Free The Lucifer Deck by Lisa Smedman Page B

ten.
    Farazad Samji was an affable man with dark hair and a square jaw. Despite the exotic nature of his shop, he dressed conservatively, in a double-zip suit and solid-tone pants. He was keen about his craft, earnest and bright. Although he came from a rural background, he had interesting ideas on the modern technological applications of magic. Carla could see why Mitsuhama had offered him a job in their R&D division.
    Although the puff piece had been no more than a minute long, the unedited trideo footage ran over half an hour. Carla muted the video portion, and, while half-listening to the audio, ran over in her mind what KKRU’s researchers had learned about the mage thus far. Farazad was married to a woman named Ravinder and had two young children—Jasmine, age seven, and Bal, a boy of three. He lived in a tiny condominium in
North
Beach
, an upper-class section of Seattle that overlooked the ocean. He had a solid credit history with only moderate debts, no criminal convictions, and he rarely traveled. He was in every respect a good corporate citizen, devoted to his family. He was said by his neighbors to be a respectable, religious man who sometimes even led the prayers at his temple. Hardly the sort of person you’d expect to find dead in an alley.
    Farazad had sold his store and joined Mitsuhama three years ago, back when the company was aggressively hiring for its magical research division. The advertised starting salary for the position had been 120,000 nuyen—twice Carla’s current wage. What Farazad’s salary had been when he died was anybody’s guess; the IRS databanks certainly weren’t telling. But given the value of his home and the small balance outstanding on his mortgage, it must have been plenty.
    Carla looked out the window at the passing traffic. As far as she could tell, there weren’t any vehicles following her. But if the Mitsuhama goons were on her trail, a taxi was the safest place to be. Not only was the vehicle bulletproof, but it was also warded against magical attack.
    The driver, a heavyset man with a round face and wearing a black beret decorated with a Celtic pin, caught Carla’s eye in the mirror. "Weird weather we been having lately, eh? You see that lighting flash last night?" His voice crackled through the speaker that was set into the plexiglass partition that separated the front and back seats.
    "No." Carla answered. "I was inside all night, working."
    "Well, it was tremendous." the driver continued. "It lit up the whole sky. I’ve never seen—"
    His commentary was cut off by the beep of Carla’s cel phone. "Excuse me." she said. "I’ve got a call. It may be personal. You mind turning off the intercom?"
    "Sure thing." the driver answered. He touched an icon on his dashboard, cutting the com, then reached into a pouch that lay on the seat beside him. He pulled a chocolate from it and popped it into his mouth, then munched happily, staring straight ahead at the road. Carla thumbed the talk button of her cel phone. "Yes?"
    "Hi, Carla. It’s me."
    Carla recognized the voice of Frances, one of the deckers at KKRU.
    "Yes?"
    "Our subject just accepted a delivery of flowers." Frances answered. "She’s home, all right."
    "Did you get a digital sample?" Carla asked.
    "You bet." Frances sounded smug. "I’m going to work on it right now."
    "Perfect. And thanks."
    Carla thumbed the phone’s Off button and smiled. She was taking a risk, coming to the Samji house unannounced. But although it was possible to do a pickup straight off the telecom line during a phone interview, face-to-face interviews always looked best on trid. Of course, when Carla confronted her, Mrs. Samji might just shut the door in her face. On the other hand, she might open up and tell Carla everything she knew about her husband’s work. All Carla had to do was find a subject that would get her talking. Children, maybe. Carla could always pretend that she had children the same age as the Samji kids. Or pets,