Part 9 (1/2)

I imagined a bullet in the back of my head. I imagined falling down and drowning, the inky blackness creeping closer. I imagine being paralyzed, everything slipping away, and I wondered if I hadn't made a huge mistake rejecting the Monks. A thousand times, I'd walked by them preaching on the streets. A thousand times I'd ignored them. Even knowing how they acquired most of their members, the crazy thought that maybe it was better to live as a Monk than to die. Always the craziest thought: f.u.c.k, man, what if they're right right?

The sewers were tight, barely man-sized tunnels, and I had to crouch to be able to move through them. The water slowed me down and pushed against me, sucking hungrily and soaking my clothes. The bottom was slick slime and I lost my footing frequently, especially when I found intersections of tunnels and made sudden decisions to take one. And all the while, Moje shouted after me, over the splash of their pursuit.

”You didn't think you were just going to walk away from me, did you? Here we come, rat!”

I stumbled, finding myself in an open area, spilling out into a round area where a lot of tunnels seemed to connect. The air sweetened, and looking up I could see another manhole. Behind me, I could hear shouts and lots of confused movement, and figured I'd lost them for a minute-at most. There were only so many possible paths, and I knew Moje would catch up soon enough. This was a junction, which meant that picking a tunnel randomly might lead me back the way I came, right at Moje and his Stormers.

I looked up at the manhole. There was a narrow, crumbling lip of stone halfway up, and I thought if I could get a foothold on it I might reach the manhole and push my way out. It wouldn't be easy. I felt tired just staring up at it.

Shutting my eyes, I got ready. I could hear Moje and his men sorting themselves out, coming closer. I stashed my backup in one pocket and thought if I couldn't do it, I wasn't going down without a fight. And I thought, If a Monk were to somehow pop up out of nowhere and offer me salvation, save me from having to pay for twenty-six dead people and a slew of other crimes, I'd do it in a heartbeat. If a Monk were to somehow pop up out of nowhere and offer me salvation, save me from having to pay for twenty-six dead people and a slew of other crimes, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Taking a deep breath, I began calculating angles, probable entries, and how I would approach me if I were wearing ObFu Kit that made me blend into the walls. Taking a deep breath, I began calculating angles, probable entries, and how I would approach me if I were wearing ObFu Kit that made me blend into the walls.

I picked my spot-a section of wall where the mortar between bricks had chipped away, leaving shadowy gaps-and launched myself at it. I managed to cram two f-ingers into one of the gaps and get one foot hooked on the tiny ledge. Heart pounding, I pulled and pushed and pushed myself up until I was almost standing, pressed up against the slick wall.

I twisted and stretched out one trembling arm for the manhole cover. Almost . . . almost . . . with sweat running into my eyes, I gathered myself for one final effort when there was a sc.r.a.pe from above. I froze, swiveling just my eyeb.a.l.l.s up to look. The manhole s.h.i.+fted, then tore away, revealing the dark blue night sky. A pale and ridiculously genial face, hidden behind fas.h.i.+onable sungla.s.ses, appeared over the rim. I stared in complete speechless shock.

”Come on,” d.i.c.k Marin said. ”I'll pull you up. I don't have all day; I'm about to deliver a speech to A-Level SSF chiefs in Sydney.”

XV.

Consider This Your Health Program 00101.

I stared up at Marin, my whole body quivering with effort. His pale face disappeared, and a st.u.r.dy-looking rope slithered down toward me.

”Come on. I'll pull you up.”

The splas.h.i.+ng and shouting of Moje and his Stormers straightened itself out-they were on my trail again and getting closer. Probably using heat-tracking goggles: I only had a few seconds. I stared at Marin's rope in disbelief. What the f.u.c.k is the King Worm doing in Newark? How does he think he's going to pull me up? What the f.u.c.k is the King Worm doing in Newark? How does he think he's going to pull me up?

”Cates! Come on! I don't have time for your existential bulls.h.i.+t.”

