Svaha, page 24
He stuck his moccasins in the front of his belt, the arrows in back. The bow went over his head and shoulder. Climbing up the rope, his bare toes helped him move more quickly as they found small ridges in the brickwork to propel him upward. Just as he neared the top, a grey blur passed him, Nanabozho, running up the wall like a cougar…like an ape. He reached the top first. His mismatched eyes looked down at Gahzee as the medé completed the last few meters.
Gahzee crouched on top of the wall, hunter's sense seeking out the guard, his gaze trained on the coyote.
"What are you?" he asked softly.
The animal made no reply. It turned like a cat on the wall and ran towards one of the buildings. When it was just a few meters away, it jumped down towards a window ledge, to another, then was on the ground. A slight chill rode up Gahzee's spine. This was no ordinary beast. What did it want with him?
He would get no answer sitting up here.
He drew up the rope, changed the placement of the hook so that it hung from the wall's outer lip now, and let the rope fall down on the inside. In moments he stood on the ground himself. He shook the rope until it came free, catching the hook before it could hit the ground. Untying the hook, he left it in the shadows where the rightmost building touched the wall and returned the rope to his waist.
And now?
He replaced his moccasins. Taking two arrows from his belt, he put one in place on the bow, string slack, the second arrow between his teeth. He looked at Nanabozho. The coyote, seeing that he had Gahzee's attention, began to trot down the street.
Gahzee hesitated for a moment.
He thought of the wall, the impossible grey blur of the coyote as it scaled its height. His Stalker's Wheel sensed a change in the air. Manitou were stirring tonight. Kachina-hey stepping from the Fourth World into the Third. What concern did they have with the affairs of one Anishnabeg medé?
There was only one way to find out.
Moccasins silent on the pavement, he followed Nanabozho deeper into the Megaplex.
2
Miko dressed herself for agility and speed. She wore dark stretchpants and soft-soled shoes. Wrapping white gauze bandages around her abdomen, she bound them as tight as she could without cutting off her breath. If stabbed in the stomach, the bandages would prevent her entrails from spilling out, letting her fight on for precious moments longer. She continued to wrap the bandages, up around her breasts now, to keep them flat against her chest. Overtop she donned a tight sleeveless shirt, covering the tattoo on her back. She cropped her hair short so that it wouldn't get in her way.
Be like a katana when you go into battle, her father had told her in training. Walk sleek as tempered steel, with no protusion save the true edge of your ki.
Katana.
She knelt before the lacquered wooden chest that had held her swords. It was transferred now into a tokonoma, a position of honour. Below the scroll pinned to the wall behind the chest, on a black lacquered rack, were her daisho. The dark wood of their scabbards was unvarnished. They looked like pair of short, slightly curved staves or walking sticks.
Kneeling in the formal sitting position, she gazed at the scabbards, meditating on the history of the paired blades that they hid from sight. She let that history fill her, clearing her mind of all else until her ki burned cold inside her, tempering her, purifying her, until she was worthy of the pure steel of the blades.
Failure only occurred when the swordbearer failed the Sword. The Sword never failed its bearer.
She continued to meditate until only one thing remained in her heart.
Giri.
Debt and duty.
She reached out and lifted the long scabbard from its rack. Jerking out the safety collar, she slowly exposed one meter of pure steel. The katana's ki rushed up her arm to join her own. The razor-sharp edge was a dark blue sheen set against the pure silver of the blade's flat surface. It was a perfect blade, centuries old, which had been in the Hirose family for generations.
Giri.
Using her thumb for a guide, she returned the blade to its scabbard. It locked with a snick. Bowing low to the tokonoma, she rose to her feet and thrust the scabbard in her belt. From a closet she took a raincoat that covered her from neck to ankles. She looked in the mirror. The scabbard protruded, pushing the cloth away from her leg. Removing it from her belt, she held it under the coat with one hand, keeping the coat closed with another.
Again she looked in the mirror. It would do.
