Richard Morgan - Black Man / Thirteen

Norton looked at his brother and could not name the feeling that seeped into him. He hoped it was pity.

“No wonder Ortiz paid up at the start, Jeff,” he told him. “He had to have time to put all this in place. He had to get Merrin back here, before Onbekend could go to work.”

“And Onbekend came over the Texas border and started with Tanaka.” Marsalis nodded. “He could have stopped right there, if he’d only known. But he doesn’t know, doesn’t get the chance to get it out of Tanaka, maybe wouldn’t even have been able to afford to trust him even if he did, so he’s committed. He kills his way across the Republic, because those are the easiest ones—underfunded police departments, low-grade data tech, highest murder rate on the planet, and a massive underclass to hide out in. He only heads on to the Rim when the easy work is done, moving slower now because he’s got RimSec to contend with. But still, Jasper Whitlock and Toni Montes, he’s getting through them, probably only a handful left, and then…”

They both turned to look at Jeff Norton.

“What happened?” Marsalis asked him softly. “You lose your nerve, playing both ends against the middle? Thought maybe Ortiz had worked you out, knew you were part of it after all? You start to think maybe Onbekend’s last bullet was going to be for you?”

“No!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“Then what happened in New York?” Norton peered at his brother’s face. “Someone had Ortiz shot. Sure as hell wasn’t Tanaka, he was already in the ground. That leaves you, Jeff.”

Jeff looked away.

“They were Tanaka’s,” he muttered. “Dead hand insurance. If anything went wrong, he’d given me this Houston number, in case he didn’t have time to set it off before he ran. Or in case he…didn’t make it. The contract was already paid, I just had to call to set it in motion.”

“Waited long enough, didn’t you?” Marsalis coughed out a laugh. “Or did it take this crew of geniuses four months to get from Texas to the Union?”

Norton snapped his fingers. “Whitlock.”

He saw the way his brother flinched at the name. Oh Christ, Jeff. Made it into words so he’d have to hear it, so he’d believe it.

“Onbekend came across the fenceline into the Rim States and he killed Whitlock, October 2. You must have caught it on the feeds, recognized Whitlock’s face.”

“Yeah, right here in the Bay Area.” Marsalis whistled long and low, mock concerned. “Just a little too close for comfort, right, Jeff?”

“So you made the call,” Norton said flatly.

“All right, yes, I made the fucking call!”

Marsalis grunted. “And it all comes grinding to a halt. Onbekend on hold, at least until he finds out if Ortiz is going to live or die.”

“It was right after Whitlock you called me,” Norton realized suddenly. “Suggested I get Marsalis out of Jesusland and hire him. What was that, just a little added pressure, keep Onbekend on his toes?”

Amazement on the black man’s face. “ You got me out of South Florida State, Jeff? I owe you for that?” A chuckle broke out of him. “Oh man, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I got sick of waiting,” Jeff snapped, voice tight with sudden, puny fury. “A week after I called the Houston crew and nothing. I didn’t know anything about them, how good they’d be—”

“They weren’t very good,” said Marsalis somberly.

“Yeah, well, I thought maybe they’d gotten caught at the fence, trying to get into the Union. Or maybe just faded with the cash and walked. I had no fucking way of knowing, Tom. I was scared. I knew you wouldn’t bring UNGLA in, I tried to persuade you, thought maybe that’d scare Ortiz into pulling the plug. But you wouldn’t do it.” Jeff looked across at Marsalis. “I thought maybe he’d scare Ortiz instead.”

Norton saw the black man walk to the desk and pick up a paperweight Jeff had brought back from a trip to England when he and Megan were first married. He weighed it in his hand.

“There’s just a couple more things I’d like to know, Jeff,” he said absently. “Then we’re done.”

“Yeah?” Jeff tugged at his drink. Grimaced as it went down. “What’s that?”

“Ren. She didn’t know anything about Onbekend. Where does she come into this?”

“No. She’s freelance, we’ve used her in the past. I pulled her in because we needed someone who knows the Rim systems. Ortiz wanted to keep the Merrin end of things separate from the rest.”

“And Daskeen Azul. They’re your people?”

A shrug. “Associates. You know how it works, Human Cost did them some favors in the past, they owed us.”

“So who sent them up to find that corpse in the nets? You?”

Jeff shook his head. “Onbekend. He heard from down south that you and this COLIN cop were poking around. Told me to bring the denouement forward.”

Marsalis came back to the sofa, paperweight in his hand. He was frowning. “Against Ortiz’s orders?”

“Ortiz was in the hospital.” Jeff gestured wearily. “No one knew which way to jump. You ever met Onbekend?”

“Briefly.”

“Yeah, well, when he tells you to do something, you don’t argue with him.”

Marsalis hadn’t lost his frown. “And the soldiers?”

“What soldiers?”

“Someone sent a uniformed death squad after Ertekin and me. They pulled us over between Cuzco and Arequipa.”

“I don’t know anything about that. Maybe someone panicked down there.”

“Bambarén,” the thirteen said softly. He crouched to Jeff’s eye level. “Do you think Manco Bambarén knows that Merrin existed? The other Merrin?”

“I don’t know Manco Bambarén from a hole in the fucking ground.” Jeff stared bitterly back at Marsalis. He seemed completely drunk now. “How the fuck would I know what he does or doesn’t know?”

“That’s unfortunate,” said the black man softly. “Tell me, Jeff, did you set Onbekend on me when I got back from Bulgakov’s Cat ?”

“No! That wasn’t me, I swear. Onbekend wanted you out of the picture, I think he’d maybe talked to Ortiz, but he was furious about something else anyway. I told him it was better to let things lie, but he wouldn’t listen. You don’t understand what he’s like. Once he’s decided, he doesn’t listen to anything or anyone who gets in his fucking way.”

“Right. And I don’t suppose you know where I can find him now, do you?”

Jeff knocked back the rest of his drink. Shrugged. “You guess right. Last I heard, he was on his way back to the altiplano with a shoulderful of holes from a Marstech gun.”

“You treated him here?”

“At a Human Cost walk-in clinic, yeah. Over on Carmel.”

Marsalis came smoothly back to his feet. Norton saw how the thirteen’s fingers tightened on the paperweight, saw the heft in the arm. He stepped swiftly across, blocked Marsalis body-to-body. His eyes locked with the black man’s stare.

“No,” he said, very quietly. “Please.”

Marsalis stood coiled. His voice came back, also barely above a murmur. “Don’t get in my way, Norton.”

“He didn’t kill Sevgi.” Norton looked back at where Jeff sat slumped in one corner of the sofa, staring listlessly into his empty glass. He barely seemed aware of the other two men. “Look, you want to go after Onbekend, I’m with you. Ortiz, too, if that’s what you want. But this is my brother, Marsalis.”

“He’s going down anyway, Norton. He’ll do thirty years in a RimSec facility for this, minimum. I’d be doing him a favor.”

But a little of the tension seemed to drain from the thirteen’s stance. Norton raised his hand, palm-out. The small gesture for enough .