Killswitch (13 page)

The elevator began to slow, the wind gradually lessening as ground features became clear, people walking, shadows cast by a multitude of lights, groundcars passing on the near street, a queue outside a nearby nightclub. Sandy gathered her feet beneath her, calculated distances, and leaped hard outward. For a short distance, she soared, then crashed through thick tree-fern leaves, snapped a branch, then crashlanded in bushes, rolling as best she could in the entanglement. Struggled her way out to a lamp-lit footpath through the greenery and ran, dodging past a couple of startled pedestrians on the path, thankful that Tanushans, like city dwellers everywhere, almost never looked up.

CHAPTER SIX

IVE minutes later she was in Balikpapan Nature Park, ignoring the wide avenues and narrower footpaths to trudge instead through the undergrowth, ducking through tangles of vines and ferns, boots sinking into the mud of recent rains. None of the aircars dispatched to Prasad Tower had followed. She could only assume that Chandaram had not reported her. The foliage obscured any view of the air traffic about the looming tower behind her, and she dared not uplink directly to the traffic net at this time, needless risk that it was.

Without the jacket, her uniform was not immediately recognisable as such, and the military green blended well with anything in the dark. Her blonde hair was more of a problem, but not enormously-she was dark blonde, not snow white. More problematic was that she possessed one of the most famous faces in Tanusha. The media, of course, had been intrigued by the image of Callay's very own pet GI, when the administration had begun to allow the free distribution of her face and name. Now, as she paralleled the diagonal avenue that cut from one corner of Balikpapan Park to the other, she began to regret that decision had ever been made. Anonymity, she reckoned, was one of those things you never realised you valued until you lost it. But to assume that the newly promoted second-incommand of the CDF could remain anonymous in a free and democratic society was ridiculous-and the public did, she grudgingly supposed, have a right to know.

Somehow they'd all managed to be shocked at how pretty she was. Never mind that among any people who knew anything about GIs, the fact that all GIs tended to be attractive in one form or another was common knowledge. Still the visual impact of her appearance had been profound. Vanessa reckoned that humans were simply geared that way-visually. So much of what everyone construed as reality was in fact subtle, subjective visual imagery that tricked people into value judgements they didn't realise they were making. That, Vanessa said, was how serial killers always blended into the crowd-they didn't look like serial killers. No one did. And pretty blonde girls with subtle expressions and an evidently agreeable personality (well she thought so, anyway) were rarely recognised as murderous walking killing machines. It had softened the public attitude toward her, no question about it. Which she still found amazing. But now, her fame kept her off the footpaths and away from casual glances.

The park was three kilometres across. Considering the shocked passengers in the elevator, no doubt someone had reported her plunge off the tower. No doubt also that Balikpapan Park was the obvious place for someone to lose her pursuers, particularly when that someone was an experienced combat soldier who knew how to hide. Equally doubtless her pursuers knew that it would take a massive sweep of the park, diverting all available manpower, to find her. Which would raise questions from media and others, questions she doubted those with the most immediate interest in finding her wanted asked. It was in their interests for all of this to be kept very silent. And in the interests of many more besides, she had no doubt. There was no one she could contact whose uplinks or other connections were definitely not being monitored, particularly if this whole thing went as far up the power structure as she suspected it did. For the moment, at least, she was on her own. At least until her closest friends realised what was up, and took steps to secure their connections.

The reply on the doorway intercom sounded distinctly unimpressed with the interruption ... until the doorway camera lens swivelled into focus, and the tone changed in a hurry. Multiple heavy locks clacked and clanked, then the door opened enough to admit the face of a wideeyed man with thick curly hair and a long, sharpened goatee. The man stared at Sandy, then stared left and right along the corridor, seeming somewhat surprised that she was alone. Then he stood aside, and ushered her quickly inside, shutting the door behind and reactivating the automatic locks.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Gustavius Chan asked her with hushed incredulity. He wore a very loud floral shirt, only halfbuttoned at the bottom where a glimpse of hairy navel was evident. Beneath the cuffs of his trousers, woollen slippers. The scruffy, unkempt appearance was offset by several gold rings and an expensive chain about his neck. "You're a CDF bigshot now, there's nothing here for you! I swear, I don't want you here, I don't want no more of Ari's damn trouble."

