Night's Pawn (14 page)

The downtime at Dart Slot had given him time to think. It had surprised him that they'd been able to reach the T-bird base without hassle. Was Farraday right that the hair samples had been too polluted to be of use?

Regardless, if Cara's pursuers, be they her German policlub compatriots or agents of Fuchi itself, suspected that she was heading to Seattle to meet with her mother, they could expect problems.

There were only a few real avenues into Seattle, and a corp with the resources of Fuchi Industrial Electronics could, by flexing only the tiniest bit of its muscle, throw up a net tight enough to catch them. The corp would cover not only Denver, but Phoenix to the south, Minneapolis to the far north, and San Francisco on the west coast, just in case their prey decided to make an end run north around the elven lands of Tir Tairngire. Deckers would have been hired, and tailored computer viruses released into the thousands of computer systems that controlled the transportation hubs of western North America. The word would be out, and the watch on. The team that had shown up in Chase's apartment in Manhattan could certainly qualify as Fuchi-caliber. If the evidence of their training wasn't enough, their possession of a gas-detection system was a clear sign of corporate backing.

Had it been only the policlubbers, Chase doubted he and Cara would face any real problems before actually reaching Seattle. The group looking for Cara had no American chapters. Chase knew about local political cells of Der Nachtmachen, but he'd never heard of any connections between Cara's Alte Welt and his old enemies. For Alte Welt to have any hope of intercepting them before Seattle, the group would have had no choice but to involve Fuchi. Chase had no idea how that particular relationship worked.

After dinner, Cara had accepted an invitation from one of the local boys, a scrawny punker named Gavin, to go hang out with the rest of the base's young people. She'd looked at Chase briefly before accepting, and he'd almost told her no, but something in her eyes said she needed to be away from him. He knew it was because of the pressure over the chips, and that she wanted to be free of his scrutiny.

That angered him. She'd come asking for his help, had agreed to follow his lead, and was now tugging at the short tether he'd formed between them. If she didn't want his help, why come to him in the first place? If she wanted to play the game, she'd have to live by the rules.

He let her go, then followed her for a short distance to assure himself the pair was headed for the shack Gavin had said the base's older kids used as a hangout. He'd stood in the shadows a short distance away listening to the music and watching the shadows beyond the covered windows until the cold and his own feelings of idiocy had driven him to find someplace warmer.

Crossing the base he came to an open fire pit that someone had used to cook dinner, then left to smolder. Chase decided to remain here; there was something even colder about the inside of the prefab house just now.

It was still early evening, and the camp was far from quiet. He could hear the sounds of dozens of trideo sets blaring dozens of different channels. There was also the occasional laughter or a sporadic call of anger from somewhere in the base, and behind it all the intermittent roar of a T-bird engine and the steady drone of the music from the kids' hangout.

Suddenly, he caught something short and dark springing from shadow to shadow between a row of buildings to his right. Trying to get a better view of it, he let his enhanced vision amplify the available moonlight as best its circuits could. He saw nothing other than the shadow before the glare off the lighter ground and surrounding buildings pushed the limits of his eyes. Then he lost track of it.

He wondered why he wasn't worried. Years ago, in a similar situation, he'd have been on his feet or at least mentally prepared to act. He felt the press of his heavy pistol under his arm, knew it was there, but had been more interested in what the shadow figure might be up to than whether or not it might be a threat.

Not all that long ago, he'd also have taken more drastic action if thugs had broken into his apartment. He was out of practice, but he knew the cyberware in his body still outclassed nearly everything on the streets. A gift of former employers. He had no doubt that if he needed to, he could act, and kill, without hesitation.

Somehow, though, at some point over the last years, the edge had dulled. That same edge had made him one of the best bodyguards in the biz. And it was that edge which had guided him through the blood bath that he barely remembered as Berlin. He'd moved more as machine than man on those nights, inflicting blind justice on those who paved their road to political power with the blood of innocents. Specifically one innocent he'd loved.

His body twitched involuntarily, and he fought to drive those thoughts from his mind. It was the past, history. Now was not the time to think about what he'd done and what he'd lost that had driven him to such extremes of violence. He had other matters to attend to now. Other things that needed thinking about. Things that needed calm.

He stood and stretched slightly, wondering how long he'd been sitting by the smoldering fire, lost in thought. The base had grown quieter, but not silent. There were still the laughs, the cries, the engines, and the music, but the long stillness of night had begun to creep its way through the shadows of the camp.

Stepping closer to the fire pit, Chase looked up at the millions of stars spattering the dome of sky. Among them, brighter points moved along straight and even courses. Maybe satellites in orbit, maybe aircraft flying only slightly lower. Maybe other things.

Chase thought about Farraday and again about the magicians that might be using his own and Cara's hair to trace them. If they found him, would he feel their power coming? He didn't know. Magic had spread rapidly during the last ten or fifteen years, and was something he didn't know much about. His own experiences with it were limited. So few had practiced it when he was fully active in the business, at his peak. As the use of magic had been increasing, Chase had been drifting into quieter pursuits.

But he knew someone here who could tell him more. Krista Freid.

He asked around over at the T-bird hangar, and at first no one seemed to know where the
Rapier's Touch
crew was. Finally he learned that Gordani and Blanchard had borrowed Mickey Dare's pickup truck and gone in search of parts for the T-bird's scragged hardpoint. They apparently were also following up a lead on a replacement weapon. He also learned that Freid hadn't gone with them. Someone pointed out her place to him. The lights were on.

