Crossroads (12 page)

“Good. Have it sent to my place.” Boom said. Then we went to meet Trouble in the foyer, and she seemed quite pleased with the whole process as a stately human woman finished covering a dress with an opaque plastic cover.

“I feel like Cinderella getting ready for the ball.” she said with a grin.

“Just as long as we’re not the ugly stepsisters.” Boom joked, then reached into a pocket of his jacket to remove his credstick.

I held up a hand. “It’s okay, chummer. I’ve got it.” I said. Boom shrugged and put the stick away. He’d already done a lot by offering to help us out. Working with Assets paid quite well, so I had a very healthy cred-balance. I slotted my credstick into the reader on the counter and tried not to quail at the figures that flashed by. I could afford it, but the amount was still sinful.

“Have a good evening.” Marcel said as we left.

“I’m sure we will.” Boom told him.

I made sure to lock the bathroom door that night, and Trouble didn’t try to burst in on me. True to his word, Marcel had our clothes dropped off at Boom’s place a few hours after we left Armante. Examining myself in the mirror I looked even more corporate than I did in my car mirror the previous day. That seemed so far away now.

Boom was looking very posh in a dark suit with a collarless shirt and no tie. The bulk of the jacket concealed a slim pistol in a shoulder harness, and the jacket itself could stop medium-caliber rounds, from what Boom told me about a time when it saved his life. We chatted as we waited for Trouble to come downstairs.

“Things sure have changed, eh, Tom?” Boom said with a wide grin, showing his prominent tusks.

“Chummer, if someone had told me even five years ago that this is where I’d be today, I’d have told him he was crazy. It seems like, since Dunkelzahn got killed, nothing has really been the same.”

“Dunkelzahn’s death was a turning point in many ways.” Boom said, lost in thought. He turned his eyes back toward me. “You know, you never asked me how I ended up in his will.”

“Did you know him?” I asked.

“Somewhat. After I got out of the band, I discovered I had a real knack for organizing things. Remember how I used to take care of a lot of the details of the runs we were on? I started doing that for other runners, handling the details, working the numbers. I’m good at it. Dunkelzahn noticed and started sending work my way. Of course, I didn’t know it was him at first. Those jobs helped me build a reputationin Boston. For the first couple of years, it was strictly small-time, but when Fuchi started to break up, there was business to spare. By that time Dunkelzahn was already dead, but he left me the club and enough nuyen to jump-start the business.”

Boom grinned again. “I remember how I used to think fixers were some of the worst money-grubbing leeches in the world, but now I see it from the other side. Took a long time to find something I really wanted to do when I grew up.” He cocked his head at me. “How about you?”

“I think I’m still growing up.” I said. “After you left Seattle, I kept running, working the shadows. I’d built a rep, got some good jobs, then kind of fell into this whole business with Assets. It was the wildest run I’ve ever been involved in. Real end-of-the-world apocalypse stuff, chummer. It still gives me sweats just thinking about it. When it was all over, they asked me to become a member of Assets. How could I say no? They’re the best. I’ve seen and learned drek working with them I never thought I’d see in my time on the streets. I thought I’d hit the big-time. Now this business has brought me back here, and I’m thinking about things I haven’t thought of in a real long time.”

“So, are you guys ready or not?” came a voice from the hall, and Trouble entered the room. We both turned toward her, and Boom let out a low, long whistle.

She was wearing an Armanté “starlight” gown in forest green, shot through with silvery threads of neo-diamond filament, making the whole dress sparkle as she moved and providing no small amount of protection. The gown was backless and featured a plunging neckline that showed off her white shoulders and arms, along with a fair expanse of cleavage. Over her shoulders was a black, fringed shawl of a filmy material spangled with tiny silver stars and, no doubt, additional protective material.

