37 – Buying Time

  Tony stood in the elevator, willing his mind to stop racing, his palm to stop perspiring, and his breathing to remain calm. He was no stranger to peril; he’d put himself in danger too many times to count, but he usually had himself to rely on to remedy the situation. In this case, it felt very much like he’d just slipped a noose around his neck, and now he had to count on other people to pull it off. As much as he liked Glitch, he couldn’t stomach the idea of just putting his fate in her hands. That said, he was trying to think of another way out from under the guardian chip’s watchful eye.

  The floors flickered by on the display faster than he liked, but on floor 53, he got a small reprieve when the elevator stopped to allow some other people to board. His AUI flickered with red text: Wait on the elevator. Beneath the text, a red circle flashed where before he’d had green arrows directing him. “Nora,” he subvocalized, “can the guardian read my subvocalizations?”

  “Yes, Tony, and my responses.”

  Tony frowned, a nascent idea dashed before it fully formed. He figured he could always pull the chip. The building AI would know, but he could say something went wrong with it. He could probably still bail out, too—simply reverse course and walk out of the building. He wasn’t certain where Jen and Eric meant to entrap him; he’d assumed it would be in the ready rooms where he was supposed to find Jen’s uncle, but it could be anywhere now that they were away from the lobby and the crowds. Hell, there could be a team waiting when he stepped out of the elevator.

  The car started moving again, and another thought occurred to him. Again, he subvocalized, “Nora, what senses does it have access to?”

  She was clever enough to know he was still talking about the guardian and responded immediately and simply: “Sight and sound.”

  Another nebulous idea began to take shape among Tony’s racing thoughts. The elevator paused again to let off a woman in a sharp corpo-chic suit. When it resumed, and he was just five floors away from his destination, the guardian flashed on his AUI: Prepare to exit the elevator.

  Tony sighed, flexing his mechanical fingers, but then the message flickered and another appeared: Tony, it’s Eric. You’re clear to proceed to level 109. You’ll need to take the stairs behind the stage up to 110.

  Tony exhaled explosively, then touched the elevator control panel, selecting 109. An exec standing close to the doors smirked. “Change your mind?”

  Tony affected a bored shrug. “Forgot something.”

  “Heh. Know the feeling.”

  When the elevator stopped on level 86, everyone save a single man exited. Tony glanced at him, but his head was down and the brim of his stylish gray hat covered his eyes. Tony’s hackles rose, and he turned so his back was to the wall as the elevator continued upward. The man must have felt Tony’s glare because he looked up.

  His face was lean and predatory. He had marble-black eyes that held countless dots of light, like a perfect midnight starscape. His thin lips pulled into a sneering smile as he said, “Hey there, Tony.”

  Tony shifted imperceptibly, putting the weight on his left foot and tensing the muscles that tied into his cybernetic arm. “I know you?”

  “Not yet. Name’s Cruz, and I’ll be escorting you to your job.”

  Tony reached up to his neck and tapped the little chip in the data port there. “I really need two escorts?”

  “Redundancies are the corpo way; don’t you know that?” Cruz leaned his left shoulder against the elevator wall, displaying the sleek black pistol slung under his coat. Tony could see the guy had some expensive-looking mods—the eyes, raven-feather hair under his hat, barely visible subdermal armor on his throat, and pointy ears that had been all the rage a few years back. No doubt they came with some high-end auditory implants, too. With so much money above the shoulders, Tony figured he had to have some augs in his body, too; caution was warranted.

  The elevator passed 95, and Tony sniffed, wondering how idiotically na?ve he should act. He decided on the maximum. “So, you gonna help with the job?”

  Cruz arched a feathery eyebrow. “Why would I help with your payday?”

  Tony shrugged. “Figured you-know-who might have given you a contract, too.”

  “Heh. I’m on salary, but that’s not part of my job.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket and delicately scratched his jawline with a pointed, glossy-black nail.

  “So, can I pull this chip?”

  “Nah, don’t worry, though. Boss will delete the data when you’re done.”

