The gray light of predawn began to filter in through the blackout curtains over the windows of the burned-out tenement Ghost had chosen for the strategy conference. Of them all, only Karen Montejac still looked fresh, but Sam knew it was only an illusion. He wondered if the others noticed.
“Any other ideas?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sally said, rubbing her eyes. “Sleep.”
“Verily, Sir Twist. ’Twould seem the best plan of a bad lot. We have been over this ground enough. Unless something new turns up, our only option is to winkle Hutten out of the arcology.”
“And I still say going in and trying to drag him out is too dangerous,” Ghost grumbled.
“I know, Ghost,” Sam said. “I know. But there’s no other way. Hutten is the evidence we need against Haesslich.”
Ghost folded his arms over his chest and frowned. “You want the wizworm down, take him down. Physically. Before he gets you. Too much risk to hit the arcology.”
“That’s not the way I want to do it,” Sam said wearily. “This is a matter of justice, not vengeance. Haesslich isn’t a no-data runner. He’s chosen to live in the corporate world by taking a job as security director for United Oil. He’s even got a SIN. When he took that job, he became a part of society, and he’s subject to society’s laws. I intend to see that he pays the full penalty under that law. Under the law. Not outside it.”
Ghost shrugged and looked away. The silence in the room grew. Sam looked to Dodger for support, but the elf wouldn’t meet his eyes. He knew better than to try Sally. He was beginning to feel abandoned when Jaq tentatively cleared her throat.
“You are aware that there may be no alternative to killing the dragon? None of the plans we’ve considered offers a reasonable chance of success to safely obtain the evidence you want. Sanction may be the only means of stopping Haesslich.”
Sam looked at her, imaging the fur-framed face behind the blonde mask of Karen Montejac. Did another face, that of Lofwyr, hide behind her words? Killing was a prerogative of the state. Any individual who took that right into his own hands was committing murder, and murder was a sin. Sam was not ready to add that one to the list his soul had accumulated in recent days.
Lord, why have you made it so difficult?
The others didn’t believe there was any hope of bringing the dragon to any justice other than their own rough brand. Were they so wrong? He knew what Haesslich was. He feared what he might do if left to pursue his schemes. Was Sam’s own soul worth more than the unnumbered souls who would be tainted or destroyed if Haesslich were allowed to live?
He was tired to his bones. Maybe too tired. Theirs was the easier solution. Kill the dragon and be done. But was it a moral solution?
And if it came to killing the dragon, how could they go about it? He had seen Tessien destroy Begay’s panzer, and Tessien was smaller, presumably less powerful, than Haesslich. It would take enormous firepower. Anything that would hurt the dragon could also kill anyone near it. If innocents died, Sam and the others would be as bad as Haesslich. It was Ghost who’d suggested killing the dragon. He was the warrior; he understood guns and tactics. Maybe Ghost could devise a way to get to the dragon without involving other people.
When Sam turned to where Ghost had been standing, the spot was empty. The Indian crouched instead by the door, an Ingram in his right hand. The others in the room had shaken off their lethargy and were also tensed for action. Sam reached for his own weapon.
After listening a moment, Ghost announced, “Kham’s coming.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam reseated his half-drawn gun. A moment later, he heard the scuff of feet on the wooden stairs. The door opened and a slightly out of breath Kham stomped in.
“You’re late, Sir Tusk.”
“Dodger,” Sam chided. “Glad you decided to show, Kham.”
“In your ear, Suitboy,” the ork snarled, walking past him to Sally. “Just turned down an invitation to a party you might be interested in. A lot of Raku types, heavy metal boys, gonna be celebrating the coming out of a certain important person.”
“When?” Sally asked.
“Where? Sam asked.
Kham threw Sam a sour look and again directed his words to Sally. “Shuttle to Sea-Tac lands at eleven. De last stop is the Raku arc where dey expect to board de guest of honor.”
Dodger whistled. “The master worm calls and his puppy comes running. Alas for the plotters, Renraku security has tumbled to their scheme. They shall detain Hutten.”
“Maybe,” Sam said. “I’ve heard that the corporations sometimes wait until a runaway tries to board an outbound plane before they step in to take him back. The added embarrassment can make a renegade more tractable. If they’re waiting at the airport, they may not know he’s running to the dragon. We could make the snatch there.”
Kham guffawed. “Oh dem Red Raku boys is waiting at de airport all right. Lotsa dem. Don’t need mega-muscle and heavy artillery for a flabby lab rat.”
“If they’re ready for the dragon, we can let them have him. Let them dance with the worm. If there are any pieces left after the fireworks, then maybe you can satisfy yourself. If Raku is loaded for dragon, there’ll be no way we can snatch Hutten at the airport,” Ghost said.