Her dark hair was caught up in an elaborate French braid secured with a silver comb decorated with Celtic knotwork. Similar Celtic-knot designs decorated her silver necklace and earrings, which had small green stones that matched the dress. The jewelry complemented the silver of the datajack port behind her ear, the only real technological touch on her person. She held a slim, dark purse, large enough to accommodate a holdout gun, but not the Predator she leveled at me when we’d first met. The overall effect was breathtaking.

“You look . . . great!” I said. “Amazing.”

“My dear.” Boom said rising from his chair, “as usual, my friend and associate Talon has a gift for understatement. You are a true vision of grace and beauty.”

He caught up one of Trouble’s hands in his own massive grip and gently lifted it to kiss it. Man, those skill-softs must have been working overtime. I’d never seen Boom so smooth, and his accent shifted to become a very slight, upper-class Bostonian, like someone who’d lived his whole live on Beacon Hill.

Trouble smiled at the compliment and almost curtsied. Maybe there was something to having those ’softs, after all.

“You should definitely make an impression.” I told her, shooting Boom a look, which he ignored.

“Yes, we should.” Boom said. “Hopefully enough of an impression to make your friend Garnoff think twice about who he’s messing with. Shall we?”

“I'm ready.” Trouble said with a smile
.
“Let’s party.”

9

The party was in full swing when we arrived at the upper floor of the Colonial Hotel, overlooking Boston Common. Some of the sprawl’s wealthiest and most influential people were gathered together to celebrate, talk, and play their games of power and control. The private ballroom was two stories tall, with floor-to-ceiling windows affording a spectacular view of the Common and the glittering lights of the metroplex beyond, matching the bright stars in the clear night sky over Boston. From a balcony above, some of the guests appreciated the view, while others leaned against the rail to watch the activity on the ballroom floor below them.

Light classical music filled the air from hidden speakers throughout the room, providing a soothing, pleasant atmosphere and ably masking any conversation taking place more than a few meters away, allowing guests to congregate in small groups and hold private discussions with little fear of being overheard. It wasn’t the most hi-tech protection against eavesdropping available, but anyone discussing anything truly sensitive in a place like this was already taking a chance.

The edges of the room were lined with catering tables laden with fine delicacies, artfully arranged, along with beautifully carved ice-sculptures in the form of fantastic beasts like unicorns and mermaids (no dragons, I noticed). Liveried waiters carried trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres through the crowd, whisking away empties and keeping the room tidy and always active. Others tended bar or saw to various needs of the guests. A uniformed hotel employee appeared at the door to take my hat and cloak, Trouble’s jacket, and Boom’s topcoat. Waiters offered us champagne and tiny crab puffs from trays as we entered the room. I took a drink, just to have something in my hand.

Boom munched on several of the snacks, but declined anything to drink. “Mmmm.” he said. “Not bad. Carolyn has good taste in catering.”

“Carolyn?” I asked.

“Carolyn Winters, CEO of Manadyne and our hostess for the evening.” Boom's etiquette skillsoft was already doing overtime, and I could just imagine them feeding him subtle cues and information he wasn’t even consciously aware of. The effect was somewhat unnerving.

“Of course, she probably didn’t handle the catering herself.” Boom went on. “She has an expert staff and a lot of public relations people.”

“So what’s this party for?” Trouble asked, idly sipping from a champagne flute while looking around the room. High-class corporate soirees were obviously as rare for her as they were for me, although I’d attended my share while working with Assets over the past couple years.

“Up until a few years ago.” Boom said, “Boston was a quiet town when it came to corporate action. There was plenty of business going on up around Route 128, but it was mostly little hi-tech corps, nothing to really interest the big boys. The stock exchange is still a big deal, but the megacorps all agreed to play nice around it. Manadyne was one of the larger outfits to operate in Boston, a big fish in a little pond.

“Since the Fuchi breakup, Boston’s become a much bigger pond. With Richard Villiers setting up Novatech here, there’s a lot more going on, and more corps want in on the action. Manadyne wants to take advantage of it and ride the wave into megacorporate status. They’ve got money from Dunkelzahn’s will backing them up, and they’re building more corporate contacts through little get-togethers like this. So far, Manadyne is a neutral party in the Boston scene, so they can pull off gatherings like this, where Novatech or Renraku would be too factional to get everyone together. . .”

