XXVI

WE DON’T GO EASY, DO WE?

I stared down at my coat as Dick Marin talked, mesmerized by the clean bullet hole that had appeared in the fabric near the hem. I hadn’t even noticed.

“You have a very strange attitude toward your subordinates, Director Marin,” I said, my voice sounding far away. I wanted to just curl up on the rubble and take a nap.

He nodded without looking up. “I’m director of Internal Affairs, Mr. Cates, and I have full discretionary powers to investigate officers of the SSF and to take appropriate action once evidence of malfeasance is acquired.” He looked up at me, a sudden, snapshot motion. “Once that evidence has been acquired, logged, and digitized, Mr. Cates, from that moment onward, the officer in question is completely under my authority. Understand? Once I have legally classified them as having committed a crime while working as an SSF officer, they are forfeit to me and my office. This man,” he gestured casually at the body he was leaning over, “is guilty of several felonies, including murder. I chose this moment to remove him from the force with predjudice. All very legal and completely within my powers.”

I considered this. I considered what percentage of the SSF must be guilty of crimes, and were walking around with those smug, well-fed smiles, not knowing that if it served Dick Marin’s purpose he would snuff them out-legally-in a moment. The thought cheered me.

Marin looked back down at the body.

“Elias Moje, may I someday get that cocksucker in my sights, named you as the main suspect in the Harper kidnapping. He didn’t give a shit whether you actually did it: He knew you were in London, temporarily beyond his reach, so he threw your name out there in order to bring you back within his influence. He did this so he could mobilize the SSF against you.” He cleaned his gun with a portable kit, moving with fast, efficient movements, not even looking at it as he worked. “You moved out of his sphere of influence and then you did the dumbest thing you could have done, taking that woman.”

I blinked. “How-?”

Marin cocked his head as if listening to someone very far away, whispering his name. “We are the police, Mr. Cates. Contrary to your experience, we do more than accept bribes, murder innocent men, and strut about in stylish clothes. Ms. Harper filed a memo with her bureau chief in Geneva, noting that she thought she’d seen notable murderer, terrorist, and all-around Anticitizen Number One Avery Cates on a flight to London, and that she was going to poke around a little. As I think I mentioned when we first met, I engaged several others in similar previous and parallel missions, and they are all dead. I sometimes wonder how it is that of all the people I hired to attempt this job over the past few months, you are the one who has survived.”

I shrugged. We were sitting in the ruined building with three dead cops around us, having a chat. Marin said the hover wouldn’t bother us, and I saw no reason to not believe him. “I didn’t have a choice,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter. Bad idea. Anyway, he names you, and suddenly every System Cop in the world is looking for you-sure, you’re wanted for fifteen unsolved murders back in New York, Cates, but let’s be honest for a moment. Kill all the nobodies you want, and the SSF files your name for future reference. Bump a person of quality on the sidewalk and the SSF will spare no expense in bringing you to justice.”

I scrubbed my grimy face with my bloody, torn-up hands. “Are you watching out for me, Marin?”

He grinned, and then the grin shut off in a blink. “No. I came looking for you. It was pretty easy to find you by listening in on the SSF chatter.” He paused, his hands coming to a sudden stop. “You’ve got to move. Soon. Tonight, tomorrow.”

“What’s going on?”

He racked a shell into the chamber and stood up, gathering his kit. “Just move.” He looked around at the semicollapsed room. “Impressive, Mr. Cates. I have to admit I didn’t think you’d still be alive. See if you can manage to stay alive for a few more days.”

With a brilliant, snapshot grin vaguely in my direction, he began walking for one of the sunlit doorways. I just stared at him.

“Goddammit, what’s going on!?” I finally managed to shout.

He didn’t turn back, and in a moment he’d escaped into the sunlight. The King Worm had come to personally shoot one of his own subjects and urge me into action. I slumped back against the wall and sat for a moment, speechless.

To a tinny serenade of Mr. Kieth! Authorized visitors! Mr. Kieth! Authorized visitors! I limped into the Assembly Room. Moving past the hogtied and gagged Marilyn Harper as her red, angry eyes tracked me, I stopped in front of my team and looked from face to face, pausing on Canny Orel’s, who looked like he’d spent the afternoon shopping for grooming supplies. He grinned at me, and it was such a natural, human grin after Dick Marin’s insectlike mandibles that I almost felt affectionate toward him.

“What’s your real name?” I asked. I didn’t really expect an answer. He just smiled.

“We don’t go easy, do we?” he said.

I nodded. “Like roaches. How’d our shopping go?”

Canny nodded. “Mr. Materiel came through on all our items.”

Milton and Tanner gestured over their shoulders at a large shape next to our hover, covered by a canvas sheet. “The Vid hover as requested,” Milton said sourly. “Was a bitch to get a hold of, by the way. And it’s hot-won’t stay stolen for long, if you ask me.”

Beside her, her twin mimicked her grim nod perfectly.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, looking at Ty. “We won’t need it long. Mr. Kieth?”

He smiled. “Success, Mr. Cates. We’re in business.”

I sighed. “All right. I’m going to get cleaned up. Don’t go anywhere. We’re moving tomorrow, so it’s time for a briefing.”

There was a rustle of commotion at this. As I turned for the kitchen area, Orel’s manicured hand snaked out and slowed me.

“Can I accompany you?”

I shrugged. He fell in beside me and walked with his hands in his pockets, head bowed, studying the floor.

“I am impressed, Mr. Cates, with the fact that you returned alive this evening. I distinctly recall at least two System Police breaking from the rest and pursuing you.”

“Three,” I said, wincing every time I put weight on my left knee. I hesitated for a second. “Whoever you really are, were you really a member of the Dъnmharъ? Without answering either way about your actual identity.”

“Without answering either way,” he said without looking at me, “yes, I was.”

The Dъnmharъ; if the organization had still existed, I had no doubt that they would have been on Dick Marin’s short list. I was no starfucker, but there was a thrill to the thought that I was so close to something like that.

This was just a preamble. In the kitchen, I peeled off my sweaty, ruined coat and shirt. I let some brown water run from the spigot and began splashing it everywhere, trying to scrub the grime off. The endless number of cuts and scrapes and abrasions stung, several reopening and oozing blood.

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Orel?”

I heard him pull himself up onto the large crate and imagined him sitting there, legs crossed, the perfect gentleman, complete with faux-English accent on top of his Philly brogue. I was acutely aware of having turned my back on someone who might have been trained by Cainnic Orel himself.

For a moment, he sat there and said nothing.

“I am a tired man, Mr. Cates,” he finally said. “I do not enjoy this life-I do not enjoy fighting for every breath, or living in a world without rules. Those are the choices we’re given-live under the boot of the System, or live in a world where every other man is trying to kill you. I would have it otherwise.” He looked up at me. “That is why I chose to deal with you, as a man, instead of simply eliminating you.”