Fade To Black Part 17

It was too much, the sheer sequence of events, never mind the motivations. Never mind the how-come and the why.

Shank ran it down for him, anyway.

Apparently without warning, Marena Farris had clawed at Filly's face, then grabbed Filly's automatic, then fired it at Surikov. Farris hadn't seemed to know how to handle a pistol, so it was probably pure luck that she'd hit Surikov at all. While Shank was getting the gun away from her, Dok suddenly went off like a jet, which was the only part that made any sense.

Dok would boff anything with two legs and t.i.ts, but Filly was his special lady. The only one who really mattered. Man or woman, it made no difference-anybody who fragged with Filly was going to have to answer to Dok. Rico could respect that, but not now. In the here and now it was amateur drek and they couldn't afford it.

"Who's on watch?" he said sharply.

"I got the rear," Thorvin said, turning and walking out of the room. Rico turned and found Piper halfway down the stairs, just standing there watching, wide-eyed with shock.

"Take the front, chica."

Piper moved to the windows at the front of the room and slipped behind the heavy drapes without a moment's hesitation. Rico looked down at Dok.

"You got a patient."

Dok closed his eyes for a moment, like maybe he was holding back another fit of fury, then banged a hand to the floor before getting up and stepping over to Filly. Her little cut didn't look like a problem, nothing compared to Surikov's wound, but Rico said nothing. Going head to head with Dok over his lady would earn him nothing but trouble. You could only push people so far.

"You're okay otherwise?"

"Don't baby me, dammit."

Filly was in a fine mood herself. She had reason, Rico figured. Her frag-up could've gotten somebody killed. If she'd been doing her job, Marena Farris would never have gotten her gun.

Rule Number One: Never lower your guard.

Rule Number Two: See rule one.

Rico turned to Shank. "Put her upstairs. Watch 'er."

Shank nodded. "Right."

Marena Farris said nothing. She was too busy trying to breathe. When Shank let go of her neck, she slumped toward the floor like she had noodles for bones. Shank grabbed her left upper arm, pulled her back onto her feet, and half-carried her up the stairs. Rico would get to her shortly.

First things first.

Dok was checking Surikov by then. Head wounds always bled like pigs. Rico had seen enough ofthem to know. The blood sometimes ran so heavy all over a person's face you couldn't tell a man from a woman. This one didn't look too bad. Dok soon confirmed his guess. "The shot glanced off," Dok said tersely. "Took some scalp with it. You'll live."

"It feels like a hammer," Surikov said at near a whisper.

"I got something for that."

"I want him awake," Rico said.

Dok hesitated, then said, "No problem."

Rico's leg was throbbing. It was probably more his own flaring of temper than anything else. Blood pressure, some drek like that. He found himself a chair and sat down facing Surikov. Dok stood up and said, "Look, boss ..."

"Don't say nothing," Rico growled. "You know the score."

"If that slitch-"

"You do what you have to do. Just remember the score comes out even in the end. And you ain't gonna get me killed."

"Dok,

1.

: Filly said. "Just chill."

"I'm not gonna let-!"

"We both fragged up! Let it go!"

Dok let it go. For the moment, anyway. Rico looked at Surikov. For a slag who'd just been shot in the head, he didn't look too bad. A little pale, a little shook up, a little b.l.o.o.d.y. A few moments pa.s.sed, then Surikov met his gaze.

"What's your story?" Rico said.

"Excuse me?"

"What the frag's going on?"

"I don't... I don't have any idea." Surikov looked astonished.

"Your wife just tried to dust you." Rico looked at Dok. "She is his wife, right?"

Dok didn't answer.

"You checked her, right?"

Doc still said nothing, but the answer was obvious.

"You didn't verify her ident.i.ty."

Filly cursed.

"Fragging Fuchi security was right there!" Dok exclaimed. "We didn't have time. We just grabbed her and ran."

"Do it now."

Dok turned and headed upstairs.

Rico had few doubts about what had happened, or what was happening here now. His team's weaknesses were showing.

The truth was that even an old pro like Dok could get sloppy, stupid. The kind of body Marena Farris owned would make a lot of slags get stupid, and Dok was one of them. Filly knew it, and Rico knew it That was why Filly had cursed. That was also why she'd stayed so close to Dok ever since they'd left Manhattan tonight. Given the right opportunity, Dok couldn't keep his pants on to save his life. He had a half a dozen little pieces of fun scattered all over the plex, not to mention the new ones he was always finding.

Filly put up with it because she knew she was number one and she knew what that meant to Dok. Rico put up with it because it usually wasn't a problem, wasn't usually any of his freaking biz. It only mattered now because people were slotting up and that could get them all killed.

Being under pressure was no excuse. It was irrelevant. Shank and Dok were pros. They were paid to handle the pressure and paid to do it right.

The only thing more dangerous than busting out Surikov's wife would be coming away with the wrong woman. Busting out a willing corporate defector was one thing. The kidnapping of a loyal employee ... that could start a fragging war.