  “Right.” Tony yawned hugely, shaking his head and blinking as he finished. “Sure, man. No worries.”

  Cruz smirked. “So you’re the guy, huh? I’ve heard a lot of stories about you. Made you seem like some kind of night creeper. You don’t seem so scary to me.”

  Tony slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

  “Nothing to say?”

  Tony arched an eyebrow. “You want me to say something?”

  “Thought you would. Thought you were some kind of badass.”

  “Look, bud, I can’t help you with whatever little fantasies you dreamt up. That’s between you and your shrink-app.” He yawned again, and as the suit started to reply, the elevator came to a halt, interrupting him with a ding. The doors opened, and Tony stepped out, relieved that a kill squad wasn’t waiting.

  “This way,” Cruz said, jerking his head to the left. Tony looked down the corridor—a few offices and, in the distance, a wide, dimly lit area that he knew was the foyer for the auditorium.

  “Lights aren’t on.”

  “Guess you got here just in time. Nobody’s around.”

  “Hope somebody is,” Tony replied, winking at the guy. Maybe it was vanity or maybe he was trying to send a message, but he dialed his retinas to a preset he’d made while killing time in his hotel room. The color darkened, but the backlighting increased, and in a pair of seconds he was smiling at Cruz with glowing red eyes.

  “Heh. Sure, man.” The merc turned and started walking. As he exposed his back like that, Tony had to weigh two possibilities: the guy was an idiot or supremely confident in his abilities. Tony figured he’d find out soon enough.

  When they reached the foyer, Tony nodded to the dark hallway on the right. A bathroom symbol hung near an even darker opening about fifteen meters away. “Gotta take a leak.”

  “Nope. You’ve got a job to do.”

  Tony shrugged. “Sorry, but I’ve been holding it. It’s gonna affect my movement.”

  “Jesus, man.” Cruz stepped close and grasped Tony’s lapel, scowling into his eyes. “You think dressing nice makes you a shot-caller? You aren’t shit anymore. No, I take that back. You’re a punchline in this district. If I tell you that you’re not gonna take a piss, you better damn well hold it.”

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  Tony looked down at the hand grasping his jacket—the sharp nails failing to penetrate the weave, despite the white-knuckle grip. “Let go.”

  Something in his tone gave Cruz a second thought, and he took a step back, loosening his grip. He looked up and to the left, his gaze unfocusing for a second, then he growled, “Fucking unbelievable. Okay, move your ass.” He tugged Tony’s jacket, nudging him along toward the bathroom before letting go.

  Tony wondered whether Eric or someone else had told him to lay off. If they were watching him that closely, it was going to make things a little more difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. Had he killed enough time for Addie and the others to get into position? If things popped off right now, would the plan go to shit? The fact that he was asking the question told him the answer: he needed to keep things going a little longer—at least make room for some doubt.

  He sauntered to the restroom, calmly pulled the door open and stepped through. Cruz was right behind him with a shove.

  “Hurry up, asshole. I’ve got shit to do today.”

  Tony made a show of stumbling, catching himself on the wall as he rounded the corner. He scanned the dimly lit bathroom. Ten sinks lined the wall on the left, and Tony saw himself in the mirror, his eyes gleaming like coals under his dark brows. Five urinals and five stalls were on the right, so he stepped over to one of the urinals, unzipping his pants. As he stood there, he closed his eyes and opened his ears, trying to place Cruz in the room by the sounds he made.

  He heard the click of his cowboy-style boot-heels on the tile floor, the rattle of the chain on his wrist as he leaned against the counter, and the faint click of his nails as he played with the grip of his pistol. Tony figured he was just under three meters behind him and just slightly to the left. He took his time pissing, and when he finished and stood there for a few seconds, Cruz took the bait.

