The street corner was like a hundred others in the metroplex this time of day. Hurrying by were corporate daywagers, salarymen, and office ladies, all trying to make it home before the city’s nightlife took over the streets. Or else heading that way to ready themselves to join it. Already the first wave of night breed was out. Chippers, chemguzzlers, and jackheads were panhandling for their next fixes while rockerfans, glitzqueens, and underage wannabees hustled off to the next scene-or-be-scene. The only thing that made this corner unique was the ebony Mitsubishi Nightsky rolling slowly to a stop by the curb.
The doors on the curbside of the limousine opened. A burly ork rolled out of one to stand stern and vigilant sentry. The gray livery she wore was tailored to enhance her already considerable presence. Through the open door, Sam could see that the driver wore a similar uniform; he was also an ork.
The back door gaped on a cool, dark interior. A woman he recognized as Lofwyr’s secretary sat in a bucket jumpseat that backed against the partition separating the sybaritic rear compartment from the front. Across from her sat a man whose face was unfamiliar. The man, so relaxed he could only be the rightful owner of the vehicle, was slim and well-dressed. Fiftyish and distinguished, he wore his gray hair trimmed in a slightly old-fashioned cut. When he smiled, a glint of gold showed among his teeth.
“Please get in, Mr. Verner,” the man said. “The sidewalk is no place to transact business.”
Sam ran his fingers through his hair, a signal to Ghost that the contact had arrived. He heard the sound of the Indian’s motorcycle starting, but the noise of traffic quickly swallowed the sound. Ghost was ready to follow him, for they’d anticipated the possibility. “I guess that will be all right.”
Sam ducked his head and slid into the Nightsky, then sank into the luxurious leather seat. Without a touch, the door closed silently, and the view outside the window began to move. Sam had not felt the ork return to her seat or the car begin to roll. He turned to his host. “You are Mr…”
“Enterich.” He held out a hand.
Sam started to extend his own, then froze, staring at the silver ring the man wore. It was sculpted in the form of a dragon. Haesslich had worn a silver dragon ring when appearing as Mr. Drake.
“You are admiring my ring. An exquisite piece of work, is it not? It is a family heirloom that dates, I believe, from the fourteenth century. The image is something of a pun. You see, I had rather ambitious forebears. They thought the image of a firedrake was a better insignia for an up and coming family than a feathered pond paddler.”
“I don’t get it.”
“A drake, Mr. Verner.” Sam must still have looked perplexed, for his host added, “The firedrake was sometimes called simply a drake. In German, Enterich means ‘drake’…as in a male duck.”
Sam chuckled nervously.
“Do you believe in destiny, Mr. Verner?”
“Never used to.”
“Which implies that you do now.”
Sam wasn’t really sure anymore, but what was it to this fellow? “Why do you ask?”
“You seemed to react so strongly to my ring. Perhaps you might have taken my own ring or name as a sign. Many people have such beliefs these days. Part of the revival of things magical, I suppose.”
“No,” Sam said. “I didn’t take it as a sign of anything.” Except that you might be a dragon yourself.
“Ah, then it’s a pleasure to deal with a rational man. I’m sure that will make everything so much easier. Now, perhaps we can discuss your complaint regarding Lofwyr?”
“Before we get down to that, will you permit me to phone my associates to let them know all is well? They weren’t expecting me to be picked up.”
“I understand, Mr. Verner. Karen, place a call for our guest.”
“Ah, I’ve got my own, thanks,” Sam said, tapping his head.
Enterich seemed amused. “I see. Karen, lower the communications barrier, please. Mr. Verner will make his own call.”
Sam settled back, rocking his head forward onto his chest, the position he had seen regular head-phone users adopt. He closed his eyes as though concentrating on sending the commands to dial. Instead, he focused on breaking through to astral space.
The transition came quickly, and he opened his astral eyes to look at Mr. Enterich, who surprised Sam by still appearing as a man. When Sam turned to Karen, he saw the furry being whom he had known as Jacqueline the sasquatch. So his vision hadn’t failed, and he could still pierce illusions. As a precaution, he checked the orks in the front seat. They were just orks, though heavily implanted with cyberware. Abandoning his pose of making a call, he returned to the mundane. “All taken care of,” he said.
His host’s smile was warm. “Fine. Now, back to your concern about Lofwyr’s dealings with you?’
“You’ve already expressed some of it.”
It was Enterich’s turn to look puzzled. “Which is?”
“That Lofwyr knew Drake was Haesslich. You’ve said as much, and I never told you.”
“That was not intended as duplicity, Mr. Verner. Lofwyr did suggest that all was not as it seemed with Mr. Drake. Allowing you to discover that fact for yourself and to demonstrate continued determination to proceed assured the dragon that your effort was worthy of his support.”
“Then what does he plan to do?”
“Lofwyr leaves the planning to you. His own involvement in this matter is not politic.”
“So he expects me to tackle Haesslich on my own?” Sam was incredulous. What did a dragon think a human could do if the dragon himself was afraid to get involved?
“No need for distress, Mr. Verner. I can safely say that Lofwyr does not expect you to tackle Haesslich directly or without support. When you have made your plans, contact me. If your scheme shows a reasonable chance of success, we can arrange certain resources to aid in the effort. Discreetly, of course.”
“What kind of resources?”
“Supplies, equipment, and cash are the easiest to obtain, as long as your needs are within reasonable bounds. Additional, non-specialist personnel might also be arranged. In the meantime, please accept the services of my aide Karen Montejac as a liaison and advisor.”
Sam looked at the woman he knew to be a sasquatch and a magician. Did she know he knew? “Mind if I call you Jaq?”
“I’d find it charming,” she said, smiling cheerfully.