Guardians of Paradise (24 page)
Read Guardians of Paradise Online
Authors: Jaine Fenn
‘I’m sorry?’ The woman was creeping him out. He was tempted to just turn around and leave; maybe that would improve her attitude. But he was pretty sure she had a gun of her own, perhaps hidden behind that book, which appeared to be a technical manual for a vintage groundbike.
‘The crew of the Sidhe ship, the
Setting Sun
. Are they all dead?’
Setting Sun
. Are they all dead?’
‘The Sidhe in charge are, yes. They had mutes; I let them go.’
‘So they still use mutes? Interesting.’ For the first time her voice showed a trace of emotion.
Jarek decided he was dealing with someone for whom data mattered far more than people.
After another pause she said, ‘And you’re sure no one knows you have this data?’
He didn’t like the implications of that question. ‘I’m not certain what you’re getting at,’ he said carefully.
‘Ah, I see,’ she said. Her expression softened. ‘You’re right: if we’re to trust each other then perhaps that wasn’t the best way to put it. What I’m after is an assurance that the Sidhe don’t know what happened to their memory-core.’
‘The Sidhe have no idea what happened, and they won’t be coming after me.’
‘Good. I needed to hear that from you before I agreed to take this job on. We can discuss payment for my services now.’
Jarek decided not to take offence at the implication that he might’ve traipsed halfway across the sector only to fail a character-judgement from someone exhibiting all the warmth and empathy of a landing strut. ‘Actually, payment might be a bit tricky at the moment.’
‘Quite. You’re broke.’ She paused and watched as he processed her meaning. ‘I know that because I’m the best databreaker alive, Sirrah Reen. Which is one of the reasons you need my help.’
‘And the other reason is?’ he said, a little coldly.
‘Because you and I are probably the only two humans alive who know the Sidhe are not dead.’
Though that wasn’t entirely true, he couldn’t argue with her logic. ‘Fair enough. I was going to offer you a down-payment and a contract to repay the rest, once we’d settled on your fee. Assuming you’re willing to trust me.’
‘If I were not willing to trust you we would not be having this conversation. But I don’t want your money. I want a full copy of the data from the memory-core, once I’ve decrypted it.’
‘Ah.’ He should have expected that she’d want information for her services. If she was as good as she claimed then she wouldn’t lack for funds. The information Nual had got from the pilot would probably be worth a lot to her, but she’d want to know how he’d got hold of such valuable data and he could hardly admit that his Sidhe ally had killed a human man to get it. The
Setting Sun
’s files were all he had to trade, and once he handed them over she could easily rip a copy for herself anyway.
Setting Sun
’s files were all he had to trade, and once he handed them over she could easily rip a copy for herself anyway.
He realised she was watching him, waiting for his answer. Rather than endure her appraising scrutiny, he said, ‘I need to think about this.’
She looked momentarily disappointed, then nodded curtly. ‘I understand. Will fifteen hours be long enough for you to reach a decision? My contact protocols change again after that.’
‘Fifteen hours will be more than long enough. I’ll be in touch.’
As he turned to go she called out, ‘We’re on the same side, Sirrah Reen.’
Jarek wasn’t entirely convinced.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Taro wondered whether it would be unprofessional to hold Nual’s hand. The driver of the bus-sized aircar wasn’t paying the two of them much attention. He exuded an air of slightly menacing professionalism, ignoring his passengers unless or until they decided to brighten his day by posing a threat.
Taro decided not to risk it. It wasn’t like he needed to touch her to get close. Not any more.
Despite himself, he yawned. The mission was taking place in the early hours of the morning, but though they’d spent the afternoon in bed, there hadn’t been much sleeping, until Nual had insisted, as evening fell, that they got some rest. Taro had fallen asleep pretty quickly once he realised she meant it.
Waking up a few hours later was a new and wonderful experience for him; before, sex had been business or pleasure, and once it was over, he was gone. To wake up with your lover in your arms was the best way to start the day; no, the
only
way to start the day, and it was how he planned to start every day from now on.
only
way to start the day, and it was how he planned to start every day from now on.
Or maybe not exactly like this: they’d been awakened by the peeping of an alarm after less than four hours’ sleep. When Nual leaned across to silence it, he thought to her,
He sensed tension and knew she was recalling the moment, as they were building to their fifth or sixth shared climax, when he’d nearly lost himself entirely. He’d begun to tire, but her energy seemed boundless, and he’d wondered if he should just give her the last of himself and be done with it. His life was complete; whatever came after this would be a disappointment. He made the offer wordlessly, willing her to accept him, to take him utterly and completely. For a moment he thought she would, but she’d drawn back, and he became aware of their surroundings. They lay on their sides, face-to-face. She reached up and brushed away a sweat-soaked strand of hair from his forehead. Speaking out loud for the first time in some while, she’d whispered, ‘That is the one desire of yours I would never grant.’
And now here they were, only a few hours after waking up together, on the way to a secret island where their target was waiting to be rescued. For the first two hours of the journey they’d flown through bursts of rain, arriving at the aircar’s registered destination, where they’d gone into stealth mode, slowing down and taking a dive underwater. Now, half an hour later, the driver brought them up to just below the surface, where the storm-mixed waters would hide their approach.
