Guardians of Paradise (31 page)

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Authors: Jaine Fenn

BOOK: Guardians of Paradise
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She’d already set off other updates lying dormant in Tarset’s network. As a result, the local records would now show that the
Judas Kiss
had been sold to an independent dealer after tests revealed a fault in its grav-drive that would require a complete refit. The modified records would show that Jarek Reen had used the credit from the sale to buy himself into a newly initiated freetrader partnership. Bez had inserted the fictitious partnership’s ship registration details, along with a comprehensive history that would stand up to all but the closest scrutiny, into the Freetrader archive before they left. The ship in question would be a perfect match for the records her mirror-worm inserted into ConTraD.
 
The really clever bit should be occurring about now—
 
Jarek planned to hang around here for only as long as it took his transit-kernel to recharge (he still felt faintly nauseous whenever he thought about what that actually meant); meanwhile, Gerault Traffic Control would send back the ship’s new transponder ID to Tarset Traffic Control, who would match it against ConTraD. ConTraD should confirm that the ID did contain a valid key for a ship, but that the ship it belonged to had been inactive, listed as under repair, for some years; for some reason the update to put it back on the active ships’ list hadn’t been caught up in the regular synchronisation sweeps. Everyone knew how tardy freetraders could be in registering their dealings, and the update routines that propagated shared data throughout human-space weren’t entirely reliable outside the core systems. These things happened occasionally. They’d flag it up manually to keep the records in synch and avoid a similar problem at the next system. After all, it had to be a mistake: the ship’s quantum key was present on ConTraD, and no one could hack the Consolidated Traffic Database.
 
Bez had referred to this kind of update as an ourobourus; it was not logically possible, yet it held together on the assumption that it was.
 
It did rely on a human being deciding to intervene to keep their data nice and tidy. Fortunately traffic controllers did generally like their data to be tidy.
 
Jarek finished his caf. Bez was still in the shower. He resisted the urge to get up and pace.
 
Finally his com chirped. ‘
Heart of Glass
, this is Gerault Traffic Control. The issue with your ship’s records has now been resolved. You are cleared for approach or onward transit.’
 
Jarek expelled a relieved sigh. It had worked.
 
Goodbye,
Judas Kiss
. Hello,
Heart of Glass
.
 
 
That night Nual didn’t dream of Taro. Despite her attempts to reach out to him, her dreams remained the usual uninformative mish-mash of subconscious churnings. She hoped her failure reflected the fickle nature of dream communication and not Taro’s worsening condition.
 
She slept late, but awoke with a clear head for perhaps the first time since Taro had been taken. She sat on the lumpy bed and thought through her options.
 
Olias Kahani had believed Tawhira-
ngai
would keep Taro alive and on the island where he’d been captured, so any rescue mission would mean returning there. Possession of the floor-plans for the island facility gave her an advantage, but she still needed to solve two major problems.
 
The first was how to get there. The island was pretty remote. In theory she could catch a skim-boat out to the nearest tourist island, but when she checked her com she could find no direct service from Stonetown, so the journey would take a while. After that she would have to fly for several hours. Once she got there, she would need some way of getting Taro out, as he was unlikely to be in any state to fly himself.
 
She concluded that she needed to hire her own transport and driver, ideally something as stealthy and discreet as the aircar they’d originally used.
 
Kahani’s com provided her with plenty of interesting contacts, but she was cautious about using them; her naïveté with the shell game when they’d first arrived had shown how little she knew about the wheelings and dealings of the human underworld. Even with her Sidhe edge she could easily come unstuck . . .
 
If only Jarek was here, Nual thought. She needed his experience, not to mention his driving skills - they could even use his ship for the rescue, though she hated to think how many traffic regulations that would break. His last message had said he was heading her way, but he would be a few days, and in the meantime he might not be able to pick up her messages. She had already informed him that Ruanuku was the
ngai
responsible for turning the boys from Serenein into transit-kernels, and now she sent him a file, with as much encryption as she could afford, containing a download of the juiciest data taken from the late Sirrah Kahani’s com. Until he got back in contact she had to assume she was on her own.
 
She would have to contact Patai again.
 
She had left a positive association in his mind, though nothing strong enough to overcome his common sense, and she was relieved when he agreed to meet her later that day. If he could help with transport, that just left her with the second problem: the forceshield protecting the island. Kahani had set up the original run, which meant he must have known the arrangements for turning it off. Nual went back through the information she’d gleaned from Ruanuku’s traitor. It wasn’t like the pilot’s knowledge; that had become part of her when he surrendered himself to her. The information she had got from Kahani was incomplete, a snapshot of stolen facts, images and emotions that would most likely start to fade if she did not access them.
 
But there was still a lot there, and Nual was determined. After a while she found what she needed: the shield had been deactivated by a low-level Tawhira employee Kahani had been blackmailing with certain recordings made at the brothel where his sister worked. Kahani did not think the blackmail victim - who was apparently otherwise loyal to his
ngai
- had been caught, so in theory she could pretend to be Kahani and get him to turn the shield off a second time. She used Kahani’s com to send him a text message, stating he might be required to repeat the favour he had recently done for his ‘uncle’. If the man had been compromised, then the message would tip off Tawhira-
ngai
, but it was a risk worth taking.
 
