“Indubitably,” the Elf put in. “They must have used Atreus as a cut-out to allay our suspicions. They probably arranged for Renraku security to find out about our mission.”

“But not until after we had placed their dirty little toy,” Sally added bitterly.

“How would it help them to have you caught?”

“Dey don’t like us, Mr. Suit,” the Ork growled. “Dat’s enough reason for anybody.”

“They didn’t even have to get us geeked on the way out,” Ghost expanded. “Any of us that got caught wouldn’t know that they had hired us, so there’d be no link to Seretech. We also didn’t know what their bug would really do, so we wouldn’t have said anything. A simple break-in and lift of those prototypes would have been easy enough to squirm out of. Attempted robbery and breaking and entering. Light stuff. Until people started dying. For that, we’d have been blamed, and they probably thought we’d finger Atreus and take them down with us.”

Sally picked it up. “Seretech would have been in the clear and sitting on fat street. They’d have hit their rivals at Renraku and gotten us too. Any of us that the Raku samurai didn’t take down would be facing mass murder charges ‘cause nobody would believe we didn’t know what kind of stuff we were placing. Seretech pays back two debts at one. Maybe even three, if they’re got a beef with Atreus. Once again, the megacorp comes out on top.”

“So what happens now?” Sam prodded.

“We take our losses and stay out of the light,” Sally sighed. “Seretech’s bad business.”

Sam was appalled. “What about those people at Renraku? They’re innocent. You can’t just let them die.”

“Can’t we?” said Ghost.

Flushed with outrage, Sam spun to face Sally, stabbing an accusing finger. “I thought you didn’t do wetwork cheap. Pretty flexible honor you’ve got. Things get tough, and you fold. You must enjoy being somebody’s fan guys. What’ll happen to your hot-shot reps when the Street finds out how you let yourselves be used?”

“Stuff dat. Nobody’ll know,” the Ork muttered.

“He will!” Sam shouted, pointing at Castillano. He swung his arm about to take in the guards. “They know, too!”

“Uh, Lady Tsung,” the Elf said quietly, “perhaps we could go back and pull out the cans.”

“It’s too late,” Sally said. “They’ll already have used some of it.”

“You could just tell Renraku what’s going on,” Sam suggested.

“They wouldn’t believe us. Even if they did, they’d still come looking for us, figuring we had something to do with it. They’d be right, of course, and when people start dying, it would turn into a blood feud. We’re better off keeping quiet.”

“Wait a minute!” Sam yelped. “Castillano, let me see your computer.”

The fixer simply stared at him, keeping a proprietary hand on the keyboard.

Sally sighed. “On the tab.”

Castillano handed over the keyboard.

Sam fiddled with it, cursing its slowness. He felt a featherweight touch on his shoulder. He turned to find the Elf offering a cyberdeck.

“Faster this way,” Dodger said.

Sam looked at the device the Elf carried hidden beneath his coat. Save for its special function keys and carrying strap, it looked like an ordinary computer keyboard. He took it gingerly.

This would not be like plugging into the Federated Boeing Commuter. This was a real doorway to the Matrix. There would be no autopilot insulation from the terrifying glories of cyberspace.

“Jack’s over here,” the Elf said, pointing.

Sam slid back the cover panel and pulled out the telecom connector. With a quick switch of plugs, the Elf’s cyberdeck took the place of Castillano’s computer. He reached for the datacord that would connect his socket with the deck. He almost changed his mind, but found courage when he remembered the innocents in the arcology who would suffer if no one tried to help. He slipped the plug in, steeling himself against the expected pain.

It came, flashing through his brain faster than before and leaving a distant malaise in its wake. Sam focused his mind on the task at hand. Turning a blind eye to the gleaming spires and pulsing data paths that surrounded him in cyberspace, he charged forward to the massive Renraku construct. Using his company passwords, he opened a portal into the main database.

Glittering rows of stars lay in serried ranks and columns all around him. Each point of light was a datafile, its tint reflecting the filing category. Sam fed the cyberdeck the key words and executed the search function. His point of view shifted with dazzling speed along the rows. He paused briefly at each file suggested by the deck, discarding useless information as he searched.

In what seemed like only a few minutes, he found it. He copied the file and fled back to where he had entered the Matrix.

“There is a counteragent,” he announced to the circle of concerned faces as he pulled the data cord from his temple.

“Where do we get it?”

“That’s the problem. It’s not being manufactured. It only exists in the machine.”

There was silence in the room. Sam could feel the runners’ resolve to right a wrong slipping away.

Castillano cleared his throat.

“Biotech I know has a lab. Full computer-assisted design facilities. I can arrange an introduction. Standard fees.”

Sam’s spirit soared with new hope. He looked to Sally, who stood with hands pressed together in front of her chest. The tension in her arm muscles was evident as her hands trembled slightly. For the first time, Sam noticed that the magician was missing the last joint of the little finger on her right hand. She released the tension with an explosive sigh.

“Let’s do it.”

“Nice of you to drop in,” Crenshaw said with mock politeness as Sam entered the stuffy room. He closed the door, shutting off the gray, predawn light from the outer room. The stink of wastes from the corner was overpowering.

“I’ve been trying to help the company.”

“By sucking up to those criminals. Trying to help yourself more like,” Crenshaw grumbled. “Do you think you’re any better than us? That they’ll treat you any different because you fawn on them?”

“You think I was trying to cut my own deal?’ Sam was incredulous.

Crenshaw gave him a grin that said it was exactly what she thought.

“Just because that’s the way you operate doesn’t mean everyone does. Some people do care about others.”