Chapter Thirteen
"It is the public scandal that offends; to sin in secret is no sin at all."
--Moliere (1622-1673)
Seattle Hilton
Downtown, Seattle
April 19, 2059
9:00 am
"And you are doing something to fix this situation?" Mr. Wesson demanded as he straighened his tie in the mirror.
"Yes, sir." Gabriel bowed. "Of course, sir."
"And what is it that you are doing about it?"
"I am following your instructions."
"I know what my instructions were, Gab. I don't pay you half a million a year to repeat my words to me." Wesson scorned. "Do I need to remind you what I said? I told you to get that damned tape from Abigail, silence her, and make sure no one finds out about this."
"I have been working with that in mind." Gabriel said respectfully.
"What have you done?"
"My men and I tried our best to find her, but she knows us. We can't get close enough without her knowing. So I hired some people."
Wesson snorted. "Shadowrunners? My god, Gabriel, how stupid can you be?"
"No, sir." Gabriel tried to explain. "I didn't tell them the whole story. They don't know anything about your involvement. They think they are taking Abigail back to her parents."
"You had better be right."
Gabriel nodded. "Everything is taken care of. The professionals I hired came highly recommend. Their business associate assured me that they were more than capable of finding Abigail."
"What do you plan to do with Abigail once they have found her?"
Gabriel smiled. "Not to worry, sir. Once we have Abigail we can force her to tell us what she did with tape. Once we've got the tape, she'll be a memory before the next sunrise."
"It is a shame that it has come to this. I really liked that girl."
"Sir, she could ruin you. You are better off without her."
Wesson nodded. "You're right. There is no other way."
Boise Safehouse
Auburn, Seattle
12:00 pm
An aching pain sheered from Abigail's neck. Her throat felt dry, making it hard for her to swallow. On top of it all she had a screaming headache. That made getting up a daunting task.
She was able to orientate herself after her vision cleared. She was in a small room, laying on the bed. There was a window, but it had been covered over with mortar and brick. The floor was synthetic hardwood. Not uncommon for many low class apartments to have. The hardwood was laid down over the concrete of most buildings.
There were three pieces of furniture in the entire room. One was the bed that Abigail lay on. Another was a small night-stand by the bed. A folding chair sat in the far corner. There was a single door. It was secured with on old fashioned mechanical lock.
Abigail kicked the covers off her legs. She stumbled to her feet and tried the door. It was locked, just as she expected. A sinking feeling began to fill her stomach. Staying here did not seem safe to her. She had to get out. Frantically she searched for something to force the door open. The pulled out the night-stand's drawer and rooted around. Unfortunately the drawer was empty.
Abigail gave a defeated sigh. Then she had a spark of ingenuity. She pulled off her shoe which had a stiletto high heel. The heel almost came to a point. Abigail had used it a number of times to fend off vagrants. A sharp heel could to a lot of damage if she stomped in the right place.
The heel wedged neatly into the crack of the door. She took the folding chair from the corner and closed it up. Abigail was glad that she was dealing with a mechanical lock. The idea that she had would never work on a maglock.
Abigail slammed the blunt end of the chair into the door. The shoe immediately broke, but it left the heel imbedded in the crack. The chair did fair too well from the blow either. It took a hefty dent from the impact. Undaunted, Abigail took another monster swing. This time the leg of the chair broke, but it drove the heel into the crack of the door. The heel forced the lock apart. She managed to grab the door before it could reset itself. With a mighty tug she pulled it open, flinging the heel out.
Abigail was prepared to race right out the door. The only thing that kept going through her mind was to find a way out. No sooner had she put her foot in the hallway than she felt something cold brush at her cheek.
"Get back!" A sharp, almost frightened voice screamed.
Abigail slowly turned around. She saw a small girl, probably no more than sixteen, with curly brown hair and large brown eyes. Eyes that looked a little sad. The girl's skin was dark and she held a strange looking pistol in her hands.
"I mean it!" She girl maintained. The pistol was pointed right at Abby's throat.
Abigail didn't know what kind of pistol it was. The barrel was much to large for a regular bullet. At this moment, Abigail could not have cared if the girl was pointing an assault rifle at her.
