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"Ninety-nine percent," Serrin lied. "It was the British connection. The medical databases not on official computers. That's what helped him narrow down who had ready access." Another point scored. Another way of

  tricking Magellan into believing he knew much more than he did.

  "Clever. I hadn't thought of that," Magellan mused. He got up from his chair, stood up as if to pour another glass of wine and suddenly whipped around, grabbing Serrin by the lapels of his jacket.

  "Who else knows?" he hissed.

  Serrin had expected that. "We've made arrangements," he said coolly.

  "Which are?"

  "Do you honestly think I'm going to tell you? Suffice it to say the information is filed away for transmission to interested parties should anything unforeseen happen to us."

  Magellan spat, muttering something that sounded like "drek." He'd bought it. For the first time in this long night, Serrin believed that he was actually going to get out of here alive.

  "Who? How?" The red-haired elf shook Serrin bodily.

  The mage faced him down. "So I'm supposed to sign my own death warrant by telling you? Michael isn't just good. He's brilliant. You won't find any trails. Anyway, what makes you think we're foolish enough to leave it only in electronic form?" he said calmly.

  Magellan let go of Serrin and it was obvious he was thinking hard. Probably thinking it was worse than he'd feared. That Serrin knew almost everything and maybe even did know everything. Killing him even killing all of them would be futile now. What Serrin had told him was enough. Them searching through non-official databases that was Sutherland's brain at work. Magellan had only one card left to play now. But he would take a long time working himself up to being able to do it.

  "Well, then, let's talk about our people, Serrin."

  The plex was just so fragging big, and the troll had no idea where to search as he roamed astrally through the sprawl. Sure, he knew what he was looking for, but the haystack was so huge and the needle would be well-hidden. To find the elf, Tom's astral body would actually have to enter the very room where Serrin was. He couldn't just try to magically assense his location through whatever walls were hiding his friend from view. With a million buildings in the city, that would take forever.

  There had to be a trace, he knew. From the spell lock Serrin used for detecting enemies. But, try as he might, hovering inside Serrin's hotel room attempting to pick up a trace of the locked spell got him nowhere. Serrin was simply a far more powerful magician and his masking hid the trace from the despairing troll.

  An astral visit to the club had been equally useless. The auras of the people there were the same unpleasant mix the troll would have expected in a similar place anywhere in the world; aggression, lust, violence seething under the surface. That was never all, of course, and so Tom tried to seize the rare good energy; excitement, joy, a little love here and there, but there was nothing of Serrin. He began to work his way around outside. Still nothing.

  Serrin, where are youl Tom felt a bleak sadness come over him. It wasn't just that the elf was gone, lost to him. The troll had also sensed the bond between the cynical, troubled spirit of the mage and the forlorn girl. He saw that they loved each other, but just hadn't figured it out yet. That Serrin might be dead, dying, that the possibility of love would be destroyed before it ever blossomed hurt Tom deep, deep down.

  In the midst of these mournful reflections, the troll suddenly and to his utter astonishment suddenly felt a bite at the nape of his neck and he remembered Shakala. His astral body froze. He let himself become completely empty, just waiting, not feeling anything much except an awareness of himself.

  It was pure instinct that led him now, led him straight to the dead zone.

  22

  Michael was just about to knock on Tom's door, which opened even before his knuckles made contact with it.

  "I know where he is," the troll said, but he didn't look particularly elated or pleased with himself.

  "Me too," Michael said slowly. "We're on our way downtown now. To pick up some heat."

  From the way the girl was smiling, Tom knew she must have been the one to fix it. He wasn't going to ask how any more than Michael had demanded details of him.

  "You guys take more rides than Karoo jockeys," the ork driver said as they piled into his cab. Then he studied the address written on the scrap of paper Michael shoved in front of him.

  "Hey, I get triple rate for going there," he growled. "And you pay for any damage done to the engine, right?"

  "You got it," Michael said and waved some money at the driver as the cab sped off into the night.

  "You know our people are special," Magellan urged. "You were born knowing that."

