Tags:
London,
CIA,
Berlin,
space,
fbi,
MI5,
Moon,
robot,
LA,
Space Station,
mi6,
lunar colony,
transhuman,
credulity,
gene nexus,
space bridge
them than
with some unknown killer, or with Cordell, for that matter.
So he stopped
scowling out the window and told his new best friend, Agent Fariba
Freymann, that he'd do whatever he could to help her get the
package. It didn't stop her frowning, and it certainly didn't make
her chatty. She kept on eyeing him with closed-mouthed suspicion
all the way from London to LA. But it made Rik feel better. In
fact, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from him. It could
just have been his body finally adjusting to Earth's gravity. He
preferred to think it was his conscience feeling glad he was no
longer doing something so morally dubious as transporting a weapon
of mass murder around the system.
Of course, the
fact that he wouldn't get paid would complicate his life in all
kinds of ways he'd rather not think about, but for now he felt OK,
and that was good enough. All that remained was to take his grumpy
watchdog to Blake and get the package. Then maybe he'd call
Greet-Greet, threaten to pull his pointy little head off, and get a
good night's sleep.
He gave
Freymann a good, long look. She had a fine-featured, intelligent
face, with big brown eyes, and lips that would look a lot nicer if
they smiled once in a while.
“ I suppose you didn't want this job,” he
said, trying to empathise.
She gave him a
suspicious look. “What do I care? I get a trip back to the
States.”
“ You sound like a New Yorker. LA isn't
exactly home.”
She shrugged
and turned away.
“ I'm from Palo Alto originally,” he went
on. “Moved to LA as soon as I could afford the bus
fare.”
“ I know, I've just been reading your
file.”
“ What? The CIA's got a file on
me?”
“ It does now.”
Rik sat back
in his seat and thought about that for a while. It didn't bother
him much. Everybody had files on everybody. It was the Information
Age. Still, he wondered what the latest entries would be, and how
that might affect him in the future.
“ What made you join the Company?” he asked,
still trying to be nice.
“ I've got a natural talent for keeping my
mouth shut. I bet you could do it too, if you tried.”
“ Nah, I don't think it would work. I just
love asking questions. I like to know things. I have a probing
intellect.”
She gave him a
tight smile. “Gee, I suppose that's why you became a rocket
scientist.”
Rik held up
his hands in surrender. “OK, if you're going to be nasty about it,
I'll just sit here and read a book. I won't bother you again.” And
he didn't, all the way to LA.
Freymann had
an autolimo waiting for them when they cleared customs at LAX. As
soon as they were on the road, Rik put in a voice-only call to
Blake. The call diverted to Blake's wife, Brie. Rik glanced at the
silent woman sitting beside him, wanting to share the concern that
had gripped him. Freymann gazed back at him with the same cool
disdain to which she'd treated him since they met, and Rik changed
his mind.
“ You! You fucking bastard!” Brie's voice
was loud inside his head, and he recoiled at the wild emotion he
was hearing. “I don't know how you have the fucking nerve to call
after what you've done. What've we ever done to you, you bastard?
Blake has always been your friend, for Christ's sake. And you pull
a selfish, stupid stunt like this!”
It was a while before he got a word in.
“What happened, Brie? Are you OK? Is Blake OK?” They'd opened one
of the phials, he thought. They were sick. They were both dying.
Maybe the whole neighbourhood was affected. What had he done? To his friends! To
hundreds of strangers!
“ They shot him, Rik. That's what. They
fucking shot him, and he's in a coma, and–” Her tirade ended in a
sob.
Rik was
stunned and, to his shame, relieved. He pulled his thoughts back
into line. “Who shot him, Brie? Did they get the package?” He hated
himself for asking, but he had to know.
There was
silence on the other end. When Brie spoke again she was no longer
shouting. “You bastard,” she