The hostess led them through the islands of tables. Floating candles in the shape of flowers burned a delicate incense that sharpened the palate, and the soft glows were reflected against the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass that fronted Puget Sound. Underwater lights and beacons attracted the native marine life. Seals and otters, their biological clocks formed more from the feeding times and the lights put out by the restaurant than anything nature had intended, frolicked within view of the diners. The lights changed the water to shimmering greens and lit up fluorescent-bearing fish in glowing obelisks.

"Would you like to see a menu?" the hostess asked. "I'm afraid this late at night we don't serve our full line, but the sandwiches are quite good."

"Thanks, but I think we'll just be having drinks." Skater passed the menus back, then ordered a shot and a beer for Duran and mineral water for himself.

Duran leaned back casually against the plush cushions of the three-quarter booth surrounding the table as the waitress left. "We're not alone."

"I count five," Skater said, staring at the wall of glass keeping the Sound out.

"You missed two," the ork said. "Did you pick up the women?"

A cocktail waitress arrived with the drinks and set them down on imprinted napkins. In the sea scene, a sea turtle pursued a purple squid that Skater guessed the restaurant management had ordered infoetically altered for enhanced viewing ease, planing through the water like an undersea fighter plane and gaining by centimeters.

"One of them," Skater answered when the waitress left. "Hot number in pink flirting with the suit at the corner bar."

"The other woman's holding hands with the slag guarding the entrance. He's gotta be a shaman."

Skater checked the reflection in the wall of glass and noted the two people the ork had picked out. "You're right. I missed them both."

On the other side of the glass wall, the sea turtle clamped its sharp jaws on two of the purple glowing squid's tentacles. Although the infoe-coded coloring was interesting to watch, Skater figured it pretty much sealed the squid's doom, leaving it no way to hide. He wondered how many of the creatures the restaurant's owners had to import each week to keep the sport up.

He accessed the Commlink IV. "Wheeler, where the slot are you?" he subvocalized.

"Two minutes, chummer," the dwarf responded. "I'll have everything in place." The rigger was supposed to be setting up in a boat anchored at the dock above.

"Good enough." Skater watched as the turtle tried to pull the squid in closer, only to have the remaining tentacles suddenly wrap around its shell. With the tangle of tentacles and the hidden strength in the squid, the turtle was in trouble as well. If the squid could hold out long enough, Skater knew it would drown the turtle.

"Gutsy little fragger," Duran said appreciatively, then glanced over at the entrance. "McKenzie just made the party.”

Skater glanced at the approaching group, recognized McKenzie from files Archangel had accessed for him, then glanced deliberately back at the neon clock hanging above the bar. It was two-thirteen.

Conrad McKenzie was in the lead, a solid, blocky man several centimeters taller than Skater, and weighing at least twice that many kilos more. Even at this hour of the morning, his face gleamed like he'd shaven only moments ago. His salt and pepper hair was cut long and swept back from his high forehead. His suit was obviously real silk, and he carried a long raincoat over one arm.

Ellard Dragonfletcher was at McKenzie's left looking almost military in his own crisp, immaculate garb. At his side was a young female elf in wraparound nightshades and Zoe exec wear.

"She's razored," Duran warned.

"She goes," Skater said. He stood, not wanting anyone to mistake his seated position as a sign of weakness or over-confidence because either was deadly.

"Mr. Trump," the hostess said, "your party has arrived."

'Thank you," Skater said, slotting her a tip. He remained standing, squaring off against McKenzie and Dragonfletcher as they came within a few steps of him. "The woman goes." He didn't offer to shake hands or make any other gesture to relieve the tension of the meeting.'

McKenzie locked eyes with him and Skater returned the stare.

"Mr. Dragonfletcher?" McKenzie said.

Skater never took his eyes off the Mafia man.

"Might I suggest to you," the elf said to Skater, "that you're in no position to be making demands at this point."

"Sure. Suggest away. But you're going to be doing it to my back."

McKenzie's half-smile was cold and calculating. "You don't leave until I say you do."

Skater reached inside himself and turned off the feelings, letting the adrenaline take over. He went to that place where fear didn't exist and anger wasn't even a memory. "I noticed the torpedoes and yabos you've got stationed around this place. I count seven. But you need to reconsider your own position. If I don't think I'm getting out of here, why should I let you?"

There was only a moment's hesitation before McKenzie spoke. "Ellard, do you still wish to deal?"

"I don't call it dealing if I'm listening to terms," the elf said gruffly.

"The razorgirl sits at another table," Duran stated. "I'm not going to have a knife at my throat while I'm sitting here."

"Yet your man stays," Dragonfletcher said.

"He's a full partner in this," Skater said. "His vote counts. And while you're thinking that over, here's something else you can consider if we don't walk away from this tete-a-tete tonight, copies of those files get dumped straight onto the Shadowland network for anybody to download and sell wherever they can."

"You can't do that." Dragonfletcher's voice was hard.

"Your choice," Skater said. "But I'd decide soon. Standing here like this, we're losing whatever anonymity we started out with."

Dragonfletcher nodded curtly at the razorgirl and she walked away. He and McKenzie took seats across the table from Duran and Skater.

"It's ready. Jack." That was Wheeler's voice coming over Skater's headlink.

Skater lifted his glass to drink and subvocalized over the link before the water touched his lips. The glass masked his response. "Stand by."

The turtle's corpse drifted lazily through the green waters behind McKenzie. The squid was a pastel purple haze drifting away, wounded but alive.

"There are just the two of you?" McKenzie asked.

"Here," Skater replied, "yes. On the operation, no."

"I'd heard you'd lost at least one of your people, perhaps more."

"You hear pretty good for someone just walking into the deal," Skater said,

McKenzie smiled. "I like to look over any interesting proposition before deciding to get in."

"You have the credstick?" Skater asked Dragonfletcher.

"Yes. Provided you've got the files."

Carefully, knowing there were at least eight guns on him. Skater reached inside his jacket and took out the chip Archangel had prepared. He laid the chip-holder on the table in front of him, not offering it to either man,

Dragonfletcher reached inside his jacket, slowly pulling out the credstick, gradually unveiling its length. He held it between his forefingers, then handed it to McKenzie to pass over, as if touching Skater was beneath him.

Skater knew the elf didn't see McKenzie switch the credstick for another, taking his ten percent from the team's fee. The original credstick disappeared and McKenzie extended the second one.

"I think you'll find everything here," McKenzie said.

"Will I?" Skater asked.

"Yes."

Skater took the credstick, but before his fingers could close around it, Dragonfletcher placed a restraining hand on top of his.

"We need to address a few things first," he said.

"I'm listening," Skater said as he flicked his gaze to the elf. He raised his other hand to warn Duran off. The ork had bridled and bared his fangs.