Mel Odom - Preying for keeps

"Think he's about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar and wants to get out before they take his head too?" Skater asked.

"The Mafia expects a little graft," Elvis said. "It's figured in. A slag who's good at what he does can afford to get greedy because he's keeping the Family coffers full."

"And McKenzie's been that kind of guy."

"Without question," Archangel stated. "But lately he's been investing in more legitimate enterprises."

"Have they been good investments or has he been losing his shirt?" Skater asked. "From the way he acted about the money tonight, he must be strapped."

Archangel shook her head. "It sounds to me like he's built up quite an impressive portfolio." She glanced at notes she'd scribbled. "He's not really making any profit, but he's leveraging money from different banks to buy interests in companies and businesses and stocks."

"Laundering his own money," Skater said.

Archangel nodded. "I think so, too, but it would be hard to prove."

"Then he's dealing with considerable shrinkage working through the money scammers," Wheeler said. The lights of the sprawl washed over the van's windshield, a neon jungle war waged in advertising. "Joker taking financial hits like that, this biz with NuGene could sound pretty good."

"He came up out of the gutter, kid," Duran said. 'Tonight you kicked dirt in his face. No matter what social ladder he might be trying to climb, he's not just going to turn the other cheek."

Trey smiled wanly. "I get the feeling McKenzie works out of the other testament."

"How accessible is the info on McKenzie?" Skater asked Archangel.

'To who?" she asked.

"The yabos working for him."

She appeared to consider that, then nodded. "The ones that are well connected could probably find out.”

"Makes you wonder if any of them has designs on the hole McKenzie would leave behind," Skater said, "They said nature abhors a vacuum. One of them could have cut a deal with the yakuza and sold McKenzie out."

"I also traced the nuyen that paid Larisa Hartsinger's bills for the last few months," Archangel said. "It took quite a bit of doing."

Skater felt his stomach tighten. "And?"

"The payments were drawn on an account in Exchange First, a smaller bank that does a lot of out-of-sprawl biz. I had to run some real burners to figure out who was ultimately on the bottom line."

"Who?"

"NuGene."

"Dragonfletcher said he didn't know who Larisa was," Skater said.

"Maybe he doesn't."

"Did you get a name at NuGene?”

"Arial Baerenwald," Archangel said. "She's an accounts cleric. Probably ran the payments through the bank without ever knowing what they were for."

"But someone knows," Skater said. He began ticking off points on his fingers. "Larisa sets us up with the raid on the freighter. We get the files, which are corrupt and aren't worth a twisted slot. One step ahead of the yakuza, who've evidently also been lipped about the cargo. Dragonfletcher, head of NuGene security, starts trying to move heaven and earth to catch the people responsible. Someone kills Larisa only a few hours before I can get to her, and takes her baby-which was arranged by Ridge Maddock. She'd been hanging around someone named Synclair Tone, who just happens to be very interested in getting rid of me. Now we discover her expenses have been paid by NuGene. And NuGene, a corp that's been near financial collapse, is suddenly given a new lease on life because Tavis Silverstaff is promoting a new product line. And along comes Conrad McKenzie, Mr. Mafia, taking his own percentage of the action." He raked the team with his gaze. "Am I missing anything here?"

"Quite a package," Duran commented.

"No drek," Skater retorted. He gazed out the window at the dark streets of the sprawl rushing by. "We need to know more about NuGene. What it's got on the books. Where the special interest groups came from. And what exactly's in those fragging files." He glanced at Archangel. "How tight is the ice around the Seattle operation?"

"I couldn't get inside without major effort and time-lots more time than we've got."

"Then that leaves the parent crop."

"NuGene in Tir Taimgire?" Trey said.

Skater nodded. "We've got two choices: Roll over and play dead, or try to figure out where all the heat is and leverage us some back." He met the gaze of every member of the team. "Either way you vote, I'm in for the long haul. There's too many questions I need answers to."

"Listen to you," Archangel said sharply. "You're talking about invading the elf lands like it was nothing."

"Can you get into NuGene from here?" Skater asked.

She hesitated. "No," she admitted. "I've already tried. The corp's R amp;D computers aren't tied in to the Matrix. They're keeping them isolated."

"We're not talking about raiding the elven strongholds," Skater pointed out. "Just Portland. Security's not as tight there."

"It's still a suicide run."

"One misstep," Skater said evenly, "and they all are."

"Portland security's no Cakewalk," Archangel said.

"I wasn't thinking it was." Skater looked at her, sensing he had to win her over more than the others. Fear was in her eyes, something he'd never seen before. 'The people who set us up, whether it's NuGene or the yakuza or someone else, they aren't going to take the hammer off of us until we're dead. Even if we try to vanish, I don't know if it can be done."

"I'm slotting good at disappearing," Archangel said in a cold voice. "I can do it again."

Skater leaned back, not knowing what else to say. "I've got to go."

There wasn't much hesitation from anyone else. Wheeler and Elvis agreed readily, followed somewhat reluctantly by Trey.

"I'm in, too," Duran growled. "When push comes to shove and the down and dirty gets ugly, I want to see if these stump-skankers can upload it as well as they download it."

Archangel shook her head. "I can't go. Not to Tir Tairngire." She looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," Skater said softly. He knew from a glance there was no arguing with the cold, angry fear that suddenly shone in her eyes.

"Gonna be chancey as hell humping it into the Tir like this," Duran said.

"Not quite as bad as betting against loaded dice," Skater replied. He peered into the cargo hold of the Fiat-Fokker. Tightly packed cases filled almost the entire area. "And the odds are a lot fragging better than hanging around Seattle." Satisfied, he closed the cargo-hold door and locked it tight.

"And checking on that stuff is a waste of time," Duran pointed out. "We aren't going to use none of it"

"Who knows? Depending on who canvasses the scene first, maybe some of those weapons will end up in rebel hands. I've heard Kate Mustaffah never misses a trick when it comes to turning a profit." Mustaffah was an ex-arms runner turned businesswoman and crusader for the failing economic sector in Portland, but rumor had it she still kept her hand in.

Fatigue ate into Skater to the bone despite the few hours of sleep he'd managed in since they’d left Archibald's the night before. Not all of those hours of sleep had been consecutive, and none had been without dreams of the immediate past and nightmares of what the immediate future might bold.

He looked up at the ork. "We roll in twenty-six minutes, Duran. You get any bright ideas, let me know."

Quint Duran dropped a big hand on Skater's shoulder and gave a thin, ork grin that had never been stained by honest mirth. "Just grousing, kid. Drek, I think this is going to be one of the best slotting runs that's ever been put together. The only thing I'm dreading is the long walk back."

"Who knows? Maybe we can package a deal on that, too. Depending on what hole cards NuGene is hiding."

Ten meters down from them, Elvis pulled the Leyland-Rover to a stop inside the warehouse and yelled for Duran to come help him. Wheeler was finishing the final check on the plane, wearing oil-stained dark blue coveralls and a red and gold San Francisco Forty-Niners ballcap that had seen better days.