Virtually True (26 page)

“It seems you have solved a great many mysteries. I cannot fathom what it is you expect I know above this.”

Hot’s nerves are jouncing. Why, True wonders. “Did you know Sato was the one behind this?”

Hot’s expression doesn’t change. “I had my suspicions, but no, shall we say, hard proof.”

“What is Sato doing with weapons sales to Luzonia?”

“This is, I presume, a related question. And the answer is, I believe, he is building ties to other nations in order to solidify his position globally.”

“By selling off his assets abroad, and, I assume, urging other Japanese corps to do the same, he’s shaking the economic foundations of Europe and North America.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“Why is he doing it?”

“I think it’s self-evident. Sato is the most powerful man in Japan. With his ties to other nations, he will shortly be, as you said, crowned corporate king.”

“Sounds like a bad movie. What kind of military hardware was he selling to the ethnics and Luzonian platoons fighting the establishment of a Muslim state here?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s right here.” True taps his temple.

Hot’s eyes inflate. “You must leave.”

“Why?”

“Get out of here. You are in possession of information many would kill for. I refuse to be involved.”

A grim voice from the garden atrium. “But you are involved, Uncle.”

Both True and Odessa seek a place to run. The garden walls are too high to scale, the only path to freedom lies between them and Sato—who’s accompanied by a bodyguard, whom True instantly recognizes. The bosozoku. Clad in leather, chains, and hoop earring du jour.

Sato moves toward Hot, who’s babbling, slaps a hand over his mouth, squeezes the sagging skin.

“You called him Uncle, but he’s really your father-in-law.” True takes on a conversational tone.

“Yes, we Japanese use ‘uncle’ as a term of endearment.”

“Charming.”

“Uncle needs his rest, don’t you, Uncle?” Sato reaches over with his other hand, holds Hot’s chin. “I should have killed you when I took over your business.” Hot’s breathing becomes spasmodic. “Instead, I let you live in disgrace. But no longer.” A hot river of Japanese language, then the old man’s neck pops and crackles. Instant death.

Sato wipes his hands with a handkerchief. “From the moment I was introduced to you at the Karaoke Kafé I was certain we would meet again.”

“You talking to me, or him?” True indicates Odessa with his chin.

Sato holds out his hands, as if trying to determine which object is heavier. “You. Although his talents escaped me at the club.
Oi de
,” he grunts to the bosozoku, who flicks on his DNA scanner. Holds up the viewer for Sato, who reads aloud,  “Born Darryl Raspberry, goes by the name Odessa Flashfire. Also a cornucopia of cyberspace monikers such as Peace, or 16ea3e, among many others. And I thought you were merely a house musician. You lead a complex life, Mr. Flashfire.”

“I prefer the simple life now.”

“It doesn’t get much simpler than this. According to these records, every corporation in the Global Fortune 1000, which includes my own, is offering a substantial bounty for you.”

“Must be an input error.”

“Dead or alive.”

“You don’t get a bonus for bringing me in alive, do you?”

True catches the hint of a gold molar in Sato’s mouth. “You have a marvelous sense of humor. Just for that, I will let you decide how you will die. I could have you lasered, have my guard break your neck. He’s quite proficient at that, although Ailey-san has managed, to this point, to elude him.”

“What if I worked for you? Lots of info I could get my hands on for you.”

Sato clicks his tongue. “What use are you to me?”

The bosozoku stirs.

“No, man, no no no. C’mon. I am the
man
in the infonet. Let me show you what I can do. On spec. You don’t got to pay—”

The biker whips Odessa with a kick that heaves him into a cherry tree. Blossoms rain down, covering him with petals, and Odessa, shocked by probably his first-ever bout with non-virtual pain and anguish, puts up a hand in self-defense. The bosozoku stands poised to complete the task.

“If I hacked the Global Fortune 1000, imagine what I can do for you.” Odessa’s shaking, squeezing his words.

The speed triber looks to Sato for further instruction, who nods. He picks up a shovel, prepares to swing it down on Odessa. True leaps over and hugs the shovel’s blade, pulls it and the biker down on top of him. Hears the crunch of his own bones.

Odessa is frantic. Last chance. “I know how to get to the CyberCops. I can get inside every online network around the world. I can smoke your enemies, steal their data, or alter it any way you say. Kill us, you’re letting a golden opportunity slip away.”

The boso’s pinning True’s throat to the ground. True’s gurgling, his fight draining away. Sato nonchalantly taps his charge on the shoulder and the pressure subsides. True staggers up for air.

“I accept your offer, Mr. Flashfire.” Sato speaks with the biker in Japanese. Then says, “My assistant will take you to your work station. One mistake, however, and I’ll have you killed. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” Odessa struggles to stand. Touches True with his eyes, trying to express everything they went through in a glance. True nods. What else can Odessa do? He prays the hacker doesn’t do his job too well; that would mean major global trouble in the coming years.

The speed tribesman leads Odessa past the hunkering oak and some chrysanthemums, through a gate, away.

“Now that’s over with, you have something of mine.” Sato taps his temple.

True rubs his own temple. “You’re going to kill me anyway. Why should I give this to you?”

