For going on a full minute, she did not move, did not even seem to breathe. Aubrey could not tell if she was in the face of her computer or merely making L. Kahn wait Without prelude, she said, "You arranged the attack on Victor Guevara?"
L. Kahn hesitated briefly, then said, "Yes. That's correct."
A moment passed. "You questioned him."
"Yes."
"What did he tell you?"
L. Kahn hesitated again. "This is my personal-"
"I asked you a question."
Aubrey tensed involuntarily. The subtle emphasis that suddenly entered Sarabande's voice cut the air like a scalpel, fine and precise and utterly ruthless. The effect of that edge on L. Kahn was plain to see. He stopped in mid-sentence and stiffened. Moments passed, then he said uncertainly, "Guevara claims to have no knowledge of the runners' present location or their intentions. Yet, the runners' leader has been in constant contact with him. I'm not finished with him yet."
"Then he is still alive."
"Yes. I have him in a safe place."
"That is fortunate."
Sarabande lifted one hand casually to her temple, as if adjusting her datajack. This was her signal. Aubrey stepped forward, whipped a braided garrote around the neck of L Kahn and tugged it tight. L. Kahn rasped and staggered. He began to struggle, but Rollo and Zoge immediately stepped in, placing themselves between L. Kahn and Sarabande. One slammed a massive fist into L. Kahn's face, the other drove a fist into his midsection. L. Kahn's head snapped aside, blood and saliva spraying from nose and mouth. He grunted loudly and sank to his knees, gagging. Aubrey removed the garrote, put one foot to L. Kahn's back and shoved.
L. Kahn sprawled onto the floor at Sarabande's feet. That was suitable. What this man apparently did not know was that Victor Guevara had been one of Sarabande's local agents for many years. A very reliable agent. Guevara had brought Sarabande many useful contacts and a great deal of nuyen. Sarabande did not like such persons being troubled, interfered with in any manner.
Aubrey stepped over and lowered his foot onto the back of L Kahn's neck, forcing the slag's face flat with the floor.
Sarabande recrossed her legs, and said quietly, "You have been played for the fool mat you are. While the runners were bargaining with you for more time, they were plotting the abduction of the subject's wife. They now have both these persons. They obviously have no intention of turning the subject over to my client I am very displeased."
L. Kahn grunted, moaned. "They broke… contract."
"Indeed."
Sarabande signaled again. Aubrey drew back a step. Rollo and Zoge moved in, dragged L. Kahn up off the floor and onto his feet. Aubrey delivered three precisely aimed and executed hand strikes directed at specific points of L. Kahn's upper body, then turned and whirled, slamming the heel of his boot across L. Kahn's face.
The man sagged as if made of mud. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth. Rollo and Zoge turned him on his knees to face Sarabande. Aubrey grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked L. Kahn's head up straight.
"When you are given instructions, you follow them to the final decimal," Sarabande said. "You do not decide on your own to mount private adventures. You are one little fly hi my web. You do what you are told. Nothing less, nothing more. You will release Victor Guevara at once. You will then sanitize this entire operation. Is that clear?" L. Kahn seemed to have barely the strength left to nod, much less speak.
Sarabande signaled.
Rollo and Zoge dragged L. Kahn around to face Aubrey. The meeting was over. It was time for one final warning. Aubrey drew a knife from his pocket The black monocule-edged blade snapped out of the handle and into position with a soft click. Aubrey grabbed hold of L. Kahn's hair to steady his head, then put the tip of the blade inside L. Kahn's left nostril.
"Remember," Aubrey said. "Do what you're told."
L. Kahn grunted, and Aubrey tugged the knife free.
It was a very, very clean cut.
25
"I'm hungry."
"Come're."
Lying on his back on the bare mattress, Monk turned his head to the right and wondered what Minx meant. I was way too dark to see, but he could feel her lying right up against his side, her head resting lightly on his arm midway between bis shoulder and elbow. He could feel the warm weight of her luscious, lithe body weighing against his side all the way down to his ankle. He could feel the soft, gentle pressure of her body grow subtler then fuller, each time she took a breath.
Come're?
Where…?
Then, he felt her moving, maybe rising onto one elbow lowering herself onto his chest. The feel of her body descending onto his inspired him to a not-so-subtle excitement. They had just made love like that, her on top, he on the bottom. He guessed she wanted to do it again. With her, he'd do it forever.
"Monk?" she said softly, her face just a breath away her hair showering down all around them. "Do you like me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Would you like to be with me always?"
"Sure."
"I'm glad." Her lips brushed his cheek. "You're so booty. And it doesn't always work right unless you want it."
"Huh?"
"Breathe with me, silly. That'll make you."
"Make me wha…?"
Her mouth closed over his. She exhaled, long and deeply. So long and so deeply that when it came time for him to breathe, he simply inhaled her air, her breath. They did that a couple of times. It was wild and kind of sexy and the excitement it inspired in him made Monk want to go on breathing like that forever. It made him want other things, too. He began running his hands up and down her sides and over her slender back, down over her behind, then up and over the back of her head and through her lavish hair.
They got it together, their separate parts. Minx began shifting back and forth, making it work. She kept her mouth on his throughout. The harder and faster they moved, the harder they breathed, passing the same breath back and forth, back and forth.
By the time it ended, Monk felt dizzy-dizzy with excitement, and dizzy with something that seemed like love.
The room actually seemed to be spinning, turning around and around and tilting wildly back and forth. The darkness took on a reddish glow, as if the sun were returning from night to twilight, and then to the last fiery radiance of sunset. Minx laughed and her laughter echoed. She smiled and her eyes seemed to gleam a fiery red. Her whole body had a crimson hue. Everything did.
Grinning, Minx leaned down into his face, till their noses touched, and she crooned, "I made you."
"Made you, made you," her voice echoed.
"Huh…?" Monk said.
"Huh…? huh…?" his voice echoed.
"Come on! come on! come on!" Minx said. "Let's go! let's go! let's go!"
"Go where? go where? go where?"
Minx laughed and laughed and laughed. She tugged him up by his arms. The floor tilted downward, then upward, then back and forth and up and down. Minx grabbed him around the waist and tugged him forward, pitching forward down the slope of the floor, then staggering up, up the slope of the floor. A cacophony of raucous voices and uproarious laughter echoed and resounded. Leering, red-hued faces streamed toward him from out of nowhere, only to vanish right in front of his nose… Minx forced him to run headlong down a flight of stairs, then dragged him stumbling up and down a long, red-hued passage.
"Hurry! hurry! hurry!" Minx said. "Monk! Monk! Monk! It's time! it's time! it's time!"