  “Hurry the fuck up—”

  His words stopped short as Tony activated his wire-job and, in one smooth series of movements, flushed the toilet, spun, and fired three paralytic needler rounds out of his arm at the sound of the voice. Two of the botu-rounds hit flesh—from the strangled gag, one went in Cruz’s mouth—the third clicked as it cracked the mirror. Tony never opened his eyes. He heard Cruz’s body sliding down the side of the counter toward the floor, so he hurried toward the noise, eyes still closed, and grabbed the merc before he fell.

  Still wired like he’d snorted a gram of motor-spike, Tony snatched Cruz’s head and pulled his face against his chest, his fingers exploring the back of his skull and neck for a data port. When he felt it, he yanked the guy’s PAI. Then, and only then, did he turn off his wire-job and slow down to normal speed. The merc convulsed in his arms, but Tony held onto him with an iron grip.

  With his left arm, Tony gripped Cruz in an awkward hug, preventing him from falling. Then, with his other hand, Tony pulled the guardian chip out of his data port and jammed it into Cruz’s. Finally, with the spyware out of his head, Tony opened his eyes. He figured Cruz probably had some decent nanites, so he couldn’t count on him staying unconscious for very long, even after getting his PAI stripped so violently. He laid the merc on the tiles and yanked his coat off. Then, he dragged him over to one of the toilet stalls.

  He wedged Cruz beside the toilet, so his head was touching the rear wall, then he ripped his jacket into strips. Using the material, he tied both of Cruz’s arms to the pipe behind the toilet and then he bound his ankles. Tony figured he could break out of something like that, but it ought to hold the guy for a while—long enough for the guardian to report all sorts of errors in its host and, hopefully, muddy the waters while Glitch did her thing.

  With any luck, Eric and Jen would assume the guardian was still in him—Cruz’s vitals should trick it for a while. They’d assume it was having a problem with the connection to a PAI. Of course, they’d probably be trying to get ahold of Cruz, too, but they wouldn’t know exactly what was going on—Tony hoped. He yanked Cruz’s gun out of the holster but dumped it in the trash with the merc’s PAI when he saw the fancy bio-lock. It wouldn’t fire if Cruz’s palm wasn’t gripping it. Without another second of hesitation, he slipped out of the bathroom and made his way toward the side entrance to the auditorium.

  “Nora,” he subvocalized, “get me back in touch with Glitch and give me a Dust report.”

  ###

  Jennifer Stavros put her drink down on her crystal-glass desk and frowned at the display. “Why can I hear him pissing, but I can’t see anything?”

  Eric let out an annoyingly wistful sigh and walked over; he’d been looking out the window like a dog missing its master. He thought he was being subtle with the soulful moping, but it was all too obvious, and Jen had just about had enough of it.

  He peered at her desk, his eyes flickering as the crystal-glass populated his AUI with the vid feeds. “My PAI says it looks like there’s a glitch with the guardian.”

  While he spoke, the audio coming from the guardian got louder—Cruz cussing at Tony to hurry, the toilet flushing, then nothing but some sounds of movement. “This is pissing me off. Get ahold of Cruz again, will you?”

  “Yeah, just a sec.”

  Eric flicked his fingers this way and that in the air. Jen had no idea what he was doing, but his serious expression and confident movements reminded her why she kept him around. When he wasn’t moping about his long-lost brother, as he insisted on calling Tony, he was a hell of an asset. Handsome, too.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just reviewing the footage. I can’t see anything strange other than Cruz being a prick.”

  “That’s not strange. Get him on the line.”

  Eric’s brow wrinkled as his lips turned down at the corners. “I’m not getting through to his PAI. Did someone set off the jammer?”

  Jen scowled, looking at the HUD for the snatch team. Everyone was in the green, which reminded her of an obvious point. “You idiot. We’re still getting audio from the guardian. If a jammer—”

  “Right, right.” Eric waved a hand. “You hearing anything?”

  “Sink running. Movement. Something clunking—maybe the door closing.”

  “Look at the lobby feed, then!” Eric reached a hand toward her desk, dragging some invisible UI element toward himself. “I got it. Nothing. What the fuck is going on?”

  Jen tapped the snatch-team comms. “LaMonte?”

