Tails You Lose (7 page)
Looming over her, nearly filling the ruined warehouse, was an enormous eastern dragon. Its head alone was as large as a horse, and the sinuous neck that undulated behind it was as sleek as the body of a snake. Long, straggling whiskers hung from either side of its mouth, and multipointed horns jutted from above its eyebrows like broken twigs. One of its hands rested on Night Owl's overturned Harley, its fingers spread to reveal webbing between them. The nails on its fingers and thumb were nearly a meter long, as twisted and curved as peeled tree bark.
Only the upper body of the dragon was visible—the rest was bisected by the floor of the ruined warehouse, as if the dragon had erupted from the earth. Wu, the ganger who had been holding Night Owl with his magic, was just to the right of the dragon, resting on one knee as if paying homage to the creature. His eyes were wide and glistening and his expression enraptured, as if he were looking upon a god. Night Owl could see the ganger clearly, even when the dragon's body passed in front of him. The dragon was here in astral form only, manifesting itself visually so that Night Owl and the troll could see it—but that didn't make it any less dangerous.
Night Owl knew without being told that she was in serious drek now. The Red Lotus obviously served this dragon—this worm must be the "eldest brother" the troll had been jabbering about. The gang was also working for the Johnson whose intermediary had hired her—the one whose property she had deliberately trashed. It didn't take a major synaptic leap to figure that the dragon and her Johnson were one and the same. Dying in the troll's magical grip was nothing compared with what she faced now. A dragon could think of far more exquisite torments than a metahuman shaman ever could. Night Owl's life and soul were balanced on a razor's edge.
She chose her words carefully. "How can I . . . serve you, great one?" Her right eye was twitching like crazy, and only by concentrating all of her effort on it could she make it stop.
The dragon smiled, baring teeth that looked like ancient bits of bone filed to needle-sharp points.
You
are
a
close
friend
of
Akira
Kageyama
. Although it was speaking to her telepathically, its "words" had a throaty gurgle.
"I've done runs for him," Night Owl admitted.
He
trusts
you
.
He
showed
his
appreciation
,
after
you
extracted
the
dour
from
the
Technology
Institute
,
by
making
you
an
honorary
member
of
PETAB
.
Night Owl was stunned. The dragon seemed to know even more about her biz than the other runners she sometimes hung with. She hadn't told any of them about the Technology Institute run—she'd done that one solo.
After hearing the skinny on that run—that she was to set free a half-dozen dour that cybernetics students at the institute were performing vivisection on—she'd told her Johnson she'd do the job for free. Dour might be little more than animals—they were magically active chimpanzees that were transformed by the Awakening—but that didn't mean they didn't suffer and feel pain. Cutting into their living bodies was the same as experimenting on children.
Two weeks after the dour were liberated, Night Owl had been summoned to a party in one of Vancouver's most expensive condoplexes. Akira Kageyama was its host, and the guests were a small but exclusive group: a half-dozen of Vancouver's elite who contributed to the coffers of People for the Ethical Treatment of the Awakened Beings. The group was a legitimate charitable organization that vehemently denied any connection with the recent rash of raids on research facilities and testing labs, but the gleams of gratitude in the eyes of the PETAB members as they shook Night Owl's hand had confirmed her hunch they were the ones who had hired her for the Technology Institute raid.
Night Owl never did tell them that her decision to waive her runner's fee had been based on a flip of the token in her pocket.
The dragon watched her patiently, its eyes as still as pools of dark liquid. Its head remained perfectly level, despite the fact that its sinuous body was gently snaking back and forth.
"You know a lot about me," Night Owl said.
Be
thankful
of
that
, the dragon said.
If
you
weren
'
t
so
useful
to
me
,
I
would
have
let
Wu
end
your
life
.
The shaman folded his massive arms across his chest. His grin extended to the tips of his horns.
You
are
alive
because
there
is
something
in
Kageyama
'
s
home
that
I
want—something
you
will
get
for
me
, the dragon continued.
It
is
a
piece
of
jade:
a
statue
.
You
will
remove
it
and
convey
it
to
Wu
,
at
a
location
that
you
and
he
will
arrange
.
Night Owl thought that one over. She had no qualms about doing a run on Kageyama, or about using his misplaced trust to steal from his home. She was a shadowrunner, and biz was biz, after all. "Kageyama's an art dealer—his place is full of expensive drek like that. How will I know which statue you want?"
The dragon gave a bubbling sigh.
The
jade
has
engraved
upon
it
the
character
fu—
happiness—and
is
hollow
.
It
may
feel
lighter
than
it
should
when
you
pick
it
up
,
and
it
may
rattle
.
