouacked for the day, the rigger's control panel blew a chip, sending the aircraft crashing out of control at the edge of the river. They lost half the night salvaging the wreck, for Begay wouldn't leave without it. "Too fragging expensive," he said.

It was near dawn when they pulled into the shanty town the Dworshak Reservoir. Begay turned the
Thunderbird
toward a dilapidated barn where a bunch of the locals were lounging. As the panzer neared, however, they sprang up and opened the barn doors for the
T-bird
. The panzer tucked itself in and settled to rest.

From what Sam could see, the interior of the barn was at odds with the exterior; the floor was concrete and the walls kind of solidified foam material. Benches, power tools, vehicles, boxes, and crates were scattered about in haphazard array. Overhead, a heavy-duty crane held what like an engine within a net of braided wires. The locals, most of them Orks, closed the outer doors and moved toward the Panzer. Sam was still trying to understand what was going on when Begay popped the driver's auxiliary hatch and crawled out.

"Fill her up."

"You want your oil checked?" asked an Ork in grimy coveralls.

"I'll let you check the oil the day I own a well, Thumper."

"Ya got no faith, Begay."

"Your dipstick's too short."

"Man's gotta stay in the biz."

"Got that right."

To Sam, the exchange had the ring of an old routine. Climbing out himself, he saw the two exchanging handshakes, and knew they were old buddies. Begay waved him over.

"Twist, want you to meet Thumper Collins, best panzer mechanic in the west."

"Second best," the Ork contradicted. "Don't believe everything the Injun tells ya, kid. Willy Stein's still working with the Cascade boys." Collins held out a hand. "Pleased to meet ya, Twist."

Sam took the callused hand. Collins' grip was so strong that Sam got the impression that the Ork could crush the bones in his hand with only a fraction of his strength; ridged muscles made the Ork's already blocky frame more massive. Introduction over, Collins turned his attention to the rigger.

"Real mess you got in the starboard carry slot."

"Drek, yeah. Blew a chip on recovery."

"I can patch the R-P today, but the chip . . ." Collins shook his head, making reflections dance on his bald pate. "Ain't got nothing like that on the shelf and ain't nobody this far out can cut you one."

"Frag it. I need that bird." Begay spat on the floor and stared at the star pattern the spittle made on the concrete floor.

"Begay?" Sam waited until the Navaho looked up. "It looked like your aircraft had manual controls."

"Yeah. Used to be a spy dropper before I put in the rigger controls. Left them manuals in, 'cause I thought I might want to take up flying someday."

Collins snorted. "He means it was his backup getaway."

Begay gave the Ork a snarl, but there was no real heat to it. Sam realized the drone's use as an escape vehicle must be an open secret, but the rigger needed to establish that it was his secret to share.

"Begay, I used to do some small-craft piloting. My old Mitsubishi Flutterer was something like your ultra-light. I think I could fly it if you really need a recon."

"You're full of surprises, Twist. Next you'll be telling me you're a magician." Begay laughed. "You aren't a witch, are you, Twist? 'Cause if you are, you're walking from here."

Sam said nothing. The left side of his mouth twitched into a nervous half-smile. He was saved from the need to reply when Collins stepped into the silence. "If the kid was a skinwalker, Begay, he wouldn't need to ride with you in the first place."

"What would you know about it?"

The two old friends started wrangling over who knew more about magic and the ways of magicians, giving Sam the opportunity to slip away. He didn't want to get drawn into a discussion that might end up with Begay living up to his threat to leave him stranded here in the wilderness. Sam didn't think of himself as a magician, but he didn't know what Begay's standards were. Had the Navaho seen Sam scanning the chips the professor had given him? Was that what really motivated the seeming joke of a question? Feeling quite alone, Sam found a dark corner and settled in to watch Collins' crew service the panzer.

Boise belonged to the Salish-Shidhe Council, but it was different than the towns Hart knew from the coast, where the influence of the Northwest Coast tribes was strong. The flavor here was of the Plateau and Plains tribes, a lot more like the Ute Council burgs. That wasn't too surprising; Ute territory started just to the south beyond the Snake River. Still, it was the biggest settlement around and well situated for a move on the panzer while it crossed the Snake River Plains. She had picked it as a likely choke point once she'd found a street snitch who pegged the panzer's destination as Quebec. It had taken only minimal bribes for clearances and a place on the regular shuttle to put her here ahead of her quarry.