Had the political leaders listened to those wiser and less avaricious heads, Britain's honor would not have been sullied by participation in the multinational megacorporations' schemes that ultimately resulted in their control of Hong Kong. Britain had been used. The multinational corporations funding the rebellion had also funded dissident warlords, using the breakup of the repressive Shui regime to grab and hold Hong Kong and the New Territories for themselves. Those corporations renamed their corporate state the Hong Kong Free Enterprise Enclave. When Britain stepped forward to claim control, there had been laughter in the boardrooms. The corps had already obtained grants to the disputed territories from a dozen warlords in trade for arms and supplies. It wasn't strictly legal, but they had possesion. The few British ambassadors to Chinese leaders who hadn't had "accidents" were sent away in shame. Liaisons to the corporate consortium waited for appointments that never materialized.
The whole dishonorable episode was over and done before Glover had been born, but he felt the pain as if he had been one of those embarrassed ambassadors. Growing up, he had heard the stories from veterans of the expeditionary force, and had wondered why they didn't match the official histories he was taught in school. It wasn't until he was at university and under the tutelege of druids that he learned the true story. The duplicity and betrayals were so much like what he himself saw in Britain today. He had become certain that the megacorporations would very much like to see Britain dead, and that certainty had crystallized his belief that Britain could only be restored to glory by a return to the old ways.
They crossed the strait without incident and turned northward along the coast. Within an hour they would reach the inlet where the aircraft was hidden. Then, he would be on his way home with the prize that would make possible the first steps in restoring the glory that was Britain.
He looked back across the dark water. The glittering spires of Hong Kong were alight with the dazzle of false promises. They were ugly. This place made him feel soiled; he set his thoughts to the future.
Sam stared at Dodger. The elf sat slumped in the padded armchair he had appropriated, lost in the world of the Matrix, his fingers occasionally tapping a staccato rhythm on his Fuchi cyberdeck. Dodger looked relaxed, which was annoying. Sam poked him. "Find anything yet?"
"By all that's good on the earth! Do you want to do it yourself?"
The elf's annoyance triggered Sam's own pent-up frustration. "Maybe I should!"
"Maybe you should just ask our host to shoot you. Glover's system is tough; it's a lot better protected than it should be. You may have been a hotshot researcher but you never were much of a decker. Besides, you're months behind the SOTA."
The elf's harsh appraisal of his abilities stung. "I don't need to be state-of-the-art to bust his hincky system."
Dodger laughed scornfully. "You're so hot! So sure! This 'hincky system' has got protection that has fried deckers better than you could ever dream of being." "Well, if you're not getting anywhere, somebody has to."
"I've been working the deck for three days now.
There are layers of this system that are glacial with 1C. Positively cryogenic. You want to fry your brain? Do it with somebody else's hardware. I won't have you getting my chips iced just because you can't wait for a professional to do his job." Dodger was right, of course. The elf was a pro at unauthorized computer access. Even with the elf's guidance, Sam had been a barely adequate decker when they had run against the Renraku architecture last year. With all of his magical study and firearms practice, Sam had found no time to pursue Dodger's peculiar technomancy. Besides, the computer interface still gave Sam headaches, and the awakening of his magical powers had made the Matrix an even more uncomfortable place. His brash assertions and challenge of Dodger's competence were just manifestations of his frustrations.
"I'm sorry, Dodger. You're right. Do what you can."
" 'Twould seem my own patience is frayed as well, Sir Twist. I like this enforced guesting no more than you. 'Twould be best not to disturb me whilst I work, for I spoke truly of the devilish complexity of the system. Were you to distract me at the wrong moment, you would learn nothing more than how to care for an elven vegetable."
"That's not something I want to do, Dodger. Just let me know when you get something."
"I shall. But wander not too far lest you not be available should their ice lock me in." "I'll be here," said Sam.
Dodger smiled with confidence. "I shall count on it."
The elf returned his attention to the Matrix, leaving Sam to contemplate their position. Glover had brought them to England, alleging that he needed them to protect Corbeau now that Burke was gone. Some need! The flight had been uneventful, Corbeau being delivered to a minor ATT installation without incident. Glover had told them to wait at his mansion, offering a handsome retainer. That had been four days ago. Four days in which they had not seen or heard from Glover.
Sam had already been suspicious of Glover's motives. He didn't like the man's attitude. Why had he let Dodger talk him into continuing to work with the man? Why? Because of the chance to find Janice. That slim hope had dwindled to nothing. Janice was on Yomi; she couldn't be further away from England.
But leaving wouldn't be simple. The mansion's population seemed to consist only of a handful of servants, who knew nothing. They were polite and efficient, but totally unhelpful. There were uniformed guards with guns as well, but he and Dodger only saw them when they tried to go beyond the immediate grounds. So far everyone had remained polite, but he was sure that the guards had orders to prevent Sam and Dodger from leaving the estate. Sam had tried an astral survey of the place and found many of the rooms blocked to him. He hadn't tried to get through those blocks, for there were half-world presences drifting around the mansion, hostile spirits that threatened him when he attempted to probe in certain directions.
As much as he disliked his surroundings and the treatment they were receiving, he knew that he couldn't just leave. He had seen the thing Glover had summoned in the Mihn-Pao warehouse. All of his senses screamed that it was wrong. His hair had stood on end when he had seen it form, his head throbbing with a warning howl. Glover had called it, and the list Dodger retrieved from Glover's computer said that he wanted a woman who might be his sister Janice. Now, whether or not the woman Glover sought was Janice, Sam wanted to know just who he had been working for. He had to know more about Glover and his organization. It was hours before Dodger jacked out. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with the bruising of exhaustion.
" 'Twould seem that Rene' Corbeau is not now nor ever has been connected to ATT."
"You're sure?"
The elf quirked his mouth up in annoyance.
"Sorry." Sam ran his fingers up through his beard until his palms cradled his jaw. "Then Glover is a rogue."
" 'Tis a strong possibility."
"What about Burke?"
"The man is a shadow. There are tracks here and there, the occasional oblique reference, but all vanish if followed. Naetheless, the pattern is similar to one I have seen before. That shadow was a covert operative for the British government. By all the signs, I would venture that the late Burke was a special agent of some kind."