As I watched, the street began to dry up. People faded into the shadows, into the buildings, walking away. I’d seen the phenomenon often enough in New York, and when I glanced at Canny I found him looking at me. He nodded, subtly, and I grimaced. It usually meant one thing: System Police were coming. I turned to Jerry Materiel.

“Cut the crap,” I said, standing up. “Can you fill the order or not?”

He scratched behind his ear, squinting at the list, his face made up entirely of folds of skin and stubble.

“Well, yea, I s’pose I ken-”

Canny was on his feet, too, urging Gatz up. I held up a hand to stop Jerry in midsentence.

“How much, then?”

He looked at me from under his eyebrows. “Won’t be cheap, Mr. Cates. I ken ashur ya of that.”

The street was clearing out, criminals disappearing like water down a drain. My whole body tensed, heart pounding, as I waited for the hammer to drop. But I kept my face calm-the act could never fail, even for a second, or the sharks would smell blood-and half an eye on Materiel’s boys, who were starting to catch the scent of doom, but were still following orders and keeping their distance.

“Name a price.”

It was agonizing, watching Materiel do calculations on the fly, precious seconds getting away from us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see even the Monks packing it up and starting to drift off to greener pastures as word spread. The Electric Church might be the world’s only religion in a few years, but at present the System Pigs were still at the top of the food chain.

Materiel smiled cunningly and quoted a number that made my hair stand up on my arms. I opened my mouth to protest the obvious gouging, but Orel put a leathery, curiously heavy hand on my arm.

“Done,” he said to Materiel, holding out his credit dongle in the other hand. “I’m good for it.”

Materiel ran Orel’s credit and smiled, nodding. “Very well, then, gentlemen. Where shall I make delivery?”

I was already moving, Gatz and Orel on my heels. “We’ll find you.”

When we were a few feet away, Orel fell into step next to me. “Looks like a standard SSF hunt-and-gather.”

I nodded, trying to have my eyes everywhere. “I’m getting tired of running from the fucking Pigs.”

“Then you should be in another line of work, Mr. Cates.” He gestured behind us. “They’ll be coming from over there, I’m thinking, with a hover in the air over here to herd us.”

“Right. Split up,” I said, turning sharply away from them and heading for a ruined wall. It looked like a good prospect for a clear way out of the neighborhood. It was best to stay low; the SSF used air superiority ruthlessly. I had gone about four more steps when I heard Orel shout behind me.

“Run, you idiot!”

I turned in time to see Orel give Gatz a shove to get him moving as a huge hover, the biggest I’d ever seen, leaped into the air above the ruined church, the roar of its displacement exploding around us, a storm of noise. The few slow people who were still hanging around the street scattered like roaches in the light. I looked down, and a dozen or so System Pigs emerged from the church, guns drawn, moving fast toward us, a cloud of clumsy and unhappy Crushers around them.

Gatz ran with surprising speed and agility, but Canny stood his ground. Sweeping his coat back to reveal his twin Roons, shining in the dirty light, he drew each and released the custom, old-school safeties with an audible snick of metal on metal.

“Mr. Cates,” he yelled without looking at me. “You owe me twenty yen, yes?”

I kept backing away, entranced in spite of myself. “What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted, horror swamping my better judgment for a moment and rooting me to the spot. “Move your ass!”

He shook his head. “Cainnic Orel does not run.”

I whirled and thought to myself, Well, Christ, you’re not Cainnic Orel, and fuck that-Avery Cates does.

XXV

HAS DEFINITELY BEEN YOUR LUCKY FUCKING DAY

Immediately, there was a volley of shots behind me, like firecrackers. I ducked into the ruined lot behind the crumbling wall and pushed myself to run faster, chalky dust billowing up around me. But the fucking Pigs-despite a Cainnic Orel pretender slinging bullets at them, despite Kev Gatz scurrying away-within a few seconds I knew there were at least three hot on my trail. I tore my dark glasses off and yanked one of the guns from my sack, wondering if there was enough luck left in the universe for it to be loaded.

I didn’t know anything about London-if there were Safe Rooms buried in these sagging, ancient buildings, where the sewers might lead me, if there were any friendlies nearby who might take me in. I didn’t even know where to hide, and I cursed everything under my breath as I ran. I’d somehow slipped behind the curtain, and was running through a ruined section, all rubble and uncleared streets, staggered walls looking ready to collapse on top of me. To lighten the load and gain a fraction of speed, I tossed the bag with the rest of the guns and popped the clip from the old Roon 85 I’d selected-three lonely armor-piercing bullets shining inside it. Armor-piercers were rare; the cops themselves had stopped using them years ago due to their expense, and they were highly prized in the underground-Jerry must not have realized he had an extra hundred yen in profit sitting in this gun. With one in the chamber that made four shots. Three cops, four shots. It was the biggest break I’d gotten in a while, and it made me nervous.

The hover displacement in the air got louder; I knew they were trying to find me on the ground in order to guide the streetside cops. I ducked into the nearest doorway, instantly enveloped in stale, dusty dark-and blinded after the relative brightness of the day. I fumbled forward a few steps and then tripped, landing hard on a loose pile of sharp, uneven things. Instinct took over and I went still and silent, biting down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood, cutting off any noise. My breath whistling through my nose sounded thunderous. The only thing I could do was wait for my eyes to adjust and try to be ready.

It took the cops longer than I expected. After thirty seconds or so, I carefully rolled over onto my back and squinted at the faint outline of the doorway. I raised my gun just in time; a figure appeared, framed in the doorway. I pulled the trigger reflexively, the shot loud enough to bring the whole sagging structure down on me. The shadow crumpled.

I stared for a moment. Killing System Pigs was starting to be a habit with me, and yet I was still alive. I’d seen what the Pigs did to cop-killers, back in New York. They usually put the body on display once they were done with it, sometimes with an educational sign pinned to it. A few months ago I’d been sick with worry over one mistakenly killed SSF officer. Now I stared blankly and thought it likely I’d manage to kill a few more before fate finally caught up with me. No matter what I did, I was already marked for the rest of my life. The only good news was that my life was probably going to be pretty short.

I heard a scrape of boot on dust behind me, and like a wire snapping my body rushed back to me. I scrambled backward on my hands, cutting them on the broken rock, still staring at the dimly lit doorway where the cop had been.

“Cates!” an unfamiliar feminine voice shouted from somewhere within the building. “Colonel Moje sends his regards, and has a message for you: You didn’t run far enough, rat.”

I spun around onto my hands and knees and rolled until I hit a wall, then went limp. Fuck it. Moje had pronounced his death sentence on me already. Everybody in the fucking world wanted Avery Cates dead, and after twenty-seven years maybe it was time. I could remember my father, coming home from work-a real job-and being greeted by the men in our building, shaking hands, smiling. I could remember the world before, and knew this one wasn’t worth fighting for.