Abigail grabbed the girl's hand out of instinct. She pushed the hand into a wall as hard as she could. The girl gave a muffled scream. There was a distinct sound of compressed air being released as the gun went off. A small dart sailed past Abigail's shoulder and buried itself in the wall.
"Sorry, goldie-lox." Abigail backhanded the girl. The blow sent the girl tumb to the ground. "But I don't have time to stay and chat." Abigail dashed down the hallway.
"Don't make me shoot again!" The girl warned, desperately trying to turn herself around. She pointed the pistol and pulled the trigger. This time nothing happened. She looked dumbfounded at the weapon, wondering why it didn't work.
"Not too smart are you?" Abigail shot back as she bolted down the stairway. She laughed as she saw the look on the girl's face.
The laughter died a quick death. A metal hand grabbed her by the collar as she entered a kitchen. The man behind the hand picked Abigail right off her feet and drove her to the floor. Abigail's arm was put into a tight lock. The strength behind the hold was impossible for her to break.
"Let me go!" Abigail demanded. "Let me go or you'll be sorry."
"Oh, it's that little nutcracker." A voice sneered from the kitchen.
Abigail managed to turn her head to get a look a the voice's source. She saw a tall man with bright blonde hair. There was no way that his hair color could be natural. It was obviously a dye job. Something about him looked familiar. It was the odd smile the man had plastered on his face that made Abigail think that she had seen this person before.
12:15 pm
"What's all the noise?" Lenny demanded as he stumbled out of his room, Predator II in hand. He made it as far as the stairway before the urgency in his nerves calmed down. There he saw Gideon holding Abigail down and Smiley looking particularly disturbed. Lenny took a moment to look over Abigail, then turned his back towards Tart.
"I'm sorry, Lenny." Tart was crouched against the wall next to the room the shadowrunners were keeping Abigail in. "She surprised me."
"Get you hands off of me! Where's Kray?" Abigail screamed. "Who are you people?"
Lenny shook his head and sighed. This was not a way to wake up in the morning. Nightsky came through the door to Lenny's right. He held a monosword in his hands. There was an alarmed look to his eyes. Much like the look that Lenny had sported a few moments before.
"Go back to sleep." Lenny waved Nightsky away. "It's under control."
Gideon held Abigail's arms behind her and led her up the stairs. The ork had ample strength to keep her from squirming loose.
"What happened?" Nightsky wondered.
Lenny was interrupted before he could answer. The girl started raving at the top of her lungs. Her screaming didn't worry Lenny. The walls of this old building were thick enough to silence a gunshot. Concreting the windows helped even more.
"Who are you people? What did you do to Kray?" Abigail demanded as Gideon pushed her past Lenny and Nightsky. "What's going to happen to me?"
Lenny motioned for Gideon to stop. He did as he was told, standing motionless in the hall. Abigail was held in his iron grip. There was no way that she was going anywhere. Abigail was afraid, Lenny could tell that much. The girl did a good job hiding it. She threatened to beat up anyone who touched her and demanded to know what was going on.
"Abigail Starlight." Lenny addressed her. "No harm has come to Kray. He is still at his home. We only stunned him in much the same fashion as we did you." That was true. Lenny had seen to it that Kray was sedated with a version of the nacroject toxin. It was a more potent dose than the one that Abigail had received. Kray wouldn't wake up until late tonight. "We have been hired to return you to your parents. No harm will come to you."
"My parents?" Abigail sounded shocked. The idea of parents coming after her was a strange, if not slightly welcomed, thought. She shook her head, though. "My parents can't come after me, you stupid sod!"
Lenny sighed, motioning at Gideon who moved her down the hall. "We will not harm you." He stressed. "But please do not attempt to escape."
"You stupid drekker!" Abigail screeched as Gideon opened the door to another room across from the one that Abigail had broken out of before. "You don't know anything about me." Gideon gave he a gentle push into the room.
"Why do you say that?" Lenny said as an after thought.
"Because my parents are dead!" She screamed as Gideon closed and locked the door. The ork personally took up guard. He wouldn't let Abigail make an escape like she did a second ago.