“There is no choice.” Sato plants his foot, menaces True with the other.

“If you harm me, how do you know you’ll be able to access the chip? I got it in a virtual world. You have to ask yourself, will the chip function outside my reality? If you knew the answer, you’d have killed me by now.”

Sato plants both feet. “It doesn’t matter whether the chip can be accessed. Do you think a confluence of coincidences brought us to this point? You have been used. Used by my enemies. And I am going to use you right back.”

A boiling hypothesis. “So you can’t risk killing me just yet.”

“Not yet. But I believe we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“If I give you the chip and let you plant another chip, I assume a red herring, you’ll let me free?”

“No. The deal is you let me replace this chip with one that will destroy my competitors.”

“What do I get?”

“A few extra months among the living, although it would depend on how soon they locate you. I won’t interfere. It benefits me to make it appear that you cracked my data defense. The more difficult you make it for them to catch you, the more they will believe nothing is amiss.”

True’s been marked since before fleeing Luzonia, has been doing somebody else’s bidding, perhaps living out the computer profile Aslam alluded to. Was Aslam also set up by Sato?

“I’m offering you a chance for survival, such as it is.” Sato calls in on his ring transmitter. “I’m paging my number one technical assistant.” He motions for True to join him inside. “Let’s leave the sun. It’s hot today, and I don’t like cancer treatments.”

True’s eyes scramble to adapt to the darker room. “How do I know you won’t smoke me the second you get the chip?”

“You don’t. But as I explained, you will be working for me.”

“Like Odessa. What’s to stop me from warning your enemies?”

“One of my subsidiaries markets a drug for torture victims to help them put negative experiences behind them. Most conveniently for me, you will forget any of this happened.”

“Have I ever had this drug before?” True searches his memory. So many pieces are missing. Is it VR that stripped them from his mind, or has he been used like this before?

Sato stretches out on Hot’s bed, keeping an oblique eye on True. “If you’d had this drug, you wouldn’t remember. And you won’t remember. So there is no reason to tell you.”

True sits on the corner of the bed. “In Old China, before the place shattered into a dozen ethnic enclaves, there used to be these farmers markets. You could get almost anything you wanted. Vegetables, spices, clothes hangers, abortion pills, meat, books, computer software. One grand bazaar. I went there once and saw these puppies and cats in cages. I know how they feel about being caged. It’s awful not having control over your life.”

Sato clasps his hands behind his head. But he’s listening.

True continues. “I decided to save at least one of these animals from a life in a cage. Who knew when someone would buy one? I bargained. The lady was ancient, a century old. It took a while, but we agreed on a price. When I handed her the money, in the days when cash was still common, she took the puppy out of the cage. I could only watch as she broke its neck. She thought I was buying dinner.”

The doorbell gongs. Sato stands. “We’ll have to discuss your psychological problems later.”

A few moments of pressed silence, and True hears stirring outside the door. When he sees who’s there, his heart clutches.
But before he can panic, Sato flashes behind him and butterfly-wings his arms back. For greater leverage, he plants a shoe in his spine. When he pulls there’s a sickening crunch. Scalding pain from within his bones. True tries to collapse in agony, but Sato props him up. The pain almost drives True from sanity.

“He’s giving us the chip.” Sato’s voice, calm and metallic.

Eden produces a scaly knife, holds it to True’s eye, but instead of blinding him digs the knife tip into his temple, twisting the blade. Blood pouring out of him, onto his shoes, the floor. She holds the chip up to the light, and True sees halogen beams glint off the blood and diamond-bright silicone. Sato tosses True to the floor. True, his arms broken and shoulders separated, stays in a heap, tormented by pain and betrayal, watching helplessly as Eden licks blood off the chip and analyzes its construction.

“He’s all yours.” Sato takes the chip. Leaves True alone with his wife.

Without a word Eden is standing over him, flops him over on his back. The broken bones hit floor. Needling fire. Torment. She stretches her body on top of his, kisses him deeply, her lips spongy soft. “I love you, True. But love isn’t the only thing.” She bolts upright and comes down with the knife. Stabs him in the chest. True barely feels the impact but sees screaming white. Cut. Stab. A burning sensation when Eden reaches into his chest to remove his heart. Holds it up and tosses it aside.

True’s slipping away and the last voice he hears, would ever hear, belongs not to Eden or Sato; not to Aslam, Reiner, or even Rush.

But to Piña. “Holy fuck! Oh shit. Oh shit. What the hell is this?”

This is so unfair, True thinks, sliding toward hell and all stops between.

PART THREE

VIRTUALLY TRUE

CHAPTER 19

True’s in a netherland of consciousness, no landmarks to help measure the hours that fritter life away. How long, he wonders, has he been staring at the psychotropic pattern beamed overhead? It whirls, turns in and folds out on itself, like origami, or a 3-D rose in time-elapse, shooting from bud to bloom. Brilliant shades: red, orange, purple, flow into flecks of gold. Mes. Mer. Ized. Happy-happy-relaxation. Happy-happy-love-yourself. Happy-happy-self-esteem. Happy-happy-relaxation. It’s not important where he is or why he’s here.