  "Depends on exactly how you mean it," Serrin said, still playing for time.

  "Come on. You're a mage. You know perfectly well that magical talent is more common among our people than any other race on earth."

  Serrin nodded. He also knew that in some places the percentages were even higher; the ancient lands of Tir na nOg, for one. But by now he'd figured out where this train of thought was heading. To get out alive, he would have to tell Magellan what he wanted to hear and then

  figure out a way to feed it back to him later as his own opinion.

  "And the places we control amp; they work. The Tirs, right here in the Zulu Nation, and everywhere else where our people are running the show. We protect the land, the environment. We've even used our magic to restore it from the ruin in which humans left it in so many places. Our technology's cleaner, safer, better. We know how to do all this for everyone's benefit. Everyone, right?"

  "It would be hard to argue with that," Serrin said.

  "And we elves have been here before, and most of all, we know that. Or some of us do. We take care of the world better because we know we're coming back. Not like humanity. They think they can poison the water, poison the air, dirty everything up because they don't care about the future. Just the here and now. They figure they've only got this one time around and so they'll use and abuse everything they can and frag everyone else, frag the future."

  Magellan was practically shouting now.

  He's obsessed, Serrin realized. He won't be able to tell illusion from reality, lies from truth, at this point. All I have to do is agree with him.

  "It's true. You see it every day," Serrin said with some feeling, though he didn't think any particular race had a monopoly on thinking the world was made for them and the rest of creation be damned.

  "Just think, Serrin, if we elves had control of the whole business. The whole wide world. We could really start cleaning it up, really make it work right. Like it used to be. Serrin, it's what the world needs and, and as elves, it's our destiny."

  "I've always wished it was so," Serrin lied, knowing it was what the other elf wanted to hear. Magellan was kneeling on the floor beside him, virtually seeming to beseech him.

  "You don't have to wish for it anymore, brother. It is. It is." No trideo evangelist had ever sounded more convinced.

  That left Serrin with only one final thing he needed to know.

  The streetlights had been shot out long ago and most of the buildings had collapsed into rubble. The place, which looked like the forgotten ruin of some war zone, was utterly unlike anything they'd seen in Azania until now, and the contrast was shocking. The cab crunched to a halt.

  "I'm not going any farther," the ork driver told them. "I ain't replaced the bullet-proofing on my front side yet. Look, why don't you just let me take you somewhere nice, okay? Chips, dope, girls, boys, you name it. I know where it is. You're crazy fraggers to come down here."

  "Are you absolutely sure about this?" Michael asked Kristen, drawing his Predator. She nodded.

  "I don't know why I do this," he said distractedly, handing the driver his money. "Look, chummer, will you wait somewhere reasonably close? A bonus of five hundred if you'll wait for one hour. If we don't come back, check the Imperial tomorrow morning. You get half that just for being here
, even if you don't pick us up."

  "You get killed, I don't get nothing while I sit here for an hour like a devil rat just waiting for the trap to snap," the ork replied.

  Michael handed him another bill. "Down payment. Where will you be?"

  "Two blocks back, before that last robot. That's as close as I'll get. Anyone takes a pot-shot at me and I'm gone."

  "Deal." Michael opened the back door and Tom and Kristen piled out with him. The cab sped off, wheels screaming as it careened around the corner.

  "He doesn't much like it around here," Tom joked.

  "Me neither," Michael said, only partly reassured by the SMG in the troll's hands. "Kristen, if this doesn't work out, we're going to have macro trouble here."

  "I told you. Indra has a cousin who has another cousin and the money was enough. They'll be here."

  Exactly on cue, a group of figures began to take shape from out of the darkness of the surrounding street. There were a dozen of them, more or less. They weren't armed with weapons of any real quality, but they had enough. It

  was the assault cannon that finally reassured Michael, and the pistol under his nose that made up his mind for him.

  "Ten thousand, buttbram," the dwarf snarled at him. "Everything up front. You pay for any street doc work afterward. Anyone gets scragged, that's five thou per. For the family."

