Anthology - From the Street

– Looks like all the crowned heads of all Europe have gathered here, Celine muttered in his ear.

– Yes, and even more: the corp suits are here, too, he answered with a smooth nod towards a CATCo executive speaking with a dwarf and an older woman.

– Did you locate our Mr. Yuppie, Laurent?

– Not yet… Maybe…

They were interrupted by a trio of men in their late forties, early fifties.

– Don't tell me it's…, Artaud thought.

– Yeah, Nolwenn answered in his head. Piotr Dabrowski. The drek has hit the fan.

– No, Artaud thought. I think this fan was already full of drek. It stinks of treason.

Artaud turned to face his old enemy, who was smiling broadly, offering Celine and him flutes of champagne.

"My old tusky friend… If I had only thought I would find you here. Let me introduce you to His Highness the Cardinal Mazotti, of the Roman Catholic Church, and to General Hermann Reuber of the German military. But who is that delicious person that accompanies you?"

Artaud didn't hesitate. For years he had learned never to look embarassed. "My wife… "

"… Celine Chaumont," she completed. "Delighted to meet you, Your Highness… General… And Mister…?"

"Ivan Davidowicz," Dabrowski answered, his eyes on Artaud.

– Abort? Nolwenn asked in his mind.

Artaud slowed down as he was entering Marseille. He wanted to get to the Tunnel du Prado, the decaying walls of which ran like a hollow snake of concrete and metal underneath the Old Port.

Yep. I should have cancelled the run right there and then.

"Honey, why don't you go and look for our friend, while I talk to these gentlemen?" Artaud said.

"Yes, of course. Maybe I'll see you later," Celine said to Dabrowski, who nodded gently, her champagne flute still in his hand. She served him the coldest smile she could give, then disappeared in the crowd. Dabrowski kept his gaze on her for a little while, then absent-mindedly emptied her glass before putting it on the tray of a passing waiter. Then he looked back at Artaud.

"You've always had good tastes regarding women. Well, since you are here, have you seen Adam Alome's latest exhibition in Paris? I take it you like troggish art?"

– From what I get from her feed, Laurent, it looks like she found the guy.

– Good.

Laurent Artaud's 'ware was well-concealed, and fully dedicated to his art. Nothing lethal. No boosted reflexes, just knowsofts and linguasofts, a voice synthesizer, a cranial phone, some memory and naturally a datajack. No synthacardium or enhanced articulations, but tailored pheromones and a mnemonic enhancer. Tonight he would have killed to have an oral slasher, just to see Dabrowski's head ripped off and dripping with blood. The discussion was going on and on, and he couldn't get away from it.

"… I mean, the secular powers of Neo AtatYrk in Ankara won't stand if EuroForce doesn't step in against the fundamentalists in Eastern Turkey," General Reuber was explaining. "They're gathering forces around Adana, and plan a major offensive to retake Constantinople. And we don't want a third act in the Euro-Wars, do we?"

"Turkey doesn't strike me as critical, General," Dabrowski answered. "And the Balkans are here to serve as a buffer… as they always did," he added with a smile in Artaud's direction. "But you have one real problem in the north, if you want my opinion. If Suchov decides to get rid of Rybinski in Poland and crushes the Liberation's Army, your country will face a new threat on its Eastern range… "

"This is nonsense and you are not serious, 'Ivan'," Artaud said. "The Russians want Poland under control, but they would never dare to threaten the German Alliance, even with popular support. Moreover the Poles are Catholics and Rome would throw its weight in the affair. By the way, Cardinal, what is the Vatican's stance in what regards the current Russian presence in Poland?"

"Well… we naturally defend the Catholic community in Poland, but we are also fervent advocates of peace in Europe. The Church supports the aims of the Liberation Army but we believe an agreement should be reached with the current government, that of Rybinski… even if it is influenced by the Russian occupation forces," the Cardinal said.

"I don't think the Big L would agree with granting Suchov full control over Poland," Dabrowski added with a smile.

"I think you overestimate the Wyrm, Herr Davidowicz. He's not that powerful in terms of political and military power. At least not compared to our Bundeswehr," said the General.

"Last time I heard, it's been a few decades since your military blasted one of those lizards. As far as I know, it's not one of your jet fighters that blew Nachtmeister off the face of the planet. And do you believe the sudden exodus of wyrms out of Germany is a result of your army's operations, Herr General?" Artaud asked over his flute, with a touch of irony in his voice.

A conniving light shone in Dabrowksi's eye. "My friend's fair enough. In fact, General, some people in France and Great Britain pretend that the German dragons used to protect the country more effectively than the Bundeswehr do… "

Reuber's face burned red with anger. "The thing is, meine Freunde, we have the means and will to defend our country. Whatever Saeder-Krupp wants, if we do not help the right side in Poland now, and the Liberation Army overthrows the current regime, the next government in charge could be that of that ultranationalist madman Wysocki, and the situation there will look strangely similar to Hitler's rise to power in 1935. And that is a real threat. And what would you say about it, Mr. Artaud?"

He was losing some precious time. What was worse, this was getting unbearably boring. "I'd point out to you the fact that no, the situation would really have nothing in common with the one you mentioned. And that Hitler rose to power in your country in 1933, not 1935, Herr General."

Reuber gawked at him. Dabrowski was smiling broadly.

"Now if you would pardon me, I need to leave your company. I really can't leave my wife alone any longer. You know, women… " Artaud said. "Or maybe you don't, after all," he finally added after an amused look in the direction of Cardinal Mazotti.

He left them behind, losing himself in the crowd.

– So? What gives?

– Everything's fine, man. Kern says the astral is clean, he's back here with me. Celine is in the room.

Artaud mentally dialled Celine's number in his headphone. She answered immediately.

– How are you doing, my dove?

– Pretty well, honey. I've talked our chummer into showing me the interesting parts of that place. He had to get to his room to take his passkey, and I managed to see his door's code. Thank God for the eyezoom. He showed me the opera, the gambling grounds and more. I left him after promising him some surprises for later in the night.

– What kind?

– You don't want to know, honey. Anyway, I managed to say good-bye and enter his room… and now I'm almost through with the installation of the sat dish. By the way, how was it with Dabro? You're still with him?

– Nope. I've just left him. But I couldn't find out what the fragger is doing here. I'm wondering…

– Wait a minute… Good. Nolwenn, the link and the terminal are on. Deck in, but please hurry up.

– Acknowledged, the decker answered on her second line.

Artaud's Westwind emerged from the tunnel, soon reaching the docklands of the western districts of Marseille. He drove to reach the northwestern districts, where he had a small flat. There he could rest for a while and think about what his next move should be.

They had almost made it. It had been hanging on a thread…