Dead? The word didn't register with Lenny right away. He was tired, having spent most of the previous two days on his feet. The only thing he really wanted was sleep. When he finally crashed into the bed at four in the morning he found that he couldn't fall asleep. The frustration of it all made him bitter and grouchy.
"I'm sorry." Tart lowered her head in shame. "I tried." She held the nacroject out. "But the gun wouldn't shoot."
"Don't worry about it, Tart." Lenny said as he turned for his room. "I'm going back to bed. Wake me up in a few hours."
Nightsky took the nacroject away from Tart. "Don't worry, Tart. You did your best."
Tart nodded.
"Now, what's wrong with the Narc?"
"I don't know." Tart explained. "It just wouldn't shoot. It only worked once."
Nightsky pulled out the clip. He found it to be empty. "Oh." He said casually.
"Oh what?"
He showed her the clip. "I forgot to reload it after we got back. I used the rest of the darts trying to catch her."
"So I used up the last dart?" Tart wondered.
Nightsky nodded his head in response. He dug in his coat for another clip and inserted it into the little pistol before handing it back to Tart. "There, you've got a full clip now. There's five darts in there."
"Thanks." She took the pistol in her small hands. She didn't really know how to use firearms, but she was getting better. She would have to if she wanted to survive in this business. The nacroject was quickly becoming a favorite of hers. It was non-lethal. That was a big plus with her. Of course, Gideon had told stories about how he used to fill the darts with cyanide. Tart tried to forget those stories as best as she could. "You know, I was thinking about something."
"What?" Nightsky asked as he made his way into the kitchen.
"Well, the Johnson for this shadowrun is an elf named Gabriel Frost, right?" Tart followed him.
"As far as I know." Nightsky dug through the cabinets in search of lunch.
"I found some information that says that Gabriel Frost works for Mr. Wesson. Mr. Wesson is that guy who's running for Seattle's seat in Congress."
"Yeah, so? I remember you telling about that."
"Well, you told me that Gabriel said we were finding the girl with the intention of returning her to her parents."
"That's what the Johnson said." Nightsky pulled out a few slices of bread and meat from the fridge.
"If Gabriel works for Mr. Wesson, wouldn't it be logical to assume that Abigail is Wesson's daughter?" Tart said shyly.
"If you think of it that way." Nightsky put the meat in the microwave. "I never was one for thinking. That's not my job around here."
"Well, it just doesn't make sense to me. Abigail doesn't match any of the descriptions for Mr. Wesson's daughter."
"So?"
"So who's child is she? Gabriel Frost says that Abigail's parents ordered him to find her. Gabriel works for Mr. Wesson, but Abigail's not his daughter."
"Then she's someone else's daughter. Big deal."
Tart shook her head. "I still don't understand." Tart thought for a second. "I need to know."
She darted into the lounge and pulled her bag from underneath the couch. Inside was her cyberdeck as well as a few other pieces of equipment that she had picked up. She searched the bag until she found what she was looking for. It was a small digital camera. With a light step she jogged up to Abigail's room. Gideon was still standing guard when she got there.
"What you want?" Gideon rumbled. His voice sounded harsh, but that was just the way he talked.
Tart held up the camera. "I want to take Abigail's picture."
Gideon grunted at her.
"Please, Gideon? It won't take but a second."
"Okay, but be quick about it." Gideon unlocked the door.
Abigail sat up on the floor as the door was opened. Gideon kept his bulky frame in the doorway. It was like he was daring Abigail to try something. Tart managed to slip her head and camera in.
"Oh and what do you freaks want now?" Abigail sneered.
Tart's camera flashed as it snapped the picture. Abigail flinched at the bright light.
"You silly little tramp, just what till I get out of here! If you thought it hurt before when I hit you then you haven't felt nothing yet."
Gideon shut and locked the door. Tart smiled up at him.
"Thanks, Gideon."
The ork grumbled.
Tart went back and grabbed her cyberdeck. She downloaded the picture into the deck's memory. Then connected into the telecom line and into the virtual world known as the Matrix. Within milliseconds she was searching government databases in an attempt to match Abigail's picture to a real name and a real family.
Hours ticked away before anyone noticed. During that time Tart stayed connected with the Matrix.