Walking up to the camouflaged building, Chase was careful to make as much noise as he could. Unlike the building where he and Cara were housed, Freid's was flush with the ground, not even raised up slightly on blocks or bricks. There were curtains on the windows and a long-abused welcome mat before the door. He stepped up to it and knocked.

"Hang on," came Freid's voice from somewhere within. She opened the door a few moments later and a gust of cool air slipped out and past him as she did. "Church," she said, smiling, but with her head tilted questioningly. "What's biz?"

He returned her smile. "I wanted to ask you some questions about magic. Got a minute?"

She paused a second, then nodded. "Sure. Come on in."

"As long as I'm not interrupting anything…"

She made a noise. "Not fraggin' likely. I was just reading." She stepped back and opened the door enough for him to enter. Again he felt the brush of cool air. Chase suspected air conditioning, but couldn't hear the machinery. The layout was similar to his and Cara's place: little more than a studio apartment. Freid's however, had a definite feel to it. Decorated primarily in Aztlan and southwest Amerindian styles, it also had a few European pieces mixed in. Art reproductions hung on the walls, some of them traditional, but most modern. The most prominent item was a tri-dee poster for the dragon Dunkelzahn's retreat and resort on Lake Louise in old Canada.

"Ever been there?" he asked.

"Where?"

"The dragon's place."

She smiled again. "Never. Someday."

"It's amazing, and he's an odd one. He was walking around looking like a human last time I was there. He seemed amused. I think his kind don't have a very high opinion of us humans."

"Can't say I blame him sometimes," she said, watching him.

He moved into the main area and noted the still-active datareader on the couch. Sitting next to it was a small pile of magazine chips. She'd been catching up on the world.

"You seem surprised," she said, still behind him.

He turned. She'd entered the kitchen area and was leaning against the counter, watching him. Now it was his turn to look questioning. "Surprised?"

"By my place. You seem surprised to find it… so lived in." She pitched the last part like a question.

Chase smiled and nodded. "You're right. I suppose I never really thought about anybody in your line of work actually having a home. The whole time I ran with Gordo I don't remember him ever mentioning having one. He had a lot of places to stay, but no homes."

"Not for me," she said. "If I didn't have a place where I could turn it all off, I'd crack. I need a corner that's different than everywhere else. Can I get you something to drink?"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid I've got very little. I haven't had the time to restock."

"Anything's fine."

"Water okay?"

He laughed. "Water it is."

Freid made them both glasses of water and dropped a lemon-flavored tablet in each. She moved the datareader and chips, and motioned him to sit there. She sat next to him, her legs curled up under her long body.

Chase knew little about her, and was hesitant about revealing too much. The last time he'd worked with Gordani, Freid had been there, but she and Chase had only operated together peripherally. He hadn't intended to tell Gordani, whom he knew far better, anything that the pilot didn't need to know to do his part of the job. But if there were to be magical problems, he figured that he'd best alert Freid.

He took a long drink from his glass, put it down on the table next to him, and looked over at her. He was suddenly surprised at her beauty. Krista Freid was taller and of a lighter build than the women who usually attracted him, but there was something about her that he hadn't noticed before. She was wearing tight black mid-thigh shorts and a large, oversized pale yellow T-shirt that threatened to slide down off her shoulder if she moved the wrong way. Her hair shone and smelled as though she'd just stepped from the bath. She sat half-turned toward him, elbow on the back of the couch, head resting against her hand. She smiled.

Chase took another big drink.

"You said you had some sort of magic problem," she said.

"Um, yes. I figured you might be able to suggest some solutions."

"Shoot," she said.

"It's possible that we're being pursued, and I suspect magic is being used to track us."

Freid's eyes lit up. "To track you? Tell me."

Chase told her as little as he thought he could, relating only that a powerful megacorporation with good magical assets might be after them, the events in his apartment, and Farraday's opinions.

She snorted. "Your friend's a shaman, I take it?"

"Yes. A cat shaman."

She nodded and shifted slightly, dropping both hands into her lap. "Shamans tend to overrate that kind of thing. The chemicals would be only the slightest hindrance to a mage worth her rate."

"Wonderful."

She smiled again and leaned slightly closer. "I can check. If they're tracking you, there'll be some astral evidence. A clear link between you and whomever is doing the tracking."

Chase studied her. She seemed excited by the prospect. "Is there any danger to you?"

"Some, maybe," she said with a shrug. "Depends on what's really going on and how they're doing it. If they're only using a ritual, the danger's almost nil. If someone's actually shadowing you in astral space, a magician or a spirit of some kind, there might be more danger."

"Something could be actually—"

He stopped as Freid suddenly reached out and braced herself against his shoulder. He grabbed her, one hand on her outstretched arm, the other on her far shoulder, as her eyes unfocused and her head dropped forward. He let go of her shoulder and grabbed her chin, just as it snapped back up and a wide grin appeared. She squeezed his shoulder, let go and leaned back. Chase let go of her chin.

"Sorry," she said, "I needed to check quick."

He stared at her. "I don't follow," he said. She seemed very amused.

"It gets a bit technical, but normally there's no danger of someone here in the physical world being attacked by something that only exists in astral space, even if both are in the same room. It's one of the laws of magic, in a way; something in astral space can't normally affect the real world.

"Now, even though whatever's in the room with us can't affect us, it can see us and
hear
us."

"So if there was something here, it would have heard you say that you were going to check in astral space."

She nodded. "And prepared a welcome. Once I shifted myself, or even just my senses into astral space, I'd have become vulnerable. If they were ready, they could have attacked me the moment I shifted astral. By doing it suddenly I hoped to catch them off guard."