“You can make your phone call,” Geraint said slowly. “Get those guys you trust. Then we’ll see.”

Streak was up and out of his chair before Geraint had even finished the sentence.

“Are you sure about this?” Michael asked earnestly.

“Of course I’m not bloody sure,” Geraint said, taking refuge in another cigarette. “But we don’t have any time, and it’s obvious they’re not going to talk peaceably. If we’re going to see this through I don’t think we have any other option. Why don’t you start getting into that data in earnest? If Sneak’s bringing people over the border, that gives you a couple of hours at least. About time you and Serrin came up with more than bulldrek from all that stuff.”

His voice was reproachful, and Michael wondered about that as he retreated to his deck. It’s almost as if he’s more motivated than I am, but it’s meant to be my show, he thought, not with resentment, but with curiosity and some puzzlement. Is it only that his own fortune might be threatened if our decker brings down the entire Matrix? Hardly. Not with all the land and property he owns. So why…

He forgot all the idle speculation as he began preparing the analytic frames. By the time the heavy raps came on the front door, it had long grown dark and Michael was completely oblivious to everything around him.

15

Streak had only been able to recruit two samurai, but they looked as if there were six of them. The ork, Juan, had shoulders that would have put a troll to shame. His skin gleamed. Looking him over, Michael guessed that he had dermal sheathing, which would explain his relatively light body armor The ork’s matching cyberarms, one with a gyromount installed in it, must have cost a fortune. Juan couldn’t have gotten it without being very, very good and very successful somewhere along the line. And probably more than once. But his cybereyes were dark and cold, and Michael noted how Kristen in particular gave him a very wide berth. He did, truly, look to be more machine than meat.

His human colleague was equally imposing. Xavier Came clad in full body armor, and moved with the strange and unnatural lightness, which, when it accompanied excessive size and weight, screamed “wired reflexes.” Michael sensed, though, that there was something more. The samurai had an occasional twitchiness in his muscles, around the eyes, that suggested the wiring was deeper and more powerful than usual. Streak has some over-powered friends, he thought.

“So you want to take a captive,” Juan said in a deep voice, richer in tone than the inhumanity of his appearance. He seemed almost disappointed.

“We need someone to interrogate,” Streak said. “That’s essential. That’s the mission goal.”

“What about corollary damage?” Xavier asked, in much better English than Michael would have expected.

“Irrelevant,” Streak said with relish.

“Wait a minute-” Geraint started.

“Look,” Streak said exasperatedly, “you want a prisoner or not? You say you’ve got five days. Now if you want someone to talk to, we do it our way. How many tactical raids have you mounted on reinforced installations packed with samurai and mages?”

“Okay, all right,” Geraint said testily. “But in this country, I can’t get us bailed out if we get into big-time trouble.”

“Which is why we’re not going to ponce around like a bunch of pansies,” Streak asserted. “And we’re going to use disabling approaches.”

“Pity,” Xavier said thoughtfully. “I’ve got some Byelorussian fire gel that could immolate the entire place inside five seconds. Wonderful stuff. Burns like crazy for that time and then, wham! The shrapnel cakes go ape and spray the firezone. It could take out a wizworm, honest. Well, with a depleted uranium boost it could, and I’ve got some of that too.”

“We said disablement?” Geraint said incredulously.

“Yeah, right,” Streak said. “Okay, terms, you know the deal here. You also know what their strengths are likely to be. How’s that Matrix work coming along, Mikey?”

“Nothing difficult,” Michael told him. “I can disable the system exactly when you want it done.”

“And you, brother?” Streak said to Serrin, who grimaced a little at the overfamiliarity.

“I’ve prepared us as I can,” Serrin told him with a shrug. There was little point in going into detail on the spell locks he carried, the rituals he’d prepared, the barriers he’d primed as best he could. They would hold for a while, but that wouldn’t be long. To hide his irritation he made for the kitchen. After a moment Kristen padded after him on bare feet.

Streak and the other samurai pored over the map spread before them. “We come in from the south, I think,” the elf said. “Divide up. Juan and I will go in first. Michael and Geraint can cover us. Xavier, you’re gonna hang back and use the ranged stuff, and cover Serrin here as well. Yeah?”

“I want to be on elevated terrain to be able to provide auxiliary cover if you need it,” Xavier said. “Not to mention that I don’t want to do everything with IR and laser sighting. You’ve been up there in the daylight. Where’s the best spot?”

“You want to be up high, with cover as well?” Streak grinned. “Don’t we always want everything? Here”-he stabbed a finger into the map-“looks about best to my way of thinking. Should be enough green drek to cover your arse. And you’ve got some magical camouflage from Serrin.”

Serrin was arguing with Kristen in the kitchen, their voices growing increasingly audible.

Streak chuckled. “I think the girlie doesn’t want to stay barefoot in the kitchen.”

“I’ve seen her shoot a guy in the head and save someone’s life,” Geraint informed him. “So not so much of the ‘girlie’, please. She can look after herself. She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t a member of the team.”

“Keep her back with Serrin and Xavier then.” Streak was serious now. “She may have guts, but she ain’t got no smartgun link and she shouldn’t be up with the professionals.”

“Fair enough,” Geraint said. “Time to get that body armor on, Michael. Are you sure you want in on this?”

“I’ve done enough night work with firearms.” Michael said. “Hell, I live in the Rotten Apple. It’s the second thing you do when you arrive.”

“What’s the first?” Streak asked.

“Practice shooting in daylight,” Michael told him.

Streak laughed, then hefted his LMG and pack. “Let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got an hour in the car to go through every step. They’re going to be crying in the chapel tonight.”

Michael looked puzzled.

“It’s an old, old song,” Streak told him. “You want to get some culture, term.”

“When I hear the word culture-” Xavier burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I know. But you don’t need to hear that word, you psychopathic fragger, you just love reachin’ for your gun anyway.” Streak threw back his head and laughed along with him.

They parked the cars a couple of kilometers out. They had a time persuading Serrin to risk any assensing, but he found no trace of either watchers or other similar precautions at this range and it looked as if the Priory mages weren’t expecting them back.

“I can’t risk it when we get closer,” he said. “We’ll have to trust that the barriers work.”

“Then we’ll have to move fast,” Streak said. “Can’t risk getting any closer in the cars. They’ll be detected too easily.”

They crept along the uncomfortable path with its stones and undergrowth straying on to the walkway, the cloudy night giving them no helpful moonlight to see by. They were halfway to the hill when the sound of a heavy engine began to approach from the south. They were well away from the roadway, and Streak dived off into the night to see what was coming.

They were nearing the hill when the elf returned. In the dark, the alarm on the elf’s blackened face wasn’t entirely obvious. When he spoke, though, his concern was all too tangible.