She found a hat that matched the coat to hide the short stubble of her newly shorn hair, then slowly turned to look upon Yip's corpse a final time.
Giri, she repeated to herself as a new rush of pain arose in her. But she found she could not go.
She walked to his side, knelt on her haunches, scabbard across her knees, gripped in both hands.
"No more ja mata for us," she said. She bent and kissed his now-cold lips. "Sayonara," she added softly. It was what you said to someone you did not expect to see again for a long time. If you ever saw them again.
Her knuckles whitened as her fingers tightened on the scabbard. Tears lay waiting behind her eyes, but she could not set them free. Not yet. The pain of her missing finger helped to steady her. It sharpened her ki. Kept the cool fire of her sei banked with calm intent.
Giri.
Abruptly she rose, and left the apato. The door remained open behind her. It didn't matter.
Giri.
She wouldn't be returning.
3
After a circuitous route that finally took them into the Jimu District, the Ragman stopped across the street from a seventeen-story building that pointed skyward, like a tall finger jutting up from the fist made by the shorter structures on the block. The entire front of the ground floor was dark opaque glass. Large windows of the same glass dotted the side of the building in a checkerboard-like pattern.
From where they stood, they could see private security guards patrolling the lobby. There'd be others, lots of others, the Ragman thought, throughout the building. Could be a problem—except they had an invite. Or at least Spook did.
"This is it," he said, turning to Lisa. "IBN headquarters. Giving the finger to the world."
Lisa had grown increasingly silent on the journey, and not just because the wonder of being inside the Plex had left her speechless. The Ragman touched her arm.
"What's the matter, darling?"
"I'm worried. About Gahzee."
The Ragman sighed. "I gotta level with you, Lisa. I don't think he's gonna be joining us."
Fire flashed in her eyes. "If you've done someth—"
"Now hold on there. Before you start cranking up the decibels on your old friend the Ragman, you just stop and think a minute. Think about that checkpoint we went through, about how you don't get into the Plex unless you go through one. Now how's some Claver who don't know shit about—"
He broke off as Lisa's eyes widened, gaze fixed on something over his shoulder. He turned, reaching for the 'jack he wasn't carrying, then let his hand fall slowly back to his side. Standing there in the alleyway was Lisa's Claver, big as life and twice as spooky-looking, all black and white. Like a ghost.
"Now how the fuck did you…?" the Ragman began.
His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the Claver's dog. There's no way he could've got the dog in through a checkpoint or over the wall. Ghosts.
"Did I what?" Gahzee asked.
"Nah," the Ragman said. "I don't even want to know."
Lisa ran to the Claver and they embraced briefly. Holding his hand, she walked with him back to the Ragman's side. Coupla friggin’ lovebirds, the Ragman thought. It's like we're on a little honeymoon.
"Is this the building?" Gahzee asked.
The Ragman nodded. "And this part of the gig we do my way, we got that understood, Jack?"
"You're in charge…Jack."
"You bet your ass I am," the Ragman growled, but he gave the Claver a grin.
"How do we get in?"
"Getting in's not gonna be a big problem. They're expecting me, remember? Least, they're expecting Spook. What do you know about Claver tech? You work the machines back home at all?"
Gahzee nodded.
"See, the thing is, I need to know the code that's locking up that chip. I got a match for it—" he pulled a computer chip from his pocket, "—here, that I'm gonna switch for the real thing, but I need to know the code."
"I can't give you that."
"Listen, Jack. They're gonna be sitting right on my ass watching me work on that thing. I got to break the code on it or they're gonna know something's up. But once I got it open, I can pop the chip, and jimmy in my own. This thing's filled up with enough weird shit to keep 'em puzzling it out for months. Now, do you want your chip back or not?"
The Claver didn't trust him. That was okay. The way the guy moved around with that dog of his, the Ragman didn't trust the Claver either, even if he was Lisa's boyfriend.
"Time's wasting," he said. "I got other calls to make tonight."
