Free House of the Sun by Nigel Findley Page A

scrambled satellite uplink commo unit. And, oh yes ... a small liquor cabinet/wet-bar arrangement. Above the entertainment suite was a transparent kevlarplex screen. Through it I saw Scott slide into the front seat, push back a hank of hair, and slip a vehicle control line into his datajack. He turned around and grinned at me through a centimeter of reinforced kevlarplex. "Ready to go, Mr. Dirk?" His voice came from a hidden speaker somewhere behind my left ear.
    "Only when you get rid of this thing," I told him, leaning forward to rap on the bulletproof screen. "I feel like I'm in an aquarium."
    His chuckle sounded clearly from the hidden speakers as the screen whined down into the top of the entertainment suite. "Better?"
    "Much." Another couple of centimeters of my anatomy was engulfed by the upholstery as Scott put the Phaeton into gear and pulled out smoothly. "Scott," I said after a moment, "your call. Do I need the four-point?"
    "Hey, I know some tourists pay to be strapped down." I saw his large head shake. "You can get by with the lap-belt if you like, but you want something to keep you from rattling around if I have to do any heavy evasion."
    As I fastened the lap-strap, I asked the next logical question. "Is that particularly likely? Evasion, I mean?"
    My chauffeur shrugged. "Likely? No. Possible? Yeah." He snorted. "We've had a couple of wild moves against corp higher-ups this year, and the shooters might not bother to find out who's in the limo before they start busting caps, y'know what I mean?"
    "Who's behind the wild moves?"
    "ALOHA, who else?"
    I blinked. "ALOHA? They're still around?"
    "They're always around, brah. Some people are never satisfied with what they got. Yanks out, Japs out, haoles out..."
    I cut him off. "Howlies?"
    "Haoles ." He spelled the word. "Anglos, brah. White folk. Foreigners ... like you, okay?" The smile I could hear in his voice robbed the words of offense. Then he continued, "Like I said, haoles out, corps out ..." He snorted again, letting me know what he thought about that attitude.
    We pulled out of the airport compound, and onto a modern six-lane freeway. Scott opened up the throttle, and the Phaeton's turbine sang. I glanced at the wet bar, thought about it, then—what the frag anyway?—cracked it open and searched through the miniature bottles inside for some Scotch. Glenmorangie, twenty-five-year-old single-malt—well, that would certainly make the grade. The limo's active suspension ate up the road vibration so I had no trouble pouring a healthy shot into a heavy crystal glass and adding a splash of water. I silently toasted the back of Scott's head, and in the rearview mirror I saw his eyes crinkle in a smile. I sipped, and let the Scotch work its magic.
    "Scott," I said after a couple of minutes, "you know who I am, right?"
    He paused, and I knew he was thinking about how best to answer. "Of course I do, Mr. Tozer," he said at last.
    I smiled. "Call me Dirk," I reminded him quietly.
    He smiled again and admitted, "Okay, yeah, I know who you are."
    "And Jacques Barnard told you what I was here for?"
    "Don't know any Jacques Barnard," he lied firmly. "My boss is Elsie Vogel at Nebula." He paused. "But yeah, I know you're here to deliver a message, and I know who you're going to deliver it to."
    "Tell me."
    He shook his head. "You don't need to know that yet," he said, and for the first time I could hear the hint of steel under the friendliness. This well-dressed ork wasn't just any corp gofer, I realized, he had some juice. "I'll drive you there when the time comes," he went on, and again his voice was geniality itself. "Don't you worry about that."
    "When?"
    "Tomorrow, probably. The man you're to meet—he's on one of the outer islands today—won't be back till late tonight, early tomorrow morning. Emergency trip, or something like that." He turned for a moment and grinned at me over his shoulder. "Means you've got the whole of today and tonight to see the sights, brah.