Deciding to lie low, they took a room in a cheap motel, where Geraint accessed his telecom’s answer message and reprogrammed it. No way was he going to risk returning to London tonight. Francesca was more philosophical; snipers on the freeway were almost an old California tradition. Geraint was definitely the more shaken up of the pair. In Britain such things didn’t happen.
“I think we should try to meet Serrin at the airport when he arrives” he said.
Francesca looked at him sharply. “But we don’t know when his plane gets in.”
“It doesn’t matter. Well just be there to collect him when it does. He may be a target, too. Rani should be all right where she is.”
Even so, Geraint called the code she’d given him. He got an angry-looking male Indian ork who refused to answer his urgent questions and then abruptly cut off the connection.
“Oh great. Can’t locate her. Let’s hope she calls me as planned. She’ll get the new message. Now for Serrin. Let's cover the angles.” He began phoning again furiously.
By the time they got to Heathrow, Geraint had guards from Risk Minimizers PLC crawling all over his flat. He also had more private security waiting for them and Serrin at the airport, but he was still uncomfortable.
They didn’t even get out of the car, but just sat and watched as a phalanx of bodyguards hustled the bewildered elf mage carefully and securely toward a waiting limo. When Geraint and Francesca emerged from the Saab, another crew of secguards ferried them with the same finesse over to the same limo. As the Saab was whisked away by the security team, the limo glided off into the late evening. Serrin turned to them, pure astonishment on his face.
“Don’t worry,” Geraint said smoothly. “It’s just that somebody decided to make our car ride home a little more interesting by setting a sniper and a grenade launcher on us. We thought they might come after you too. Tried to get Rani earlier but no luck. She’s supposed to be calling me at home, though. and I left her a warning. Security is scouring my flat right now, and we’re not going back there until they’ve worked it over from top to bottom.”
The nobleman was terse, edgy. His lifestyle didn’t normally include being shot at while behind the wheel of his car. He used the portacom to access the telecom in his flat, and was relieved to pick up a message from Rani. She mumbled rather incoherently that she was on the run, but that they shouldn’t worry, she’d get to them soon.
“Spirits, what have you two been stirring up?” Serrin was alarmed, his head full of fantasies about their decking exploits.
“Nothing really staggering. but it’s beginning to fall into place. We got something on you and certain employees of the company. I think you’ll like it.” Francesca told him.
“The Savoy.” Geraints voice was authoritative as he triggered the intercom to the driver. Flicking it off again, he said simply. “The best place is somewhere very public, I think. And the Savoy has a fine security system indeed.” He was already calling to register, listing the security services he required. They were confirmed within two minutes.
“That’s better,” he said to no one in particular, and relaxed very slightly. “We’ll get better protection than the French president on his last visit. Let’s hope we don’t need it as much as he did.”
He took the call at eight the following morning, exactly as arranged. Posted at his flat were ten security samurai and two combat mages. The electronics had also been reconfigured and the street was crawling with security. The residents of Cheyne Walk would wonder what on earth was going on in their peaceful oasis but, being Brits, they wouldn’t pluck up the courage to complain to anyone. Geraint wanted to get to the flat to retrieve money, cards, equipment, clothing, hut he wasn’t planning to stay long.
“We need somewhere safe, If they’re on to us we’ve got to go somewhere they wouldn’t expect us to go.” His Voice was brittle.
“Geraint, look, it could just have been some crazies. We don’t even know they were specifically alter us.” Francesca tried to calm him.
“Two shots. both into the chassis. They only just missed us. And a grenade? Come on. Francesca, grenades just don’t fall into the hands of crazies. Only a handful ever leak away from the corporate security goons. It had to he a corp that came after us. It must have been that bloody succubus that let them trace us. I’m sorry, my friends.” He wrung his hands in anger. “Look, it only needs one of us to get over to my place. I’ll go in the limo. It won’t take more than an hour to pick up what I need. Then we can figure out what to do next.”
When the hotel desk notified Geraint that the limo had arrived, he left with the bodyguards. Serrin turned to Francesca, eager to hear more of what had been happening.
She was glad to oblige. “After the run we analyzed what I’d downloaded. We didn’t get everything we wanted, and some of the data in the files was degraded. I had to run a program to fill in the gaps, but it wasn’t too bad. For starters, they’ve got a file on you, Serrin. It records your being employed by unspecified intermediaries to investigate security arrangements of various corporations in Cambridge. It’s got some personal stuff about you, too, but nothing especially juicy.” She looked mischievously at him and handed over the printout.
The elf scanned the pages. There wasn’t much, but he was surprised to discover that Transys had been behind the Portland runs he’d done in '43, not long after he’d left Renraku. Interesting. The target was specified as a tiny subsidiary of Global Thcbnologies.
“Oh, by the way,” Franeesea went on. “they did hire me for the Fuchi run. The file I got had nothing about them setting a spy on me-that thing that nearly killed me-but there’s a strange, scrambled line of garbage I haven’t been able to decrypt. So who knows?”
They had a file on Geraint, too, he read it, told me it contained nothing relevant, and kept it to himself, I guess he doesn’t want me to know what they’ve got on his financial and political dealings.” She smiled knowingly. “By the size of the datafile I think they’ve got quite a lot. Makes you wonder what he’s been up to, the devil.”
“As for Melvin Aloysius Smith, he’s a corporate fixer, The data on him was seriously degraded, but it’s clear that he and Peter Karl Jones have arranged at least a dozen missions together. They’re tagged as having hired you, and also as commissioning the Fuchi raid in which Rani and her people took part. No apparent connection. Actually, I can’t be absolutely certain about that. The target wasn’t specified in the subfile entry, and, again, the data was very degraded. Let’s just say that what I got is easily compatible with that supposition. They’ve hired some people for other runs, too, but nothing that seems to connect with anything we’ve got.”
Serrin nodded as he scanned the hard copy. Based on this evidence, Smith and Jones looked like very ordinary corporate fixers.
“No way of tracing them, though. There’s a Brazilian address we can crosscheck against the address from that Registration Services agency, but it’ll mean nothing. There’s some coded garbage after that, which we still haven’t been able to decrypt. If it’s significantly degraded, we won’t be able to decipher it at all.”
She continued with her summary. “As for any entries on Jack the Ripper, well, nothing. Nothing except an obviously crashed, scrambled, empty file. Whatever was there was gone by the time we got to download. Still, that tells us they used to have a file on him.”
“Oh, indeed, Francesca. I’m sure they did,” Serrin nodded grimly. “Sorry, tell you later. You finish your part first.”