54

Sam knelt in the asphalt, the heat spreading through the komex fabric of his jumpsuit. Spread around him, the tails of his long coat were scorched and blackened. By his side, the trideo unit was a slag heap.

Death for death, Lofwyr had said. And the great golden Dragons sentence had come to pass. Haesslich’s death had paid for Hanae’s, but that had not been what Sam had set out to do. He had wanted proper justice, but got revenge instead. Any attack on his person was the signal for Ghost and his tribesmen to open fire, springing an ambush Haesslich couldn’t escape. The Dragon had brought death on himself by trying to kill Sam. Death for death. Sam had expected to die tonight, trading his own life so that the Dragon could be caught in one of his crimes. Wasn’t it justice that a murderer be killed in an attempt at murder?

Sam was very tired, but there was no time to rest. He’d settled with Haesslich, but the people who’d laid their lives on the line to help him were not yet safe. Jaq had abandoned Sally on the arcology. If Sally had been taken alive, he’d have to find a way to free her. He wondered if Ghost had seen the replay of the fight on Landing Pad 23; it would have been a difficult angle. If he hadn’t seen, he would have to be told.

Sam had to leave the UniOil grounds before anyone showed up to ask embarrassing questions. The Dragon’s roars and the gunfire would have United Oil security on its way right now. He scanned the roof from which Ghost had downed the Dragon. It was empty. Ghost would be withdrawing the men to the rendezvous point; he knew better than to dawdle. All Sam had to do was board the copter and have Jaq’s rigger fly him out the way he had come in. Wearily, he hauled himself to his feet and trudged to the aircraft. Once inside, he threw himself down in the seat.

“Time to go home, Indramin.”

There was no response. No voice. No engine. Out in the compound a siren began to wail.

Lights were coming on across the compound as the siren screamed mournfully. Hart looked down the alley that gave her a view of the security field office and saw heavily armed guards pouring out, in their midst, she made out the personal combat armor of Major Fuhito. The dockyard wasn’t his normal turf; he only came here when he had to. The ambitious bastard must have been keeping an eye on his boss’s doings and played a hunch to be here tonight. It was probably Haesslich’s own order to stay clear that had tipped him off. He was obviously expecting trouble, too, for he was already armored up.

Hart watched Verner pelt out of the helo and look around for which way to go. His chummers had already melted into the night. He was on his own.

She could show him the way out, but why should she? What did she owe him? Tessien’s death. Haesslich’s too, by the look of things. That thought disturbed her a little. Didn’t the law call a life for a life an even balance?

The guards would corner Verner if he didn’t take the right path. A rat like Fuhito wouldn’t treat him kindly, especially when he realized that Verner was a corporate runaway. Did she hate Verner enough to let Fuhito get him? He’d shown himself a canny and resourceful runner. Or maybe he was just a lucky one. Either way, Hart had seen enough death tonight. She didn’t have the heart to watch him go down.

She ran to the edge of the roof, and saw him hug the wall and check the shadows ahead before taking the corner. Her whistle snagged his attention. His head snapped up and his hand pulled back his long coat to let him grip the handle of his gun. She held her hands in his sight, away from her body. “No hard feelings, Verner. It was just business, but the contract’s over now.”

He didn’t answer, but seemed to relax a little.

She gave him a smile and reached down slowly to ripple the rope that dangled to the road below. “Come on, let me show you the back door.”

She watched the struggle on his face as he realized he was trapped without her help. Hart could also see he didn’t trust her, for which she couldn’t blame him.

A hissing like mad tea kettles rose from beyond the next building. The cockatrices were out as well as the guards.

Verner dashed across the roadway and started up the rope.

Sam watched Hart walk away. Ever since he had learned her name, Sam had thought of her as a hard-hearted, mercenary killer. Hadn’t she tried to kill him before? But instead of leaving him to the guards and the cockatrices, she’d saved him. To think that he’d hoped she would run afoul of the Red Samurai at the airport. For more than the sake of his own hide, Sam was strangely relieved that she hadn’t met up with the Samurai.

Hart clearly had her own concerns and agenda. Had Haesslich double-crossed her the way Lofwyr had him? What were her motives? When he had questioned her, she had snapped at him, telling him to shut up.

Alone now, he looked up at the sky. Clouds had come in to cover the stars. It would rain soon.

All he needed now was…

Barking came from the direction Hart had taken. When Sam turned his gaze back that way, he saw a dog come loping from the darkness of an alley. The animal was scrawnier and dirtier from living and scrounging on the street, but Sam immediately recognized him as Inu. The dog must have escaped from the arcology, but after the events of this night, Sam barely paused to wonder how the animal should suddenly appear here and now.

Inu was alone, so perhaps Kiniru remained behind in the arcology. That was just as well. The akita had never learned to make her own way; she was as dependent on people as he had once been on his corporation. But Inu was a street being and would never forget it.

Sam crouched, grinning, then let the animal bowl him over with its enthusiastic greeting. After a few minutes of getting reacquainted, the two were trotting down the street again on their way to rescue the fair Lady Tsung.

Jaq watched her team mask the windows of the Commuter. In minutes, the golden sun would be replaced with the green and silver MCT of Mitsuhama Computer Technologies. Without checking the craft’s registration number, no observer would be able to tell the Commuter from a legitimate member of the Mitsuhama fleet. Her team was very good at this sort of thing.

The mercs had been paid off, with a handsome tip thrown in. They had performed well enough that she would use them again in the future.

While the Commuter was being readied, a pair of laborers were building a crate to house the stabilization unit. A freight container would be a lot less conspicuous and easier to bribe past customs than an active stabilization unit holding a deceased doppelganger. When the sound of their hammers stopped abruptly, Jaq turned to find them staring at Mr. Enterich.

“That’s enough for now, boys,” she said, stepping up. “Coffee break.”

The workers dropped their tools and vanished.