She got to the meeting with Patai early. He had chosen a harbour-side café at sunset and Nual was shown to a table in a corner with no view and a faint subliminal hum in the air that suggested the presence of anti-surveillance tech.
 
Patai arrived slightly late, and was followed by a waiter who carried a pair of cold beers. Nual sipped hers to be polite. Patai initially ignored his, saying, ‘I’m afraid this will have to be brief. I have another appointment shortly.’
 
‘I understand. It was good of you to see me under the circumstances. ’
 
‘Which circumstances would those be?’ asked Patai carefully, toying with his glass. He was thinking of this morning’s news reports of the body discovered in a backstreet refuse-hopper. It was found minus its com, eyeballs and fingertips. The media said that the only thing the authorities knew for sure was that the man was not a registered criminal, because criminals had a full DNA profile on record in addition to the usual biometrics. Patai strongly suspected the dead man was Olias Kahani, and that Nual had killed him, a possibility that made him wary, though not necessarily frightened . . . not yet.
 
‘I leave that for you to consider,’ she said. ‘When we last met I was . . . not acting entirely rationally.’
 
‘Understandable enough, given your recent loss. And now?’
 
‘Now I wish to organise a rescue mission.’
 
‘For your brother? He’s alive then?’
 
‘Yes. At the moment. And I need your help to get him back.’
 
‘What form would this help take?’
 
‘Transport to the location where he was captured. And someone to accompany me inside when we get there. Nothing you haven’t organised before, in fact.’
 
‘No, but without meaning to be rude, I don’t generally do work like this for outsiders. There is a code governing conduct between the
ngais
which you may not be aware of.’
 
‘I realise that. I would only be going in to get him back. I would endeavour to avoid committing any acts that might be considered
tapu
.’
 
He looked grave. ‘I’m glad to hear it. To take a life is a far more serious affair here than where you come from . . . even the life of a worthless traitor who has made himself
tapu
by his own actions.’
 
‘I wish only to get my brother back. I regret any collateral damage I might have already caused.’
 
‘I’m not entirely comfortable with this, but as it is a family matter . . . I could procure transport, a driver and a couple of individuals to assist you.’
 
Nual remembered the state Taro had been in when she’d contacted him. She also recalled how much a job like this paid - or in her case now, would cost. ‘Just one person to come in with me will suffice. But ideally I’d like someone with medical training.’
 
‘As you wish.’ Now Patai took a long drink of his beer. ‘To the sordid matter of money . . .’
 
Nual managed not to react to the price, though she wondered, in passing, what had made the original target so important that Marua Ruanuku would spend so much credit, and risk
tapu
, to get her hands on him. If they had not been interrupted she might have found that out from the Ruanuku-
ngai
leader’s mind; as it was she’d only picked up on the Sidhe connection because it had been so near the surface of Medame Ruanuku’s thoughts.
 
She engaged in a small amount of haggling, as Patai expected. His final offer was lower than usual, because he felt sorry for her, but the sum was still breathtakingly large. Rather apologetically, Patai said that he would not be able to start work without the standard ten per cent down-payment.
 
When Nual admitted that even this was beyond her means at present, Patai’s parting thought was how unlikely he thought it was that she would find the credit - but if she did, he would do his best for her.
 
Back at the hotel she checked Kahani’s com and found a reply from his victim in Tawhira-
ngai
. The man was, reluctantly, willing to turn off the forceshield when requested.
 
A check of the newsnets showed that Kahani’s body still hadn’t been identified; when it was, the man was likely to have second thoughts, meaning she had to hurry - as if the thought of what might be happening to Taro was not enough!
 
Nual needed money, lots of it, and fast.
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
 
Apart from a slight change to the onboard entropy level – a result of Bez’s obsessive cleanliness - the ship was still the same old
Judas Kiss
. Jarek would have liked a new identity for himself as well, but that wasn’t practical. His business relied too much on contacts who already knew him, and he couldn’t afford to give up freetrading altogether: travelling the stars for pleasure was only an option for the super-rich tourists who lived on the starliners. Bez had provided a compromise: the
Heart of Glass
was actually registered to one Amad Kelsor, and Jarek was named as a secondary partner only deep in the paperwork. Kelsor’s name would be the one leaving a trace as they passed through human-space. Unfortunately, Sirrah Kelsor currently only existed as a handful of records in the Alliance’s database. It was entirely possible to create a convincing identity out of nothing - he’d paid for someone on Khathryn to do it for Nual when he first found her - but until he or Bez managed to flesh out Jarek’s fictitious partner, anyone who took the time to check would spot the ruse.
 
His immediate priority was to find a safe way to get back into contact with Nual. In theory her messages would automatically be routed to his ‘new’ ship once Bez’s updates had percolated throughout the beevee network. However, because Nual’s messages were text-only - both cheaper and more discreet than voice or visual - he had no way of being sure they actually came from her. If she were captured, or her com fell into the wrong hands, sending a reply to one of her messages could provide their enemies with his new ship ID.
 
Before they’d left Tarset, Bez had put a stop on any messages arriving there for the
Judas Kiss
, routing them to a data-drop. Now they needed to pick up those messages, and find a way to reply safely. Well, not ‘they’, for Jarek had no idea how to go about it. He hoped Bez did.
 
When they grabbed a meal before the next transit he took the opportunity to ask her. She said, ‘Is this more important than the
Setting Sun
’s memory-core?’

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