I s.h.i.+vered, shaking off inaction. I reached up with my free hand and took hold of the rope. It felt oddly slippery and surprisingly strong. I looked back the way I'd come, Moje and his men so loud I couldn't believe they hadn't arrived yet, the acoustics of the sewers making them sound much closer than they were. I wrapped the rope around my forearm a few times and gripped it, giving it a strong pull to judge it, and looked back up at the director of SSF Internal Affairs.

”Whatever you've got up your-”

Marin pulled with a grunt, lifting me off my feet. To my amazement, I rose steadily upward. Within seconds I flopped on the damp, ruined streets of Newark again. I looked up at Marin. He stood grinning in an ObFu Kit; my eyes ached looking at him. The ObFu s.h.i.+mmered in the night, his head seeming to float disembodied in the air.

He had a length of cable wrapped around his waist. My eyes moved beyond him, where a s.h.i.+ning, unmarked SSF hover sat on the street, running lights still on. The cable led to a winch on the rear of the hover. The motherf.u.c.ker had simply used the winch to pull himself-and by extension, me-away from the manhole.

I released my grip on the cable as he untied himself with a quick motion, and the cable snapped back as the winch collected the slack. ”Come on, Mr. Cates. Your friends won't get out of the sewers for a few moments, and I'd rather not be seen here. I'll give you a lift.”

Without waiting for a response, Marin turned smartly and marched back to the hover. I lay panting in the mud and rocks, wet up to my shoulders, bowels loose and legs shaky. Without exaggeration, I figured if I hadn't been able to push up the manhole and pull myself up, I'd been about fifteen seconds away from death. I might have gotten one of the Stormers, maybe even two in an incredible burst of luck. But I'd never have gotten two Stormers and and Moje. Moje.

”What about Moje?” I gasped, pus.h.i.+ng myself up to my knees.

”I do not personally worry too much about Colonel Moje. Get in. It's better for me politically if I'm not seen here, and it'll enhance your reputation.”

I struggled to my feet and walked shakily to the hover, betting on Moje's not having an easy way up out of the sewers. It was a small vehicle, big enough for two or three people and some gear. I climbed into the c.o.c.kpit next to Marin and the doors sealed behind me. The inside was spotless, painfully clean.I sat dripping and reeking and felt angry at myself for soiling something so perfect, so beautiful.

Marin put the hover into motion and we rose into the air like a bubble. I barely felt anything. The SSF always had the best tech. Kieth might sneer at it for being two years out of date, but the endless supply of spotless, perfectly working tech the SSF had was awesome, beautiful in its perfection after the rusty, cobbled-together s.h.i.+t I had to make do with. Looking at the hover was like squinting into the sun of power and wealth.

”Where to, Cates? Anywhere in the general area. This unit won't take us cross-country or over large bodies of water, but within reason I can take you anywhere.”

I looked at him. Marin c.o.c.ked his head as if listening to someone in the rear seat, and then smiled, one of his sudden grins. One second he was squinting into s.p.a.ce, the next he was beaming.

”Cates, you're an employee of mine, more or less. I told you I'd be keeping tabs and helping out where I could. That arrogant f.u.c.k Moje is lazy, and he uses SSF channels to organize his team for his superlegal adventures. I happened to be within a hop skip and a jump of here, so I thought I'd glance in on things. And down there your heat signature was like a bright light moving underground, so I just tracked you until you were underfoot. No mystery. Besides, several of the other a.s.sets I've put in play on this project have already been terminated. Sloppy work, mostly.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye for a second, and I got the message: Getting trapped in the G.o.dd.a.m.n sewers of Newark, of all places, was pretty sloppy, too. ”So I thought I'd preserve you to fight another day.”

I gritted my teeth. ”I was seconds away from extricating myself without a.s.sistance.”

Marin grinned. ”You're welcome.” Without warning his face became grave again. ”Two Stormers, huh? Not bad.”

”Lucky shots,” I said tiredly. ”ObFu doesn't help if you're splas.h.i.+ng around.”

