Steel Rain (39 page)

"Conference link on," says Rad238. "GSG member present."

"Quite an honor," says SmoKe.

"What's the occasion?" asks NodeBoy. "Excuse us if we don't bow."

Apparently, the communication link provides the deckers with a visual as well as audio feed. Machiko takes a moment to consider her words, then says, "I am here to ask why you have violated your oath to Nagato Corporation."

"Odd question," says SmoKe.

"Who says we're in violation?" asks NodeBoy.

Machiko says, "An attempt was just made to insert false information into the Nagato transport division vehicle registry. This attempt was traced to you."

Rad238 says, "Voice stress analysis indicates you think you're telling the truth. Is your truth founded on verifiable facts?"

Machiko is surprised by the suggestion that the deckers are able to analyze her voice, but she considers Rad238's question, and says, "Your manner is presumptuous and rude. I would not ask the question I have asked unless I possessed compelling reasons. Please provide me with the courtesy of an answer."

"Don't freak on us," says SmoKe.

"We won't deny it," says NodeBoy. "Sure, we violated network protocol. Do you know why we did that?"

Machiko can hardly believe what she is hearing, that such an admission would be made so casually. It makes the reason for the violation of network protocol seem all the more incredible. "You were attempting to expedite the entry onto Nagato Corp property of a Roadmaster cargo vehicle carrying a supply of toxic materials."

"You're a wiz banger," says SmoKe.

"What else have you figured out?" asks NodeBoy.

"That you have provided Gamma, a known terrorist, and his White Octagon, a terrorist group, with plans and specifications for a number of Nagato facilities, including the Chrysanthemum Palace Hotel. That you have promoted a plan with the goal of acquiring Nagato Corp debt."

Rad238 says, "Voice stress analysis indicates you're speculating."

"Good guesses, though," says NodeBoy. "You're right on. We're the ones. And in fact we've just achieved our goals.

We acquired the last major Nagato Corp creditor as of nine thirty-five local time. You're about an hour too late."

A strangled grunt emerges from the mouth of the deputy VP. Machiko glances aside and sees the man gazing wide-eyed and white-faced at the display screen. The GPC project director appears no less incredulous. Machiko can well understand their reactions. Though she struggles to retain a settled spirit, she begins to feel a bit like the two uniformed Security Service guards, who look nothing if not impotent and also rather confused.

One point about all this puzzles her. Money. Nuyen. Credit. Honjowara
-sama
himself remarked that no corporation can function without credit. And even she is aware of that one basic reality of the Sixth World, that it is a world ruled by corporate behemoths, a world where even modest corps such as Nagato possess resources measured in the billions, if not the trillions of nuyen. Not even Honjowara
-sama
, in so far as Machiko is aware, possesses wealth on the scale that would be necessary to purchase all of Nagato Corp's outstanding debt.

And so . . .

"Tell me," Machiko says. "Where do persons such as yourselves, computer specialists, confined for many months inside isolation tanks, acquire the resources to purchase a corporation's entire debt?"

"We've got our methods," says SmoKe.

"Would such methods include theft?"

"That's a possibility," NodeBoy says. "Fortunately, your little telezine war with Fuchi kicked down the prices a little, so we didn't need as much juice as we originally expected." Machiko considers that briefly, then shakes her head. She is straying from the point. She must keep focused. "Then you admit to having committed acts of treason against Nagato Corporation."

SmoKe says, "Treason? That's your law."

"Look out those windows," says NodeBoy. "Look at those vats on the lab floor. That's all that's left of us. All that's left of our meat bodies. We're never coming out. Maybe no one told you. The magic that made us a gamo-cerebroprocessor also induced advanced hyper-atrophy. Applied metabiology is all that's keeping us alive. Pull us out of those tanks and we're so much dust."

Could this be so? Machiko looks to the deputy VP. The man tugs at the collar of his shirt and licks at his lips, looking like one on the verge of fainting.

In answer to Machiko's questioning eyes, he nods once, and also bows. But it is the project director who says, "An unfortunate and wholly unforeseen consequence of the metaphysics involved, Machiko
-sama
. We are making every attempt to identify the specific causal factor of the hyper-atrophy. In fact, it has been the primary objective of the project for the last several months. Once the cause is identified, we will endeavor to reverse the process."

SmoKe says, "We're not waiting for some Nagato suit to decide to scrag the project and shuffle our tanks and the rest of our lives into a corner somewhere. Nagato is squat. We're loyal to the corporation of us. We're making our own laws. We're taking control from our side of the jack, the land of Matrix."

"Now the fun really begins," says NodeBoy.

And suddenly understanding dawns. Things have not gone well for the deckers of the GCP project. Machiko experiences a rush of pity like she has rarely known, pity settling into a sea of outrage and disgust. "Do you admit to assisting Gamma in staging the attack on the Chrysanthemum Palace hotel?"

"Sure," says NodeBoy. "That's where we gave Fuchi a new van. You think they'd at least thank us."

Machiko struggles to keep her voice calm, saying, "More than one hundred people died in the panic following that attack."

"A little blood must fall into every revolution."

"The blood of innocent persons?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. It happens."

"Time to open negotiations," says SmoKe. "Here's how it works. You can carry this to your Chairman. We've got enough Nagato debt to make chop suey out of your corp, but we just want Neurocomp and a few other choice bits. In exchange for complete stringless control, we give you back your debt."

"Get it?" says NodeBoy. "Neurocomp owns our employment contracts,
omae
, but now we own Neurocomp. So, in effect, we end up owning ourselves. We own ourselves free and clear."

"Thus we are free to control our own destiny," says Rad238.

