Night's Pawn (31 page)

"Dancing," said Chase quietly. "What's going on?"

The shaman was staring out across at the two women, but his eyes held that same now-familiar lack of focus that Chase associated with astral vision. Dancing was examining their auras. "I… I'm not sure."

Then it was Samantha who looked to be trying to explain something, maybe defend something, to her daughter.

Cara cut her off. She was almost shouting now, so they could suddenly hear every word, yet her tone was still flat, expressionless, "—not that simple. People like him have a book of excuses." She'd grown tense, stiff, but Chase realized she was no longer looking at her mother's face. Her eyes were focused somewhere else, slightly lower.

"This is weird," said Dancing. "She seems to be emotionally all over the track, but her aura's stable, like a fraggin'
rock
. …"

Chase looked over at Janey, who was looking back at him. She keyed her microphone. "I don't like this. It's like she's fraggin'
reciting
something."

Chase's gaze snapped back to Cara and her mother. "—situations demand action. Insults are not forgiven," Cara said.

"Cara," Samantha said, voice rising too, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's fine." Cara nodded exaggeratedly. "That's fine." Her left arm was shaking, more even than the rest of her body.

"I don't understand," said Samantha, glancing at Chase, then back to her daughter.

"I've never seen anything like this." Dancing was shaking his head. He looked over at Janey, as did Chase, who turned his head just in time to see.

Cara's left arm had gone stiff at her side, her hand bent back at the wrist, poking out as though in some bizarre dance pose. She took a measured half step back from her mother. "That's all right," she said. "You don't have to.
He will
."

Chase reacted instinctively, reflex being all his body had time for. He felt the warm surge rush through him as his artificially enhanced reflexes forced his body into action. Time slowed, the situation became crystal clear, painfully obvious. They were too far away to reach. Janey was the only one possibly faster than he, but she couldn't see what he could.

Milliseconds slid by. Watching Cara's arm, Chase heard the noise, the sound of ripping, tearing, as the long, thin, gleaming blade slid out of her arm and down along her pants leg, wiping itself of the fresh blood. Blood that flowed with it out of her wrist.

His arm moved, as did hers. Cara gestured slightly away from her body, then her arm began to trace a wide, shining arc through the air that would intersect with her mother's neck.

Wrapping his hand around the pistol, he pulled it clear, feeling some of the straps holding it in place tearing away. Instantly, the weapon activated and began to ready itself. He had no time for it to finish.

Cara's arm continued on, her mother only just beginning to notice the odd movement.

Chase lost sight of the blade against the paleness of Samantha's jacket and flesh. His weapon was up, clear, the targeting dot centered on another patch of paleness already tinged with red.

He fired, stiff-armed and single-handed. In the arm's-length space between Cara and her mother, he saw an explosion of blood.

Samantha flinched and stepped back, reaching for her neck. Cara began to turn, her body forced in that direction by the momentum of her swinging arm. A mist of blood trailed after the arm, following it down. The long thin blade, snapped off by the bullet, spun end over end, catching the light as it fell.

Cara hit the ground a few heartbeats before her mother. Chase's legs began to move and he reached her in a few steps, barely ahead of Janey, who had her own weapon out but unfired. Cara lay facedown, shaking uncontrollably, blood pouring from her shattered wrist and pooling under her. "DANCING!" Chase screamed.

His hand was on Cara's back as Janey began to roll her over, and he turned to look at Samantha. She was sitting where she'd landed, stunned, uncomprehending, her face and shoulders showered in blood. She slowly removed her hand from her neck and Chase saw only the faintest trickle of blood there. He wasn't sure whose it was.

Then the shaman was beside him, his hands already wrapped around Cara's shattered wrist. But his mere hands couldn't staunch this flow of blood. He began to chant, and Chase felt power rising around them as Cara's wrist began to glow, the light seeping out through the shaman's fingers with the blood.

Cara coughed, screamed, and thrashed. Janey held her down, saying her name over and over.

Cara's eyes snapped open. Chase started; she should've been in shock, unconscious. Her eyes were hard, cold, and dark. She smiled, but it was the wrong smile. She laughed, and Chase felt his blood run cold.

She said something Chase didn't recognize in a voice that was hers, but much deeper and harsher. She repeated it, then said it again, and Chase finally recognized the words. She was speaking German.

"I am the stone," she said. "You are two birds. Two
fragging
birds."

28

"I've read the reports, Simon, however sparse they may be," said Richard Villiers, "But I want you to tell me everything you wouldn't tell them." Villiers was facing the window, looking out onto the smog-enveloped skyline of Chiba, Japan. Beyond the buildings, through the gray clouds, could be seen the faint blue-gray of Tokyo Bay.

Chase was uncomfortable. The summons from Villiers had come shortly after Cara's admittance to Nightingale's, the sophisticated medical facility that Fuchi quietly fronted. Dancing's magic had stabilized her, but she'd lost a lot of blood. He'd also been forced to use his magic to tranquilize her when she continued to rave and thrash about. Chase had initially wanted to send Cara to some private facility, but Samantha Villiers insisted, once she'd recovered her wits, that her daughter be taken to the best medical facility she knew.

Cara was still in intensive care. The medical staff was doing its best to help her, and had taken advantage of Chase's and the corporation's connections to fly in a mage specializing in healing magic. The doctors and psycho-trauma specialists were concerned about the descriptions of Cara's behavior prior to the "shooting," as they called it. When Chase told them everything he knew of her chip problem, they nodded a lot.

