Tails You Lose (24 page)

Night Owl pulled back into the shadow of the shelf as the fellow knocked on the door a second time and waved at Egon. "I don't recognize him."

"You wouldn't," Egon said. "He's from Hong Kong. He only came to Vancouver a couple of months ago. I assure you that, even though he's a shadowrunner, he's not dangerous."

Still holding the gun on Egon, Night Owl pulled the SkyTrain token from her pocket and flipped it into the air. Heads, she'd talk to this Lei Kung. Tails, she'd tell Egon to send his friend packing.

She caught the token and slapped it down on the back of her left hand, which she'd turned slightly while still holding the gun. Heads.

She reholstered her pistol. "All right. Let him in." Egon hurried to the door and opened it. The man who had been waiting outside entered the shop, flicking rain from his fingers.

Egon grabbed his hand. "Please, Kung! You'll get water on the merchandise."

"Dui
bu
qi
," Kung answered, shedding his raincoat. He switched to linguasoft-perfect English. "Excuse me. It's raining, in case you hadn't noticed."

Egon took the coat and folded it so the dry side was uppermost before draping it over a stool, where it dripped onto the carpet. Kung, meanwhile, turned to Night Owl and inclined his head ir a slight bow. "Greetings, Ms. Wei—or should I say 'Ms. Johnson'? It is so nice to meet you in person."

Night Owl suddenly realized that Kung knew Alma—and not just because Egon had mentioned Alma's name to the shadowrunner on the telecom. This shadowrunner and Alma had a professional relationship, and judging by his use of the word Johnson, she'd
hired
him.

Night Owl could think of only one reason why a high-ranking corporate security officer from PCI would hire a shadowrunner: to learn more about the extraction. That meant that Kung would have been sniffing around in Night Owl's back yard. A delicious thrill went through her at the thought of standing right in front of him, hidden behind the perfect mask: the face of the woman who had hired him. It tickled, right down to the tips of her toes.

"Egon tells me that you're a shadowrunner, Mr. Lei," she said, pumping the corpspeak to the max. "What name do you go by, when you 'run the shadows'?"

Kung tipped his head slightly, as if amused. "Tiger Cat."

"Egon tells me you know a lot about the Coins of Luck."

"He says that one of the coins is in Vancouver."

"That's right," Night Owl said. "I was hired to provide security for it."

Egon had been standing beside Tiger Cat and Night Owl, his head tilted back, glancing from one to the other as they spoke. Now his eyes settled on Night Owl. He cleared his throat and then spoke: "Lei Kung asked me to contact him if anyone ever approached my shop with an offer to sell one of the Coins of Luck."

"I never said that my . . . that my employer wanted to sell it," Night Owl said.

"Good." Tiger Cat glanced sternly down at Egon. "I would not want you to have any part in that transaction, my friend."

The dwarfs eyebrows puckered. "Why not? The commission would be a king's ransom—enough to retire on."

"To retire, yes. But death is not the retirement you have in mind." Tiger Cat sighed. "I might as well warn you both, even though . . ." he paused for a moment to glare at Night Owl. "Even though one of you doesn't deserve a warning, after the fix I was left in."

Night Owl glared back at him but held her tongue. This was getting interesting.

Tiger Cat raised his right hand, fingers pinched together as if they were gripping something small. "Five years ago, I held one of the Coins of Luck in my hand. I was there when Sun Yat-sun was killed. I thought I was a very fortunate man to escape with both my life and the Second Coin of Luck. I tried to sell it, even though Sun Yat-sun had told me it was unlucky to spend or sell the coin—that it must be given away instead.

"When a buyer and price were arranged, we set a time and place to meet. But the people who met me were members of the same Triad that killed Sun Yatsun. I was nearly killed—the only thing that saved me was that I 'gave' the coin away. When one of the Triad members put a gun to my head, I threw the coin at him and said, 'Take it—it's yours!' Then I ran. Somehow, I lived."

"Sounds like luck was on your side," Night Owl said, fingering the SkyTrain token in her pocket. Listening to what Tiger Cat had to say had been the right choice—she could tell he was about to spill a lot more.

