Belling struggled to his feet and leaned against the wall, reloading. Kieth still knelt next to me on the floor, moaning and hugging himself.
“Shut up, for God’s sake. You aren’t dead,” I snapped.
“Ty isn’t made for this shit, goddammit,” he wheezed petulantly. “I think you punctured a lung.”
I reached down with my free hand and pulled him up roughly. “Inconvenient, but survivable,” I advised him, and Belling let out a snicker of amusement.
Kieth squawked. “Survivable, Mr. Cates? Look around: Your team hasn’t survived all that well lately.”
I nodded. There was no force in the universe that would keep me from completing this job. I’d paid too dearly for it. Maybe nothing mattered, maybe you lived and died and unless you had the wisdom to get Monked and live forever that was it, a great yawning darkness that nothing ever escaped from. Maybe. But I was going to make this matter, by brute force if necessary.
“We got set up, Mr. Cates,” Belling said without looking up from his guns. “We were herded here, and pinned down, and then flanked. What I don’t understand is why only two of those-what did he call them? Cardinals? — those Cardinals showed up. We were pinned down. A few more coming through that door would have cooked our geese for sure.”
I didn’t care anymore. My whole existence the past few weeks had been at the whim of some power beyond me, and I’d finally accepted that whatever it was could kick my ass any time it wanted. It was time to just pull my arms and legs inside the safety cage and enjoy the ride.
“There’s been a lot of packet traffic in the air,” Kieth panted, wincing as he brought his handheld up for a look. “Then, suddenly, nothing. It’s like the whole EC just went quiet, all of a sudden.”
“I don’t much like the sound of that,” Belling said, racking the chambers of his guns and holstering them. “We should all be dead right now. I think I’ll be nervous until something starts shooting at me again.” He looked up at me, and our eyes locked. Belling was back to his old self: cool, unconcerned, projecting the impression that he was going to live through it all even if you weren’t. “I assume I’ve earned a full share of your payday, should we walk out of here alive?”
I gritted my teeth. A sudden rage flashed through me; if I’d released my limbs to it I had no doubt I would have tried to kill a member of the Dъnmharъ.
“I’ve shares to spare, all of a sudden,” I said instead. “You can have two, you fucking asshole.”
He almost smiled at me-a faint turning-up at the corners of his mouth. “While I admit that I find myself in a poor position for negotiation, I have to ask you if you really expect to be paid for this job. Where will the paycheck come from? Who, exactly, is going to pay us?”
I stared at him. “You’re fucking worried about money? About fucking money?”
“Don’t get all saintly on me, son,” he snapped back. “We all got into this mess because of money. You can piss and moan about it-oh, poor me, my team fucked up and got killed, poor me, poor me.” He waved his hands. “We caught a break here. Let’s go put a bullet in Squalor’s brain, by all means. But before I take a step, before I somehow decide to not save my ass, I need to know that there is actually a fucking fortune out there as you’ve suggested. Because, as I’m sure my old friend Mr. Kieth would agree, this has turned out to be slightly more work than expected.”
I glanced at Kieth. He looked like he’d just remembered that Belling had survived and was just a few feet away-his long nose quivering, his face pale. Our eyes met but I had no time for him. I had no time, period. But I still had just one card, just one asset: I was the cash. As long as Belling couldn’t touch the cash, he needed me, and that just might keep him from killing me when I needed him to watch my back.
“You’ll get paid, Cainnic,” I said carefully.
“How do I know that?”
“Because I intend to get paid myself,” I growled. “Why the hell else am I still standing here?”
Belling shook his head and pushed off from the wall, approaching me slowly. “Because you’re a fucking crusader, Cates. You think there’s justice, somewhere. You think if you just keep pushing, you can put a bullet in the System’s head and make everything like it was when you were five fucking years old and your daddy bounced you on his knee, right? Fuck that. Look around you. Me and the wonderful Mr. Kieth are all that’s left. I can’t speak for Mr. Kieth-whose debt I have already forgiven in a soft moment of affection for anything not made of silicon and titanium-but I am not taking one more step deeper into this fucking mausoleum unless I have a better idea of my reward. I need a reason, Mr. Cates. Who’s going to pay me?”
He stopped directly in front of me. I was in a killing mood, and I held his eyes as we stood almost chin to chin. He’d killed Marilyn Harper for no reason, and for no reason I was willing to blame him for Gatz, too. I considered just killing him, right there, one more for the tally, and not one I’d feel too badly about, either.
“I will,” a voice said clearly from behind.
I closed my eyes. I should have fucking expected it. Without opening them again, I slumped a little and said, “Meet our backer. Meet Richard Marin, chief of the System Security Force Internal Affairs.”
“Otherwise known as the King Worm,” Marin said cheerfully. “But you can call me Dick.”
I turned around and opened my eyes. There he was, dapper in a suit, glasses on, hair perfect. He was smiling.
“Mr. Cates, don’t look at me so disagreeably! I got here as quickly as I could. You provided me with a distraction and an excuse, allowing me to slip in.”
I stared at him, the urge to murder returning. “Distraction.”
He nodded and then stopped dead, cocking his head in a now-familiar pose, as if listening to distant sounds. We all waited through a few moments of still silence before he looked back at me. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I couldn’t get you inside, you see. I could get myself in if there was reasonable evidence of a crime to extend my jurisdiction under my Emergency Powers clause, and if there was sufficient noise on the EC network to cover my entry. You provided that. Excellent. Now that I am here, however, I am able to… influence things a little. If you’ll follow me, you can finally earn your money.”
“Follow you?” Belling demanded. “Follow you where?”
Dick Marin nodded as if agreeing with something. “To Dennis Squalor, of course. So you can kill him.”
We followed Marin’s jaunty walk through the door and down an identical hallway. I had a thousand questions, but he ignored them all, and after a minute of trying I shut up. Kieth limped behind me, and Belling brought up the rear, guns in hands and alert despite Marin’s assurance that we were going to be unmolested, at least for a few minutes.
“Marin, where are we going?”
He didn’t turn around. “To meet some people.”
I swallowed the urge to just shoot him in the head. “Marin, my people are dead. You waltz in here like you’ve got a fucking passkey, and my people are dead getting me this far.” He just kept walking. I reached out and shoved him, hard. “Hey!” He didn’t even miss a step.
“Mr. Cates, you’ll be getting your answers soon enough. But believe me, I could not have gotten this far without your efforts.” He turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me, walking briskly forward and taking a sharp left turn without hesitation. “I have my limitations, too, Mr. Cates. There are rules.”
“Rules?” I snapped. “Fucking rules? You’re the fucking King of the fucking System Pigs, and you’re telling me there are rules?” Somehow, my gun was in my hand, and I racked a shell into the chamber. “I’ve seen System Pigs shoot people in the head for being in the way. I’ve seen System Pigs shake people down for spare change because they’re bored. You’ve got rules?” I stretched out my arm and put the muzzle of the gun against the back of his head. I’d been itching to murder someone for the past twenty minutes. Might as well come full circle.