“I can see that, but why Manadyne, what have they got to offer that’s so important to everyone?” I asked, then it hit me. “. . . Ah, of course, magic.”

Boom nodded, looking around the room as he spoke. “Got it in one. Magic. Manadyne is the biggest independent corporation concentrating on magical research and services. They’re probably equal to the megacorporate magical departments of Mitsuhama or maybe even Aztechnology. Manadyne is hoping to get a lot of sub-contracting work for the megas that aren’t heavily invested in magic, maybe even for the corps that
are,
giving them a leg up on the competition. A lot of corporations don’t want to sink resources into building up their own magical R&D departments, especially when good wagemages are still hard to find.”

“Tell me about it.” I said with a grimace. “I nearly ended up a Mitsuhama wage-mage myself.”

“You’re in good company.” Boom returned. “I see several Mitsuhama people here, along with some from the other top-tier corps and plenty of the local ones. Most of them are either courting Manadyne for magical research projects or trying to get the jump on what their competition is up to.”

“That still doesn’t tell us what Garnoff wants with information about me.” I said.

Trouble broke in with a gentle touch on my elbow. “No, but you may get a chance to find out. There he is.”

She nodded slightly off to the right, and I turned to look at the man who was after me.

He was standing by one of the catering tables, sipping bubbly and studying the room. He wore a dark suit of a decent cut and conservative style, with a silver lapel pin in the shape of a small magical diagram, covered with arcane symbols. I estimated his age at late forties or early fifties, although modern bodysculpting always made it difficult to be sure. His hair was dark, graying at the temples, and his neatly trimmed beard and mustache were streaked with gray as well. No doubt he considered the look distinguished enough that he didn’t bother covering the gray with cosmetic treatments or spells. He wore spotless white gloves, an odd affectation, I thought. Occasionally, he would smile and nod or exchange a word or two with a passing guest, but otherwise he slowly scanned the crowd like he was waiting for someone.

He glanced over in my direction and our eyes met. I didn’t look away too fast, tried not to give him any reason to believe my glance was anything other than idle curiosity. For a moment, Garnoff returned my gaze with an intense look. I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes and a kind of electricity passed between us.

Then all heads in the room turned to stare as Richard Villiers, CEO of Novatech, entered the ballroom with a ravishing female companion on his arm. Garnoff turned to look too, and I took the opportunity to guide Boom and Trouble a bit deeper into the crowd.

“I’m not sure if he recognized me or not.” I said. “I got the feeling he knew who I was.”

“Well, I never managed to get him any holopics of you.” Trouble said. “So he couldn’t have recognized you from the jacket I compiled. Hell, I wasn’t even sure it was you in your apartment until you said you knew Jason Vale.”

“I’m still pretty sure he had some idea. There was something there. The weird thing is, I don’t really think he was looking for me.”

“He couldn’t have any way of knowing you’d be here, could he?” Trouble asked.

“If you mean magic, probably not. Precognition and divination are pretty vague, to say the least. But Garnoff might have a lot more contacts in Boston. Someone could have told him we were coming here.”

Richard Villiers was working the crowd like a political candidate on the campaign trail, offering friendly greetings and shaking hands, moving through the room and leaving a collection of dazzled guests in his wake. Even though he was only just another guest at the party, Villiers acted like he owned the place. Now that he had acquired many of Boston’s major hi-tech companies, Novatech was the largest corporation based in the city. He acted like a king holding court, and most of the people treated him as one.

“Who’s the woman?” Trouble asked.

Boom smiled. “I know her. She’s a bodyguard. Under that Zoe designer gown is enough cyberware to stop a truck, and she’s really sharp. Villiers isn’t taking any chances. Neither is anyone else. I’d guess at least a third of the people here are hired protection of one kind or another.”