Lawrence Watt-Evans - Nightside City

That was an odd way of putting it, I thought. "I owe him a lot," I said.

I knew that wasn't what she was after. I knew what she had in mind.

"That's all?"

I hesitated, but finally I said, "That's all."

I knew what I was doing-but Mishima had brought it on himself. He should have known better. He'd gotten involved uninvited again, and this was once too often.

I knew, back when I got that skimmer at the Starshine Palace, that Mishima made mistakes, didn't always see the obvious.

I owed him, but that didn't make me his keeper. I wasn't responsible for his mistakes.

And I'd never asked him to come out looking for me or pay my medical bills.

"That's what I wanted to know," she said, and I caught her just before she exited.

"Hey," I said. "I won't stop you; you do what you need to. But please, remember that I owe him, and that I can't pay a debt to a memory."

She looked at me out of the screen, then nodded. "I'll try," she said.

Then the screen blanked for a second, and the numbers from the bottom surged up to fill it again.

I erased them. I didn't want to think about it.

The thought of warning Mishima crossed my mind, but I decided against it. Nakada wouldn't appreciate it-and he'd brought it on himself. I'd warned him, and he'd said he could take care of himself. Here was his chance.

The thought of calling the cops also crossed my mind; after all, I had plenty of evidence against Orchid and Rigmus, and enough against Lee and the others to at least start an investigation.

I decided against that, too. I wasn't feeling suicidal. I knew that if I ever brought the cops into it, with Nakada on the other side I'd have the deck stacked against me. And most of my com evidence about the scam Orchid and Lee were running on Nakada had been acquired illegally. If I ever turned it over to anyone, I would be signing my own reconstruction order.

And this doesn't even mention that the casino cops work under an IRC service contract.

So I didn't call the cops, about Mishima or anything else.

It was much later, when I was eating a bowl of rice and considering bed and staring at the negative balance in my primary credit account, that the com beeped again.

I touched, and 'Chan appeared.

"Carlie," he said. "I thought you ought to know. Big Jim Mishima's been arrested."

"What's it to me?" I asked.

"Oh, come on, Carlie," he said. "Don't give me that. I was there in the hospital. I saw you when he bought you in."

"All right," I said. "Who's arrested him? What's the charge?"

"The casino cops picked him up for cheating, at the New York. A security unit broke his jaw, and the management has him under heavy privacy seal. I hear that as victim's privilege they want to wipe his memory and files for the last ten days."

That made sense. It was something that I could live with. I didn't like it, but I could live with it. It would make everything simple. I nodded.

"Carlie," 'Chan said, "what's going on? Is this something of yours?"

I shook my head. " 'Chan," I said, "if it is, do you really want to be involved?"

He considered that. "No."

"That's what I thought," I said. Something occurred to me. "Hey," I asked, "how'd you hear about it?"

"It was on the casino grapevine," he said. "I'm at the Ginza now, and we get a lot of feed from the New York."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything more to say. 'Chan just stared out of the screen at me.

"Thanks for calling," I finally said.

"No problem," he replied. "Carlie, are you in trouble? Is there anything I can do?'

"No," I said. "Thanks, but I'm okay," I exited.

But I wasn't sure I was okay. I wasn't sure at all.

Sayuri Nakada had removed one threat and done a fairly neat job of it-but I was still around. Mishima's employees were still around, too. She'd started removing enemies; could she really stop with just one?

And did I really want to leave her free to buy up Nightside City? Did I want to risk the crew at the Ipsy trying a little demonstration blast, despite their promise? Could I be sure that Orchid and Rigmus wouldn't decide to remove me, ITEOD files or no ITEOD files?

Did I really want to stay in Nightside City, in my rundown little office in the burbs, taking two-buck jobs from the dregs of the city, hanging out at Lui's because I wasn't welcome anywhere better, ignored by my friends back in the Trap and by my father dreaming eternally in Trap Under-just sitting and waiting for the sun?

I was sick of it all. I had known all along that I had to get off Epimetheus eventually, and I decided that the time had come. I could still beat the rush. I didn't have the fare, but I knew just what to do about that.

I didn't want to try blackmail-Big Jim Mishima, with his broken jaw to keep him from talking, had tried that. I couldn't very well go to the cops. But I had information to sell, and I knew where to sell it. Mishima had told me.

I did a little work on the com, pulling stuff back into active memory and packaging things up neatly on a pocket datatab; when I was finished with that, I put all my best working software on another pocket tab.

After that, I erased my whole system, right back down to the landlord's lousy original housekeeping programs. I was done with it; even if something went wrong, I was done with it all.

Then I called a cab and went down to the street. I took the shoulderbag with the HG-2 in it.

The cab was a Daewoo; I'd never seen one before. I took it as an omen, of sorts, that new things were happening, that my life was about to change. I got in out of the wind and told it to take me to the New York-the business entrance on the roof, not the street.

It dropped me there, in the middle of a shimmering holo that was half siren, half demon, and I buzzed at the door.

The scanners gave me the once over and asked my business.

"I have an important message," I said. "For Yoshio Nakada. About his great-granddaughter Sayuri."

The scanners locked in on me. The door didn't open.

"Ask Mis' Vo," I said. Old Vijay Vo was still the manager of the New York. "He'll know whether Mis' Nakada will want to hear about this."

I waited, and after a moment the door opened. A floater hung inside, blocking my way. "Leave the gun," it said.

I gave it the HG-2, and it gave me a receipt and let me pass. A line of golden flitterbugs formed an arrow and led the way.

The manager's office was done in dark red plush; the ceiling shimmered with red and gold field effects. Vo sat behind his desk. I stood.

"You ought to know who I am," I told Vo.

"I do, Mis' Hsing," he said.

"And you know I've been investigating Sayuri Nakada.

He nodded.

"Well, I think that Yoshio Nakada will be very interested in what I found out, and I want to talk to him. You must have a line to him here."

"We have a line to his office, yes. You can't just tell me, and trust me to act accordingly?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Mis' Vo," I said. "But this is a matter of vital interest to Nakada Enterprises and the Nakada family, and I hope to earn a fat fee out of it. I don't know you. I don't know how you stand in relation to either Yoshio or Sayuri. I know nothing at all against you, but no, I can't, at present, trust you."

He leaned back and watched me thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"All right," he said. He was a man of decision; I appreciated that. I'd also expected it, from what I'd heard of him.

"You understand the com delay, don't you?" he asked me.

I nodded. "How much is it at present?"

"About twelve minutes each way, a little over twenty-three round-trip. Prometheus isn't too far away just now."

That might not seem to far to him, since he was used to it, but I realized I was about to start the slowest conversation of my life. You can't put a message on a Wheeler drive unless you put it on a ship, and you can't hold a conversation by ship. I was limited to light speed.