Shadowrun 01 - Never Deal With A Dragon (50 page)

A little leverage was all it would take to flip him. As her hand touched his ankle, he revived and slapped her away. Crenshaw tasted blood from her split lip. He reached down, hauled her up by the hair, and slammed her against the wall, pinning one arm- against the hard surface.

"That was my ticket to life," he screamed into her face.

Despite her leg and his speed, she was sure she still could get away if he was blind. She flicked out the razors on her free hand and raised her arm to strike, only to feel them slice into her own palm as he squeezed her fingers into a fist. Pale, but immensely strong despite its childlike size, his new hand crushed her bones and ground them together.

He wrenched her up again and swung her out and over the abyss. In a last act of defiance, she spat into his face. He licked the mixed blood and spittle from his face with a tongue that seemed inordinately long before releasing his grip.

She fell, knowing that she would reach terminal velocity unless she hit a projection. There wouldn't be enough left to put back together. She hoped she would black out before she struck.

One wall blinked, its images of the battle on Landing Pad 23 replaced by a detail of a racing woman pursued by a limping man who moved with uncanny speed. As he closed and they struggled, a briefcase toppled over the edge of the platform. It smashed against a projection and opened, scattering circuit boards and computer chips to the wind.

Darkness assaulted Dodger's senses as his hostess's cloak billowed out of its own accord, masking her and everything else from his sight. A keening wail overwhelmed the sounds of the firefight, and over all the cacophony, he heard her voice.

"Lost. For myself, no hope. Gone. Fled. For my scattered self, gone."

His sight returned and she had vanished.

The mad kaleidoscope began again, images racing across the facets. Within seconds, the tumult faltered as individual panels went dark or flared to stark white. Groups of panels froze en masse in blocks, crosses, or stepped triangles. Each geometric portrayed a different scene, but all the panels making up one shape displayed the same image. One showed a gold-eyed man struggling to free himself from fallen debris in a smoking room scattered with bodies. Another displayed a small cubicle where an emaciated decker lay sprawled across his board, the flesh around his datajack blackened. A third, which Dodger at first took to be a re-broadcast, was a window on the Renraku air traffic monitor center where the staff was casually sitting around. In the back of the scene, Dodger could see the reaction force pilots in their ready room, drinking, eating, and playing cards. Their wall clock showed the current time. There were other scenes from around the arcology as well, and they too showed no alarm. Then the facets of the floor froze in unison, having returned to Pad 23, where the Trojan shuttle was rising into the sky.

The fireball flared into being on the Renraku arcology's left flank. Three of the undercover guards were torched to cinders and a pair of over-eager Red Samurai were blown back, smoking, to their squad's position at the building entrance.

"Good shooting, Tsung," Jaq called out.

Tsung waved back and pointed at the remaining guards on the landing field. Jaq nodded and directed her mercs to pour on the fire. Tsung needed cover to catch Hutten.

Their target had gone down in a struggle with one of the Raku guards. Jaq hadn't expected the guard to come out on top, but she had. For a while, that is. Then Hutten chased her down and threw her from the platform. Now he stood there, looking bewildered.

When Sally reached him, his initial reaction was wary. She said something to him, but with the din of combat Jaq couldn't hear. It must have been words to the effect of, "We're here to rescue you," because Hutten looked at the Commuter, nodded, and lit out toward the aircraft. Sally and the Indians beat a fighting retreat.

No time like the present, Jaq decided. She scattered powder from her pouch into the wind and began to chant. Watching the progress of Hutten and the runners, she tried to pace the spell so that the timing would be perfect.

Debris, litter, and masonry skittered across the platform like autumn leaves before the wind. Luggage rolled on wheels or tipped end over end to race dropped weapons and loose tools to the growing wall in front of the Commuter. It was a meter high when Hutten hurdled it. It had grown to two meters when Tsung, intent on the pursuit, slammed into it. Three of the Indians went down before she could lead them through the smoke clouds and around to the sheltered side.

By then, Jaq had gotten Hutten on board and recalled her four remaining mercs. She was closing the hatch when Tsung spotted her.

"Wait for us," Tsung called, racing for the aircraft.