Rico gazed steadily at Surikov, waiting, trying to scope the slag out.

Everything was about Surikov. His reaction to Marena Farris grabbing a gun and trying to waste him mattered more than any explanations Farris might have to give. Rico wondered if the slag had some special agenda that he hadn't mentioned yet. Rico hadn't forgotten what he'd seen that night at Maas Intertech when he and the team busted Surikov out. The man had been on top of a woman and going at her like he owned her. Maybe that woman had been nothing more than a corporate joygirl. Maybe not. Maybe Surikov had Dok's kind of problem with women. Maybe not. Maybe the only reason Surikov had wanted his wife busted out was so he could settle a score with her. Who knows? Maybe the only reason Marena Farris wa.s.still alive was because Surikov hadn't grabbed a gun first.

Paranoia was catching.

Dok returned. "It's a match," he said. "Ninety-eight percent certainty. She's Marena Farris." He paused a moment, then said, "Boss, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Right. "You're on watch in two hours. Take a bedroom."

Dok and Filly headed upstairs.

Rico looked over at Surikov. The slag leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. "I can't believe it," he said finally. "I can't believe that's truly Marena. She would never... She's not a violent woman."

Piper had provided comparative data for both a retina print and DNA scan from straight outta the Fuchi security files. "Ninety-eight percent certainty," Rico said. "It don't get much more certain than that."

"They must have done something to her."

"Yeah? Maybe she hates your guts."

Surikov's eyes flared wide. For a moment, he seemed about to roar with anger, but then the emotion faded. He stared at the ceiling, and shook his head very slightly. "No," he said. "You don't know Marena.

The real Marera. I can imagine what you must think, based on her looks. But she's a very loving woman.

She's devoted to me. I can see it in her eyes. That's how I know this woman who just tried to shoot me isn't her. She doesn't have Marena's eyes. Good G.o.d, what have they done to her!"

The emotion in Surikov's voice built slowly and steadily to that final exclamation. Rico wasn't sure what to make of it. No question that a corp like Fuchi could do practically anything to a person if they wanted to spend the money. Could they install some kind of implant to override a person's brain and turn them into a one-shot killer? Rico had heard of it being done. h.e.l.l, the right mage with the right batch of spells could make a person do almost anything and leave him thinking it was his own idea. That much he had direct from Bandit Speaking of which ...

Where the frag was Bandit?

22.

Shank guided Marena Farris to the door at the end of the second-floor hallway, then into the room there. She seemed weak, dazed. Bandit followed them in. Shank guided the woman to the bed, made her sit, then looked at the shaman.

"I'll watch her," Bandit said.

"Rico told me to do it."

Bandit lifted the Mask of Sa.s.sacus up before his own face and whispered words of power. The past few days had given him some time to further examine the mask and to experiment with it. He had harmonized its power with his own.

Aloud, he told Shank, "You must be hungry. Why not get something to eat?"

Shank grunted, nodded. "Yeah, you got a point. Thanks, chummer."

"Do not think of it."

"Think of what?"

"Just kidding."

Shank paused a moment, looked at Bandit, then grinned ferociously and left. Bandit considered the mask, then noticed Marena Farris slowly turning to face him. She would not see the mask. It was cloaked.

Only Bandit could see it.

Marena Farris appeared emotionally upset. She moved her hands about her face, covering her mouth, her eyes, wiping at her brow, her cheeks. She spent several moments pressing her hair back from her face.

Her eyes looked red, her face flushed.

"Care for a cigarette?" Bandit asked.

Marena Farris shook her head.

Bandit shrugged and took a cig from his open pack, then ignited it with a lighter from his duster pocket.

He didn't actually draw the smoke into his lungs, only into his mouth, then blew it out. He was a practiced smoker. He practiced the habit because people seemed to become more at ease when they saw him doing something so mundane. That was his only reason for smoking. To appear somewhat mundane.

He smoked Millennium Reds. One of the most common brands available. They could be gotten anywhere.

Between one drag and the next, he gazed at Marena Farris as she appeared on the astral plane. She looked back at him, though only on the physical plane, it seemed.

"You have an interesting aura."Marena Farris smiled a polite kind of smile. Not very enthusiastic. Not very interested. Perhaps a bit pained. Was it an attempt at deception or a reflection of her true feelings? On the astral plane, she was a storm of color, a boiling cauldron of light, of life energy. In Bandit's experience, such a tumultuous aura reflected tumultuous emotions or thoughts, sometimes both. The intensity and diverse coloring of the aura said more about the individual, their strength, their will, the force of their life.

"What's going to happen to me?" Marena Farris said.

Bandit wondered how she meant that.. Did she mean now? tomorrow? next year? Did she wonder what would happen to her when her body grew too worn and decayed to support her biological existence?

"I wonder," Bandit replied, pausing to take another drag of the cig. "You're much older than you seem."

She gasped softly, then.

As in surprise.

"What ... what do you mean?" she asked quietly.