Gahzee sighed. "It's based on a Wheel," he said finally.
Great, the Ragman thought. Here we go with the Wheel shit again, but he listened carefully as the Claver explained.
"That's good," the Ragman said when Gahzee finished. "I like that. Changes constantly like it's an AI—almost organic. No frigging wonder nobody's cracked it yet. Okay, I got to make a call. Anybody got any change?" He grinned at their blank looks. "That's okay, I got a few hard credits—no way I'm using my card so they can track me down."
He pulled a fake mustache out of a pocket and affixed it to his upper lip. A pair of infrared shades came next.
"You want to change your look," he said as he put them on, "you gotta keep it simple. Not like you, Jack, walking around like a Kabuki clown with all that whiteface on. Now you folks just wait for me here."
He walked down the block to a public com-link. Inserting his credits, he punched up the number of the IBN systems lab. When Izumi Sho's face came up on the screen, the Ragman smiled.
"Moshi, Rider."
The IBN head systems tech looked confused. "Gomenasai, but I—"
"Did you not request Spook for a 'high-paying puzzle'?"
"Hai."
"Sa, I am in a booth just outside your building, on the way to a costume party with two good friends, but I believe I have time to see to your problem. Do you have someplace for them to wait while I work?"
"This is most unorthodox…ah…Spook-san. The job I have is high-paying, hai, but it will require a great investiture of your time, neh?"
"Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that, Sho-san."
"Hai. I… Gomenasai, Spook-san. One moment, if you please."
Conferring with the boss, the Ragman thought as Sho turned away from the screen. Sho was back on screen in moments.
"Domo, Spook-san. Thank you for your patience. If you will come to the building we will meet you in the lobby."
Gotcha, the Ragman thought. He cut the connection and went to collect Lisa and the Claver.
"The dog stays," he began, but then he saw it wasn't around anymore anyway. Right. Ghost dog. He cleared his throat. "We get inside, I do all the talking. You just play the part of a coupla dumb Plex babies—got it?"
Sho didn't meet them alone. Accompanying him were Kenzo Okado and Muato Kamo, the chairman of IBN and his head monkey. The big guns. The Ragman's own companions received puzzled glances from the three. A circle of IBN's private security officers stood all around them, hands on the grips of their Steeljacks.
"Gomenasai, Spook-san," Sho said, "but we will need to run a security check on you and your friends."
The Ragman shook his head. "No security checks, no IDs. I will come in and deal with your problem and then I will leave. My friends will wait here in the lobby—I do hope you have someplace comfortable for them to rest. As you have undoubtedly called upon me as a last resort—your own techs being unequal to the task—the charge will 100,000 credits. Hard credits."
"Impossible!" Sho began, but Okado waved him to silence.
"That is not unreasonable," he said. "Only how do we know you are who you say you are?"
The Ragman smiled. "Faith?"
"That will not be sufficient," Okado said.
The Ragman looked at Sho. "One year ago. You were looking for a bypass smart circuit for your Hayai drives. You came on-line with the question and I provided you with the answer: quickslip trans based on biowires. The conversation was, I believe, a private one, neh?"
Sho turned to his employer. "He is Spook."
Okado nodded. "If you will come with us."
"One moment," the Ragman said. He looked at the Claver. "Kazuki-san, give the officers your weapons. And Lisa, your Steeljack."
When they were handed over, the Ragman smiled at Okado. "To show you that we have no ill intentions. Now perhaps you will provide some refreshments for my friends while I work."
Okado nodded to Kamo who led Gahzee and Lisa to the reception area of the lobby. The Ragman followed Okado and Sho down to the IBN systems labs.
* * *
The Ragman paused in the middle of the lab, staring at the bewildering gridwork displayed on the various monitors. Mother, if the Claver hadn't let him in on it he'd be spending weeks down here trying to break into this thing.
