Nyx Smith - Fade to Black

"What?"

"She is a psychologist. She is disaffected with corporate intrigues. She wants to counsel children, perhaps have a child of her own. She wants out of the game."

"You believe that? All of it?"

"I believe she believes it."

Nothing was ever certain. "Who's her contact at Maas Intertech?"

Bandit gazed steadily at Rico a few moments, then said, "I didn't ask."

Rico clenched his teeth, drew a deep breath, then let it go.

What mattered most? That was the question that kept coming back to Rico's mind.

The problem with this run was that too many factors kept getting involved. You could get frizzed just thinking about it, just trying to keep all the details straight in your mind, just trying to work out everyone's angles.

All the scag about who Farrah Moffit really was and where she came from probably made no difference. Maybe she was just caught in the middle, stuck somewhere she didn't want to be, the victim of megacorps, no less than Rico and his team. Maybe she just wanted a way out. Rico realized at length that there was no way he could know for sure and that thinking about it so much was a waste of precious time.

You had to focus on the key points. What really mattered. What seemed to matter most Was the Ansell Surikov who Farrah Moffit kept talking about really the real Ansell Surikov? Rico tried to figure a way to answer that question for sure, then stopped himself. What was the point? His objective now was to get Farrah Moffit back on track. What difference did it make what she called this slag she wanted to get away from Fuchi, as long as the slag wanted to go.

Only three questions really seemed crucial: was Farrah Moffit's contact at Maas Intertech for real? could she cut the deal she promised? and did Ansell Surikov, or whoever, really want to leave Fuchi?

First…

Piper opened her eyes. The display screen of the telecom on the wall beside her flickered and came to life. "Security at the Crystal Blossom Condominiums has been tightened, jefe, but the telecom lines are unaffected. I have a clean line direct to the apartment where we lifted Marena Farris."

"You mean Moffit."

"Yes, excuse me." Piper rolled her eyes, looking a little exasperated. "Where we lifted Farrah Moffit."

Rico stepped down the hall to the lounge. Dok sat there-cleaning his Ingram SMG-opposite Farrah Moffit Both he and Moffit looked up as Rico entered. Moffit looked about as anxious and forlorn as anyone Rico had ever seen. He guessed that was only natural. "Who's your contact at Maas Intertech?" said Rico, without preamble.

A timid look came into Moffit's eyes. "Must I… Must I give him a name?" she said hesitantly.

Dok cursed softly. Moffit glanced at him anxiously. Rico said, "We ain't going nowhere till you scan. Till we scan what you got. Till everything checks out. Comprende?"

Moffit seemed to resign herself to it. She nodded, just faintly, then said softly, "His name is Osborne. That could be a corporate pseudonym. I don't know. He's the Vice President for Internal Policy and Review. He controls a kind of internal intelligence section, along with various resource units such as personnel."

"How do we make contact?"

"We've established a protocol."

"Let's hear it."

The proc wasn't very complex. When Moffit wanted to contact Osborne, she called his office via a public telecom, ID'ing herself as a personal friend. If Osborne wasn't available, Moffit left a particular message and called back later. If Osborne wanted to contact her, he followed much the same routine. The only sophisticated part was that they used portable voice-translation gear to prevent their voice prints from ever being matched to their corporate personnel files.

Rico motioned Moffit to her feet "Let's make a call."

Moffit seemed willing. Rico ushered her up the hall to the warehouse office and sat her down facing the telecom screen. He gave Piper the nod, she closed her eyes. The telecom screen flashed blue with the unit calling window of the local telecommunications grid. The words VIS PICKUP OFF appeared in the upper-right corner. The code for the telecom being called appeared in large numerals at center screen.

Moffit caught her breath, and looked up and around at Rico, her eyes wide with surprise. "That's my condo's call code."

"First we talk to Surikov."

Moffit's eyes flared enormous'. "No!" she exclaimed. "They'll pick up the call! They'll realize we're-!"

"Can it."

A slag who could have been Surikov's twin appeared on the screen. Rico looked closely but couldn't see any difference between this Surikov and the one who'd died at the Willow Brook Mall, Michael Travis. Surikov opened his mouth as if to speak, then glanced downward. PRIVACY ON winked on and off at the bottom of the screen. Surikov compressed his lips, then reached to the side and drew a telecom handset up to his ear.

"Yes?" he said. "Who's this?"

"Dr. Surikov," Rico said.

Surikov nodded, now looking a bit impatient. "Yes, yes," he said. "Your vid's off. Who am I speaking to?"

Another message from Piper winked on the telecom screen: LINE SAFE.

One final check had been made. Surikov's telecom was clean, right down to the handset at his ear. "You don't know me," Rico said. "I'm calling about something you wanna know about. Be careful what you say and how you react This line's clean, but your apartment may be monitored."

Surikov frowned puzzledly, maybe irritated. "I'm afraid I don't-"

Rico gave Moffit's shoulder a nudge. She jerked her head up and around to look at him, then looked back to Surikov when Rico motioned at the screen. She seemed nervous as hell, desperate. Definitely off-guard. As Rico intended.

The question was: how would she handle herself?

Moffit abruptly shifted in her seat, sitting up straight. Her fingers shook. She gasped. "Darling… darling, don't say anything, don't say my name?"

That last came out in a rush. Surikov opened his mouth as if to interrupt, but then stopped.

"You'll give us away," Moffit continued, only pausing to gasp again. "Someone may be listening. Listening to what you say. Please don't say anything for a moment. I know this is hard. Just say… say yes if you recognize my voice."

Surikov was gazing intently out of the telecom screen. Rico couldn't be sure if the slag was angry, incredulous, or both. "Do I-" he said, abruptly cutting himself off. "Well, of course. Of course I do."

"Darling, please be careful," Moffit said. "Be very, very careful. I'll explain everything that's happened as soon as we're together. Right now I need you to help me. Think carefully. Do you know what I mean when I refer to our special project?"

Surikov frowned, now seeming puzzled. "Well," he said, "yes. Certainly." He waved one hand vaguely. "What else could you mean?"

Moffit nodded. Her eyes seemed riveted to the telecom screen. Her gaze seemed even more intense than Surikov's. "This is why I'm calling," she said. "This is what I'm working on. Our special project. I'm with people who are going to help. After we're done with this call, you must act as if nothing unusual's happened. Do you understand, darling?"

"Yes, obviously." Irritation rose suddenly into Surikov's face, but in an instant faded to nothing. He nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand. I'm just, well… I didn't expect this."

"I understand, darling. Please listen. The people I'm with are very, very careful. They want confirmation from you that you're willing to go along with our project. You must say something to convince them, but you must assume someone's listening to you at your end."

Moments passed. Surikov pressed his hand back over his brow and his thinning hair. His eyes widened briefly, like a man struggling with the incomprehensible. Twice he opened his mouth as if to speak, then said nothing.