The soft twang of some country singer filtered through the open windows, lilting about lost loves, dearly departed dogs, and missing money. One guard was a dwarf with a huge paunch, seated with his feet up on the desk, snoring loudly, almost in rhythm to the slide guitar. The other guard was a young human with Amerind features who took furtive drinks from a bottle inside a paper sack and kept paging through a Playtrog magazine.

Burnout scanned for cameras and stationary or track-mounted drones, but could find none.

"There are two watcher spirits," Lethe said. "But they won't see us."

"Good." Burnout moved up to the window in silence. He slipped inside, and with the butt of his Predator hit the human's temple, sending the body flying. The guard crashed into the metal wall, his magazine fluttering to the floor. As the man sank into unconsciousness, a small trickle of blood seeped from the side of his head.

The sleeping guard woke, but it was too late. Burnout had lifted him up by the neck and removed his Colt Man-hunter. "Help me and you won't die."

The dwarf's eyes snapped open and filled with horror. Burnout could see the wheels turning behind them. The dwarf nodded.

Holding the guard, Burnout took a quick inventory. The desk, which was cluttered with hardcopy reports and candy wrappers, also held a small cyberdeck. That would be useful. Burnout turned. Something was nagging at him, and it took him a moment to place it.

He looked behind him, found the small radio on the big filing cabinet, just above him. Whining steel guitars and slow country vocals. With a quick swipe of his hand, the radio sailed across the room, shattering against the door frame.

The night went silent.

"Never could stomach that drek." He set the dwarf back in his chair, but didn't let go of his neck. "Now, tell me about runway security."

The guard shivered. "I can't."

Burnout just tightened his grip. "You can tell, or I can find it on the cyberdeck after you're dead."

"Ack!" the dwarf choked. "All right, I'll tell you."

"Each corp has twenty people on the tarmac, but most of them watch the baggage. We don't get much traffic here, and it's mostly tribal."

"Good, come with me, and if you make noise, you die."

A quick nod from the dwarf and Burnout was loping across the tarmac in the lightening gray morning. He spoke under his breath to Lethe. "In less than twelve minutes, you and I will be airborne, and a few hours after that, we'll be touching down in Washington FDC."

Lethe's voice dropped into his mind. "How do you plan on bypassing FDC security? I don't know for sure, but it would seem reasonable that any of the airports there will be heavily secured. If you intend to hijack an aircraft, won't they be waiting for us when we land?"

Burnout laughed and lifted the dwarf so that movement would be quicker. "If I was going to hijack the aircraft, they'd be all over us, and this would be the shortest trip in history. Security at all the major FDC airports is definitely triple A. Even if I was planning to stow away somewhere inside the vehicle, we'd probably get nabbed within half a minute of landing."

Lethe's tone was dry. "I take it, then, that you plan to do neither of these things."

"That's right."

"What then?"

"Can't you read my mind yet, spirit?"

Lethe chuckled. "Not quite," he said. "I'm getting some of your thoughts, however."

Burnout said nothing as he came up behind a small hangar and stood in the shadow of some storage dumpsters. He peered around the corner. Across a hundred meters of runway and taxiway sat the main terminal building. Jets and suborbitals clustered around it like flies on drek. "Now, dwarf," Burnout said, "show me where the security is, and if you lie, I will know and you will die."

The dwarf gave Burnout the information he needed and was rewarded with a precise blow to the back of the head. The small man's body sagged into unconsciousness, and Burnout tucked it away inside one of the storage dumpsters.

Then he made his way toward the terminal, carefully skirting the highly secure areas. He didn't have much time; the Transworld flight he needed to board was just beginning its taxi.

"If you're not going to hijack an aircraft and you're not going to stow away, what are you planning?" Lethe said.

"The TransWorld plane is a Federated-Boeing 3800. She's got no VTOL capabilities, but she's fast. She's got the quadruple rear wheels like the old jumbo jets so the wheel wells are huge."

"You're planning to ride in with the landing gear?"

"Right."

"What happens when the pilot retracts the wheels?"

"I'll have to puncture one of the tires to make sure we aren't crushed." They were nearing the terminal now, and just ahead, the monstrous, single-wing jetcraft loomed as it began forward thrust.

"I think that this plan sounds…"

"Yeah? Sounds how?"

"It sounds like if you're not careful, you might just do Ryan Mercury's job for him."

Burnout laughed again. "Relax, I've done it before. Can't say as I enjoyed it, and there's no in-flight movie, but it will get us there." He accelerated, dodged under the belly of the craft, and jumped past the huge balloon tires, rapidly picking up speed. He latched onto one of the legs and climbed into the small landing gear cavity.

Within minutes he could see the ground rocketing underneath them, then pulling away. I'm coming for you, Ryan Mercury. And now I know how to hit you where it will hurt the most.

And her name is Nadja Daviar.

29

A sweet voice came to his ears. "Wake up, dear."

Ryan rolled in the soft silk sheets and slowly opened one eye. The display on his wristphone read 0912 hours. Nearly nine hours uninterrupted sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so deeply, or for that duration. No wonder my brain doesn't want to wake up, he thought.

Nadja's kiss fell gently on his cheek. "Gordon brought up breakfast for us," she said. "I've already eaten, have some early business to deal with. Also, Carla is here; we can start the meeting as soon as you're ready."

Ryan's eyes snapped open. The meeting! Yes, he had much to tell them of Damien Knight. How could he have slept so long?

He sat up and swung his legs out of the big bed. The smell of real eggs and fresh bacon drifted in the air. The coffee aroma was pungent and strong.

Ryan's stomach rumbled. "We'll meet in a half-hour if that's okay. After I eat."

Nadja smiled. "In my study," she said. "I'll notify Jane." Then she was gone, leaving him in the room with the breakfast.

Ryan ate and showered, wishing he could take time to enjoy both activities. But he was anxious for this meeting. Anxious to hear what Carla and Nadja and Jane would have to say. He dressed quickly in comfortable pants and a loose cotton shirt and walked down to Nadja's study.

Gordon Wu met him outside. "I'll tell her you're here," he said, turning to the telecom.

"Is her study secure?" Ryan asked.

The man gave him a puzzled look. "Of course, sir," he said. "It is swept by the Secret Service once a day." Wu winked. "And after they leave, Miss Brooks' staff sweeps it again." He gestured for Ryan to enter.

"Thanks." Ryan stepped through the door and into Nadja's private workspace.

In front of her desk, which was still piled with papers and disks, Nadja had arranged three high-back leather chairs in a semi-circle around a huge tridscreen. Two of the chairs were occupied, and the trid screen showed a fourth chair, identical except for the fact that it existed only in the virtual reality of the Matrix.

Carla Brooks looked up to meet Ryan's gaze as he entered. Her white hair was cut close to her scalp, a dusting of platinum stubble over her deep black skin. She wore a sharp Zoe business suit and was carrying weapons underneath. "Hello, Quicksilver," she said. "It's good to see you back alive. I think Quentin Strapp has some more questions for you, and he'd be very upset if he had to ask them of a corpse."