The buzz of the telecom cut off Rinaldi's response. Glover was annoyed; he had ordered that he was not to be disturbed. He returned to his desk, intent on giving his secretary a piece of his mind, but he changed his mind when he saw which line was lit. Tapping the command to transfer the call to headset, he settled the earpiece and opened the line. The call was swift and to the point. Cutting the connection, he faced the priest.
"Someone else has taken an interest in you, Father
Rinaldi. You should feel honored."
The garden mezzanine of the Hawthornwaite Residential Tower was deserted save for three animated shadows near the banks of private elevators. Faint music from the bar in the lobby three levels below masked what few sounds the shadows made as they huddled near the control panel. One detached itself from the group and moved to stand by the brazen doors bearing the GWN graphic on the left panel.
Listening at the door, Sam could hear the elevator car approaching. If the car didn't stop, they might as well go home. If they could.
As the car sighed to a stop, Sam cocked the bolt on his Narcoject Hypnos. The rifle version of the tranquilizer gun felt bulky and obvious. But this was a raid and inconspicuousness wasn't a high priority. If the elevator disgorged security troopers, he'd probably need the extra capacity the rifle's magazine afforded. Briefly, he wondered if he might be better off using the captured LD-120 pistol that rode in the holster at his hip. No, the building's guards would just be doing their jobs. Did that deserve death? The druids and their acolytes deserved no mercy, but what of their unsuspecting minions?
Dodger, seated on the floor next to the doors, concentrated on his cyberdeck. Willie readied the elf's Sandier submachine gun and laid it near his right hand before cocking her own.
"Give me first shot," Sam said.
"You sure?"
Sam nodded.
"Wilco," Willie confirmed as she backed along the wall to give her a line at the part of the car Sam wouldn't be able to cover in the first sweep.
With a pneumatic hiss, the doors slid open to reveal an empty car.
Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. With its release, tension drained from his muscles. They'd made it past the first hurdle.
He held the door while Willie trundled inside to catch the door button. Dodger jacked out and began reeling in the datacord he had patched into the elevator controls.
"Hurry up, Dodger," Willie urged. "Patience, Mistress Machinerider. If aught appears amiss after we depart this floor, the alarums will ring. 'Twould be most unfortunate if haste undid our plans at this stage."
"Just do a good job, Dodger," Sam said.
"Assuredly, Sir Twist."
Dodger finished his fussing and gave the panel a quick polish with a rag before joining the others in the car. Willie released her button and the panels hissed closed. Sam reached across to tap the bronze strip labeled OWN and start them on their journey to the ninetieth floor.
"Pray tell, Sir Twist. Where is the priest? I thought he had joined our team.''
"He had other business."
Willie snickered. "You bust him out, and the first time you need help, he's off doing errands? Some gratitude."
"His other obligations had first claim on his loyalties. If all goes well, he'll be joining us later. With help."
"But not tonight?"
"No, not tonight."
"And why should we need help tonight?" Dodger asked sarcastically. "We are but three intrepid souls invading the residence of a multinational corporation's highest officers. Since we hope to beard their local executive officer in his home, why should we be concerned with numbers? He is only a dreadfully powerful shaman and will, no doubt, have only a battalion or two of mundane guards. What have we to fear from them?"
"Dump it, Dodger." Sam didn't need the elf's sarcasm. They might not know exactly what they were getting into, but they had all studied what information they had. They all knew who the target was. The time for cold feet had been two hours ago. Dodger may not have had anything to do with Herzog's death, but he was not yet back in Sam's good graces. "You know why we're here."
" 'Twas your choice."
"You didn't have to come."
"Pray, tell. What would you have done without me?
Scaled the building?"
"We'd have managed," Sam replied. Dodger's whining was beginning to get to him. "Willie's good with electronics."
"Take it easy, Twist. Dodger's just nervous like the rest of us. I gotta admit, I don't like moving on this guy when we don't know if he's dead or alive."
"Alive. Dead," Dodger scoffed. " Tis a difference that makes no difference to this run."
"It'll make a difference if the fat man's waiting for us," Willie observed, gripping her weapon tighter.
"The villain is dead. Did not Sir Twist see Hyde White go down during the raid on the ritual?"
"But there was no body," Sam said. " 'Twas present if you accept the wendigo corpse as his. Such a hypothesis explains the more grisly aspects of the Circle's operations. 'Twould account for the sluggishness of GWN's business reactions as well."
"Jeez, Dodger. You can't still believe that," Willie said. "The druids are still doing their Bone Boy stuff. That dead wendigo ain't the answer. I think HydeWhite is still alive, but wounded. That would fit with the business problems."
"A clattering fit to the facts, Mistress. The wendigo is dead. Hyde-White is missing. Therefore, HydeWhite is dead."
"That's pretty shaky, Dodger."
Sam interrupted Willie before she could get rolling. "Whether Hyde-White is alive or dead, OWN is still functioning and serving the Circle. That's more than enough reason to hit it. Since the company's a potential target for more than the opponents of the Circle, we'll be able, with a little lucik, to hide our incursion under the guise of an ordinary shadowrun against the corporation. Besides any damage we do to GWN, we should be able to find out the truth about HydeWhite."
"And if he's alive, Twist?" Willie asked.
"We cut him out of the Circle." Dodger waited a moment before asking, "Sir Twist, are you saying we shall kill him?"
Sam kept his gaze riveted to the doors, but he could feel Dodger's eyes on him. "There are still too many druids to take them on all together. We need to chip away at them."
"You have not answered my question." The slowing of the elevator was an answer of its own.
"Get ready," Sam ordered.
As they had hoped, the guard at the station was sluggish. He had no time to do more than catch a glimpse of them from the corner of his eye before Sam cast his spell. Sam knew it was a success as a puzzled look crept over the security man's face. He had succumbed to the illusion and was seeing an empty elevator car.
The guard stood up and started around from behind his desk, muttering about technical malfunctions. Sam shot him with the Hypnos as soon as he was out from behind the desk. The guard's puzzlement slipped into bafflement as he sank to the plushly carpeted floor. He was snoring when the runners stepped over him to get |to the desk controls.
Willie ran her hands along the controls. Her stubby I fingers touched each lightly as if she could divine their function by mere contact. She nodded to herself, tongue sticking out to touch her upper lip, as her roaming hands came to rest on a row of buttons beneath a flat metallic panel. She tapped the first, and the panel clicked, its left side separating from the desk's surface. Willie flipped the panel open, revealing a hidden set of switches and a datacord receptacle.