“Do your team want him?”
“’E needs family,” Lugan said. “We –”
“He has family.” The Boss cut him short. “His mother still lives in London. The charity she founded isn’t large, but it operates. His siblings have lives and families that are easily traceable. He had a solid and loving –”
“Four bleedin’ half-sisters, an’ a storybook wicked stepdad. It’s enough to make anyone retreat into a world of comic-book ’eroics.”
“Yes, but I question his ability to come out.” Her voice hinted at a steel edge. “He’s critically damaged, socially certifiable and an unnecessary risk to my security and yours. You’re a radical.”
“I’m a businessman –”
“But Ecko’s insane.”
“Yeah.” Lugan leaned forward, he wasn’t backing down from this. “’E’s also a fuckin’ gem.” He coughed smoke, inhaled harder. “’E got a lead on Doc Grey – got a location! We can get that bastard, kick Pilgrim where it ’urts.” In an “up yours” gesture, he tapped his ash into the glass carafe on the table.
There was a tiny, defiant hiss.
“Lugan.” Almost regretfully, the Boss said, “I know why you’ve taken to Ecko so strongly. He’s the part of you that you miss, the part that Pilgrim’s new society has taken from you. You’ve learned to conform – at least as far as you have to. Ecko...” She trailed off into a pale, perfect shrug. “...Hasn’t.”
Conform, my arse. Goaded now, Lugan marshalled his assault.
“Yeah, maybe I was like that once – no fuckin’ brakes.” His tone revved like a gunned engine. “It’s why I understand ’im – I get it. But think – just think what ’e could bring down!”
“Us?” Her tinkling laugh was ice-cold; she almost turned to face them. Lugan held himself still, lungs full of oily smoke. Her chin was lifted, the lights tinged with colours, tantalising hints of shapes that teased her perfect, ageless skin.
She said, “Your faith in him is touching.” Light and laughter pulsed again. “But I think his presence affects your decisions. If he won’t follow orders, then I can’t use him. And neither can you.”
Lugan glowered. “We got the location of Grey’s lair. You know Ecko’s gotta do this...”
The Boss inhaled, mustering patience. “Don’t be ridiculous. If the data you’ve given me clears, then this may be one of the single most important penetrations we’ve ever attempted. Ecko’s Tech was one of the doctors that went renegade when Pilgrim took over. What she did to him has damaged his mental stability beyond repair. We can’t let him handle something like this – we send in a full team.”
“Bollocks,” Lugan said again. He dumped the dog-end in the carafe and exhaled a double lungful of oily smoke. “That’ll just be a mess. ’E can do this. In an’ out. Quick an’ clean. Recon first – full stealth. No muss, no fuss.”
The lights on the Boss’s face were moving more swiftly. “Your loyalty is impressive, but –”
“But I’ve never quit on a mate an’ I never will. That’s why I’ve got this.” From beneath his t-shirt, he produced the half-black, half-white symbol that marked him as a ranking member of the Boss’s organisation. “It says you trust me to run my ops, my way.”
“Of course I trust you. But...” She gave a tight sigh, tucked her hair behind her ear in a gesture that was oddly girlish. “This job is imperative.”
“An’ ’e can do it – better than any fucker else!” Lugan pressed the point. “Three months! He’s done his prospectin’ –”
“The days of your bike gangs are gone, Lugan.” She tapped her lips with her finger, long nail gleaming.
The days of your bike gangs...
Suddenly robbed of words, Lugan eyed the faded-blue ink that decorated his muscled forearms – a reminder of the way things had been before Pilgrim’s Fifth Horseman had doled out the pharmaceuticals and smothered the world in happy grey smog.
The days of your bike gangs...
The ink reminded him who he was – who he’d been. It was youth and fire, experience and wisdom. Not only was he Alexander David Eastermann, retired biker, he was still the Lugan he’d once been.
When the world’d had the time for such things.
Tapping her index finger on her chin, she said, “I will admit that Ecko’s fear of authority means his hatred of Pilgrim is sincere. And he remains remarkably untouched by the changes of today’s society.” Her eyes flickered as though she was watching something. “Eliza’s initial psych report details the massive damage inflicted by his Tech – he calls her ‘Mom’?” Her eyebrow raised slightly. “She also lists the physical and neurological adjustments he bears – and some very interesting psych reactions to his being effectively more than human.” A smile touched her lips. “When so many people are now less.”
Lugan said absolutely nothing. Unless he missed his guess, she was right on the fucking verge...
“All right – the details on Grey’s location are cleared. Collator gives me 84.61 per cent success if Ecko runs solo reconnaissance and retrieval.”
Lugan said, “An’ if he don’t?”
Her smile was cool. “Significantly less.”
The lights shifted more swiftly, Collator was irrefutable. Lugan planted a boot against the table edge, pushed the chair back and stood up.
“If ’e succeeds –”
“Lugan, I’ve spent over a decade working against the world that Pilgrim has wrought here, fighting for the return of our social freedom, warts and all. If he succeeds, Eliza will run her full – and proper – psychological diagnosis. She’ll design her Virtual Rorschach just for him, and he’ll get the treatment he actually needs. If he fails –”
“If ’e fucks this up, I’ll slit ’is throat myself. I already said so.”
In the silence that followed, he became aware that the Boss had turned her face, ever so slightly. She was looking over her bare shoulder at him in a manner that was almost... flirtatious.
“Lugan, you have so much alpha you leave a bollock dent in your fuel tank – but even you may find that difficult.”
“He’s my respo –”
“Collator will process and download the full mission briefing to Fuller at 21:46.” She turned back. “Ecko will move at 23:33. If he fails this mission, he’s mine. Go back to the Bike Lodge, Mister Eastermann, and explain to him, in words of one syllable or less, what I have just told you – and what will happen if he messes up again. You say you can manage him? Go and prove it.”
The screen went blank.
In the sudden darkness, Fuller’s voice came over their personal link. Do you trust this, Luge? She could as easily set him up...
Lugan didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could.
2: RECONNAISSANCE
PILGRIM PHARMACEUTICALS RESEARCH FACILITY, LONDON
Ecko crouched against the back wall of the roof garden.
The cold March wind shrieked the length of the Thames, driving the grey water to white froth. The weather had grounded drones and aircars; on Blackfriars Bridge rain slashed viciously sideways into bright glass. Up here, acrylic greenery was driven to madness by the howling weather, it thrashed round where he hid as if it were trying to give him away.
He’d been cornered like a fucking rat – stuck here, with no way out of the shit Lugan’d landed him in.
He’d like to see Collator’s percentage on this.