"You sure opened the door in a hurry."

"Yeah, because I didn't want to have to pay for a new one!"

"Relax, Gustavius, you're nowhere near important enough to interest a bigshot like me."

Gustavius frowned at her. Blinked several times, looking increasingly disappointed. "Really?"

"I needed to hide, you were closest."

Gustavius blinked again. "Closest? What, you mean like serious emergency `closest'? Oh baby, what are you into? What the hell are you going to get me into?"

Gustavius had the shielded connections in his apartment that she needed to make a totally secure call-there was a time when she would have trusted the security of her own uplinks in any Federation city without question. Now, too many important people knew too much about her, and she wasn't prepared to take any chances regarding how much if she could possibly avoid it.

Gustavius then drove her to Ruiz district near Tanusha's easterly fringe, muttering and worrying most of the way. It took a conscious effort for Sandy to keep herself from uplinking, as the groundcar sped at nearly two hundred kilometres per hour in automated nose-to-tail slipstream formation along a major, east-bound freeway. Probably Vanessa would be going nuts by now, raising hell with an administration that had somehow managed to lose track of the second-in-command of the CDF, and didn't know how, or why. Sandy, of course, was not only not answering her incoming uplink calls, she'd completely disconnected them. She wanted the Tanushan network in total ignorance of her location.

Unable to uplink to even a basic street directory, Sandy was forced to find the address she'd gotten from her one brief call on the groundcar's own navcomp. Florence Tower, it turned out, was an A-grade tower in the central business district of Ruiz. The rest of the address was simply "Room 581," no floor numbers or other details given.

"What if it's a trap?" Gustavius asked as the groundcar broke ranks with the freeway slipstream and slid right. They passed over a broad river, one of the many Shoban tributaries across the broad forest delta, the car decelerating as it took the right-side exit to curl along the riverbank. Lightning flashed regularly now in several directions, illuminating entire cityscape horizons with brilliant, darting blue flashes. A few drops of rain spattered upon the windshield.

"A trap set by whom?" Sandy asked, gazing out at the blazing of reflections along the river where it wound through the approaching high-rise of downtown Ruiz.

"Jeez, baby, I don't know! Whoever you called!"

"They're among the most secretive people in Tanusha," Sandy replied. "Even you don't compare."

"Look, baby, I'm telling you ... I'm not secretive! I got nothing to hide, I ain't been doing nothing wrong since you and Ari called in on me last year."

"I know," Sandy said mildly.

"You know?" The rain began pelting down, and the groundcar's speed slowed in accordance with all the surrounding traffic. Cruisecomp displays showed the car adjusting traction control and altering the canter of the rear fin and front airdam, creating greater downforce. "Then ... then why the hell am I helping you? I mean, if I ain't done nothing wrong ..."

"Of course, if your old League operative friends do come calling on another courier mission, you'll be sure to tell us, huh? Because then we can handle it quietly. Otherwise it'll have to go straight to CSA Investigations, and then it all becomes officially a part of the Callayan justice system, you understand."

"Sure, baby," Gustavius said reasonably. "Sure, I'll help. I don't mind helping, I never minded helping ..

The groundcar took another exit, powerful headlights barely penetrating the blinding deluge and the spray kicked up by other cars. But the car knew the way even if its driver did not, and steered them along the riverbank until the next exit, which took them under the freeway and among the narrow roads between residential high-rise by the river side. Then slowing for a right-hand turn across oncoming traffic in the pelting downpour, Sandy fighting hard to resist the temptation to uplink, just briefly, and check out the immediate neighbourhood. Just because Anita and Pushpa assured her no one could possibly know about this place didn't mean they were right ...