  The merc’s voice came through comms immediately—deep, gravelly, and exceedingly self-assured: “Boss?”

  “We need to start early. Start the lockdown and get down to the auditorium. We lost track of the target in the lobby restrooms.”

  “What about Cruz?”

  “MIA.”

  “On it, Boss.”

  With that, many of the displays on her desk’s UI flickered as a red outline surrounded them. She knew what it meant; she and Eric had designed the little trap, after all. The security doors in the stairwells were closing. The elevators were locking down—no entry or exit on levels 109 or 110. Floor-wide comms jammers were in effect, with her team having the only exclusion keys. Whatever was going on, Tony was trapped, and he wouldn’t be able to communicate with anyone.

  Jen looked at Eric. To her disgust, he looked worried. “You think he’s up to something.”

  He chuckled. “I told you this plan wouldn’t work. We should’ve just sniped him—put a bullet in his brainpan.” He clenched his fist and turned on his heel, stalking toward the windows again. “You had to try to capture him again.”

  “God, you’re such a wimp, Eric.” Jen chuckled, reaching for her drink. “You’re actually scared, aren’t you?” She waved her hand towards her desk. “We thought of this. Why did we set the trap in the tower?”

  “Because of the security measures.”

  “Precisely. We got him on the right level. There’s nothing he can do now. I mean, unless he can fly, right? Maybe his arm could break through the diamond-glass up there, but then what? He’s half a kilometer in the air.”

  Eric nodded absently, rubbing his chin as he looked out the window. She stared at him, waiting for him to say something cliché, like, “I don’t like it. Something’s off. He’s too damned dangerous.” When he didn’t speak, though, she scoffed and stood, walking over to her bar. She focused on the proper AUI element and said, “Well? Lamonte? Update?”

  “Boss, we’re on our way down. We had to clear the green rooms, just in case, and then—”

  “Just update me when you have something.” A thought occurred to her, and she looked at Eric as she added ice to her mixer. “There’s no way he could crack Cruz’s gun security, right?”

  He shook his head. “Even if he cut off his hand and took it with him, the bio-lock would know it wasn’t alive.”

  “So, unarmed, can he stand a chance against LaMonte’s team?”

  Eric shook his head. “I don’t see how. He’s fast, but he doesn’t have much Dust. We got a scan of his reactor, and there’s no way he can fire his reflex job for more than a dozen seconds. His arm’s just…an arm.” He shrugged. “He might kill someone while they take him—Tony’s a hell of a fighter—but there’s no way he can take LaMonte.”

  “The plasma forge,” Jen said, smiling.

  Eric nodded. “Exactly. I mean, besides the forge, LaMonte’s just a bruiser. Tony won’t be able to finish him before he burns up his Dust.”

  Jen sat back down at her desk, rotating her designer chair so she could look at Eric. He was still staring into the night. “You’re avoiding looking at the displays.”

  He didn’t look at her while he replied, “Yeah, maybe. You know I didn’t have the stomach to kill him before.”

  Jen had learned long ago how to feign compassion, but she was tired of doing it. The truth of the matter was that Eric’s soft spot for Tony wasn’t endearing in the least; it was cringe-inducing. She touched her stomach—the silk of her blouse like warm butter under her fingertips—and let her hand slide toward the pistol she always had there, tucked against her belly in the custom holster she’d had sewn into all her suit pants. Every time he moped like that, her finger itched for that trigger—

  The thought—just an idle whim, nothing she’d act on—passed from her conscious mind as the lights flickered briefly. “What was that?”

  Eric looked away from the window, his eyebrows tented with worry. “I don’t know…”

  As he trailed off, Jen touched the comms for her security detail. “Haven?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Did you notice a power surge out there?”

  “Um, maybe. The lights are dim out here already; we’re using spectrals.”

  “Do a sweep. Something tickled the grid.” When she looked back at Eric, he was studying her with his arms folded over his ten-thousand-bit suit jacket.

  “Who’s spooked now?” he asked, visibly shuddering at some inner demon.