Egon stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Unbelievable," he whispered, looking so enraptured that Night Owl thought he was about to cry. "You actually held the Lu Coin in your hand."

"For too short a time—it gave no wealth. Not to me, anyway. But that's another story, one I will tell in a moment.

"First I hope to warn you, Egon. Selling the Coin of Luck—even taking a commission—is unwise. And to you, Ms. Wei, I recommend that you not be tempted to aid in the sale of the coin in any way, or you may wind up like the watcher spirit here, with coins covering your eyes."

As if on cue, the spirit leaned out through the front of the display case a second time. It tilted its head as if listening and then swung its head around until its coin-covered eyes were on the front door. "Someone's coming," its voice tinkled.

"Who?" Egon asked. His hands snapped shut the binder of coins on the counter. "What do they want?" A car hissed past on the wet street outside and slowed before reaching the end of the block.

"Someone . . . who wants to find . . ." The watcher spirit turned until its coin-covered eyes were fixed on Night Owl. "Her."

Leaning forward to look out the window, Night Owl saw a Toyota Elite pull into a parking spot on the opposite side of the street, halfway up the block. A blond-haired Asian woman climbed out of the car, peering at something that she held cupped in her hand. She turned slowly while keeping her eyes on it, as if consulting a compass. Her eyes ranged up and down the street and then locked on the coin and stamp shop.

"Who is she?" Night Owl asked.

Tiger Cat's lips were pressed together in a thin line. His eyes darted to Night Owl. "I transferred back her credit, but it looks like she's still angry. I think it's best if you—"

"You told that woman I was here?" Night Owl growled. She didn't like the look of this. "Why?"

"No, I—"

The woman was jogging toward the shop now. As she ran, she raised her free hand and made a karate-chop motion. In that same instant, something that looked like a detached, glowing hand crashed through the front window. A metal case just above Night Owl's head dented as the wedge of magical energy hit it. The top of the case ruptured explosively, and a spray of stamps rained down on Night Owl like colorful snowflakes.

Egon croaked and disappeared behind his counter. Tiger Cat flattened himself on the floor. Night Owl had already ducked back behind a shelf; the Ares Predator was in her left hand, safety off. Her right eye began twitching. Who the frag was after her now? The woman outside looked like a ganger, but she wasn't Red Lotus. Maybe she was part of Strange Eyes' crew.

"Time to slide," Night Owl hissed, more to herself than anyone else.

Tiger Cat was scuttling across the floor, keeping low. Egon lifted a hand above the counter and began casting a spell, one that caused the empty space where window glass had been to shimmer with magical lines of force. His face was as pale as his beard as he peered up at the results of his spell through the glass of the display case.

Scooping up her jacket, Night Owl dodged around the end of the counter and ran for the back of the shop—only to find a blank wall of shelves and filing cabinets. She skidded to a stop but then spotted a bathroom with a window just large enough to wriggle out of.

From the front of the shop came a noise like an ax hitting a chainlink fence as the woman outside the shop launched another magical attack. Night Owl glanced back and saw that the magical barrier the dwarf had thrown into place across the front of the shop was holding—but for how long?

"Alma! Where are you going?" Egon shouted back at her. "Stay in the shop—I've cast a barrier spell."

Night Owl wasn't about to stick around and find out if the magical barrier would hold. Balancing precariously on the bathroom's wobbly toilet, she yanked the window open and slithered out through it.

She landed in an alley. Jacket still clenched in one hand, she ran in the direction of Waterfront Station, feet splashing through puddles of rainwater. If she could just get to her motorcycle, maybe she could lose the blond-haired slitch the way she'd ditched the Red Lotus. She'd blast out to Richmond and—

As if she'd known where Night Owl was headed, the woman appeared in the alley ahead. Frag! Blondie might have guessed that Night Owl would bolt out a back exit—but how had the woman known which end of the alley she'd head for?

Night Owl flashed for her Predator, but even as it cleared the holster the woman's hand karate-chopped down. The gun was slammed out of Night Owl's hand; the blow felt as if a sledgehammer had struck it.