"I will need a private monitor with a manual operating console," he said to Sho. "Be sure to in-line some recording gear so that I will not have to waste time explaining what it is that I have done when the job is completed."
And so that it'd make it just that much easier for the chip he had in his pocket to do a burn-out number on the recorder. Ain't tech wonderful, he thought.
While techs were bustling to set things up, he transferred the swap chip from his pocket to his sleeve, fitting it under his wristband.
"What exactly are we dealing with here?" he asked Okado as Sho had a pair of techs set up a monitor and console to fit his needs.
"I am afraid that is classified," Okado replied. "Sho has told me that you will not require such information to break the code that locks it."
The Ragman shrugged and glanced around at the hardware. "Interesting system."
Sho returned to where they were standing. "We have been working on it all day," he explained, "but every time we begin to pry free a piece of the grid, the entire formation changes. It acts like a biosystem, rather than a tech one."
"May I see the chip?"
Sho looked first to Okado, fetching it when the IBN head nodded.
"I don't recognize the registration markings," the Ragman said as he turned it over in his hands.
"That, too, is classified," Okado said.
"I see. Do you have a work area prepared for me now?"
The Ragman sat down at the console. He inserted the chip then called up the gridwork on his monitor. Okado, Sho, and a number of the other techs gathered to watch. The Ragman turned to look at them.
"I find it difficult to concentrate with so many of you hovering over my shoulder," he said. "Everything I do will be recorded. Sho may remain, of course, but I would appreciate it if you would allow me the space to breathe."
Okado regarded him for a long moment, then nodded. He and the techs backed off while Sho drew up a chair.
Give 'em a show, the Ragman thought.
He sat rigid in his own chair, back straight, hands on his lap, eyes closed. After a few moments of faking some quiet meditation, he began to shape the kuji no in with his fingers, a series of nine hand movements drawn from the Mikkyo sect of Buddhism that were part of a magical technique to focus the mind through a concrete series of ritual gestures. When he completed the secret tenth movement, he heard the gasps and whispers arising from the techs that stood with Okado.
"Sensei."
"Keisando."
Beside him, Sho nodded solemnly.
Eat it up, girls, the Ragman thought.
He played the meditation bit out for a few quiet moments longer, then opened his eyes and began to work the keyboard. Sho leaned closer, gaze alternating from the monitor to the dance of the Ragman's fingers on the console.
I ought to take up vid work, the Ragman thought as he pretended to work on the code. I'm a born actor.
He stayed at the console for the better part of twenty minutes, then he closed down the system he was working on. He turned to Sho.
"Which is your mainline system?"
"This way," Sho replied.
The Ragman popped the Claver chip from the system, palmed it as he was handing it to Sho, dropping the swap chip in the head tech's palm.
"Have a tech hook up the record to the mainline," the Ragman said, "and then we'll have a look at what we've got."
When the chip was inserted, the monitors flared with a blur of strobing gridlines in a burst that lasted thirty seconds, then the screens cleared and the menu came up. It was still in code.
Read that, suckers, the Ragman thought, and I'll eat the frigging chip.
"It's still encoded," Okado said.
The Ragman nodded. "But the locks are broken. Your techs should have no trouble breaking this."
Again he heard murmurs of sensei and Keisando. The Way of the Computer. Right. But not for you girls.
"Sho?" Okado asked.
"He is correct, Okado-san. The difficult work is done. We should have this deciphered by morning. It will require the use of all the company's systems, but—"
"Do it," Okado said.
"That will be 100,000 credits," the Ragman told him.
Even Okado had respect for him in his eyes. "It will be waiting for you in the lobby."
* * *
Out on the street, the three headed for the nearest Okuda Line station to take the sub to their next stop—the meeting with Phillip Yip. The Ragman grinned to himself, hefting the briefcase that Okado's aide had presented to him when they reached the lobby. Always nice to make a few credits on the side.
"What did you do in there, Ragman?" Lisa asked.
"Just gave 'em what they wanted, darling. Always leave the customer satisfied."
