Free Third Transmission by Jack Heath Page A

said.
    â€˜No offence, but that’s incredibly cheesy,’ Ace replied.
    â€˜It’s still true.’
    â€˜Do you find yourself contemplating your mortality before every mission, wondering if it’s going to be your last?’
    â€˜No,’ Six said, ‘but I will now. Thanks a lot.’ Behind the joke, he was a little alarmed. He hadn’t realised Ace could read him so well.
    She chuckled. ‘So you don’t sort out your affairs or anything?’
    Six shrugged. ‘My affairs
are
sorted out. In the event of my death, all my money goes to the Deck, and all my possessions are divided evenly between Kyntak and King.’
    â€˜Aren’t there things you’ve never done?’ Ace asked. ‘Things you’d like to do before you die?’
    Of course there are, Six thought. I’ve never played on a sporting team. I’ve never had a normal job. I’ve never had a birthday party. I’ve never been to a cinema. I’ve never kissed anyone. I’ve never eaten at a posh restaurant. I’ve never written a poem. Or read one.
    â€˜I don’t think about the things I can never have,’ Six said. ‘I just don’t see the point.’

    They parked the car in a dim alley. The bones of long-dead cats crunched under the wheels. Old rainwater, the kind that was not acidic but too polluted to be drinkable, dribbled down the walls.
    Ace put her hand on the doorhandle.
    â€˜You’re staying here,’ Six said.
    â€˜Then what was the point of bringing me?’ Ace said. ‘To mind your car for you?’
    Six was pushing a clear plastic earpiece into his ear, and tucking the cord down under his collar. ‘I can pass for a security guard,’ he said, buttoning up his coat over the top of his tux. ‘You can’t.’
    Ace nodded reluctantly. ‘So what do I do?’
    â€˜Once I’ve got the invitation, I’ll signal you.’ Six opened the glove box and took out a spraycan of sevofluorane, a fast-acting airborne general anaesthetic. He clipped it to his belt. ‘You’ll get out of the car and come over. We’ll take Yu’s car, and drive the rest of the way to Allich’s facility.’
    â€˜Won’t they try to stop –’
    Six looked her in the eye.
    â€˜Okay,’ she said. ‘Sorry, dumb question. Good luck.’
    Six got out of the car. The alley smelled like mould and motor oil. He walked back to the main street carefully, trying to avoid standing in the grimy puddles. He didn’t want to look – or smell – suspicious when he arrived at the cocktail party.
    He had chosen the location very well. While most of the guests would be driving to the Tower from the airport, Ciull Yu was a local – he should be the only guest taking this dim side street. But Six couldn’t rule out the possibility that another car had chosen an intentionally obscure route, or that a group of civilians might come this way. He’d have to stay alert.
    He could hear the dull
crump
of grenades exploding in the distance, and the crackling of machine-guns on the breeze. Apparently ChaoSonic had resumed its attack on the rebels.
    This is a relatively safe corner of the South Coast, he told himself. But relatively is a relative term.
    He’d been waiting only six minutes before a dark limousine appeared at the end of the street. Six took a deep breath. You can do this, he told himself. Then he walked out into the middle of the street.
    The limo eased gradually to a halt in front of him. Six held up one hand in a
stop
gesture, and raised his wallet with the other. There was no badge in it, but he figured they wouldn’t be able to see at that distance anyway.
    He approached the driver’s side, keeping his head tilted slightly sideways so the occupants could see his earpiece. The window hummed downwards.
    â€˜Can I help you?’ the driver asked. He was bulky, bald, and where his sleeves