Inside the hover it was easier to make out the outlines of Marin's body, though a casual glance made it look like his head and hands were floating.

”Where to, then?”

I thought about it. I was on my own until I could get the team back together in London-a.s.suming they made it that far-and I had no prospects or contacts in Newark. ”Back to New York, I guess,” I said slowly. ”Moje is here and will probably spend at least a few hours making sure I'm not around. Plus all my best contacts are in New York.”

A few more seconds than I thought natural went by before he nodded in stages, curtly and jerkily. ”New York it is,” he stuttered, as if everything were coming to him in waves. I wondered if Marin were having a stroke, and eyed the controls of the hover nervously.

I swallowed. ”Thank you.”

After a moment, he snorted. ”Like I said, you're an employee. Consider this your Health Program.”

I stared dumbly out the side window, watching what was left of Newark drift by. Health Program. You couldn't even get near a hospital without one. If you were rich enough or lucky enough or something something enough to get enrolled in one, they surgically implanted a chip under your scalp. Every hospital and doctor scanned for chips on a constant basis, and if you didn't scan with one, you didn't get near. Some of the best-defended places in New York were hospitals, with private armies keeping people like me away. Gutshot by some a.s.shole junkie, sliced by our psychotic, alcoholic wife, or just slipped and fell, shattering a shoulder, it didn't matter. No chip, no service. enough to get enrolled in one, they surgically implanted a chip under your scalp. Every hospital and doctor scanned for chips on a constant basis, and if you didn't scan with one, you didn't get near. Some of the best-defended places in New York were hospitals, with private armies keeping people like me away. Gutshot by some a.s.shole junkie, sliced by our psychotic, alcoholic wife, or just slipped and fell, shattering a shoulder, it didn't matter. No chip, no service.

There was, of course, a thriving black market for the chips. The real pros kept the true owner of the chip prisoner, hidden, alive or-better-dead, in order to prolong the life of the chip, which was naturally red-flagged when its registered owner turned up dead, or was found by the SSF with a cracked skull and a surgical scar. Even so, you could make a lot of money with nonguaranteed chips whose legit owners were still alive and on the loose. Desperate times, and all that.

”I have some news for you, Cates,” Marin said suddenly.

”News?”

”Your friend, Barnaby Dawson. He's been converted.”

I blinked dully. ”Converted?” I blinked again. I sat upright in the seat. ”He's a f.u.c.king Monk Monk?”

Marin nodded once, mechanically, c.o.c.king his head, listening to unseen people again. ”A few hours ago. We were tracking him, of course, but something went wrong. He's the first SSF officer to ever convert to the Electric Church-although technically he was no longer SSF. It's a PR nightmare, let me tell you. When he emerges tomorrow as Brother Dawson, the Vids are going to have a field day with it.”

I sat back in the seat again. ”Holy s.h.i.+t.” I felt heavy and tired, numb. I kept thinking that we'd barely even begun begun the job and I was exhausted. I'd come within an inch of being killed. the job and I was exhausted. I'd come within an inch of being killed.

I didn't look at Marin. ”You know the Electric Church is paying Moje to hara.s.s me. To eliminate me.”

He nodded. ”Of course. But my difficulty is that, officially, I have no probable cause to act against the Church. So, officially, Colonel Moje is doing nothing wrong-you being a known criminal. I am currently powerless to officially halt Moje's activities. I could back-channel him-there are a hundred IA investigations I could launch, suspending him immediately and making that piece of s.h.i.+t disappear into a Blank Room forever. But that would tip my hand, and I'm not ready to do that yet.”

I kept staring ahead. ”I don't understand a single f.u.c.king thing about that.”

Marin nodded again. ”We all have our limitations, Mr. Cates.”

The rest of the flight was a blur. I dozed in my seat, itching in my drying clothes. Marin said nothing more, although he hummed to himself quite a bit, and occasionally I imagined his hums were murmured words, as if he were responding to people who were not there.