Jaq gave the order to lift. "Sorry, Tsung. I've got a delivery to make. Have fun with the Samurai."

Tsung and the Indians made a leap for the Commuter's landing gear as the VTOL rose from the landing pad. One of the Indians, Jason, managed a grip, but a quick response from the pilot shook him free. Jaq watched the Indian land hard and lie stunned. Tsung knelt next to him, gesturing with glowing hands. Her eyes were fixed on the Commuter as it climbed.

Jaq mustered her spell defenses to protect the aircraft and the pilot, only to feel the energies slide past and strike elsewhere. Jaq spun to find Hutten sprawled on the floor of the cabin. The mercs were drawing away in disgust as his skin bubbled and flowed.

"Have fun yourself, bitch," Sally's voice said over the radio link.

Dodger found himself able to move again, but he feared that his hostess's return would change that. In a way he couldn't describe, he felt her presence still. He wanted to run, jack out while he could, but he had seen the Commuter take off and Sally and Ghost's people behind. They needed help. He had to get out of here if he was going to do anything constructive.

He turned to find Jenny disappearing into one of the panels, which went dark before he could make sense out of the image it had been presenting. So that was the way out. Reasoning that the image might relate to Matrix positioning, he stepped up to the block that held nine pictures of the deceased decker. He was company property and his equipment would be linked for fast access. It would be a good place to start. Dodger walked forward and found himself in the subprocessor controlling security for Pad 23.

He couldn't have asked for a better location.

Accessing the camera records, he clipped a copy of the battle and tagged it onto the go-code he was supposed to send when the team had gotten Hutten. He slipped it down the link to the broadcast monitor and sent it out on priority transmit. Sam would at least know what had happened. Maybe he could figure it out.

A strong believer in backups whenever possible, Dodger readied his online storage to accept a dump of the trideo record. When he tried the access again, he got an error message. A quick check showed him that the file had been deleted since he had last accessed it. Wary, he fled the node.

It was a short hop into the pad's computer system. He activated the service lift and tapped a deck monitor to view the results of his handiwork. Pressed by the advancing Red Samurai, Sally was quick to take the anonymous offer of an escape route. She and the Indians rabbited onto the descending segment of the platform. They leaped off at the first sublevel, and Dodger sent the lift back up and locked it to seal off direct pursuit.

"Sally, are you all right?" he asked over the maintenance call system.

"Dodger! Where the hell have you been?"

"No time. Take the shaft down to Pad 19. Code 7723 opens the lock. I'll arrange something."

He could hear her calling him until he cut the link, but he had to keep moving. He locked all access doors to the sublevel before heading out to the subprocessor for Pad 19's control center. A deft touch slipped in an authorization for a corporate helicopter and scrambled a pilot to fly it. He tagged the request with a Code Orange designation to keep the rigger's mouth shut as long as he thought it was a legitimate company undercover operation. The note he left about what he'd done would trigger when Sally used the code he'd given her. She'd need to know what to expect before leaving the maintenance shaft for the pad. He realized that he should have added an authorization for helicopter armament, and was about to do so when the walls of the node began to go translucent. He fled again.

He skipped down to a slave node that ran the climate control for an office suite on the mall level, hoping the low security would leave him less visible. He wanted to go back and make sure that Sally and the boys got out all right, but he was afraid to return anywhere he had been. He just didn't have enough jazz to deal with this Ghost in the Machine.

He knew he had run as far as he could when the walls started to silver. While he still could, he jacked out.

"Good luck, Sally."

Sam looked out the window of the helicopter, not really seeing the fences and buildings that surrounded him. Ghost's departure signal had come almost half an hour ago. By now he would have led his tribesmen in through the perimeter of the United Oil dockyard. Sam had been surprised at how many volunteered after Ghost told them he would do it alone. But it hadn't been too many for Enterich to supply with arms. Sam didn't know how he would have stopped any of the warriors from accompanying Ghost, but he'd have tried if armor and weapons hadn't been available. Even well-equipped, the risks were great.

