Free Hammerjack by Marc D. Giller Page A

to Vienna. I want a pulser on the roof to take him to the airport in fifteen minutes.”
    Yin closed the link. Cray was expecting something from the man—condescension, pity, sadistic pleasure, anything to indicate his reaction to this development—but Yin was blank and guarded. The news could have meant everything or nothing to him, there was no way to tell.
    “I’ll see to it that you get everything you need upon your arrival,” Yin said.
    Cray stood. “Just like that.”
    “You should be used to that by now.”
    “I am,” Cray said, and headed out. Stopping short of the exit, he lingered for a few moments, contemplating the scene as he wanted it to end.
I don’t believe you,
he would have said.
Not a single word. All I need is time, and I’ll be able to prove it. And after that
. . .
    After that, what?
    “You don’t want me as an enemy, Cray,” Yin warned. “Don’t entertain any thoughts of aligning yourself with the Assembly, either.”
    Cray turned around.
    “Choose the lesser of two evils?” he asked.
    Yin went rigid.
    “You always have choices,” he said. “I suggest you consider yours carefully before you make it.”
    Cray was more straightforward.
    “I suggest,” he said, “that you go fuck yourself.”

     

    But Phao Yin only watched.
    Tuned to the sentry monitors, he watched as Cray left the sanctuary and rode the elevator up to the roof. He watched as a pulser landed and took Cray aboard. And lastly, he watched as the gleaming vehicle jumped onto the grid and hurtled past his window, joining the endless stream of traffic that passed over the city. It was what Yin had prophesized, and it was what came to pass.
    He had considered all the possibilities before Cray arrived, but never doubted the outcome. Cray had never been able to conceal his emotions, least of all his outrage. Sending him to intercept Zoe had simply been the final act in a well-orchestrated performance. Yin hated to lose him over that, but such were the sacrifices one made in war. Zoe herself had seen to that—as Cray was only beginning to discover.
    Turning back to his desk, Yin caught sight of the hustler. The kid was still splayed across his couch, stirring now that the neuropatch had run its course. The sight of the young addict made Yin feel a sudden connection with the street, a sensation that had once been familiar to him but now only served as a reminder of his origins.
    He hit the fiber link again, opening a secure port to an address that only he knew. There was an acknowledgment on his display at the point of contact, but nothing else. Those on the other end didn’t have voices in the conventional sense. Yin preferred it to the usual forms of human interaction.
    “Dr. Alden is working with a GME on the Singapore intercept,” he said into the silent link. “Find out who it is and procure any findings from the study. Direct them to my office only. I’ll decide the disposition at that time.”
    He closed the port. Moving worlds was that simple, as long as you knew where to push.
    That left Yin with some time to wait. He spent some of it watching the hustler climb his way back to consciousness, the pain of withdrawal building on his face. The trip was the best money could buy, but getting off it was hard. As soon as his eyes fluttered open, the hustler would be wanting more.
    The kid moaned. Another figure then appeared in the office doorway, as if awaiting her cue. The girl’s face was concealed in shadows, her posture wary and tense like that of an animal.
    “I see you found your way back here,” Yin said to her. The sound of his voice was familiar to her, and she responded by moving partially into the light. She was also from the street—a hustler in her own right, her body a collection of artificial enhancements, her eyes a feast of addiction.
    Yin placed a small plastic pouch on top of his desk—a pack of neuropatches, the same thing he had given the boy. The girl fixated on them, taking an involuntary