Steel Rain (19 page)
"Machiko
-sama?"
She finds the headman of
kobun
standing beside the foot of the bed, looking to her with an expression of startled amazement, amazement turning to revulsion, horror, and suddenly it all clicks.
She feels it in her belly.
"COVERRR!
" she roars.
She turns and propels herself forward, away from the bed, into the headman of
kobun
, into him bodily, driving him back, away from the bed, toward the doorway, toward the corridor and safety. The headman's look turns to mindless astonishment. The
kobun
standing in the doorway seem to move as if encased in mud. She has time to see surprise registering on their faces, the sudden tension of alarm spreading through their bodies and limbs. Then the explosion erupts.
She hears the dull rumbling of its beginning, rising into a
deafening roar. She feels the shock wave batter her feet, sweeping up the length of her legs, catching her up like a fist, lifting her, hurling her forward.
The headman falls beneath her as if driven down by the breaking crest of a wave. The corridor wall comes at her. She prepares to fall against it, to break the impact, but then the impact is upon her and she feels the filth-smeared surface giving way beneath her chest.
Then nothing.
The rear compartment of the SDF medical van is lit brightly. Equipment beeps and hums. The air smells of disinfectant.
Machiko is a while persuading her eyes to open. The level of pain she felt in the wake of the explosion outside clan headquarters, little more than twenty-four hours ago, was nothing compared to what she feels now, like she has been pummeled by several shots from a rail gun. Her skull feels as fragile as the shell of an egg, her ribs like frail sticks. Sitting up takes an immense act of will. Medtechs speak of bruised bones, micro-fractures, concussion effects, but she ignores them. She pulls sensors from her temples, her chest, her wrist, and adjusts her clothes. Fortunately, the medtechs have made no attempts at treatment other than basic first aid. Any form of invasive treatment would likely do more harm than good.
She struggles to her feet, fighting the weakness and pain that make a haze of her vision and threaten to lay her out flat.
Outside the side door of the medvan she finds a scene of controlled chaos: a line of people laid out on blankets on the sidewalk, coughing, moaning, sobbing, armored SDF troopers and NYPD police, shouting, gesturing, security vans and fire-rescue vehicles, blue lights strobing, a chopper thumping by overhead.
Immediately to her right, she finds the headman of
kobun
, his head swathed in bandages, his cheek bruised almost black, his left arm in a sling. His black, blue-trimmed jacket lies over the arms of the
kobun
standing beside him. Machiko's swords lie over the jacket.
Both men bow deeply. Machiko accepts the swords and returns them to their places, katana behind her shoulder, wakizashi at her waist. "Tell me what has occurred," Machiko says. "Since the explosion."
The headman bows. "Please excuse my ignorance,
Machiko
-sama
. I was knocked unconscious by the blast. When I awoke, I found that the Nagato lieutenant had summoned help."
"Where is Lieutenant Enotori?"
"Here, Machiko-san."
Machiko turns to find the man approaching from behind her. His voice, so near, comes as enough of a surprise that she momentarily forgets herself and turns without regard for injury or pain. A new wave of feebleness sends her swaying backward, off-balance, bumping into the side of the medvan. Abruptly, she discovers herself sitting down, sitting on the metal step beneath the side door of the medvan.
Enotori catches her shoulders. "Machiko-san," he says, "you should be in the hospital."
This is out of the question. "Status."
Enotori rubs briefly at his brow. His face is smudged with grime. "I notified the SDF teams on standby to respond to our location. Fire and police services also responded. The total damage done by the explosion was not so great, but there was some smoke and the tenants on the fourth floor panicked. Many were injured in the rush down the stairway. The Yoshida
-kai
executive for this district has just arrived with additional
kobun
to assist with the situation."
This is good. That uninvolved persons should have been injured is very disturbing, but not the most pressing issue on Machiko's mind. "What of the room? What of Jank?"
Enotori briefly explains that the precinct commander for this area, a Winter Systems officer, has interceded on behalf of Nagato Combine to forestall any unwanted interference. "A Nagato forensics team has just begun examining the room. It appears that Jank was fitted with a cranial bomb. He is dead."
Machiko exerts herself to think. "What evidence has been
found?"
"Perhaps among the most significant comes from my headware memory. I downloaded my recorded images of Jank to the Nagato network. I ran a graphic comparison with the partial images of the assassin who killed Mitsuharu-san of the GSG."
Machiko puzzles over this. "We have images of this assassin?"
"Yes, Machiko-san. A few partial images only. One of the security cams at Mitsuharu-san's residence complex is a dunce, a closed-circuit manually operated cam. It cannot be accessed through the Matrix. The Security Service discovered this only this morning, and there was some difficulty processing the images."
"What of your comparison?"
"According to the analyzer I ran, the chance is sixty-seven percent that Jank was the same killer captured on the cam at Mitsuharu-san's residence complex."
The implications are difficult to grasp. "You saw Jank?"
"Yes, I looked into the room just prior to the explosion." Machiko struggles to clear her mind, subdue the pain. "Then we have a tentative connection. A connection between assassins and a mage. Perhaps the mage responsible for sending the bomb to the Open House is the same mage Jank spoke about. Have we found any clues about this mage in Jank's room?"
"We found these." Enotori shows her what appear to be three standard credsticks. "They are registered to a corporate account. The Red Pavilion, Inc. Located in the Bronx."
The name is well known. Its significance is such that Machiko feels a sudden surging of strength. For the first time since she woke, her mind seems to come clear. The Red Pavilion has for many years served as the gathering place for the most influential Triad bosses in the plex. It is the headquarters of the Large Circle League. "Then we are indeed at war, if not with the League, then with one of its affiliates." Enotori's expression turns uncertain. "It is perhaps unlikely that Jank could have stolen Red Pavilion credsticks. However, his use of BTL disturbs me."