Somewhere in the distance, a police siren began to howl. Night Owl had no idea whether Egon had summoned it to the shop with a 911 call or whether the TPs were headed in another direction. Even if they were headed this way, Blondie would have plenty of time to do whatever it was she had in mind. At least she hadn't attacked Night Owl—yet. That was a good sign.

"It's midnight," the woman said. "Why didn't you call, Cybergirl? We were waiting for your explanation."

For a moment, Night Owl wondered what the frag the woman was talking about. Then it hit her: Blondie thought she was talking to Alma. Night Owl glanced down at the cellphone that was clipped to her belt. "I couldn't call," she stalled. "My cell was . . ."

The cell had twisted on its belt clip until it was bottom-side up. She noticed something then, on the bottom of the phone: a piece of what looked like kleentac. She knew what she'd find under it: a homing-signal transmitter. Blondie, it seemed, had been keeping tabs on Alma: that had been a global-positioning tracker in her hand when she got out of the car. Night Owl wondered what the frag Alma had done to warrant this kind of attention.

"My master wasn't very happy about Kageyama," Blondie said.

Night Owl did a double take. Maybe it
was
her the woman was gunning for after all. "Your master?" she stammered, her right eye twitching furiously. "You mean Chiao?"

The blond woman laughed. "Good guess, but wrong dragon," she said. "It's Mang I work for. And now that I've told you that, you know what they say: a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. As are you." Night Owl was holding herself poised, like a sprinter in starting blocks. Even as the woman's hand began to twitch, she threw herself to the side. Magical energy blossomed from the woman's hand, and a glowing hand streaked past Night Owl with a rush of air. Night Owl landed prone, catching herself on her hands a centimeter before her face touched the cement. She'd done the impossible: dodged a magical spell. But even as she twisted her body violently to the side, trying to roll into the shelter of a parked car, she knew she wouldn't be able to duck the second attack.

That was when she heard a crackling sound and saw a blue-white streak of what looked like lightning lance out of the alley toward the blond woman. As it hit her, she grunted as if gut-punched and folded onto the sidewalk. Realizing that something had taken the woman down before she could crank off a second magical attack, Night Owl turned her roll into a tuck and sprang to her feet.

The blond woman lay on the sidewalk, groaning, barely conscious. Night Owl knew what had taken her down from the smell that lingered in the air: ozone and burnt hair. She'd been blasted with a bolt of magical energy.

Tiger Cat stepped out from behind a trash bin and bowed. "Well done," he said. "Very convincing. Very . . . cunning. I wondered who your Johnson worked for. Now I know."

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain intensified. Tiger Cat stepped nimbly under an awning and glanced up at the sky with a wary look. Night Owl collected her Predator from where she'd dropped it and shoved the gun in its holster. She nearly drew it again when something dark launched itself from a nearby lightpost. Then she realized it was only a large black crow.

"Storm crow," Tiger Cat muttered. "They're said to bring bad weather—and bad luck. There's an ancient Chinese saying: 'Where storm crows perch, dragons will soon lair.' "

Night Owl glanced at Blondie, who was still twitching on the sidewalk and glaring as she struggled to lift her head. "Bad luck for some, maybe."

Night Owl wanted to ask Tiger Cat who Blondie was, but that would tip him to the fact that she was only posing as Alma. Instead, she bent down and quickly patted down the woman's pockets. The ganger didn't carry a weapon; despite her reliance on the tracking device, she obviously preferred magic over technology when it came to bagging her prey. The only thing Night Owl found on her was a Salish-Shidhe visitor's visa—probably fake. She also saw a wolf's head tattoo on the woman's upper chest, which told her much more: the woman was Komun'go. Which was just drekkin' lovely. That made three gangs after her now, thanks to whatever the frag Alma had been messing with.

The sirens were drawing closer. Tiger Cat stepped out into the rain and leaned over the downed woman. "The police will be here soon, Ms. Johnson. If you're smart, you'll keep your mouth shut about us."