"How much muscle are we talking about?" he shot back.
"Say fifteen," she said. Serrin and Michael had said they'd try for at least a dozen samurai. Just as well to add a few extra. Fifteen thousand she couldn't afford. She had to haggle him down.
"Thirteen."
"Twelve. Throw in four spare clips for each one and we'll call it thirteen."
"Four each? You're crazy, lady, that would be fifteen hundred alone."
"Thirteen five, max."
"Fourteen, lady. Maybe call it thirteen five if you want to be real nice to me when we meet? Depends how good you are," he leered. Kristen thought this slag didn't sound anything like the smooth operator Michael had described. The bastard thinks he can talk to me like that 'cause I'm black, or maybe 'cause I'm young, she thought. Or maybe he's just another woman-hater.
It's like being back home, she thought, repelled by the man's expression. She said she'd give him fourteen if he performed an anatomically impossible act she described in loving detail. He laughed.
"Lady, I like you. You got a good attitude. Let's say thirteen five for fifteen Ares Vipers with four spare clips apiece. Now, for the armor jackets amp; "
After the haggling was done, they fixed a meeting time of ten-fifteen. The problem was that Kristen was overdrawn, with a total bill of thirty grand. She couldn't get him down any lower.
"There's one last thing," she said. "You lied about the deal. It was sixty-five; thirty up front and thirty-five to come. You shouldn't make the mistake of underestimating someone just because of appearances."
The gulp was audible. She loved every instant of his pause for breath.
"Okay, lady. Apologies. Let's say I refund nine of the ten I bulled you about and keep one for the sake of my reputation. Now, where do we want this stuff delivered to?"
Frag it, she thought. I can hardly have a band of samurai wheeling in crates of grenades and ammo into the hotel lobby. What do I do? Only one idea came to her.
"The Meld In. That's where. Let's make it for ten-thirty. That gives me a little time to finalize all the details."
"You better be there, dear lady. That's sixty-six grand you owe me."
Kristen punched the Disconnect key and fumbled for one of Serrin's cigarettes from a new pack. I've got to get down to that place and find someone, she thought. Otherwise, I'll be alone, sitting on over a hundred thousand nuyen worth of heat.
Anyone with an eye to the main chance is going to slit my throat and take the whole slotting heap. Serrin, where are you?
She was out the door and into the elevator by the time the telecom began to beep. She never heard it.
28
"No answer," Serrin lamented. "We probably just hosed the deal. Great." His anger wasn't mitigated by Ma-thilde's sudden change of heart.
"We'll just have to go with what we've got," she told him. "Our samurai know how to take care of themselves."
"Yeah," Serrin moaned. He was just about to make an uncomplimentary comment when he realized a lot of eyes were on him, just daring him to say the wrong thing. He declined.
"What now?" asked Tom. He was still pale, still a little shaky, trying to figure out what had just steamrollered him.
"We meet some friends underground. Below Meld In," Mathilde replied. "Some of 'em have a stakeout there. Waiting to see if any of the Kreutzritters come back snooping. And it's just around the corner. We can call up anyone extra we need. Gunther, check it out."
They waited and a few minutes later the ork was back, saying everything was quiet on the outside, safe.
"That's it, people. Let's go."
The orks got to their feet in some semblance of military precision. They filed out through the back door, with Serrin and Tom shepherded into the middle.
Great, Serrin thought glumly, looking around him. These orks have barely any cyberware between them. That guy, Gunther, he's got a smartgun link by the look of it and maybe dermal plating. The rest of the bunch look like pure cannon fodder to me. Oh, frag it, if only we could have closed Michael's deal. Assuming he ever made it amp; and Kristen. Where is she?
They'd just made it out the back of the bar when the van came very slowly around the corner. It was just another piece of traffic. They didn't pay any attention to it at first.
Mathilde whistled and four figures came melting out of the dusk as the van got closer. They had almost reached the group when the van stopped directly in front of the bar. Gunther readied his pistol. A half-dozen more orks followed his example.
"If this is some kind of trap " Gunther snarled.
"No!" Serrin screamed as Kristen climbed out the passenger side of the van. "Friends! Freunde, dammit! Don't shoot or I'll kill you!"
She heard his voice and ran full pelt toward him, almost knocking him over when she threw herself into his arms, burying herself in him, hardly believing what she'd done.
"I got it," she yelled, almost jumping up and down with delight. "I did it. It's all in the van, but I spent five grand too much!"
Though she looked frightened about Serrin's reaction to that, his face broke into a smile wider than Tom's chest.
"You're wonderful," he cried, and hugged her tightly. "Hey, Mathilde, Gunther, take a look inside the van. Then tell me this isn't for real."
The orks were already moving toward the van, urging the driver to take it around to the back, away from any prying eyes.
"Michael," she said breathlessly. "He's all right. He's stable. They're going to operate in the morning. But amp; " Her voice trailed away.
"But what?" Serrin had to ask her.
"Spinal damage. They wouldn't talk to me about it.", "Oh, no." The elf looked away, pain in his eyes, mouth creased, fists balled. "God, no." He turned to Tom as he held on to her, his eyes suddenly filled with determination.
"Tom, we've got to see this through."
The troll nodded and gripped the Roomsweeper, which had been returned to him. "Of course," he said. Orkish
chatter came from the back yard. Someone was getting very excited indeed. Tom smiled at Serrin just before the cheer went up.
"I think our chummer must have made a good deal," the troll said. "Let's go see what fireworks we get to play with."
Gunther was examining the missile launcher and the assault cannons while the rest of the orks were contemplating the booty in the crates as the van pulled away.
"The deal is you keep everything afterward. But that buys us total commitment," Serrin warned him.
"I'd go up against the gates of hell with this much heat," Gunther growled. He'd just seen the grenade box and the plastic explosives.
"You may have to," Serrin told him.
Mathanas, old friend, this may be our last night together in this world. It may be a long, long time before we meet again. There isn't anything in my soul you do not know. If tomorrow brings the end of me, then we will know each other again. We are old souls, you and I.
Niall roused himself from his reverie. He was long out of Munich, through Ingolstadt and Regensburg, and now had come to the owl-blessed forests outside Schwandorf. The conifers stood like sentinels, the forest not carpeted with the riot of vegetation he so loved in his homeland. With midnight near, Niall had completed the shrouding of himself, all the illusions and barriers and concealments, and he knew Mathanas had been weaving his own powers into patterns, changing the aura around them. The elf wasn't tired, even though he'd been awake for many hours. Energies beyond anything he'd ever dreamed were at his command. It felt like they could keep him awake and alert forever. He also knew the dangers of that seduction.
"We must scry the place now," he said to his ally spirit. "We must find the defenses. The weak link, if there is one. And without being noticed." It was the last part that would be the great strain; he could not risk Lutair sensing his approach. He had to discover everything about the magical defenses of the place without triggering any of