"Please explain."
"We have already found some dozens of BTL chips among the debris in Jank's room. The seals on these chips were all broken, indicating that they had been used. Jank's sensedeck appears to have been modified. We have the report on Jank's aberrant behavior, the boasts he made concerning the mage, destroying all corps, and we have the fact of the surroundings in which he lived."
"You suggest that Jank has abused BTL for some time."
"Particularly in light of the way he died. It would appear that Jank suffered some form of convulsive episode, a seizure, brought on by extreme sensory overload, similar in effect to the lethal feedback induced in deckers by killer IC.
This episode was sufficiently disruptive to the centers of the brain to trigger the bomb in Jank's head."
"Are you suggesting that this was deliberate? That Jank was situated here, jacked into a sensedeck, as a sort of booby trap?"
"I am aware of cases where this has been done, but I do not suspect that such could be the case here. The trail that led us to Jank was too tenuous, too reliant on coincidence, on the informants we happened to interview. A mage on the astral could have monitored our progress, but no one could have anticipated that we would be led to Jank."
"Enotori-sart, what is your point?"
The lieutenant bows slightly, perhaps to apologize for being so verbose. "Merely this, Machiko-san. When BTL abuse leads to death, it is almost always a result of long-term abuse. I do not believe that the bosses of the Large Circle League would tolerate one of their soldiers abusing BTL." Indeed.
Machiko considers this for some moments. Enotori's speculation leads her to a single conclusion. "Perhaps Jank was on the run from his own people."
"Yes, and the Security Service is already checking on this possibility. We have initiated a search of all relevant databases."
Unfortunately, broadband searches take time, especially when involving organizations such as Triads, with members numbering in the millions and activities spanning the globe. Machiko does not feel inclined to sit back and wait for search results. She could wait for many weeks to come and gain nothing by it, because nothing will ever come as clear and pure as crystal to her doorway. That is simply the Way of the world. She has been given the authority to act and that is what she must do.
When the sword will not cut, stab at the enemy's heart. Machiko finds the strength to stand, then to walk to the Infiniti E9 sedans. The headman of
kobun
bows. "How may we serve, Machiko
-sama
?"
"We visit the Red Pavilion. Drive slowly."
The headman does not hesitate. He orders his men into the cars. They are on the verge of pulling out when another car comes to a screeching halt nearby. Ryokai emerges. Machiko lowers her window.
"I was told you were wounded!"
The expression on Ryokai's face is full of concern and wonder. It is unfortunate. Machiko has no wish to speak harshly to Ryokai, for he has always been loyal, but she can imagine no way around it. "If you were concerned for my injuries, you should have sent a protective detail. You have duties that require you to be elsewhere. Duties that take precedence."
"You are not wounded?"
Machiko summons the strength to take a tone of fellowship, of compassion. "Ryokai-san," she says, "if there is war, many will die. You must steel yourself for this."
"Just say if you are all right!"
It would cost nothing to give him the answer he wants, but Machiko finds she cannot say the words. Ryokai should not be here inquiring after her condition. He should be with his team on Staten Island pursuing their plan. A warrior cannot turn from battle merely because a comrade has been hurt. "Your heart is too great," she tells him. "Return to duty." Then, to the headman, "Drive."
The Infinitis move out. They take local streets to the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, leading to the Triborough Bridge. The sedans settle into the right lane and assume a sedate pace. Machiko closes her eyes and settles her spirit. She gains focus, strives to encourage flesh and bone to heal, to cast off the distractions of pain. She succeeds only to a degree. She has taken an excess of physical punishment in the last two days. Her resources are growing slim. She needs rest.
As the cars ride down onto the streets of the south Bronx, she hears the headman of
kobun
saying, "Machiko
-sama
, your action saved this old man his worthless life. I owe a great debt."
Machiko bows. "Please do not speak to me of debts. Duty determined my actions, as it determines yours. Duty must guide our every action if we are to defeat the enemies of Nagato Combine."
Before long they are gliding to a halt before the broad red walkway leading to the Red Pavilion's main entrance. "Remain in the car."
"Yes, Machiko
-sama
."
The Pavilion is five stories of classic pagoda-style architecture rimmed in winking neon and accented by the flashing laser displays in the upper windows. A large crowd, trailing away from the entrance and halfway down the block, waits behind velvet ropes along the right of the walkway. Portions of the sidewalk flicker with images from inside the club: people dancing, carousing, partaking of other amusements. The men in red suits, keeping watch over the entrance, the walk, the crowd and the street, begin backing rapidly to the Pavilion's main entrance, some speaking into commlinks, some looking frantically about, as Machiko advances.
She is met at the entrance by a wall of ten or more guards, soldiers in red suits. Several conceal hands inside their suit jackets as if holding weapons. More than a few appear very nervous.
"What do you want?" asks one.
"Lau Tsang."
"He ... he is not here!"
"Then I will wait."
She is not kept waiting long. She has unsettled her enemy's spirit, upset their rhythm. Guards speak to headmen who speak to bosses. A Serpent on our doorstep? It is perhaps unprecedented. It may be insanity. In the space of one step, she has moved from Bronx County to a plot of land controlled by some of the most ruthless criminal bosses to be found in North America. They are the law here. There is no other authority that might act to prevent them from killing her where she stands.
However, the soldiers before her do not seem eager to make the attempt. Their eyes keep moving to the grips of her swords.
A short, slim man, a norm, with white razorslashed hair and a dark blue suit, steps through the wall of soldiers. His face like a wall of stone reveals nothing. His chrome eyes dart up and down Machiko's front, then he says, "What is
your business with Lau Tsang?"