Free The Eternal Prison by Jeff Somers Page A

yen.
     
Neely smiled as if it were all settled. “Marin’s in the process of converting his cops into avatars, ” he said. “It’s not complete yet. He’s started with the street cops and now he’s moving into the upper ranks—and he hasn’t touched the Technical Associates at all. He’s worried.”
     
“The spark,” Ruberto said, standing up.
     
“Whatever,” Neely said, sitting forward and clasping his hands in front of himself. “He’s moving slow, being careful. This guy, name’s Gall”—he reached over and tapped the sheet of paper, making it shimmer—“is in charge of Marin’s Kremlin security. Internal Affairs, old-school, one of Marin’s original recruits. Draws a lot of water, gets a lot of leeway from Marin, and pretty much does what he wants. He gets around, has his fingers in a lot of pies, most illegal, but Marin gives him a pass. You name it, this bastard does it: protection schemes —”
     
“Large scale,” Ruberto said, pacing.
     
“On a huge scale. Political favors, fuck, he even bodyguards VIPs for a million yen a week. This guy directs all Kremlin security. Get to him. That’s step one. Get to him before Marin tin cans him, and you’ll know everything there is to know about the security situation.”
     
I studied the digipaper for a moment. A big-shot Worm, all right, living the high life. Not easy work. I snapped the sheet again and the data flowed up from the bottom, his public SSF record—more fucking redactions than text—a grainy old picture that almost looked pre-Unification.
     
“You in, Cates?” Neely spread his big hands, each finger like a limb of its own. “I know you suffered terribly in prison, ass-rape and silent, private tears and all that shit. You don’t have the nerve for this, just say so.”
     
Ruberto crossed over to stand behind Neely and put a hand on the sitting man’s shoulder. “Trust me, Neely, this man has done amazing, terrible things. This is our man.”
     
I looked up at the fat Undersecretary, numb and feeling one of my fuzzy moments coming on like glue filling my head. “Why are we going to New York if my mark’s in Moscow?”
     
“Gall is in constant motion; we don’t know exactly where he’ll be,” Neely snapped, sounding impatient. “You’ll need to make contact, get some fucking intelligence, not just go tearing ass into the wilderness.”
     
Ruberto looked down at his small feet for a moment, then directly at me. “Well, what do you say? I realize this is a bit more complex than our usual arrangements, and once you’re behind their lines in New York, we can offer you no more direct resources, unfortunately. Here and there we may be able to pass information or other aid to you, but it will be unpredictable.”
     
“The fucking cops kill our people when they find them,” Neely said. “But there’s one name we can give you: Krajian. Cop, but she’s clued in on what Marin’s doing —”
     
“First the cops, then everyone, ” Ruberto said. “All of us, taking the King Worm’s invisible orders.”
     
“— And she ain’t happy about it. We don’t manage her as an asset, so you take your chances, you contact her. But it’s all we can give you for now, as long as the city’s basically under siege.”
     
“So!” Ruberto snapped, suddenly jolly. “Name your fee. This is an unusual assignment. Name your fee for your assistance.”
     
I looked from Ruberto to Neely and back again as the hover began to slow. I figured my odds of death had just shot up tremendously, but felt nothing. “My fee? Shit, Cal, if this puts Marin in a grave, I’ll do it for free.”
     
Neither of them seemed surprised.
     
     
     
     
    VI
    A HEAVY BOLT OF FABRIC STRETCHED ALL AROUND US, SUFFOCATING

     
     
     
     
I was dying of thirst, and I was about to be stabbed.
     
I hadn’t been in prison since I’d been a kid, three months in a juvie center in New York a lifetime ago, before the rules had changed removing the juvenile distinction. I’d been lucky, then, caught out by some loafing Crushers instead