  Well, it's the family that got us this crew, Michael thought. Even if I have to pay for it twice over, it's probably worth it. He handed over the envelope.

  "Every last cent," he said evenly. The dwarf counted it slowly, his expression saying that he'd have loved to find it short of the full amount.

  "So, where is this place?"

  "This way," Tom said. He was drawn to it as easily as if someone had marked it with a neon sign.

  "Let's say, let's just imagine," Magellan waxed on, "that there's someone who can make it happen. Let's say he's got a way of guaranteeing we elves can have it all. Let's just imagine that for a moment."

  "I can't," Serrin said. He rubbed his hands together as if anguished by the disappointment of it. "I mean, how? That's what matters, isn't it?"

  Magellan's eyes flared with suspicion for a split second. Serrin stared directly at him, as if desperate to say, yes, yes, it's good, it's what I want, I just wish I could believe in it, and I could if only I knew how it could be done. Believe me.

  "Let's say," Magellan said slowly, "that there's a way of changing humans. Making them quieter. More docile. Easier to control. Something that could eliminate the stupid violence in them. A pacifier. No more war. No more destroying everything we build. Let's imagine that."

  "A drug," Serrin wondered aloud.

  "Better. A permanent fix. Forever. In the genes, brother."

  "But I can't see "

  "You don't have to see! All you have to do is believe," Magellan cried out. "It's true. It's real."

  "I do believe you," Serrin said fervently, thinking it wiser not to express any more doubts. "But why am I

  here? What has all this to do with finding out who tried to kidnap me? I mean, that's all I was after."

  Magellan nodded, biting his bottom lip, obviously trying to decide what to say next.

  "Look. The elf who tried to kidnap you amp; he has certain needs. Special requirements. You know all that. Do you think he likes what he does? Do you think he wants to kill his own? Oh, brother, it pains him. It's the last thing he wants to do. But he has no choice. He's burning up, he's got to feed, and there aren't many left. It's his last option. God, how he must suffer."

  Serrin didn't know whether to laugh or scream with rage. Him suffer, whoever he was?

  "But why try to stop me from?

  "Because you want revenge. But that you can't have. Mustn't have," Magellan whispered, his face centimeters away. His eyes had a wild look, his face now a grotesque mask. He had underestimated Serrin; he'd thought that Luther could easily dispose of the elf mage if he got too close, but Serrin and his friends had moved too fast. What else had they arranged? "He's the wonder, brother. He's the one who did it, don't you see? He's so close now, it's only another day or two more. It's nearly time amp; He's the one who's got "

  The detonation threw Serrin against the wall and sent Magellan flying across the floor. Serrin's head slammed against the concrete so hard that his vision blurred; he could just barely make out Magellan dragging himself to his feet and stumbling for the door. Too groggy even to stand upright, Serrin was powerless to stop the red-haired elf as he grabbed the door handle and staggered out into the darkness. Gunfire crackled outside, and another cannon round hammered into the building somewhere behind him. Serrin half-rolled, half-fell off the bed and tried to drag himself underneath the metal frame for cover.

  Then he heard a familiar voice screaming "No!" just as the Zulu samurai appeared in the doorway. The Zulu had a machine gun in his hands and was looking around wildly, any moment about to spray the room with fire. Serrin tried to cast a barrier spell around himself to ward

  off the hail of lead, but the pain in his head wouldn't let him. Frag me, I'm dead, he thought dully.

  The Zulu had his finger three parts back on the trigger when the side of his neck suddenly exploded into a bloody flower, the red petals of flesh lazily unfolding themselves as his blood gushed up onto the wall. The gun rose upward in an unsteady arc, some of the bullets striking the ceiling, then ricocheting around the room. Serrin covered his head and prayed. When he heard the smack of the body hitting the floor, he opened one eye and looked out at the carnage.

  This time it was a dwarf in a flak jacket who was forcing his way into the room. Nut-brown, grim-faced, he too was looking around for Serrin. Even more startling was that the dwarf was obviously Indian. By now, though, it wasn't the dwarf Serrin was seeing anymore. It was the girl slumped in the doorway, beginning to shake violently and still holding the pistol limply from her right hand.

