I didn’t want to. Instead, I thought about getting out of the Blank Room, getting back to a world where there was color and nuance. I cleared my throat, and when that did not start the madman jumping around again, I ventured to try my luck at a sentence.

“What is it, exactly, you want from me, Mr. Marin? I appear to be a little bit below your level.”

Marin nodded. “What do I want with you? Mr. Cates, I want to hire you.”

I blinked. The motherfucker was insane. The whole world was being run by this insane little shit. “You want me to Gun for you?”

“Of course not, Mr. Cates. You would be voluntarily choosing to do a few things, which will in turn have some unexpected benefits for you, which might, after an exhaustive and death-defying investigation, be traced back to the SSF. Not to me, mind you, but to the System Security Force in general. You’ll do this because it’ll be lucrative, and because I can have you killed just by letting your case proceed. You’re a cop-killer, Mr. Cates. I am all that stands between you and execution. Take this on, and not only will your involvement in the deaths of officers Janet Hense, Jack Hallier, and Miguel Alvarez remain secret, you’ll get paid, too.”

He stopped, and just grinned at me. Fuck the Blank Room, this cocksucker’s grin was freaking me out. I knew I’d break in no time if he just sat there and grinned at me, his head cocked to one side like a fucking ventriloquist’s dummy. I felt an almost-irresistible urge to grin back, and I knew if I did I’d never be able to stop.

“You’ll clear me on three dead cops?”

Marin shivered, a subtle vibration that rippled through his whole body in a second. “Collateral damage, Mr. Cates. I could not possibly care less about three dead cops, if you pull this off.”

I licked my lips, and he spun away again. “Actually, I’ve already hired others to do this job. There are a lot of Gunners out there, Mr. Cates, and I’ve hired quite a few in the last few months. Most with much better skill-sets than you, I think. They are all dead now-assumed to be, in some cases, as no body has yet turned up. I’ve been forced to shift down to the second tier, and there you are-you have a rep for being very good, physically, and smarter than most. I’ve reviewed your arrest file.”

Behind him the screen lit up with a quick flicker of my various busts, fifteen years of my life told in progressive mug shots.

“You’re smart, Mr. Cates, but something’s holding you back, yes? You fulfill your contracts and play by rules-you’re trusted out there. Which is rare, these days. Criminals fear each other, they respect force, but very rarely do we find a criminal who is trusted.” He whirled to grin at me again. “You’re unique, Mr. Cates: a thinking killer. I hope maybe your approach will be more effective.”

“So you’re hiring me because I’m a mediocre Gunner,” I croaked. This sounded interesting. My day was improving. “How rich?”

Marin nodded, once, curtly, and produced a slip of paper from one pocket, which I was amazed to think he’d had waiting for this moment, ready. I took it from his cold fingers and stared down at the unusually large sum written upon it. I thought at first it must be one of those imaginary numbers I’d heard about in school.

“Deposited into a secure account under any name you wish, within two hours of proof of completion. Do we have a deal?”

I kept staring at the number. “I have one requirement.”

Marin was silent, but I could feel that fucking grin on the top of my head like heat from a sun. “A requirement, Mr. Cates?”

“Gatz,” I said, looking up and squinting into his smile. “I need Kev Gatz. He gets out with me, and he gets a cleared file, too.”

Dick Marin laughed, a single bark of noise. “I see, Mr. Cates! A reasonable request. We have a deal?”

I didn’t answer right away, and then frowned. “Wait a sec-who am I supposed to kill?”

Marin might have blinked behind his glasses, I couldn’t tell. “Why, Mr. Cates… I want you to assassinate Dennis Squalor. Of course.”

I blinked. “Jesus fucked, why?”

Marin didn’t answer right away. He stared just over my head for a moment, once again listening to something only he could hear. Finally the King Worm shivered and returned his attention to me.

“Why? Mr. Cates, haven’t you been listening? The Electric Church is using its status as a religion as a cover. Dennis Squalor is not converting fanatics, he is aggressively acquiring slaves. If I do nothing, within the decade we’re all working for him-and digitally prevented from doing anything about it, or even complaining. Time is short. I have no evidence, which restricts my options, and he’s got the political acumen to make trouble for me if I act without evidence-highly unusual for me, and highly inconvenient. I have got to go through back channels. Buried channels. Nonexistent channels. I am seeking a loophole. If Dennis Squalor goes down, the resulting confusion will give me the leverage to order a full investigation, temporarily suspend the EC’s exempted status-don’t worry over how. You just do your part. Kill the high priest.

“Let’s be clear.” He was suddenly calmed and relaxed, orienting on me as if really noting my presence for the first time, his manner suddenly fluid and focused. “There is nothing official about this. You will be denied. I can offer you no help. On the other hand, you are free to act. I am not concerned with collateral damage. If SSF officers take notice of you, I will do whatever I can to help you. But a man like you knows how to avoid the cops when necessary, doesn’t he? And if you succeed, Mr. Cates, all will be forgiven, no matter how messy.”

I shrugged, trying to smile back at him. “I’m here, though, right? Is that how you keep things secret, by sending a goddamned hover to scoop me up in the middle of the street?”

In the face of that shining sun beaming from Marin, my own grin felt weak and brittle, and quickly faded away.

“Colonel Moje is… overly enthusiastic, sometimes, I admit. But no one knows, or would believe, that SSFDIA Marin is behind this, Mr. Cates. SSF officers often disparage the use of uniformed officers-what do you call them? Crushers? — to acquire assets, and misuse hovers and Stormers like that just to make an impression. To overawe the population, you see. A show of force is very effective for that. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, Mr. Cates, you were picked up for questioning concerning the Dawson and Hallier incident, and released.”

I thought about pointing out the sheer implausibility of this story, since the Pigs hardly ever released anyone, but didn’t want to tempt this madman into going for a more realistic approach. Like beating me within an inch of my life, just for effect.

Marin leaped up and the door snicked open again. “We have a deal, then, Mr. Cates?”

He was walking briskly to the door. “I’ll need start-up costs!” I shouted.

And he was out the door, which snicked shut again. I waited a moment to see what would happen, but nothing did. I glanced down. My coffee had gone cold.