Robert Charrette - Find your own truth

"Messing with the yakuza is not conducive to long life. Were Goroji a simple boss, dealing with your offering would be a delicate business, but as it is, the heat is higher than desirable. You were aware that Goroji fronts for Grandmother?" He hadn't been. "Of course." Her eyes gave away nothing, but the slight twitch of a cheek muscle hinted disbelief, or at least suspicion. He smiled, hoping to project the air of a confident and assured runner.

"Cog would prefer that your next offering have nothing to do with Grandmother's sources. She reacts violently when someone disturbs her network, and her wrath descends on those who bothered her and on anyone associated with those unfortunates. Should you continue to court such a fate, Cog wishes that you not involve him. He and Grandmother settled their feud long ago, and he has no desire to reopen that unpleasantness at this time."

"No one expects a fixer to show a warrior's courage. This run was in direct response to the needs of a client for whom Cog serves as an intermediary. No stipulations or caveats were placed on me at the time of the request for information. Hence there should be no change in the payment. Fixers rely on their reputation with shadowrunners. Fair dealings are imperative."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Within reasonable margins of profit, of course," he added.

"I'm sure a reasonable fee will be paid for the contracted data."

"And for the bonus material."

"Commensurate with its value."

"And its temperature."

She smiled now. "We do have an understanding. The caution was meant for future dealings."

"If Cog fears connection with further enquiries, perhaps he would consent to bow out and let me deal directly with the client." "Perhaps he will."

The possibility that the fixer might cut himself out of the deal made Neko realize just how dangerous Cog thought the situation. How could Grandmother be so territorial? It was bad business. There had to be something more to the data he was uncovering for the elven decker. Some secret connection perhaps? Understanding what was happening would make it easier for him to know the value of what he discovered. Knowing the value, he could cut himself a better deal. Coinciden-tally, he would also know just what kind of danger he was facing.

He continued to dicker with Monique over the price for his recent acquisitions, but his mind was preoccupied with other matters. He began to wonder if Go-roji's search for Warlord Feng was just the yakuza boss grasping at power or something more sinister. Perhaps it was part of some great scheme of Grandmother's. The Feng data was juxtaposed in Goroji's files with material on enquiries into the matter of Renraku's Special Directorate. An operator like Grandmother would likely have more than one angle on an operation. Go-roji on the outside and Sato on the inside made for a well-orchestrated attack. Very understandable, considering the importance of the prize. Neko would be " surprised if Grandmother didn't have other tools work-(ing on the target as well. An artificial intelligence would be a powerful research tool in the Matrix. If it was as good as his decker acquaintances claimed it could be, what computer secret would be safe, save one defended by a similar artificial intelligence? The worth to an information broker would be incalculable.

If Grandmother had access to such a machine, she would know all.

And what did she want to know? Why did Feng interest her? What connection did a Chinese neowar-lord have with German terrorists, or to the breakup of the United States, or to Israeli commando strikes in Africa? And what did anyjrf those things have to do with the financing of Ordo Naturum, the Humanis pol-iclub offshoot, or with the financial holdings of Awakened beings? Neko didn't know the answers, but he was suddenly sure that all the information was interlocked in a web of intrigue. His curiosity was aroused. Even if the answers meant nothing to him, he was sure they would be worth a lot of nuyen to someone. All he had to do was figure out who. And what the answers were, of course.

Seattle was worse than Portland. The boundary zones around the metroplex territory were not as developed as those around the city-state enclaves in Australia, but they bore the same hideous stamp of human architecture. The metroplex was crammed with smelly crowds of humans, dark breeds, and low-life elves. It was full of life, but only of a kind past the consideration of a rational being. The plex-dwellers were only vermin infesting a land nearly dead.

Urdli wanted to go home. Australia was not what it should be, but even the wild mana and the chaos were preferable to the deadness of the metroplex and the stifling, oppressive gloom cast by the corporate skyscrapers. But he could not leave yet.

His head hurt from the unaccustomed effort of maintaining the illusion that he was an ordinary inhabitant of this morass. He disliked the disguise but found it useful, possibly necessary. The first day had told him how unusual he appeared, when he had drawn unwanted attention from a group of hooded toughs shouting Humanis policlub slogans. They would not bother any other elves, blacks or otherwise, now. He supposed that he had incidentally fueled the Humanis hate, but he hoped he had fueled their fear as well. Fear was a useful tool for keeping animals in their places.

Since he had taken to using the illusion spell, he had encountered no similar problems.

For a week now he had been vainly seeking Samuel Verner, the one they called Twist. To make his inquiries less remarkable, Urdli had offered incentives rather than taking the more direct approach of interrogation. The method had yielded results, but not satisfactory ones. There was no sign of the human shaman at his known haunts. Neither had Urdli learned the whereabouts of any of the human's known associates, save former acquaintances such as Sally Tsung. The woman had spoken freely and disparagingly about her former lover, but claimed ignorance of his current whereabouts. Urdli might have probed her, but she was a mage of unknown ability, too great a risk.

He wished Laverty had been more forthcoming about who he had observing Verner. Urdli wanted to contact that person, but had no way to do so. He had come to suspect that the decker operating under the name Dodger was Laverty's observer, for Verner had regular contact with only two elves the decker and a woman named Hart. Hart was an unlikely candidate because she had worked for the Shidhe more than once in the past, and Urdli doubted that the professor had found a way to slip an agent past the Shidhe's vigilance. Eliminating the woman as a possibility left Dodger the most likely candidate, but like all the shaman's little ring of shadowrunners he had dropped out of sight.

Awareness of time passing made Urdli uncomfortable and unhappy. Constructing a kulpunya was impractical here. His attempts to sense the guardian stone had been unsuccessful; either it was shielded or it had been removed from the metroplex. The latter possibility chilled him. If Verner was not in Seattle, Urdli had no idea where the human had run. The time for subtlety had passed, and the time for interrogation had come.

Hunting Howling Coyote was a fool's quest that, since he was assisting in the quest, made Dodger a fool. If the Ghost Dancer Prophet was dead, Sam was throwing away his last slim hope of saving his sister. She would be lost to the wendigo nature before the Dog shaman would give up. If Howling Coyote was alive, Sam was unlikely to uncover Coleman's hiding place in time. Even if by sheer chance he should somehow locate the runaway shaman, the chance of ultimate success remained slim. Despite Sam's earnestness, he had little hope of persuading Howling Coyote to help. IfColeman could help. That possibility was just as unlikely.

More foolishness. Just like Dodger's run against the Ute Council government computer system. The pair of them were mad fools, tilting at windmills. Foolishness and obsession seemed the order of the day.