Nual hadn’t had any more bad feelings - he’d probably’ve known if she had, the way things were between them now - but that didn’t stop Taro worrying. It didn’t help that yesterday’s exertions had taken a lot out of him. His body ached with exhaustion. He knew a few substances that could’ve helped his condition, at least for a while, but they weren’t going to be available on room service. Perhaps their hard-nut driver had something. Then again, he couldn’t risk anything that might mess with his judgement. He’d have to ask the driver one favour though, thanks to the gut-churning effect of the buffeted aircar.
‘Excuse me, friend,’ he called forward.
The driver looked over his shoulder, his face impassive. ‘Yeah?’
‘I don’t s’pose this vehicle’s got a—?’ He struggled for the right word.
‘A head?’ The driver jerked a thumb back. ‘Door next to the weapons locker.’
As he got up he sensed Nual’s mixture of amusement and sympathy.
The head turned out to be about the same size as the weapons locker. While trying to fit into it and close the door Taro knocked the paper-holder out of its niche. As he picked it up he saw a small logo on the rim of the dispenser: a gold-edged cream circle, and inside it a gold-brown shape which he identified after a moment as a stylised
vaka
, one of the islanders’ long wooden boats.
vaka
, one of the islanders’ long wooden boats.
He waited until he got back to communicate his findings to Nual, adding,
?>
?>
The dark froth washing over the screen began to brighten as a silver glow grew in the distance. The driver said, ‘This is as close to the shield as it’s safe to get. We’ve got a few minutes before the man inside’s due to disable it.’ He stood up and went to the weapons locker, pulling out a pair of lightweight pistols and a piece of paper that he also offered to them. Stuck on the paper were two light brown strips the size and shape of Taro’s little finger. ‘Have you used com-strips before?’ he asked. His tone was neutral; when Nual had read him she said she’d picked up a mixture of respect and unease: he knew they were trained assassins, but they weren’t the kind of people he usually worked with.
‘Sorry, no,’ said Nual.
The driver said, ‘Before you go in, stick them on the side of your throat, just here.’ He pointed to his own neck. ‘You only need to sub-vocalise and everything you say will be relayed to any attuned com-strips within range. Remember that range is short, no more than 500 metres, even less once you’re underground. I’ll be wearing one too, so as soon as you’ve got the target outside, call me and I’ll bring the car back up to the surface.’
‘Can we call you in if we get into trouble?’ asked Taro.
‘Depends on the nature of the trouble. If it’s safe, I’ll do my best to provide back-up, but this is a deniable mission, so I can’t take any risks.’ Taro decided not to mention the giveaway logos inside their armour; if the opposition got to see them then things would’ve gone to shit anyway.
A minute later the silvery light ahead faded. ‘We’re on,’ said the driver.
Nual stuck the com-strip just below her jaw. Taro followed suit. ‘Can you hear me?’ she whispered. He heard her voice twice: out loud, then with an echo in his ear via the com-strip. ‘Yeah, I can,’ he replied at the same pitch.
A faint light-source became visible, coming from above. As the aircar broke the surface water foamed across the screen and the background shaking and bucking increased as they came up into the full fury of the storm.
Taro eased the visor down over his eyes. The cabin became a blur of bright greens and blues, quickly fading as the helmet’s tech adjusted to the light-level. He tried pulling the hood of his shimmer-cloak over the helmet, but it wouldn’t fit. It would’ve looked pretty stupid anyway.
‘Good luck,’ said the driver, and opened the roof-hatch.
Nual took his hand and they leapt out. The roar of the storm was muffled by the helmet’s pick-ups as they rose from the aircar. The rain hit them like a thrown pail of water and the wind tried to snatch them from each other. He had a moment of panic; he’d never flown in conditions like these, though his implants came with the knowledge of how to use them.
Nual tightened her grip on his hand, pulling him up, saying,
He did his best. Between the driving rain and the spray from the heaving sea, Taro’s arms and legs were already soaked and he could feel water trickling down inside his armour, cold and ticklish.
The visor showed the rain as a faint blue mist overlaying a green-blue seascape. Numbers flickered at the edge of his vision, telling him all about the types and ranges of nearby objects. The island showed as a low hump of thrashing greenery a hundred metres ahead and they arrowed towards it.
Suddenly everything went white, and a heartbeat later a great boom sounded around them.
Taro froze in terror, but Nual tugged at him.
Her silent words reassured him. The quicker he got moving, the sooner he’d be under cover again, he told himself. There was another flash as they approached the island; this time Taro managed not to jump. The storm was lashing the palm trees so hard they looked like great angry beasts nailed to the ground. When they reached land they slowed to fly carefully between the creaking trunks. No way would an aircar fit under here. Occasional scraps of foliage fell on them, though there was nothing big enough to injure them.
A new image appeared in their visors as they picked their way through the trees, and a few seconds later they landed behind a cube just over a metre square with a round grille across the front. Nual, a red outline in his enhanced eyesight, took a small cylinder from a pocket in her armour and reached over to stick it to the top of the cube: some sort of scrambler, provided by their employer to mess with the local surveillance. She came round the front, took out a small blade and prised off the grille. An indicator on the anti-surveillance gizmo flashed once: it had intercepted the tamper warning. She clamped the rappelling gear they’d need to get their man out to the side of the cube.
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