“Then we’ll have to get to him someplace else,” Sam announced. “This is our chance. Once he’s outside the arcology walls, we’ll have a better chance of grabbing him because arcology security won’t be in our way anymore. Kham, how exactly did you find this out?”
The ork never had a chance to answer.
Automatic weapons fire punched through the curtains, stitching a line across the interior wall. Kham stood in the way of that deadly pattern. Collapsing across the table, he grunted in pain and surprise.
A second later, the perforated drapes bellied inward under the impact of a chromed whirlwind of an assassin. Sally was bowled over as the invader tumbled into the room. Slicing his way clear of the entangling fabric with his twin spurs, the razorguy launched himself at the ork. Ghost fired a burst with his Ingram, but the bullets sped through empty air.
Kham stirred on the table and rolled over in time to see the razorguy coming for him. “Ridley, you crazy—”
“Eat this, tusker!” Ridley screamed as he sliced down and through the ork’s upraised arm and into the meat of Kham’s thigh. The ork howled and hit the floor in a welter of blood. Ridley didn’t spare his fallen foe a glance before vaulting over the table.
Sam had no doubt about the razorguy’s next target; he could see his own image reflected in the mirror eyes. He fumbled for his gun, knowing that even if he managed to shoot the wildman, the drug would not take effect before Ridley butchered him.
Time seemed to move with excruciating slowness. Sam watched Ridley land and absorb the shock on flexed knees. At the same instant, Sam saw Ghost beyond him, raising his Ingram. Ridley straightened, rising up from the cover the table had provided. Sally, recovering from her collision with the razorguy’s initial rush, was also rising, right into Ghost’s line of fire.
Sam’s hand closed on the grip of the Lethe. Ridley stepped forward, raising an arm tipped with silver death. There was a roaring in Sam’s ears as he watched the bloodied blade begin its descent.
The chrome arm connected, but not with Sam. Jaq yelped with pain as she swept the lethal limb away from Sam’s head with her own arm. Ridley, knocked off balance, recoiled, turning his eyes on Sam’s rescuer.
The delay was all Ghost needed. First one, then the other, of his Ingrams sent slugs crashing into the half-metal body of the razorguy. Ridley spun under the impact, but most of Ghost’s bullets had missed his meat. Sparking and bleeding, Ridley turned again toward Sam, a feral snarl on his face. Ghost’s next bursts sent the razorguy jerking spasmodically against the wall. He rebounded, leaving a gory smear, and collapsed to the floor.
One gun already holstered and a 25-centimeter Bowie knife replacing it in his hand, Ghost knelt by the shattered assassin.
“Tusker ain’t gonna talk now.” Ridley coughed blood, but he smiled. “Not bad for an Injun, wuss. Bet you can’t do it to my face.”
“You’re in no shape to fight.”
“They’ll rebuild me, trog-lover, then I’ll eat your heart.”
“To rebuild you, they’ll need a brain,” Ghost said softly as he shoved his blade up under Ridley’s chin, through the soft tissue and into the base of his skull. The razorguy spasmed once.
The stench of excrement swept over the sharp odor of expended propellant. The room was quiet again.
“Any more?”
“There were two in the hall,” Dodger said, reslinging his Sandler machine pistol. “They have gone the way of all meat.”
“Car and driver in the street,” Sally said. A secondary explosion punctuated her words. “Now that it’s quiet again, I’m going to take a nap.” She slid down against the wall, leaned her head against the window sill, and closed her eyes.
Sam walked around the table to where Jaq was tending Kham. The ork was a mess. Blood was everywhere. “Is he…?”
Jaq shook her head. “Not yet. His armor stopped the bullets. The bruises won’t be bothering him much. The arm is nearly severed and the major muscles of the leg cut up pretty bad. He’s going to be spending a lot of time in hospital.”
“Can’t you do anything?”
“I’m no miracle worker. He needs a doctor, and a good one at that.”
“There goes our muscle power,” Ghost said. The only sign of his recent deed was the blood covering his right hand. The knife was nowhere to be seen.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“Kham’s boys won’t run with us if he’s down. Without those extra bodies, there’s no way to pull it off.”
“What about your tribe?”
Ghost’s instant stone-face told Sam he’d said the wrong thing. “They have no stake in this.”
Ghost was right, of course. The warriors wouldn’t risk their lives for someone who was not a member of their tribe. Ghost wouldn’t stop Sam from asking, but the Indian’s followers were unlikely to risk their lives to satisfy some Anglo’s idea of justice, especially if he were ignoring the good advice of their chief.
There were, however, others who did have an interest in the matter at hand and who had no need for Ghost’s approval. Help from them entailed another whole set of obligations, but Sam saw no other way to get the force he needed in time to take advantage of Hutten’s departure.
“Well, Jaq,” he said. “Looks like we’ll need some of your people after all.”