Things were still quiet, which he assumed to mean that all was well. A lot more bodies were going in than when he and Ghost had made their run into the facility, but this crowd was not going to try to get inside any buildings. They should be safe enough. With Dodger running cover on the arcology part of the operation, they were relying on a decker that Enterich supplied to override the perimeter alarms. She must have been good enough; the compound where the copter sat was close enough that Sam would have heard any gunfire or alarms. The only thing left to do was wait for the signal that Sally and Jaq had succeeded in lifting Hutten from the arcology. And worry.

It wasn't the best plan, but he had been heartened when Ghost's lieutenant and four buddies had decided to do the snatch. Sam was relieved that Sally would have some backup other than Jaq's mercs. Jason's crew wouldn't have been Sam's choice, but Sam wasn't choosing. Any bodies were better than trusting totally to the good will of Lofwyr's agent.

For the fourth time in the last half hour, he checked the case on the seat next to him to see that its circuits were in working order. Dodger was to tight-beamcast a trideo record of their snatch for Sam to display when he confronted the Dragon. It would be his proof that Hutten was hidden safely away, a lever for dealing with Haesslich. Everyone was sure Haesslich would be willing to negotiate to get his precious doppelganger back safely, but no one believed the Dragon would accept Sam's terms. Sam wasn't so sure himself, but he saw no other course. He must try to resolve this in a way that would leave his conscience clear. If Haesslich wouldn't listen, then there was always Ghost's way.

The unit beeped and the telltale indicated that it had received Dodger's coded signal. That was it. The snatch had been made. Sam secured the receiver as soon as the transmission was complete.

"Indramin," he said aloud, knowing that the rigger was listening. The rigger wasn't aboard, because Sam didn't want anyone else to share the risk of facing the Dragon. Indramin would be flying the helicopter by remote rig. "Time to go."

The craft's engines coughed to life and the rotors began to whirl up to speed. With a surge, the ship left the ground and Sam was on his way to confront Haesslich.

The tail Hart had put on Crenshaw had led her to Greerson, who was surprisingly easy to convince that she, too, was working with Crenshaw. The Dwarf, in turn, led her to Verner's rendezvous point, where they'd watched as Verner split his teams into two groups. From the talk overheard via Greerson's long-range pickup, she knew that one of the teams was headed for the arcology to snatch Hutten. The fools would walk straight into Crenshaw's trap, but maybe they'd save Hart the headache of taking out the Crenshaw bitch.

She was glad she'd decided to pass on trying to invade the arcology. The chances of success seemed far too low. The chances for a Matrix penetration weren't much better. But if Jenny couldn't slip into the arcology's Matrix and get a copy of the AI data from the doppelganger, Haesslich's plan would come to naught. After tonight's raid, the Hutten thing would be locked up tight, assuming it survived. Then Haesslich would get nothing. She didn't like to think how the worm would take that disappointment.

Hart had been intrigued when Verner split off from Ghost Maker and his crew. Sensing that Verner was running a complicated plan, she argued Greerson out of smoking Verner as soon as he was alone. The Dwarf agreed to wait till they could find out what he was up to, confident he could take Verner whenever he wanted. Following Verner, they had spent almost an hour watching him sit in the darkened helicopter. When the sound of the craft's engine drifted on the breeze, Hart was confused. No one had come to join Verner and now he was leaving. Whatever his plan, it must now be in motion. Without air transportation, she and the Dwarf wouldn't be able to follow him. So if they were going to deal with him, it had to be right now. Hart wondered if she would ever know what he was up to.

"He's airborne," Greerson said, shoving the binocular goggles up onto his forehead.

Hart stared into the night, searching for the source of the rotor's sound. She finally caught the moving shadow that was the copter. It was running without lights, moving in their general direction.

"You know, Elf lady, I thought for a while there you had something. Drek, you might still, but even your long legs can't pace a helo. Old A.C. is gonna have a metacow when neither you or Verner shows up for her party, but at least I'll get the bounty on his head." Greerson stripped off the goggles and shook out his hair, then reached for the missile launcher he had prepared as soon as they had taken station. Hart forestalled the move with a touch on the Dwarf's arm. "We've been on his tail longer. Squatter's rights."