  "Here," Serrin called to the dwarf who pivoted to point his Roomsweeper at him. Serrin knew he wasn't going to get shot. He just wanted to get to her.

  Kristen fell half to her knees, dropping the gun and starting to vomit just as he came up alongside her. Lifting her under the arms, Serrin hauled her up, hugging her so tightly he could hardly breathe. She couldn't speak. A, trickle of vomit dripped from her mouth onto his sleeve.

  "It wouldn't make a smash-hit movie," the Englishman observed to the troll as the pair of them also entered the little room. Tom's huge hands were already busy getting a tourniquet around Michael's half-useless arm, which had saturated his sleeve with blood. The troll was sure he could heal it up pretty good, though. Better than he ought to be able to, maybe.

  "But ain't romance wonderful?"

  Tom just managed to get his arms around Michael be-fore he fainted.

  Michael got a slap patch to make sure Tom's healing did its work fully, and then their new allies told them it was time to get out of town fast. The gang that had

  brought Serrin here had chummers, and they'd come looking. But they found no further clues in the building where Serrin had been held and not an elven body in sight.

  "Bastard got away," Serrin muttered.

  "Like we're going to. Word is probably already out at the club," Michael said faintly. "Not to mention on the streets. A cab, James, and take me home. To the airport anyway. We'll send a messenger for our things from the airport. I don't think it would be too smart going back to the hotel ourselves."

  "No," Serrin said, "That would be too suspicious. Tom and I will go. The gangers won't be able to trace us there."

  "It was more that Magellan guy I was thinking of," Michael said.

  "I'll take my chances," Serrin said grimly.

  "Well, we'll all go together then. I don't think splitting up is a good idea either. Haven't you figured that out after tonight?"

  "Will you be able to make it?" Serrin asked him.

  "Sure. I've just lost a little blood, that's all. My arm's fine, really. Crikey," Michael sighed, "tho
se 'family' guys cleaned me out of every last cent, but they were worth it. It's been a while since I've been in a real fight. It's as much fun as you can have without a datajack."

  "Yeah, but where are we going to find a cab around here?" Serrin said. The derelict house where the team of Indian samurai had left them wasn't exactly a premium pickup point for any money-seeking taxi driver.

  "Good question," Tom said. He ducked his head away from the glassless window frame as headlights headed up the road outside. Inching his head back up again, he peered over the rotting wooden window sill.

  "We just got lucky," he said and walked outside. A minute later the rest of them had also staggered out to the car.

  "What the fragging hell made you come along here?" Tom asked the ork.

  "Well, I saw the Maharana boys heading out this way. Guessed maybe they were coming to give you some help.

  Reckoned you'd get out in one piece if they took care of business. I wanted my five hundred," the ork grunted.

  "It's sitting in hotel security at the Imperial," Michael said. "Look, get us there and to the airport and you can double it."

  A thousand nuyen for a cab ride, Serrin thought won-deringly. But what the hell; it would get the cab moving.

  "We can clean up at the hotel," he said. "We can't just try and catch a plane out of here looking like this." His own clothes were torn and dirty, while Michael's jacket was splendidly technicolored with blood. "You won't even get into the hotel lobby looking like a portable massacre."

  "Just go in, clean up, and bring me my stuff. I'll change in the cab," Michael groaned. He leaned painfully forward to look at Kristen, who was seated on the other side of Serrin from him. She seemed to be sleeping, tucked into the elf and not moving.

  "I guess we're taking Kristen," he said quietly. "Her IDs aren't going to be much use getting her into New York, but somehow I don't think you'll want to go without her."

  "No." That was final. "But why risk New York?"

  "Point one: I want my Fairlights. Point two: I think I'd kill for a delivery from the all-night deli by now. Point three: you've got a friend there who just might know the mysterious elf Magellan was talking about. Your occult-freak lady snoop, remember?"