Tart's icon slide through the virtual world like an ice skater in the Olympics. The persona was running in stealth mode. In this setting Tart had most of her skulking utilities and programs operating at the fullest capacity. The Masking utility of her cyberdeck had been increased by nearly fifty percent. This setting weakened other systems, but it greatly enhanced Tart's ability to slip unnoticed through the Matrix. Programs like Sleaze and a few others were also running. This made it easier to enter restricted nodes.
Nodes such as the ones for Citizen Records of the United Canadian and American States. Sadly, those particular systems did not hold the information that Tart was searching for. She pressed on undaunted in her task. In the past hour she systematically searched through database after database. The search required a great deal of patience. Even with her Frames working for her, it was still a sizeable task. In the time Tart had been plugged into her Cyberdeck she had searched nearly three dozen hosts. Records for billions of citizens had been touched by her browsing program. Company records, S-S Council, UCAS, Japan, even Azltan Citizen System Identification Numbers had been analzyed.
All of this in an attempt to match the picture of Abigail Starlight to a real name and a real history. Tart was starting to think that Abigail was one of the SINless. A person without a Number to identify them as part of the system. People like that did not officially exist. A few of the other shadowrunners were SINless. Tart knew that Lenny and Nightsky were SINless. Riggs and herself were listed on the official files as deceased. A fitting title for someone who runs the shadows of the sixth world.
Hours of work were finally rewarded in a quick flash of data. A file where the picture matched the one that Tart took. Tart scanned the file briefly. An excellent memory committed major facts to be repeated later. With a quick overview, Tart concluded that she had found the closet match to identity of Abigail Starlight. With this in mind she downloaded the file. Once the file was stored on her cyberdeck Tart gracefully exited the database. She left no trace of her presence behind. Just like a good decker should.
She paused for the briefest of moments. This was to send a message to a printer back in the physical world.
"Howdy ho!" A sinister voice leered at her from the Matrix. "Guess what I know!"
Tart brought the source of the voice into view. She recognized the persona immediately. It was a clown, but a sinister looking clown. Not the kind that brings joy to little kid's birthday parties.
"The Killer Klown has found you, Tart-Mart." Klown looked like he had been sniffing paint fumes. The grin on the icon's face seemed to have doubled in size. Jagged teeth protruded from his lips.
"KK? What do you want?" Tart questioned.
"What I want?" Killer Klown laughed, letting the clown belly jiggle like jello. "I want your head on a stick! I found out something about you. Fuchi has you name on a list. It may not be high on the list, but it's there. There is a price on your head. I'm here to collect that price!"
"I don't know what your talking about." Tart maintained. It was not too far out of her mind to guess that Fuchi wanted her. With all of the internal trouble that Fuchi had been having, Tart hoped that they would pass her over. Killer Klown confirmed her worst suspicion. Fuchi, as a company, may have forgotten about her, but that did not stop them from putting a price on her head.
"Don't play dumb with me. It took me a while to figure out who you were. The first time I saw you in the Matrix I was suspicious. Then I heard from a chummer of mine that Fuchi was on the look out for you. I saw a picture. With that I remember seeing you in the Cyber Cafe a few nights ago. Didn't take much to put it all together." Klown grinned horribly. "Fuchi's money is good. I could use that money."
"I'm sorry, but I don't feel like letting you collect on me." Tart's icon shifted. Her attack settings came online as she dumped the Sleaze programs out of active memory. Her memory flashed back. There was an incident at the Cyber Cafe were Nightsky had gotten into the fight. The fight was with a chunky man dressed like an idiotic clown. That must have been KK. Tart learned that Killer Klown was not someone to be taken lightly. Not after that night.
"After I fry your synapses here, I got a nice little wiz of a program I can use to trace your jackpoint. All I'll have to do is walk over and pick you up." Klown giggled.
"What makes you think I'm going to be there when you trace me?"
"Oh, that's an easy one." Klown reached into a large clown-bag and pulled out a big, black mallet. "Cause my little friend, Mr. Black Hammer, is going to put you out for the count." He grinned. "They don't call me Killer Klown for nothing."
Tart braced herself for the battle that was to come.
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