Still covered in Cara's blood he sat in one of the private waiting rooms. He was still refusing to answer the questions of two of Fuchi's security people when the summons from Villiers had come. His ex-wife had apparently contacted him directly.

The clinic representative led Chase to a small room on the executive floor. In the middle of the room was a table and sitting on top of it was a commercial cyberdeck, a Fuchi Cyber-IVx.

Of course, thought Chase, Richard Villiers is in Japan. The only way we can actually meet is electronically. As he jacked into the deck, he wondered briefly how the images would compare to the sophisticated ones he'd seen in Denver during his meeting with Shiva. Arriving at Villiers' "office," he realized how stupid had been that thought. It was Fuchi who'd invented the technology.

Chase shifted in the chair again. It wasn't the chair that was uncomfortable. That was perfect.

"I know very little for certain," he said. "Other than the fact that I'm a fucking butthole." Villiers turned his head slightly to look back at him. "I really am sorry."

"You keep saying that."

Chase looked away and ran his fingers through his short hair. He dove into the story. "Cara came to me in Manhattan and told me that someone was going to try to assassinate you."

Villiers' eyebrows went up. "Assassinate?"

"In Frankfurt next month."

Villiers took a breath and looked away. "I see…"

"She knew because some of her friends had been recruited to carry out the hit. Members of a German political group called Alte Welt. Sound familiar? It means Old World."

Villiers shook his head. "No, never heard of them."

"Well, Alte Welt was getting corporate funding from Fuchi," said Chase. "Still doesn't ring any bells?"

"No, but if anything does begin to sound even remotely familiar, I'll let you know. Go on."

"Their contact at Fuchi was a woman named Katrina Demarque, who'd contacted—"

Villiers held up his hand. "There's a recognizable name. But not to me." In response to Chase's puzzled look, he said, "Miles Lanier has been listening. Let me bring him in so he can ask questions too."

A door opened across from Villiers at the far end of the office, letting in a tall, well-proportioned man. He was wearing a finely tailored suit, Spanish by the cut, and walked with the grace of a corporate aristocrat. Chase laughed inwardly; Lanier used the same aristocratic bearing for his electronic representation as he did in real life.

Lanier extended a hand in greeting to Chase, taking it in a strong, forceful grasp. "How are you, Simon?" he asked. "It's been a while."

Chase nodded. "Long time." Lanier had been head of one of the subdivisions of Fuchi's internal security when Chase had worked for the Villiers. He and Chase had often worked together to coordinate security for family trips or business meetings. Chase had always disliked the man. Now he was head of Fuchi's intelligence-gathering assets.

Villiers motioned Lanier into the plush seat next to Chase. "You've heard what's been said so far. Anything?"

"Well," said Lanier, clasping his hands in front of him, steepling two fingers and tapping them gently against his chin. It was a mannerism Chase despised. "The name Katrina Demarque is on file. It's an alternate identity used by a company woman of ours. I won't go into details about her, as there is no need at the moment." His eyes flicked to Chase while saying the last.

Villiers nodded. "Did she work mostly with any specific departments?"

Again Lanier nodded. "She often works with control officers who are more inclined toward the Japanese corporate view."

"And you, Miles?" asked Chase.

"Miles is with me, Jason," said Villiers. "Don't suggest otherwise."

Chase shrugged and avoided Lanier's glare. "One of the things Cara's friends told her was that they were receiving inside information about your trip from somebody close to you."

Villiers made a dismissive face. "That could be damn near anybody. My itinerary isn't that secret within the company."

"Unfortunately," said Lanier.

Villiers looked at Chase. "What happened next?"

Chase sighed and looked from one man to the other. "I take it you're recording this?" Lanier nodded.

"Good," Chase said, "because I don't want to have to go over it again."

Villiers was standing at the window, staring into the gray clouds by the time Chase had taken the story up through Cara's meeting with her mother, then the shooting. It had been difficult to talk about that part, but he'd done it and he'd have to learn to live with it. The doctors said they weren't sure whether they'd be able to save her hand.

"Well, Miles?" asked Villiers without turning.

"Sorry, Richard, I can't say at this point," Lanier said. "I've already got most of the assets I can commit doing verification. There's no way I can keep the Japanese from finding out, especially if Simon's story implicates the Nakatomis."

"Don't worry about it," said Villiers. "I'll handle them again. Hopefully, they'll be real sensitive about making me angry."

Villiers looked over his shoulder at Chase. A light helicopter passed outside, its warning lights brightening the smog for a moment. "What about you, Simon? What do you think happened with Cara?"

"Do you know what a 'loitering missile' is?" Chase asked. Lanier nodded, but Villiers' expression was blank. "It's a special kind of homing missile. Very expensive and requiring very special programming. Basically, it hangs around waiting for its target in the area where there's going to be a fight. Once it spots the target—usually by the fact that the target is using its radar—it homes in and hits."

Chase could see Villiers slowly putting the pieces together, but Lanier, who lived in a world where dirty tricks were the rules of the game, was one step ahead of him. "You think whoever it was set Cara up as a kind of homing missile, then made sure you hooked up with her, knowing that you would get her close to her mother?"

Chase nodded. "That's it. Except it ultimately makes no sense."