Even so, the corporations frowned on anything that might seriously affect business, and so there were peace officers. Private cops and the Lone Star patrols kept the heavy weaponry from the streets and protected their masters. What people did to each other did not concern the corporations, but what they might do to corporate holdings or personnel did.

Sam found this balance of wildness and civilization strange after the ordered peace of greater Tokyo. The strangeness had a vitality that the Japanese capital, with all its culture, sophistication, and history, lacked. Maybe he was beginning to like Seattle.

The closer they came to the central business district, the more civilized the street traffic became. Electric cars and public transport became common sights as the bikers became rare in proportion to the prowl cars bearing the Lone Star logo. The numbers of folk on the street shifted more in favor of the corporate workers, but the outre element never quite disappeared. The odd and the strange hung at the outskirts of Sam’s awareness in a way he had never experienced on the streets of Tokyo. He found it exhilarating.

Well into downtown Seattle, they turned onto Alaskan Way and headed south. Ahead, dwarfing the nearby buildings, loomed the arcology. Shining out from the mostly darkened north face of the structure, the cool blue of Renraku’s name in English and Japanese complemented the gold glow from the company’s dot-and-expanding-wavefront logo.

Once, Sam had found those symbols comforting, a sign of home. They looked gigantic and unattainable floating above Seattle. And ominous. He imagined the circle that was supposed to be the source of the communication waves as a radar dish, its arc-shaped waves as all-seeing energy seeking out those who might harm the corporation. His earlier excitement fled, banished by nervous fear. Despite the crowded street, he felt naked and exposed. The Red Samurai must surely be watching their approach.

If they were, they took no action. The runners cut out of the traffic onto a side street, dodging through alleys among the dockside warehouses. They slowed as they neared the loading docks of their destination, Kinebec Transport, but the great corrugated doors remained unmoving.

“Damned Elf missed his cue again,” Kham muttered, his voice almost lost in the noise from his bike’s engine. “Probably off chewing dandelions.”

Ghost signaled a circle around the block, drawing an oath from the Ork. “We’ll attract attention.”

“No help for it,” Sally shouted over the bike’s noise.

On the second pass, the third of the six doors yawned open as they rounded the corner. The runners guided their bikes inside and killed the engines. The massive door rumbled down, swallowing the echoes and shielding them from the street.

Ghost led them unerringly through the darkened building to a maintenance panel. Some last work with a multi-tool had the panel down, allowing them to make their way to the lower level along a ladder of rusty rungs welded to the support girder. A hundred or so meters later, he took them up another ladder. The building they entered smelled of the sea. Sam could hear the faint lap of water against pilings.

“ ’Kay, paleface. We’re on the number one west-face dock, just seaside of Fast Freddie’s Surgery. It’s your lead now.”

Sam didn’t know where Fast Freddie’s was, but he recognized the dock designation from the maps of the arcology he had seen. He led the runners onto the street and up the dock toward the arcology. A bare thirty meters from the circumference road that ran along the walls of the structure, he indicated the gate to a construction site. Before Ghost could put his tool to work, Kham shouldered into the wire gate, snapping the thin chain and dropping the padlock to the ground.

“We’re in a hurry, ain’t we?” he said in defense of this lack of subtlety.

Leading them past the quiet machinery, Sam took them into the basement of the skeletal structure. A few minutes’ search located what he was seeking.

“This is a tap shaft to the heat-exchanger pipes that run under the arcology. We should be able to move along it and into the arcology through an uncompleted maintenance station.”

“You’d better be right, chummer. Dat don’t look like a comfy squirm.”

Sam hoped he was right, too. His plan to enter this way was based on a three-week-old construction schedule. That document had called for the station to be completed and secured by now. He was counting on the fact that just about everything at the arcology project was behind schedule. If the workers had been uncharacteristically efficient, they would be denied access.

The crawl proved every bit as “squirmy” as the Ork had feared. Twice the bulky metahuman got wedged trying to cross junctions without divesting himself of his equipment first:

Two sweaty hours later, they had worked their way through the steamy tunnel to the station. Faint worklights gleamed from a barrier-free opening.

Sam wiped his brow with a grimy hand. At least now he didn’t have to worry about what the runners would do to him if the way had been blocked. Per plan, they located the station’s terminal. Without jacking in, Sam turned it on and entered the code that would tell Dodger they had gotten inside the arcology’s boundaries.

Almost instantly, the Elf responded through the terminal’s speaker.

“You are late.”

Sally’s headshake forestalled any assorted retorts. “Are we all set for the next phase?”

“Assuredly, my lady. The bravoes manning the check points along your route have been instructed to expect a repair party. There are temporary access cards waiting for you at the main desk on alpha level, but you will need your special talents to pick them up. Unfortunately I don’t have the necessary codes to activate them and haven’t had time to make counterfeits, it really is quite a remarkable system they have here. Very sophisticated.”

“Save the admiration for later, Elf,” Ghost snapped. “What are we going to do about those codes?”

“No need to get testy, Sir Razorguy. I think there may be a solution. If the noble Sir Corp will enter his own code, I can copy it onto all the cards. I believe I can hide the multiple entries in the guise of a system hiccup.”

The runners looked expectantly at Sam. His mouth was dry. If Renraku had deactivated his access code when he disappeared, the plan was destined for failure. At worse, it would set off alarms. Either way, he would be compromising his confidentiality agreement with the corporation. As if he hadn’t already done that by leading these people here.

“Dodger?”

“Aye, Sir Corp.”

“If I put in my code, can you read it, or are you blind-copying it?”

“Have you so little faith? Am I not The Dodger, wizard of the Matrix? Once it is data, it is mine to do with as I please.”