The underground garage door opened on automatic as the car nosed down a steep driveway, then the thunder of rain upon the windshield ceased. Traffic Central handed control over to Gustavius, who guided the car between rows of expensive parked vehicles, including one entire row of aircars. Gustavius whistled as his gaze trailed across the accumulated transport ... cruisers cost nearly ten times the price of groundcars. As a general rule of thumb, the more cruisers were parked beneath a residential complex, the more wealthy the occupants. Then the car's dash speakers clicked smoothly to life, the speakerphone activating apparently of its own accord.

"Hello, Sandy," came Anita's voice. "I don't recognise your friend, but I'll assume he's safe or you wouldn't have brought him, right?"

"He's not staying," Sandy replied, mildly amused at Gustavius's wide-eyed expression. Doubtless he'd rigged his car's CPU himself, and thought its network barriers impenetrable to such easy infiltration. "He was just in the neighbourhood, owed me a favour or two. He's going to go home and forget he ever saw me, aren't you, Gustavius Chan?"

"Oh now I know him, he's one of the old League network suckers Ari closed down in the last sweep. Considering he's not in prison, I can see why he might owe you a few. "

Sandy sighed, as Gustavius parked the car alongside the carpark elevators. "Maybe your security would be that much better if you didn't talk so much," she suggested.

"Oh nonsense," said Anita, "I don't care if he knows who we are. As it turns out, I'm checking files here, and we part-own his employer: So if he'd like to k e e p his job ... "

Gustavius's eyes widened further as the car's gull-doors hummed upward. "Oh shit, Raj-Bhaj Systems!" And accusingly to Sandy, "I didn't know you knew Anita Rajana and Pushpa Bhajan!"

"There's a lot of things you don't know, Gustavius. Keep it to yourself or they'll ruin your life."

"Oh baby, I know, I know!" He nodded vigorously. "Hey, my code's real good, ask anyone on the Basti-Net, I worked for them, did some Razz Barriers and got them out of about twenty-K in network tax ..." Nervously avoiding Sandy's reprimanding gaze. "I mean, if you guys ever need a spare system-wrecker on the fringes, I'm your guy!"

"The deal was for transport, Gussi," Sandy told him, "not job opportunities."

"We'll think about it," said Anita. Which was enough, Sandy saw from the light in Chan's eyes, to make him think the evening hadn't turned out such a disaster after all.

"Oh great, thanks, thanks ... hey, anything, anything at all, you won't be disappointed, trust me!"

Sandy got out, shaking her head. Waggled sardonic fingers at the enthusiastically waving Gustavius, and walked to the elevator as he drove off.

"Was that smart?" she said to Anita as the elevator doors sealed her in, formulating silently in her head on the local building network. It was bound to be secure, if Anita and Pushpa were using it.

"What can it hurt, it never hurts to play a sucker, you never know what he'll cough up. Besides, we were moving the apartment in a few weeks anyway, no matter if something did leak. And it's not our only one. "

No, Sandy thought drily, she didn't suppose it was.

"You guys just like this cloak and dagger stuff far too much," she told Anita.

"You can't talk, Ms. Please-help-me-I'm-in-trouble-again!"

"I get paid to be in trouble. "

"Semantic distinction, trouble means opportunity, opportunity means business, and I'm a business woman. So, what the hell happened to you this time?"

The "apartment," Sandy saw as the doors opened to admit her, was actually an enormous penthouse suite that occupied the entire third-fromtop floor. It was far less extravagant than some such places she'd seen, but well appointed all the same, with leather lounge suites, an enormous wall-TV, and modern art on the walls and counters. The entire far wall was in fact a window, beyond which the sheeting grey downpour gleamed multicoloured from the light of surrounding towers. The door automatically closed behind her, and Anita came in from one of the doorways on the right-hand wall. She wore loose, Indian-style salwar kameez pants and shirt, only these were threaded with luminescent stitching and colourful buttons, and a long, filmy sash about her shoulders that refracted shifting colour like gossamer thread. Even the fine hair of her shaven head seemed to gleam in the light, and the butterfly tattoos flapped their wings upon her eyelids when she blinked.

"Hello!" said Anita with characteristic brightness. "I'm so glad you're okay ... would you like a drink? Something to eat? We've got food in the fridge if you haven't had dinner."