Do
not
be
tempted
to
look
inside
.
If
the
statue
is
damaged
in
any
way
,
I
will
let
Wu
finish
what
was
begun
here
tonight
.
"And if I deliver the statue intact, you'll call off the Red Lotus?"
The dragon gave her a wet smile.
Of
course
.
They
will
trouble
you
no
more
.
Night Owl nodded, even though she knew she was as good as dead. The shaman would flatline her as soon as she handed the statue over to him.
Realizing she had little to lose made her bold enough to speak her mind to the dragon. "Let me scan this straight: I'm supposed to show up uninvited at the condoplex of a millionaire I barely know and ask him to look the other way while I search his doss from top to bottom for a statue that even you wouldn't recognize if you saw it. You can't even tell me how big the statue is or what it looks like. Kageyama has some pretty big pieces of art in his place. What if I need a crane to haul the fragger out of there?"
The troll shaman had risen swiftly to his feet as
Night Owl spoke. His face held a mixture of anger and outrage, as if he was amazed by her impertinence. He glanced at the dragon beside him, as if expecting it to blast Night Owl with its magic. Wu's master, however, gave only a gurgling chuckle.
There
is
an
ancient
proverb
in
my
country
, the dragon said. "
If
a
woman
is
strong
in
a
meeting
,
do
not
try
to
marry
her
."
Unfortunately
,
you
are
the
only
"bride
"
available
to
me
at
this
time
.
You
are
a
resourceful
person—I
am
certain
you
will
think
of
some
clever
way
to
accomplish
the
task
I
have
set
for
you
.
How
you
do
it
is
not
my
concern
.
All
that
matters
to
me
is
that
you
deliver
the
jade
to
Wu
.
"When?" Night Owl asked.
No
later
than
tomorrow
night
.
I
will
leave
you
and
Wu
to
work
out
the
details
of
the
transaction
.
The dragon's astral form suddenly collapsed onto the floor, deflating like one of the cloth dragons that dancers carry during the Lunar New Year celebrations. When it was gone, Night Owl and the troll shaman glared at each other.
Wu spoke first. "When you have the statue, bring it to me at—"
"Delete that," Night Owl cut in. "Here's how it's going to be: I'll get your master's statue, but I'm not going to be your delivery girl. Give me a telecom number, and I'll call you when I've got the statue. I'll tell you where I've stashed it, and you can go and fetch it for your master, like a good boy."
The troll raised a gnarled fist and growled, and for a moment Night Owl thought she'd pushed him too far. Wu was smart enough to realize, however, that harming Night Owl would limit her usefulness to his master. He eventually smiled—but Night Owl knew that the source of that smile came from the shaman imagining what he'd do to her after the statue had been boosted.
She smiled back. Let Wu threaten all he liked. By the time the statue was in his hands, she'd be safely tucked away inside the most effective bolt hole of all.
"You can call me at the Triple Eight Club," Wu said, naming a popular downtown casino. "But be certain it is early in the evening. The more I spend, the less patient I become. When my patience has run out, I will come looking for you. Rest assured that, no matter how far you run, I will find you."
Wu threw his hands out in front of him in a dramatic gesture, reactivating his invisibility spell—and in the split second before it activated, Night Owl saw the round circle of plastic he held in his right hand. As the shaman vanished, so did Night Owl's smile. Her hand flashed down to the pocket of her jacket, confirming her fears. The pocket had been torn open, and her lucky SkyTrain token was gone.
The token wasn't really lucky—it was just one that happened to have been issued in 2032, the year that Night Owl was born. She'd found it on the street a couple of months ago and had used it exclusively as her heads-or-tails decision maker since then.
But the token was unlucky now. It had Night Owl's astral "scent" all over it. No matter which bolt hole she ran to, the shaman could use it to find her.
Two figures were waiting for Alma behind the frosted glass door of Boardroom Four. She glided down the hall and palmed the maglock next to the door. The green recognition light failed to switch on, but that might have been due to the slight tremor in her hand. She wrapped her other hand around it, forcing it into a fist. Thirty-eight seconds later, the shaking stopped. She flexed the hand and wiped a trickle of sweat from her temple. The effort of trying to control the tremor had left her feeling drained. This time, when she palmed the lock, a green light blinked and the lock clicked open.
Boardroom Four was a vast expanse of red carpet dominated by a massive faux-mahogany table with ornately carved legs. Floor-to-ceiling windows faced east, giving a view over Vancouver's high-tech industrial park toward a highway choked with rush-hour traffic. Although it was well past dawn, the skies were still a dark gray. Rain beat a steady rhythm against the thick glass, making the stream of headlights on Highway One waver as if they were underwater.