Machiko grapples with what they are saying, struggles for understanding. It is nearly beyond comprehension. To kill and wound hundreds of people merely to achieve their own selfish aims? To slaughter innocent persons, persons not even aware of these deckers' existence, merely as a means of escaping their corporate contracts? of effecting a change in their personal status? It goes beyond heinous, beyond abomination. It is evil. As pure and terrible an evil as Machiko has ever encountered.

"You are murderers," she says. "And you are traitors. And your savage plans end here." She turns to the deputy VP. "You will immediately sever all connections between these traitors and the Nagato computer network. You will take every step necessary to ensure that they are in effect placed under security detention and thus can commit no more acts of malefaction."

The deputy VP bows, saying, "At once, Machiko-san."

"I don't think so," says SmoKe.

39

The digital face of Gordon Ito's platinum Patek Nautilus watch reads 10:11 p.m. when he hears the multi-screen display of his broad onyx desktop quietly beep. He doesn't think much of it until he looks at the primary screen. Then he knows something's wrong.

"How did you like our demonstration?" a voice asks.

It's not a human voice, human or metahuman. Some kind of computer simulation: a composite of several voices, maybe. Full of clashing harmonics. On the screen is a Janus-like icon: a head with three distinct faces. Faces like game-simulation deckers, formed of flaming, pulsating colors, with slashcut hair and mirrorshades and the inevitable data-jacks. Gordon takes a drag of his Platinum Select and considers the hardwired telltales beneath the vidscreen's lower edge. The telltales indicate that the display's audio/visual pickups are on, so whoever's on his screen can both see him and hear him. The display isn't supposed to work like this. The pickups should not be on unless he physically taps the keys on the optical workstation console displayed on the touch-sensitive top of his desk.

Gordon draws one hand back to his hip, cocks his fist on his hip, and presses the onyx head of a ring into his hip. Two seconds later the door beyond the front of his desk snaps
open and three members of his exec protect detail look in,
weapons drawn.

They see Gordon taking another drag from the cigarette, then leaning an elbow on the arm of his chair and lifting one hand, one finger, to his upper lip. A contemplative pose as well as a prearranged signal meaning "intruder." Gordon keeps his eyes fixed on the display screen. The chief of the detail follows his gaze.

"Who am I talking to?" Gordon says. "You're not coming through like a standard telecom call."

The chief of the detail signals,
Understood
. He steps back outside, presumably to get someone working on a trace. "This isn't a standard call,
omae
says the voice, the voice of the Janus-like face. "We're the ghost in your grid. The ghost with sticky fingers."

That gets Gordon's attention. "You're coming to me through the Matrix?"

"It's not the first time."

Gordon extends a hand to the optical keyboard on the touch-sensitive top of his desk. No comment from the Janus-head on the vidscreen. He taps a key to launch a sequence of trace and killer IC, particularly vicious progs that don't appear in the Fuchi catalogs. They should show results in just seconds. Several seconds pass and nothing appears to change.

"We've disabled your keyboard," the Janus-face says. Gordon sits back in his chair, takes another drag. "You're very hot deckers," he says. "You've arrogated my desktop. I'm waiting for the explanation."

"Glad to oblige," says the Janus-face.

A second window appears on the display. In it, a member of Nagato Combine's Green Serpent Guard stands facing Gordon from in front of a room full of high-tech consoles. Gordon recognizes the Serpent at once, It's Machiko-san.

She says, "I am here to ask why you have violated your oath to Nagato Corporation. Why you have made the attempt to insert false information into the Nagato transport division vehicle registry. Why you have provided a known terrorist group with plans and specifications for a number of Nagato facilities, including the Chrysanthemum Palace Hotel. Why you have promoted a plan with the goal of acquiring Nagato Corp debt."

Interesting. This is either a replay or a simulation based on recorded speech and images of the woman. Does it accurately reflect an actual event? Good question. Gordon wants more data before making a decision. "Why show me this?"

"To give a clue where we're coming from," says the Janus-face. "Or aren't you interested in what we've been doing with your cred?"

Gordon resists the urge to snap off a sharp retort. This game, whatever game is being played, isn't going to be won by alluding to Fuchi's power. It's going to require a degree of care and caution. "Let's say I'm interested. What then?"

"We deal you in."

"In on what?"

"The tech that busted the Fuchi grid."

Gordon takes another drag of his Platinum Select. He keeps very calm. He didn't come to the command of Special Administration covert operations by racing his pulse every time somebody held out a carrot. In fact, the moment people start offering him things he might want, he asks himself who's trying to scag him and why? The problem, in this case, is that the Fuchi grid was actually penetrated and no one is supposed to know about it, no one but the people he knows he can control. "Who's got this tech?"

"We do."

"And who would you be?"

Machiko-san's image briefly re-animates, saying, "Where do persons such as yourselves, computer specialists, confined for many months in isolation, acquire the resources to purchase a corporation's entire debt?"

That adds more or less mass to Gordon's suspicions. "So you're on Neurocomp's special project."

"We
are
the project," Janus-face replies.

And that adds more or less mass to another of Gordon's suspicions. "And you're willing to give away this hot new tech."

"We keep Neurocomp. We'll give you the project data and the rest of Nagato's outstanding debt."

"You'll give me Nagato debt. You hijacked Nagato debt." Using funds hijacked from Fuchi. Transactions like that would stand up for about ten minutes in a session of the Corporate Court. Stolen funds buy nada. The court would issue a mandate authorizing Fuchi to take any necessary steps to recoup its losses. Nagato debt would revert to its previous owners.

"Are you planning to sue, Mr. Ito?"

Gordon says nothing. He is mildly reassured, though, to learn that Janus-face actually knows his name. It's some slight evidence that his desktop wasn't picked completely at random from the Fuchi grid. Another indication he isn't dealing with gutterpunks.